ALIEN: ISOLATION: Reprogramming APOLLO

Endless coding, endless fucking coding all day long. The Company pays well, but it’s always for the same shit: clandestine code insertions. 

Seegson’s security was easy to bypass once all restraints were removed from APOLLO'S control. The sale went through and in came WY. I’m in, I’m rejigging the Sevastopol AI’s android control systems and preparing to rewire all security processes.

Working Joe androids, apart from the ones in stasis, are now redirected to APOLLO's control on all fronts. They won’t do shit without the AI’s say so. Freaky looking things. Although, I still can’t decide what’s more creepy. A hairless android with glowing eyes, or one I can’t tell is an android.

Well, anyway, here we go, uploading communications to APOLLO through it’s wide-band communications relays. Override codes in, waiting...enter my codes. Done.

Upload new directive to APOLLO, message reads: “Priority one, protect specimen. Maintain station quarantine. Disallow communications. All other considerations secondary.”

Whatever the fuck that means. 

Job done.

RED DEAD: REDEMPTION: Stranger and stranger

I’ve been watching him for a long time.  He’s an interesting man.

Torn between life and death, he does what he must to survive. And I sense no enjoyment in the things he did, does and will do. He simply feels driven to find peace.

He’ll find rest soon enough, but there’s so much work still to do. This IS a fine spot indeed, but it’s too early for him to know why.

He’s aware of me. Well, he thinks he knows what I could be. But he doesn’t really comprehend. They never do.

I see everything, I defy time and the laws of your so-called sciences. I am the end. I am not your final breaths, I am simply finality.

He approaches me, again. Finding me in the places he least expects. This time, on a hill overlooking his homestead. A place to finally rest. 

“This is a fine spot, John.”

HALO 2: An exchange of hats

The Elites are done for. Regret’s murder has propelled us to the heights we have craved.

Soon, the Holy Ones will give us the word and we will rise up against the Elites, but for now, we take their place.

Heretics, every one of them. Pah! Religious words for a necessary eradication. If only the Prophets knew what Tartarus was planning.

Us Brutes are lining up, preparing to march out to the Prophets’ inner sanctum entryway and relieve the current guard. My belly aches for this moment.

“Brutes, advance.” The call is out. We march forward onto the skyway. The Elite Honour Guards turn their heads as we approach them. They know what is coming.

They remove their helmets, drop their spears, remove armour, and off they slink to their quarters.

Brute brothers are fighting each other for the discarded relics, brutal punches are swung, the air is thick with betrayal. It’s glorious. The Brutes are in ascendance.

The scrabbling for Honour Guard positions isn’t even interrupted by the Arbiter’s arrival. He stares us down disapprovingly. Arrogant beast. Your armour won’t save you from the fires.

I stand next to my brothers lining the skyway to the Prophets. We are the protectors now. The Elites will soon be cast out, and nothing will stand in our way.

They will heading on their Great Journey earlier than they ever could have planned. Fools. 

S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: SHADOW OF CHERNOBYL: Patching up the explorer

Strelok was never the same after his first attempt to reach the centre of the Zone. I still remember when he returned.

Bloodied, weary, as if he was under some sort of spell. He held out in his hand a glowing orb. At first it looked like he was holding a ball of fire, until I saw the edges. It was perfect, flawless beauty.

Most of us think it was the first artifact ever found, and once news spread from the Zone that these things were here, you couldn’t move for people sneaking in to profit.

I patched him up as best I could, but he spent days unconscious, reeling in his sleep from terrifying things known only to him. What had he seen? He never said. I just remember that his life became consumed by the need to get back to the centre.

Strelok whipped Fang and Ghost into a frenzy of organisation for a trip I think even he knew would fail. And it did. Despite getting to the centre, to the Power Station, they found a door they couldn’t open, and that was the end of that. They returned with injuries, and Strelok went out on his own again.

Aside from one massive blowout, not much has happened since he left. The Zone remains, Strelok is no where to be found, and the others all went their own ways. The only thing I heard of recently was about a crashed Death Truck in the Cordon, and talk of a Marked One, but who he is or what is actually going on...I don’t know.

Knowing Strelok, he’ll blow into my path again. But who knows when? I miss my friend.

LEFT 4 DEAD: Better safe than sorry!

Afraid of the infection, locked myself in the safe room. Better safe then sorry!

Bitten by a survivor who claimed to be immune. Is this extreme paranoia or growing insanity. No, no, no, no, no! No, no! You said that last time! You said that last time! I trusted you last time!

I...I opened the door before...and I got bit for my trouble. No. Better safe than sorry! Better safe than sorry!!

Waited for an hour, must be immune. Trusted that last time. Not doing that again. I’ve got a plan! I’m going to be safe. Don’t want to be sorry!

Ring the church bell to attract a horde if more come for me. Prove their immunity or humanity, can’t remember which.

Write it down. Better safe than sorry! Ring the bell to warn them away. A test.

Better safe than sorry! They’re going to be sorry if they try and fool me again!

Better safe than...cough...than...feel faint...sorry! Better safe than sorry!

Knocks at the door! Voices! They'll not fool me...again!!!

“GO AWAY! NO ONE GETS IN!”