Benedict Baker was actively looking for The Entity's Realm and wanted to find out how to enter it and how it works. He eventually succeeded and is now trapped in the endless cycle of the Trials like the other Survivors, whom he has met. He even has met some of the Killers. He keeps a journal detailing his encounters with the other Survivors, the Killers and the Realm of The Entity. Not much is known about his current condition, but he is known to still be a Survivor and alive.
I began my search in the summer of 1956 after hearing of the town of Weeks, a place that had an unusual number of missing persons reports. America is filled with such towns. But what made this one more odd than some, was that there had never been a report of a body found. Indeed, the number of open missing cases stood at a staggering 364, the last of which happened a mere ten weeks ago. Thus I embark on my journey
It only took me a few hours upon my arrival to feel the malignant presence that lurked in the forgotten town of Weeks. Its buildings and structures in various stages of decay, all of them abandoned to the ravages of time. I visited the library in Wetherfield, a nearby town. It didn't take me long to find information about the region. Once a vast, prosperous and sprawling industrial area, Weeks, suddenly became a ghost town, not through the lack of iron ore, but on account of a series of terrible disasters.
Once again, I had found a place touched by the darkest of evils, so powerful that it spread like a virus in the area, consuming the world around it, rotting the core from within. The locals of Wetherfield would not discuss or talk further of the town of Weeks. The locals acted like the sort of thing you would see in your weekly Penny Dreadful, their eyes wild with terror. What happened here?''
I have spent two days in this derelict library. The archives are somewhat unorganised, but I have managed to learn more about the town of Weeks. I get this eerie feeling as I sit in that basement, but I feel a need to learn more. I have come too far now. I managed to piece some parts together and it seems like everything leads back to The MacMillan Estate, a huge industry with a mine and foundry and the former heart of Weeks. I found some police reports and complaints, but no sign of legal action. The archives here do not tell the whole story but my mind tells me that I need to find that place. As The MacMillan Estate might sit upon some answers about these unexplainable disappearances I simply must go further. I feel somewhat uneasy as my comfort zone most often is behind a desk. But I can not be shackled to words and must instead make use of action. All I have managed to find out is that some deaths occurred and it was just shortly after that, that this...rot took hold of Weeks. I have tried to find my way and I asked the librarian but she refused to even talk about it. Old maps in the archive show the way, but nobody is willing to take me. I will set forth tomorrow. On my own.
?? September (?)
I can not explain what happened today. I awoke to find myself in this strange place. I have no memory of how I came here. My last recollection was of leaving Wetherfield and beginning my journey towards The MacMillan Estate. The last part I had to travel by foot.. A seemingly never-ending fire burns next to me. I can not even tell how long I lay asleep. This area of the woods seems to have no day or night, just an intolerable gloom. I am unsure what awaits me, but I will keep filling this journal. Maybe with a hope to warn others.
Entry 1 after "The Awakening"
Am I alive? I no longer know or care. I have tried to hike my way out of these forsaken woods to no avail. Multiple times I have tried to escape the fog and each time, I have come face to face with a nameless terror that stalks the darkness, a being in a human form, even though I feel "human" is an exaggeration. It is a shadow of its former self, a horrid shadow. I fear I cannot escape this place, nor the being stalking these woods. I just barely manage to escape. Silence is key it seems.
I have also seen, this...evil thing. This Entity reaches out to pluck those who fall into its path, bringing them to its hideous construct where it plays with their soul for all eternity. The Entity curses these innocents with an endless game of life and death. Each death brings an awakening into a fresh hell where the hunt begins again. I am but a mere puppet in this grim theatre.''
What defines reality? Is it just that you can taste and touch. Feel the pain as the blade slides in between your ribs. Taste the iron tinged flavour of blood in your mouth and the smell of death as the darkness takes you? Is it hope that drives you on? Hoping that the next time will bring your actual death, or hope that the next exit reveals a way back home. I yearn for some kind of escape. Be it death or life.
The Entity is a force of darkness from an ancient place with no name. No sense of purpose other than to endlessly torture its victims over and over again. It is torture and not death it seeks as there is always an escape. Perhaps it feeds off our hope as it seems to offer it to us before crushing it cruelly at the last second. With each "death" I feel myself weaken, a little piece of my soul devoured by the darkness before I awake. I fear, eventually that I will lose hope. I wonder then, what this dark Entity will do with me then. I want to find out, but I fear the answer. Am I alone here? I believe I have seen traces of others as the beings hunt me. All I seek is that soothing, flickering Campfire light.
Each Killer seems to have been pulled from a place of great darkness, their own violent actions summon this most ancient of evils from its slumber. The Entity reaches out, taking them into the place between worlds where it demands they do its bidding. They must hunt and kill the prey set in front of them. Some go willingly, others need to be convinced. The Entity tortures them until they are much less human and far more thing, until the last light of humanity has faded from their souls and they take up their weapons and sacrifice the Survivors. The Killers are needed to feed The Entity with the hope that keeps it alive. I am a pawn in this parasitic charade.
My travels have revealed four hellish places, connected by one true evil. Each one features a past so violent and disturbing that it all ends up a jumble of things I will never forget. In these places of such foul thought, something lurks between the fabric of what we know as real and the dream world. Awoken by violence, it touches our world, calling the Killers and Survivors to it. The more it pulls from the real world, the stronger it becomes and the more it spreads. I came seeking answers but I drown in riddles instead. I know not how long I will be able to carry on. I have all the time in the world. But only during the small pauses that I am granted. During the hunt, my time is restrained. I learn more and more but my hope and sanity deplete faster and faster. What is to become of me? Have the Killers started out at this Campfire too? I bid this journal adieu. I must focus on staying alive.
Death is not death. In this place, life is fleeting. To whomever might find this lore, I can but only provide you with one advice: always move forward. This is what keeps me alive, and have so for a while. If I were to advise further, I would suggest you harvest every forsaken location for anything that might thwart the horrors that lurk within. And keep an eye on the gates. If they open, you must flee. I hope my scribbles have not been in vain. If you find this lore, make use of it and pass it on. If you find me, bury my body.