Raccoon City Communications

I love this place, it's so fucked up.

This zombie business is just what this world needs, too. People take themselves Way Too Seriously.

Bring on the chaos.

I can here him now, my father. Viktor the wise, the cruel, the elder and the ruler.

The enemy is at the gate.

And yet this is not my world but I feel a kinship to it through this one truth. No matter how different in time and in technology, we are at war with an enemy whom is a sickly reflection of ourselves, wearing all of the atrocity and despair upon them that it would take us to stand and strike them down.

Well, father, I find myself alone. What would you have me do without council or protector or fortress to hide myself away in?

I will fight, again, and hope that we meet in time, or that I find that other so dear to my heart in these ruins.

~ Sonja

Has anyone met a filthy bloodsucker leech guy named Edward wandering around? Pale, tall, thinks he's better than everyone?

Oh yeah. Or an old guy in a wheelchair talking about sports. Billy Black.

I suppose trying out this new cellphone won't hurt anything, it does say that I can talk to almost anyone in town. Has anyone seen a bronze-haired male or a police officer named Charlie Swan? They are very close to me.

Is there a brochure for this place? What's the low down? Why the zombies, why the tests?

Why am I here? Are the soldiers on the lower level OZ or Alliance, because I couldn't tell from the uniform alone.