Although it seems far too unreasonable, you figure somehow that the carnival holds the key to you beating the challenge. So, to the chagrin of
your immutable narrator, you walk down the path towards the shiny gates of the carnival. As you approach, you realize there are actually
hundreds, if not thousands of people walking around, licking cotton candy, riding on rides, or playing booth games. Either this challenge
generated them as passive beings or, perhaps, they're challengers just like you who wandered aimlessly into a carnival at the middle of night
on the ludicrous hopes of getting out of the dungeon that way. Either way, they don't seem to be in a hurry, and this relaxes you, so much that
you don't notice the ticket booth until it's directly in front of you.
"A ticket booth?" you ask yourself. "I thought it was free!"
Unfortunately, the man stationed at the booth refuses to grant access unless you have twelve bucks to pay for an admission ticket for the rides.
If you were a child, they would let you in on six, but you're a full grown adult (ironically, the narrator is 16, although he has a voice like Morgan
Freeman's). You curse the fact that you're not allowed to transform... wait...
-FLASHBACK-
"ESCAPE THIS DUNGEON..."
"Hmm, should be easy," you say to yourself, cracking your knuckles.
"...WITH YOUR ORIGINAL FORM."
-FLASHFORWARD-
Nobody ever said you weren't allowed to transform at all.
"Except for you, you lousy narrator!"
Ok, so maybe I made a typo. The point is, with the rules of God-Voice, you can still technically transform, but only if you manage to make it out
with your original form.
With this in mind, your mind begins to race. Perhaps you could find a way to regress your age, and later find a way to fix yourself.
Or, you could try to sneak into the carnival. It's not like you'd be the first, and the admission cost is steep already.
Or... perhaps someone would be generous enough to lend you a ticket.