- 1 Overview
- 2 Memories & Logs
- 2.1 Jane Romero: All the World a Stage
- 2.2 David King: Manchester Mash-Up
- 2.3 Herman Carter: Ascendance
- 2.4 Rin Yamaoka: Steeped in Blood
- 2.5 The Observer: Observations (I)
- 2.6 Revelations: Logs 223, 893, 1032, 7456
- 2.7 Challenges
- 2.7.1 Level 1
- 2.7.2 Level 2
- 2.7.3 Level 3
- 2.7.4 Level 4
Memories & Logs
Jane Romero: All the World a Stage
Jane needs a job. She has a job. She works as a waitress at a local diner. She needs another kind of job. A role. A part. Something. Anything to let her know she's on the right path. Anything to let her know she deserves more than a school variety show. Acting is a fool's pursuit! One in a billion her father says. Her grandfather agrees but adds: "Those who have the courage to follow their dreams have a ninety nine percent chance at being that one in a billion. Have courage. Courage will put the odds in your favour." Jane loves her grandfather and wants to make him proud. Wants to show him he's right. I'll be that one in a billion.
Mexican waitress speaks in Mexican and English with a Mexican accent. Who wrote this? Mexican isn't a language. Doesn't matter. You get the gist. Her face grows warm with frustration. The accent isn't necessary. Why? Why the accent? Why can't it just be Waitress? Waitress who speaks English. Why does the script need the waitress to be Mexican? Why is this important to the scene? Jane stares at the director, trying to understand his needs. It brings flavour. What does that mean? It doesn't bring flavour. It perpetuates a stereotype. Yet... Jane says nothing. She says nothing because she doesn't want to be blacklisted as a social justice warrior. Doesn't want to be called a complaining minority. With a slight Spanish accent, she finishes the audition.
Jane shares a beer with her friend Dwayne. Dwayne tells her how a creative executive hired him to be the co-writer of his terrible script. To be the spokesperson of his terrible idea. To validate his insensitive cultural appropriation of an African American story. The creative executive wants to make a minority film because it's a fad. The quickest way to be recognised. The fast track to fame for a hack. Many writers told the hack his script was wrong on so many levels. Poorly written. Disrespectful. Boring. Insensitive. Dwayne refused to accept a script that was disrespectful to his cultural heritage. Refused to attach his name to a project so the executive could avoid accusations of cultural appropriation. Refused to validate an entitled interpretation of a minority story. The executive discredited Dwayne by calling him a social justice warrior. Fired him. Jane sighs sadly for her friend. At least the script won't get produced. Dwayne raises a sceptical eyebrow. The hack has a friend with money. Lots of money. He'll write. Direct. And produce. Entitled hacks with friends in high places. It's how bad movies get made. They toast bad movies. Jane laughs. Not because it's funny. But because it's true.
It's been months she hasn't worked. No calls. No auditions. Nothing. Jane stares at the blank television screen. As a child she used to imagine herself on television. She doesn't see herself on television anymore. Something is happening. She can't see herself succeeding anymore. She wishes for her shot. Her one shot. Her one in a billion shot. But scripts for her are few and far between. Nothing beyond the stereotype. Her agent shouldn't care. He should put her forward for all the female roles in her age range. She can play any female role, lead or support and yet she only gets auditions for the Spicy Latina or the funny immigrant or the waitress with the accent, never just... woman... American. That's all she wants. She stares at the snowy television. Tries to visualise herself as the star of a show but can't. The phone rings. Her agent. An audition. A major part in a play and it pays well. For a moment, just a moment, she feels like one in a billion.
Jane's cell phone rings. She freezes on the sidewalk. This is it and she doesn't know if she wants to answer or not. She can't take another rejection. Not for this part. This part is too important. She brings the cell phone to her ear. Answers. She hears a voice she recognises. Her agent. He tells her how everyone enjoyed her audition. How everyone thought she was just fantastic. He goes on about something else. She waits for the but... the proverbial but... a thousand compliments negated by one single, all-destroying... but... It doesn't come. She listens to trivial notes and waits for the polite rejection. Instead... You got the part... she's not sure she heard right... You got the part... She mumbles to herself. I got the part. Her face grows numb with disbelief. She screams. Strangers turn to face her. Sorry.
Dwayne helps Jane rehearse at a café. They take a break and he tells her the hack is now doing a Chinese story and is desperately searching for a Chinese writer to validate his most recent abomination. Jane laughs. Hacks with money. It's how bad movies get made. She tells Dwayne things are going well with the play. She doesn't have to do an accent. Doesn't have to wear a mini skirt or perpetuate a ridiculous stereotype. Doesn't have to do all the stupidities she had to do in the past. This is a real gig. A meaningful gig. A gig she can share with her family. She knocks on the table. Dwayne laughs and says it isn't wood. She shrugs. He says he's happy for her and hands her a cut-out from a magazine. Open audition for Quick Talk. He says he put in a good word for her. She'd make a perfect host. She thanks him but the play takes all her time. Too bad. You're the most real person I know and that's what the show needs. Authenticity.
Last rehearsal before opening night and she's nailed her role despite some last-minute changes to the script. She feels the adrenaline and a great sense of flow unlike anything she's ever experienced before. The director claps after the last line is delivered. He approaches her. Tells her he's amazed. Impressed. Inspired. But... he feels her character would work better with an accent. A what? The request undermines her. Shatters her. Why? I don't understand. For giggles. It would be fun. The character doesn't need an accent. The character is fine without an accent. But it would add comic relief. Comic relief? That's what she is to this director. To the producers. To this industry. Comic relief.
She stares at him. Waits for him to burst out laughing. Waits for him to say he's joking. Waits for an apology that never comes. She sighs and feels the strength of her ancestors coursing through her veins. A strength that won't allow her to sell-out. A strength that won't allow her to perpetuate a hurtful image of what it means to be an American. She shakes her head at the director. Find a comedian, asshole. She storms off stage. Those who follow their path beat the odds even if the odds are a billion to one. Bullshit.
- This video is unlocked after completing all Master Challenges associated with this Memory/Log entry
David King: Manchester Mash-Up
King scrunches his broken fist. Cheers and hollers from a drunk crowd echo through the alleyway. He stares at his fallen opponent. Bleeding face. Busted nose. Chipped teeth. He kicks him in the mouth to put the finishing touches on his handiwork. He never lost a fight. Not now, not ever. Always bet on King. He glances over the crowd. Spots Donnie. An old friend with a gambling problem. Not much of a problem if he continues to bet on me. King looks at his watch. He's late for a family meeting.
King's father gives his mother hell for talking back for something he didn't quite understand. It's always the same crap. King grinds his teeth. Blood and warmth rush up his face. Every scrap. Every single one he won, because he saw his father's face on his opponent. He wants to lash out. To say something. Anything. But to say something is to be cut off. But this time he's not thinking straight. Or maybe he is. His father raises a hand to strike his mother. It happens faster than the thought to perceive it. One moment he snatches his father's arm. The next he's beating him black and blue for years of accumulated shit. He walks away while his mother tries to help his father up. You're out! Never show your face here again! Ungrateful bastard! Get out!
He never really had friends. Not real ones, anyway. He had an entourage. A group of sods enjoying the high life with his credit card. Now he has no one. Not a single bloody friend to help him out. He had friends once upon a time in school. But that was long ago. He needs money. But money doesn't grow on trees and no one wants to challenge him. Not after what he did to his last opponent. He needs a job. His accounts are near empty and his old careless spending habits are hard to break.
He meets with Tommy. Tommy has no room for him in his apartment. Wishes he did, but he doesn't. Mick wants to help but his old lady won't let him. Same with Bill and Harry. His ex has moved on and she doesn't want to see his face. Something about being a shithead. He can't live in a hotel room forever, it drains the account. He remembers a face he recently spotted in a crowd at his last scrap. They were friends since they were toddlers. He was a genuine friend even if they went separate ways. King looks him up. Castledrive. He hails a taxi.
King hasn't felt real in a long time. He sits in Donnie's apartment drinking old ale, realising how much he misses genuine heart-to-hearts. Donnie was his friend before he realised he came from money. The rich aren't really rich. He's not sure why he thinks this or what it means. It's just a random thought. The ale talking as it were. Donnie says he can stay until he figures things out. He's not sure when that will be. It doesn't matter. A sudden rap at the door startles him. Donnie stands. Opens the door to reveal a few men in black leather jackets. Muscle. King doesn't hear much. What he does hear he doesn't like. Donnie owes money and can expect a bundle of lead in the face if he doesn't pay. He laughs when he returns to the kitchen table. It's your fault, King. I don't know who to bet on anymore.
King lost his last three jobs and is going back to what he does best. A challenger steps into the circle in the dimly lit alley. Double his size. Massive. King doesn't care. A head's a head. He'll go down like the others. Crowd calls him the Ghetto Masher. The Ghetto Masher glares at him. The ref spits out rules he's heard a thousand times. King stares at him... and sees... not his father but his opponent.
A bell sounds. With a bestial snarl, the Ghetto Masher lunges. King evades a wild blow that would have ripped his head off. He feels strange. Unresponsive. Confused. Donnie screams at him. He glances at him as he receives a massive fist to the skull. Black swirls across his eyes. He doesn't remember the thud against his skull. He doesn't remember his legs buckling. He doesn't even remember collapsing in a pile of festering, garbage. He only remembers waking up on the couch in Donnie's apartment. He's lost his edge. His anger. His rage. His hate. Was that all he was? Donnie's asking if he's okay and he's not sure. Am I okay? Will I be better? I don't know. Was it just a fluke? A lucky shot? Happens to the best. I feel wrecked. I am wrecked. Donnie bet the last of his cash on him.
King's getting the hang of working behind a bar. Donnie sips a beer and tells him he needs to find another reason to fight. King tells Donnie he needs to get home before the beer he's drinking turns to piss. Before he gets in trouble. Too late. King spots two men. They approach Donnie. Grab him. Usher him into the basement. Not a good sign. King rushes to help but his manager yells at him to stay behind the bar. Screw it.
He leaps over the bar and rushes to the basement where he finds Donnie being beaten by Ghetto Masher with Uncle Brass watching in his chair. King doesn't hesitate. He tackles him. They exchange deadly blows. Ghetto Masher can hardly keep up. Uncle Brass sends others after King. Doesn't matter. King's a whirlwind of destruction. He cracks Ghetto's knees and thrusts his thumbs into his eye sockets. An eyeball pops out still attached to a series of nerves. Cries of terror. Ghetto Masher cups his eyeball screaming for medical help. Staggers and slams against the wall as more ruffians attack. Stop! Uncle Brass stands and approaches. It's well within my power to rip your fuckin' head off for what you did to my boys. King staggers to his feet. Not a bloody joke, am I? His debt is paid if you work for me. He straightens up and brushes his jacket. Smiles. Always bet on King.
- This video is unlocked after completing all Master Challenges associated with this Memory/Log entry
Herman Carter: Ascendance
Imbecile. That's what he calls Professor Blanchard. The imbecile is choosing two students to lead a research assignment in an abandoned farmhouse. Carter knows he's going to be selected. He's the best in the neuroscience program. The best at The Léry... The Léry... It could only be The Léry. The Léry or The Allan. Two institutions with a history of working with the government to push the limits of psychology beyond the code. Not beyond the code. Despite the code
The papers coming out of The Allan amazed him. Captured him. Inspired him. Had he been Canadian... it would have been The Allan. Or what many called, Ravenscrag. The experiments they conducted were brilliant. Cutting edge. Mind-shattering. He wishes he were a student in the fifties studying under Lord Crag. The nickname patients gave the genius at Ravenscrag. Lord Crag returned from the trials with ideas. Not cautionary tales. Not disgust like the other bleeding hearts who condemned the doctors who would, anyway, be smuggled into his country and be given the highest positions in government in exchange for their discoveries. Lord Crag took the experiments he had heard about to the next level and Carter... Carter hopes to do the same. But not with this professor. Not with Blanchard. Dr. Blanchard. Dr... Bleeding-Heart-Blanchard. He has no idea what real power is. Real power is freedom. True freedom. Freedom beyond the limits of ethics and morality.
Carter's leading the research assignment with another peer. The challenge: Secure the secret word through the good-doctor-bad-doctor interrogation technique put forward by some other bleeding-heart imbecile at some other institution. He's bad-doctor. Bad-doctor with a code... a list of dos and don'ts the imbecile gave him. Very limiting. Too limiting. Self-limiting even. How is he supposed to secure anything with these limits? Surely he realises how futile the experiment is with this code. Nevertheless, he tries. He shouts at a fellow student sitting across the table from him. Shouts? Big deal. Tell me or I'll... shout again. The student doesn't take him seriously. He's play-acting fear. It's all make-belief for him. I should smash his skull and yank the secret word out of his sub-standard, mediocre brain.
Second day and nothing. Carter's frustrated. Really frustrated. At least they're tied up. All seven of them. But it's still not enough. They need to take the interrogation to the next level. Deprive them of food and water. They'll talk. When their cells begin to self-cannibalise... they'll talk. Better yet... he wants to deprive them of sleep. Sleep deprivation... Removes masks. Lowers guards. Makes prisoners talk for the promise of a few minutes of sleep. The seven prisoners stare at him. They know they're safe. He can see it in their eyes. Limits. No one got anywhere respecting limits. He despises his colleague. Good-doctor. He'd have the secret by now had he been working alone and without a code.
Ridiculous limits. Skinner knew better. Put his own kid in some kind of a box for years just to see what it would do. Huxley worked for the secret service and wrote truths as lies in Brave New World. War of the Worlds was another great test in mass propaganda. The power of the radio to induce fear and anxiety in an unsuspecting audience. The power of fear and anxiety to inspire silence and indifference, and create perfect consumers. Ethics. Morality. Limits. For sheep, not shepherds.
Carter feels anxiety unlike he ever felt as he watches good-doctor interrogate one of his classmates. He approaches him from behind with a piece of wood. Something he found on the ground. Raises the make-shift club. Before he realises what he's doing he pounds the good-doctor's head. Pretend fear becomes real fear as his fellow students stare at him in horror. No more good-doctor. No more rules. No more limits... except the limits of his imagination.
Carter ties a student to a chair. Warm blood drips everywhere. He twists pieces of flesh off his face... The sheep look away but never up. With terrible moans and squirms he gets a secret word from each and every one of them: New. Reich. Horizons. Fourth. Bird. Kill. His classmates beg to be released. They sob and agonise in their chairs. They plead the experiment is over. You have the words! You win! We're done! Carter smiles. He's still got a few days. A few more days and a few more experiments to run. Could put his career at risk... but... he's got the good-doctor to take the fall. I'll take what I learned from Lord Crag and lobotomise these imbeciles and manipulate... no... not manipulate... manufacture... yes... manufacture reality.
Music blares. Eyes are kept forced open with toothpicks. Carter piggybacks a looping song with an inaudible subliminal frequency to evoke fear, anxiety and discontent. He experimented with the loop on his parents. Always caused a fight between them. He doesn't remember where he got the loop. He first read about the subliminal frequency from advertisers. Advertisers deny subliminal loops work. Of course, they do. Advertisers deny they use subliminal loops. But... they do. They use them, and they work. They must. They must because peace and contentment is our natural disposition. War and discontent needs to be instilled, enforced, manufactured, repeated over and over again until it's the main script in the collective consciousness.
PAPERCLIP. BLUEBIRD. MKULTRA. MKDELTA. MKSEARCH. They were all necessary. Lord Crag had the right idea. Good instincts. So did the Black Sorcerer and the Dirty Trickster. They inspired all the goodies he brought with him in his bag. Music. Drinks. Drugs. Lots of drugs. For a moment just a moment he hesitates. He'll probably go to jail for a long time if he uses his goodies. But... being free... being truly free for a few days... is worth a lifetime of imprisonment. But I won't get caught. Good-doctor will.
Carter wonders if he can re-mother these sheep. Re-mother. He loves the term. He wishes it was his own but it's not. Shock them with electricity and expose them to endless images of death, chaos and destruction. Traumatise the brain. Empty it. Lobotomise these subjects to re-mother them with new personalities. He wonders if he could re-mother these sheep into wolves. Get them to kill each other. Better yet... turn these good, law-abiding students into serial bombers. He rips the plug out of a lamp. Splits the wires. Peels the wire. Places the exposed wire into a student's mouth. Slowly approaches the socket, taking in his terror. Plugs it in. Screams as he re-mothers this exemplary student. A putrid smell of burning hair and skin reaches his olfactory receptors. There's another stench. Imbecile soiled himself. Carter laughs. He hasn't been this stimulated in ages. To be free. Ah... to be truly free.
Carter hasn't had this much fun since he first tried to transplant a mouse brain into a rabbit. A week isn't enough. He wishes he had more time. He needs more time. There are new avenues within the mind to explore. Too many avenues, not enough time. He wishes he had the tools to operate on their brains. There are knives in the kitchen. Could work. Not surgical precision. But... but enough. He's read about a gland in the brain that looks like an eye. A gland that supposedly secretes DMT (N,N-Dimethyltryptamine). A kind of mystical, hallucinogenic drug. He wonders if he can extract it from a living subject. He wonders what a good dosage of human DMT does to a test subject.
Carter unties a rope. He's going to release good-doctor. He's pumped him with drugs and programmed him with new thoughts. He believes the other students are Russian spies that need to be executed for national security. He unwraps the rope and places a screwdriver in his hands. He changes his mind. Removes the screwdriver. Replaces it with a fork. Changes his mind again. Replaces the fork with a spoon. He's never seen a spoon used to kill a human being. He backs away from good-doctor who is lost and confused. Re-mothered. He says a phrase. The moon is down. Confusion becomes clarity as good-doctor stands and approaches the Russian spies with... a spoon. Brilliant.
Bleeding-Heart-Blanchard returns to the farmhouse with a group of men Carter's never seen before. They look like government men. He suppresses a smile and tells them good-doctor got out of hand. Took things a degree too far. He barely got out alive. Blanchard tells him to shut up. His tone is different. He doesn't sound like an imbecile. We tapped the whole thing. Carter exchanges a look with the men in black suits. He doesn't understand. The imbecile enters and does the unexpected. He stares at the barely breathing student unperturbed. No fear. No panic. No emotion. Nothing. He grins and mumbles something to himself in German. He turns to Carter with a smile. His smile turns to a grin when the men in black suits handcuff and arrest him. Blanchard whispers. Looks like you had your chance to make merry hell and took it. The cuffs are just for appearances. I... I... don't understand. Yes... you do. You understand much more than the others. Welcome to MKAwakening.
- This video is unlocked after completing all Master Challenges associated with this Memory/Log entry
Rin Yamaoka: Steeped in Blood
Rin sits at her desk dreading the end of the school day. Not because she enjoys junior high or because she respects her teachers, but because she despises being forced to learn kendo. But her father demands it. He demands that she practice the way of the sword. Not just practice. Excel. She's a Yamaoka. The Yamaoka's come from a proud legacy. A samurai legacy. He reminds her of this every day, and every day the kids tease and humiliate her, telling her she has no business in their class, telling her she should wield a broom not a shinai. She ignores them and tries her best. Maybe if she excels with a katana, her father will feel better. He hasn't been himself as of late. Frustrated. Irritable. Reactive. She can't do anything right. Nor can her mother. He has become very quiet and talks and argues with himself. She doesn't understand what's happening to him, but she knows he is suffering and the last thing she wants is to add to his pain. Family is everything and maybe one day she'll be okay with wielding a katana. Maybe she'll even enjoy it.
Rin's bones feel brittle and ready to collapse under the weight of the armour. She holds her bamboo shinai up to her opponent. I want this to be over. Can't this just be over. Her opponent insults her. He tells her there's a shattered window in the changing room she ought to clean before someone cuts themselves. Janitor-Yamaoka. He laughs. He makes another janitor joke at her expense. A sudden heat rushes up her face. She wants to shove the shinai down his throat. See how he laughs with wood and splinters piercing through his stomach.
Splinters piercing through his throat? Where did those thoughts come from? It's not like her to think such thoughts. She angles her shinai and feels something strange inside. She's never felt anything like it before. Like... like a waking dragon in her heart. She stares at her grinning opponent. Faster than thought she lunges and strikes the head of her opponent. Everyone laughs at him. His head slumps in mingled defeat and humiliation. A boy stares at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. He blinks. You might be a Yamaoka after all. She hates to admit it but... it feels good to win. No. Not to win. To defeat a foe. To defeat another human being. Defeat another human being? Why would I think this? These aren't my thoughts. But they are.
She doesn't understand what happened. What thing came over her to give her the strength to contend with the boy in front of her. He isn't laughing anymore. He glares at her. She beat him. Not once. Not twice. Thrice. The boys continue to stare at her open-mouthed. Something is changing in Janitor-Yamaoka. They know it. She knows it. She feels the waking dragon in her heart. It's the closest she's ever felt to being... a fighter... a warrior... a Yamaoka... and she likes it... likes being treated with respect... likes being taken seriously. For an instant she imagines herself beside the great Renjiro Yamaoka and his son Kazan. Something tugs in her heart and the dragon stirs... and the dragon... she realises... is the waking of her raging Yamaoka blood.
Janitor Yamaoka! You got lucky! Let's see how lucky you really are! Boys close in on her. Cursing. Jesting. Shouting. She wants to run but doesn't see an opening. She wants to apologise for being good with a shinai, but the waking dragon inside her heart won't allow it. She didn't do anything wrong. She has no reason to apologise. She finally did what she was supposed to do and now they close in on her as though she had cheated... as though they could see the dragon that had helped her. She feels scared. Where is that dragon now? Where is the spirit of her ancestors?
She raises a pleading hand for her abusers to stop. You will pay! You made me look foolish! For a moment there is an opening between two boys and there's no hesitation, only action. She charges through and storms across the school yard with a group of angry boys in pursuit. She quickly ducks behind a garbage bin and watches the boys run past her. One stops... turns toward the bins... narrows his gaze. She holds her breath. She can hear her heart pounding in her head. Why hide!? You are better than these peasants! Stand and show them who you are! But she does not reveal herself. She hides and wishes that waking dragon to go back to sleep.
Rin emerges from hiding and begins her long walk home. The dragon in her heart admonishes her for hiding. Tells her she is more than her tormentors and should never cower before bullies and abusers. She's not sure what she should have done or what she should think. Maybe she should have faced them. Maybe she should have confronted them. Maybe she should have beaten them down and torn them limb from limb. Limb from limb? What am I thinking? Where did that come from? Limb from limb? What dark thoughts are these?
Before she can answer her own question, she hears a voice. She hears... her tormentors jeering and spewing insults at her. She doesn't turn around. She doesn't run. She doesn't run because she knows what's coming and she doesn't care. The dragon within tells her everything's going to be okay. The boys throw garbage at her. Call her Janitor-Yamaoka! Janitor-Yamaoka! Janitor-Yamaoka! She knows what's next. She sees it in her mind's eye like samurai of old. They'll push her down. Surround her. Punch and kick her. But this time she won't let the pain defeat her. She won't let the fear paralyse her. She'll use the fear and the pain to feed the dragon. Today her bullies will feel teeth and claws... they will feel her wrath... and they will learn... she is a Yamaoka!
- This video is unlocked after completing all Master Challenges associated with this Memory/Log entry
The Observer: Observations (I)
Things could have been worse. I could have been banished in a dimension without Auric Fog containing the memory imprints of countless victims, memories that keep me entertained and busy with my coin and spirit collections... and the music... the variations from parallel worlds... it helps pass the time. In a twisted way I think what I'm admitting is that I'm glad The Entity takes what it wants when it wants from the omniverse.
There is a curiosity at the core of every thinking person. A need for knowledge from uncharted and unknowable territories, but what is discovered in those blank spaces of the abyss... of the cosmos are things far too immense to understand. Things better left unobserved lest they undermine our sanity. Better to embrace ignorance than face the truth of our insignificance in the grand scheme of it all. Against the vastness of the infinite we are mere microbes swirling in an endless, indifferent cosmic stew. I say stew… but The Entity is probably more of a blood pudding.
I have recently wondered if Survivors realise the titanic significance of their thoughts and feelings, and of how The Entity uses them to furnish the trials. Thoughts and feelings that bring me glimpses of what it's like to have lived on a parallel world as someone else. It helps pass the time.
Through a rift I believe I culled another memory of Vigo manifesting reality within The Entity with something reminiscent of the Auris. How he came to understand the machinations of The Fog is both puzzling and inspiring. It suggests to me that perhaps this place enhances one's connections to our infinite selves throughout the omniverse.
The Auris was little understood back home, and to be fair I wasn't given the chance to explain its merits to the council. Had they taken the time to understand they would have realised that though I had no verifiable explanation for how the Auris works... I had theories, and the most reasonable was that the Auris works on the basis of the Trinitarian — the Trinitarian of Creation — a concept long held by our ancestors and forgotten throughout the ages. But the concept isn't complicated, isn't witchcraft, isn't a secret. It simply suggests that it takes two things to create a third. A father and a mother to create a child. An idea and passion to create something new, something real, something lasting and meaningful. A thought and feeling. Therein lies the best theory of the Auris and how it is able to create with Auric particles.
The failing of other pioneers back home is they believed thought alone was enough when in reality it is only half the equation... the other half is emotion, for it is feeling and passion that fuels the fires of creation. The Auris amplifies and manifests and forges something new using the mould of thought and the fires of passion. Or... I've been here too long and I'm grasping at theories to pass the time.
I look and observe the realms of The Entity with eyes that see disharmony, chaos, fear, and terror... and yet I acknowledge I may be swayed by appearances and that there may be another truth beyond the veil and it feels futile if not absurd to try to put to words what I am seeing.
From a window I see something moving with an uncanny light. Through the black fog it shines there, beckoning me. And yet, I cannot leave. I cannot move. I can only bring things to me through the Auris. What light is this? Is it a creature sent by The Entity? Is it a survivor? Or perhaps it's a marooned soul from back home searching like myself for a way back. An unnatural wind whines and I stare at the moving, hypnotic light, a hideous watching eye, trying to reach out to me, trying to tell me something, trying to convey something in its strange, rhythmic movement.
Whiskey deep into the night. A strange aftertaste... a flavour from a world which makes the best whiskey. Whiskey dreams are some of the most pleasurable. Dreams of home, with friends and family, enjoying time lost. When my senses returned, I realised I had turned my palace of a prison upside down. I remembered none of it. Everything, a drunken blur. So many paintings and statues I had created from memories from other worlds... shattered... I'm losing my grip on reality and maybe that's a good thing. One day merges into the next and I'm lost in a storm of whiskey, screams, and endless streams of broken memories.
Max has quite an arm. A farmer made his way out of a barn and with one well-aimed blow with a spade, his head was severed from his shoulders and two spouts of hot blood burst from his body like geysers. He watched the headless man stagger stupidly and collapse in a growing puddle of steaming blood. I have to admit I've gone through this memory more than once. It's one of my favourites. I find Max disturbingly amusing and the illusion of death fascinating... at a distance.
King has this way of doing things that are quite amusing. One of my favourite memories I return to time and time again whenever I need a lift is Memory 2332 - Gasoline Man: King grabs this man who skipped a few payments on a loan. He drags him by the hair and throws him in an alley. He grabs a metal gasoline container and douses the 'sod' with its contents and lights a match. He stares at him through the flickering flame as the man screams in terror. He watches him beg for his life. Then he flings the match. The man's eyes pop out of his head as the flame hits his chest and falls to the floor with a sizzle. King tells him to make his payment or next time he'll use real gasoline. Brilliant.
Revelations: Logs 223, 893, 1032, 7456
I felt an uncanny and unseen presence in The Archives as I contemplated The Entity. I could hear the laboured breathing of Killers standing outside my prison. I looked out into the dark, raging Fog and saw nothing... Either The Entity is aware of my presence and is preparing to send Killers to put an end to my plans... or the memories of Survivors are somehow merging with my personal memories and these sounds are mere side effects of overusing the Auris. In the end it doesn't matter. If I could end The Entity I would even if it meant my own demise. My life is little to pay for the salvation of the worlds it will destroy.
Several Survivors went mad trying to escape the trial. They had with them memories of previous incarnations so that one Survivor began dashing his head against a wall convinced he was reliving a nightmare he had just escaped. The other Survivors drowned him in mud to shut him up. It seems to me Survivors are torches growing dimmer and dimmer with every trial. Some stop to feel altogether and are doomed to The Void. Others go raving mad and need to be silenced by others.
Jumbled experiences of brutal Killers and weird rituals of godless brutes from worlds too dark to care. I jerked myself straight out of one memory that pulled me into a cavern of bodies with an odour so repugnant I was retching for hours. I still have that horrible taste in my mouth and shudder at the thought of that smell, that horrible smell, rotting humanity. What foul creature of a man had made this festering hole his lair is beyond me.
I am taking notes under incredible mental strain. I have had flashes of Survivor memories overrun my senses all day, and I am trying to focus on home and gather myself. I haven't used the Auris for some time and yet I have been pulled in and out of these lives randomly. These records... these archives will, I imagine, help me remember myself, should the Auris nudge me into the abyss.
- Shining Light: Earn 5 Lightbringer emblems of Bronze quality or better.
- Protect Forever: Unhook a Survivor safely or take a protection hit 4 times while using We're Gonna Live Forever (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Liberator: Unhook 5 Survivors safely
- Go for Broke: Sabotage 10 Hooks .
- Poised Performance: Finish repairing 1 Generator and escape the Trial while using Poised . (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- Jane's Victory: Stun the Killer 1 time as Jane Romero (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- The Last Place you Look: Search 6 Chests
- Craft Time's Over: Cleanse 12 Totems
- David's Protection: Take 1 protection hit as David King (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Escape Artist: Escape 2 Trials
- Dead Hardy: Use Dead Hard to avoid a basic attack by a nearby Killer one time (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Silver Hero: Earn 2 Emblems of Silver quality or better as a Survivor (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Bring the Light: Repair a total of 4 Generators
- Gruesome: Earn 5 Devout Emblems of Bronze quality or better.
- Gruesome: Hook 20 Survivors
- Take Charge: Damage 4 Generators while using Overcharge (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Mad About You: Inflict Madness I on 2 different Survivors as The Doctor (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Sealed Shut: Close the Hatch one time (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Execution: Kill 10 Survivors by any means
- Phase Warrior: Hit a Survivor after emerging from phasing one time as The Spirit (Unlocks the next entry for Steeped in Blood)
- Silver Blade: Earn 2 Emblems of Silver quality or better as a Killer (Unlocks the next entry for Steeped in Blood)
- Bronze Age: Earn 15 Emblems of Bronze quality or better.
|Bronze Primus Coin||Uncommon||An item originating from Terra Primus and manifested by the Rift. Something about the structure depicted on it feels powerful and imposing.|
- Bring the Light: Repair a total of 10 Generators
- Fearless: Earn 5 Evader Emblems of Silver quality or better
- Head On Collision: Stun the Killer by exiting a Locker with Head On 1 time (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- Escape Artist: Escape 4 Trials
- Explorer: Mark 5 Objects with a Map
- The Shield: Take 2 Protection Hits (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Fight Back: Stun the Killer 4 times
- No Mither, No Problem: Escape 1 Trial while using the Perk No Mither (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Escape Route: Escape 3 chases
- Liberator: Unhook 8 Survivors. Must unhook them safely
- King's Escape: Escape 1 Trial as David King (Unlocks the next entry for Manchester Mash-Up)
- Romero's Escape: Escape 1 Trial as Jane Romero (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- Terrified: Make the Survivors scream 10 times
- The Hunt: Earn 5 Chaser Emblems of Silver quality or better
- Abusive Treatment: Chase 4 different Survivors while using Monitor & Abuse (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Mad About You: Inflict Madness I on 4 different Survivors as The Doctor (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Dark Adherent: Hook 5 Survivors (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Eleventh Hour: Sacrifice 2 Survivors to the Entity during the Endgame Collapse
- Rancor Rampage: Kill the Obsession with your hands 1 time while using Rancor (Unlocks the next entry for Steeped in Blood)
- Furious Destruction: Break 4 Pallets while using Spirit Fury (Unlocks the next entry for Steeped in Blood)
- Haunting Grasp: Interrupt and grab 1 Survivor (Unlocks the next entry for Steeped in Blood)
- Silver Age: Earn 15 Emblems of Silver quality or better.
|Silver Primus Coin||Rare||An item originating from Terra Primus and manifested by the Rift. The third eye seems to imply deep-seeded knowledge or perhaps a psychic connection.|
- Tough Stuff: Earn 5 Unbroken emblem(s) of Gold quality or better.
- Sore Ankles: Fall from a great height while being chased 2 time(s).
- Hatch an Escape: Unlock the hatch with a key 2 time(s).
- Dr. Jane: Finish healing 2 health state(s) of other Survivors and escape the trial as Jane Romero. (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- Jane's Stunning Escape: Stun the Killer 1 time (s) and escape the trial as Jane Romero. (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- High Skill: Get a Great result on 8 skill check(s).
- Bring the Light: Repair a total of 12 generator(s).
- Skillful Solidarity: Finish healing 1 health state(s) of other Survivors while using Solidarity. (Unlocks the next entry for All the World a Stage)
- Liberator: Unhook 12 Survivor(s). Must unhook them safely.
- The Great Escape: Escape 3 trial(s) through the Exit Gate.
- Iridescent Hero: Earn 2 emblems of Iridescent quality as a Survivor. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- King for a Day: Be chased by the Killer for a total of 30 second(s) and escape the trial as David King. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Redemption Arc: Take 1 protection hit(s) and escape the trial as David King (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Guardian: Earn 5 Gatekeeper emblem(s) of Gold quality or better.
- Unrelenting Hunt: Knock down 5 Survivor(s) while using Unrelenting. (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Mad Skills: Inflict Madness III on 3 Survivor(s) as The Doctor. (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Knockout: Knock down 10 Survivor(s).
- Eleventh Hour: Sacrifice 5 Survivor(s) to the Entity during the Endgame Collapse.
- Dark Adherent: Hook 6 Survivor(s). (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Phase Warrior: Hit a Survivor after emerging from phasing 2 time(s) as The Spirit. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Iridescent Blade: Earn 2 emblem of Iridescent qualityas a killer. (Unlocks the next entry for Ascendance)
- Golden Age: Earn 15 Emblems of Gold quality or better.
|Gold Primus Coin||Very Rare||An item originating from Terra Primus and manifested by the Rift. There is something reassuring about the golden scarab upon it.|
- Palletmaster: Drop a pallet to stun the Killer 5 time(s).
- One More Time: Succeed at 5 consecutive skill checks. (Unlocks the next entry for Revelations)
- Sore Ankles: Fall from a great height while being chased 4 time(s).
- Take One For The Team: Take 10 protection hit(s).
- Life Giver: Heal a total of 8 health state(s) of any survivor.
- David's Protection: Take 2 protection hit(s) as David King. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Jane's Victory: Stun the Killer 3 time(s)' as Jane Romero. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Plan B: Escape 2 trials through the hatch.
- Benevolence: Earn 3 Benevolent emblem(s) of Iridescent Quality or better.
- Savior: Unhook 4 Survivor(s). Must unhook them Safely. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Head On Collision: Stun the Killer by exiting a locker with Head On 1 time(s). (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Gruesome: Hook 30 survivor(s).
- Deadly Pursuit: Chase survivors for a total of 300 seconds.
- Shutdown: Close the hatch 2 times
- Crushing Dominance: Knock down 8 survivors. (Unlocks the next entry for Revelations)
- Doctor's Orders: Kill all survivors in a trial 1 time by any means as The Doctor. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Ruthless Aggression: Earn 3 Maliciousness emblems of Iridescent Quality or Greater.
- Haunted Hit: Hit a survivor with your weapon while that survivor is exposed 1 time while using Hex: Haunted Grounds. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Rin's Sins: Kill all survivors in a trial 1 time by any means as The Spirit. (Unlocks the next entry for Observations)
- Iridescent Age: Earn 15 emblem(s) of Iridescent Quality or better.
- Bloody Rewards: Earn 100,000 Bloodpoints
|Iridescent Primus Coin||Ultra Rare||An item originating from Terra Primus and manifested by the Rift. The flower radiates with luminous light.|