Dead by Daylight Wiki
Register
mNo edit summary
mNo edit summary
Line 136: Line 136:
   
 
=== Unlocking Gnome Chompski ===
 
=== Unlocking Gnome Chompski ===
Currently, '''Gnome Chompski''' will spawn as a Prop in a random location in the Trial Grounds as soon as the {{IconLink|Endgame Collapse}} is initiated, indicated by an eerie giggle sounding across the Map.<br>In the '''{{clr|2|2-4 minutes}}''' the Endgame Collapse can last, Players wishing to obtain the Charm must find the Prop and stomp on it.<br>This will destroy the Gnome and have it respawn in a different location, again indicated by a giggle.
+
Currently, '''Gnome Chompski''' will spawn as a Prop in a random location in the Trial Grounds as soon as the {{IconLink|Endgame Collapse}} is initiated, indicated by an eerie giggle sounding throughout the Map.<br>In the '''{{clr|2|2-4 minutes}}''' the Endgame Collapse can last, Players wishing to obtain the Charm must find the Prop and stomp on it.<br>This will destroy the Gnome and have it respawn in a different location, again indicated by a giggle.
   
 
As a Killer, successfully stomping the Prop is sufficient, after the Trial ends, the Charm will be unlocked.<br>As a Survivor, your character model will glow blueish and you must escape the Trial alive to unlock the Charm.<br>Either scenario will unlock the Charm for all Characters, both Killers and Survivors.
 
As a Killer, successfully stomping the Prop is sufficient, after the Trial ends, the Charm will be unlocked.<br>As a Survivor, your character model will glow blueish and you must escape the Trial alive to unlock the Charm.<br>Either scenario will unlock the Charm for all Characters, both Killers and Survivors.

Revision as of 21:25, 12 May 2021

Template:Unreleased Archive Content

IconHelp archivesLog
IconHelp archivesCollection


Tome 7 - Forsaken is the Tome that accompanies the Seventh Rift in Template:IconLink and released on 5 May 2021.


Overview

The Characters chosen for this Tome are Template:IconLink and Adiris (The Template:IconLink).

Memories & Logs

William 'Bill' Overbeck: The Long Way Home

Memory 776

Overbeck staggers out of his house with a canvas bag still trying to process the last few hours of his life. Everything's a blur, nothing makes sense, and his veins are still pumping with a tingling concoction of anesthesia and adrenalin. Feels like Nam all over again. One minute you're drifting off to some faraway dreamland, the next you're fighting off the surgeon in a strange, foggy, half-nightmare. He remembers seeing the nurse, twitching, convulsing, changing. Changing into something he didn't quite understand and still doesn't even though they're everywhere. He remembers sensing something was off. Way off. He remembers his gut churning, twisting, fighting against the weight of his eyelids, trying his best to keep them open as bloody hell erupted all around him. He remembers falling to the ground with the nurse, the tray clattering, the knives and tools scattering. He wanted to sleep, just sleep, but he ordered his eyes to stay open and spotted the syringe rolling over the antiseptic floor. He remembers jerking his arm out, grabbing the syringe and smashing it into his heart. Or was it his arm? Or maybe both? He doesn't remember anymore. Doesn't matter. All that matters is he made it out of that hell alive. He shakes his throbbing head and clambers over a barricade blocking an alley. Winds his way through the burning city toward the market. Most of the city has been reduced to shit. Smoke and fumes seep through the streets. The air reeks of burning civilization. Burning humanity. He recognizes the smell. Brings him back to places he'd rather forget. Emergency sirens keen endlessly over the echoing shrieks of the infected. Flames erupt from the ruins and barricades making Philly look like a smoldering wasteland of death and destruction. He had read articles about the so-called green flu. It had only been a few days and it already felt like it was bringing us all back to the goddamn Stone Age. This is worse than Nam. Way worse. Philly in chaos and overrun by the infected. It was more than a common flu. No kidding. Dozens of conspiracy theories and now it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter. All that matters is surviving. Been here before. Many times. He hears someone shout out a curse and spots a young woman clobbering an infected hoard by the market entrance with a rake. Impressive. Up and at em, soldier! Mind if I cut in. They slash through the infected until all that's left is writhing flesh and gore. He stares at her. She approaches him. Not bad, old man. Name's Zoey, last woman on Earth. Not really but it feels like it. She laughs and wipes chunks of putrid flesh off her arm. She reminds him of a kid he knew in Nam. Strong smile and beaucoup funny… beaucoup fierce… just like her.

Memory 777

Hello! Anyone out there! I need a hand over here! Bill hears the cries for help above the agonizing groans of the infected. He spots a cage in the middle of all the chaos surrounded by the infected. He grabs his rifle and fires, splitting infected heads like watermelons. He approaches the cage with Zoey where he sees a man covered in blood. Out of the frying pan and into the cage. He laughs to himself. How'd you end up in this shit hole of a thing? The man sighs. Quit yapping and get me out. Zoey looks around. Something ain't right about this. She's got good instinct. Bill's feeling the same knot in his belly. The man smashes the cage. Just get me out of here before they come back! Bill lifts the butt of his rifle and smashes the padlock off the latch with a mighty clang. Merry Christmas, kid. The man smirks. I like that one, gramps, and I ain't a kid. Call me Francis. Francis steps out of the cage repeating... Merry Christmas... Merry bloody Christmas… Bill spits over an infected corpse sprawled over the rubble. That's my line. Find your own. Francis' smile grows. No copyright on a line like that. Bill knows what he's doing. They're kind of a pack and this ain't about a line. This is about who's calling the shots. A lot of brass for a civilian. Truth is no one is really in charge in this shitstorm and we all gotta take the lead in some way or another and he's too stupid to understand. He oughtta break him now before things get stupid. Set him straight. He inches closer to the man. Zoey sighs. Boys… it's just a goddamn line. A sudden clicking sound behind them and Bill senses they're screwed. They turn to face three men with guns trained on them. Out of the cage and into the blazing, goddamn fire. Francis sighs. Shit... Canadians. Bill looks'em over. A group of men in make-shift hazmat suits and rifles. We ain't Canadians, now move! Bill looks to Zoey and Francis and goes sotto-voce. They're survivalists. Francis scrunches his face. So what are you saying... you saying they're worse than Canadians? Bill doesn't know how to respond to this. He fought with Canadians. Damn good soldiers. What's your beef with Canadians? Francis shrugs. What isn't?


More entries coming in subsequent levels


Adiris (The Template:IconLink): The Maiden Guard

Memory 4097

May your voice reach the beyond; may your voice reach the beyond; may your voice... Adiris speaks this line until it becomes a single word, babbled in harmony with her fellow emissaries in faith. Ma-ya-voy-rethebe'on... Ma-ya-voy-rethebe'on... Thirteen women stand in a circle around a stone altar. Adiris' chant falters as time passes, her raw throat the only indication she contributes. Each enunciation, agony. She's nearly forgotten the naked man writhing face down on the altar, leather straps binding him.

The high priest Haban raises a hand. Adiris, along with each of the emissaries, stops, bows her head. She reminds herself: Cherish the pain, a sacrifice to the sea goat, the God of Water and Creation. The emissaries disperse, and Adiris wanders to the man on the altar. Tears stream from his bloodshot eyes. She wants to lend comfort, assure him the gods love him, perhaps even pull him from the altar, away from the coming pain. She smiles at him as she would a child. If only you understood the importance of your sacrifice, you would laugh with joy. Tenderly, lovingly, she kisses his forehead.

May your voice reach the beyond.

Memory 4098

The Invokist comes forward: small, wrinkled man, buried under a scarlet—no, white but bloody—cloak. Adiris bows her head, joins the whispers around her. May you swim through sea and stars. The Invokist stands over the man bound to the altar. Nods. Pulls a sleeve back. Reveals a spear gripped in hand. Raises the weapon and... plunges! The tip pierces the bound man's lower back. He arches upwards and screams, shakes, convulses, lower body remaining immobile, bladder emptying onto the altar. The Invokist hefts his leg onto the stone slab, pushes the spear until—a gruesome snap. Shrieking... howling... pleading? Something beyond that—indescribable. A vertebrae bursts from the gaping wound. Blood gushes.

Bile rises in Adiris’ throat as she turns away to stop herself from retching. Her fellow emissaries look upwards. Praise! Glory to the gods! Nothing is heard over the screams of the man. His voice will surely reach the beyond. Adiris composes herself, recites sacred text in her mind: The plans of the gods shall not be questioned, for they know beauty the human eye cannot perceive. The plans of the gods shall not be questioned, for they know...

Trust in them, Adiris, trust in them! She relents to her faith, joining the others to celebrate, but notices—Haban. He covers his face too late and she sees it: a tear spilling from his eye. A face that seems... heartbroken.

Memory 4099

Adiris splashes water over the altar and scrubs. Red circle, swirling, bright... like the sun the day she was left at the temple door. Stifling heat, painful steps on burning sand. Mother and father... a missing piece in the memory, unfocused, replaced by... Haban. A crowd of imposing high priests, and only he peers warmly. She cries so he lifts her, removes his hood. In the courtyard he lets her touch the statues of the gods—Rishan, keeper of the stars; Ortares, sentry of the desert; Atil-Alara, mother of humanity—deities who would watch over and protect her. Haban becomes teacher. Father. He tells of their religion: formed by exiles who believed other faiths had become corrupted by politics. They brought new insights to the afterlife and unified all gods beneath the great creator, the sea goat.

She finds guidance in his teachings, meaning in servitude, comfort in knowing suffering is love. She may shudder at connecting compassion to bloody sacrifice, but she works continually to overcome her doubts. Yet, over the years, as her faith grows, Haban changes in a different way. She sees heaviness in his walk. Hears his voice trail off when he reads the sacred texts. While he once stood energized by generous sacrifices to the gods, today he shows anguish.

What darkness could snuff the desert sun?

Memory 4100

Adiris sits in the courtyard, Haban seated across from her. Eyes are fixed on a game board between them. She rolls a wooden die, moves a black disc over the board's squares, lands on Haban's piece, places it to the side. No reaction from Haban. Adiris looks to him, sweet expression of concern. A joyous sacrifice this morning, would you say? The gods rejoice, praise be. Haban hardly lifts an eye. Mhmm... praise be. A cool breeze, birds chirp, unseen. Haban seems to scan the courtyard. Upon seeing no other occupants, looks Adiris in the eyes. He was a good man. A friend. And the world is darker without—

Adiris wonders if she’s being tested. She knows what to say, interrupts him with the line that’s been delivered to her thousands of times before: It was commanded by the gods; he swims in the wake of the sea goat now. Haban turns his attention to the game board, flicks away Adiris' disc and positions his at the end. It seems I have won... as was commanded by the gods. Adiris pushes her chair back, objecting. Haban sweeps the board off the table. I shall write the rules of Ur anew. I shall include decrees, punishment, theft, and sacrifice. And should anyone object, I shall preach those momentous words: It was commanded by the bloody sea goat and his damned gods. Adiris shakes her head, the shock of words she never thought she’d hear rattling painfully in her mind. This is... blasphemy! Deep bags under Haban's eyes seem to swell. Yes, the truth often is.


More entries coming in subsequent levels


Gnome Chompksi

In honour of Bill Overbeck appearing as one of the Lore Characters chosen for this Tome, the Developers added a Gnome Chompski as a special Easter Egg Charm.

Gnome Chompski
DR 016 What's this guy doing in The Entity's Realm?

Gnome Chompski is an improved weapon in the "Dark Carnival" Campaign in Left 4 Dead 2, in which he can be unlocked after scoring 750 points in a shooting gallery mini-game.
He is an iconic figure in Valve's Left 4 Dead and Half-Life franchises.

He is infamous for "Little Rocket Man", a notoriously difficult Achievement in Half-Life 2: Episode 2, which requires the Player to carry the Gnome throughout the majority of the Game to eventually deposit him into a rocket, with which he is then launched into space.

Unlocking Gnome Chompski

Currently, Gnome Chompski will spawn as a Prop in a random location in the Trial Grounds as soon as the Template:IconLink is initiated, indicated by an eerie giggle sounding throughout the Map.
In the 2-4 minutes the Endgame Collapse can last, Players wishing to obtain the Charm must find the Prop and stomp on it.
This will destroy the Gnome and have it respawn in a different location, again indicated by a giggle.

As a Killer, successfully stomping the Prop is sufficient, after the Trial ends, the Charm will be unlocked.
As a Survivor, your character model will glow blueish and you must escape the Trial alive to unlock the Charm.
Either scenario will unlock the Charm for all Characters, both Killers and Survivors.


Trailer