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News: Due to the disappearance of The Warden again, I shall be taking charge as Warden until his return. - Mutou Yami
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 on: August 15, 2013, 03:32:18 pm 
Started by Mutou Yami - Last post by Mutou Yami
Sprites from me are to be posted soon, once my Windows 7 stops being so weird. ¬¬ Anyway, I'll edit the post when I do get some sprites made. =3

 on: May 06, 2013, 10:53:18 am 
Started by Mutou Yami - Last post by Mutou Yami
Ya postin' in a dead topic. A friend sent the this to me sometime back, and I kept it since. I'm gonna close this off, to prevent any bots, posting here. This topic is now closed.

 on: May 01, 2013, 01:36:03 pm 
Started by Mutou Yami - Last post by A.Cobb
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Nursery Cryme

It was a time for tactics.

I stood outside of the office in the hall, behind the doors that led into the rear hallway of the first floor. It would only be a short dash to the lobby, but I didn’t know where the Daddy monster was. It could be considerably longer if it were lying in wait outside this door. Hopefully, it was still down in the basement guarding the bar instead. It was hard to guess. Assuming the creatures were stupid was a mistake I wasn’t about to make, but overestimating them was just as likely to lead to heartache. I still had a mostly-full clip in the pistol, enough to put it down if I had to, but not much more than that. Conservation was still foremost in my mind.

Why, though? You know where you’re going and you have the key to gain entry. Get up to the third floor and it’s all going to be over.

Except, I wasn’t so sure about that. I mean, I wanted to believe it the worst way. I wanted to think that I’d open the door to Room 312 and find Mary sitting on the bed, smiling and happy to see me after all

these days? these hours?

this time.

But, what if it wasn’t like that? What if it were some kind of trick or trap? It’s not like the idea had never crossed my mind throughout this little misadventure. There was no way I could experience all of this insanity and still be so stupidly innocent as to believe this would end on such a nice and easy note. In fact, if I really had my head screwed on properly, I would probably expect bad things to be awaiting my arrival in 312.

But my head wasn’t screwed on properly. It might not even be close. After all, if it were, I never would have taken those steps down from the scenic overlook to the nature trail. Hell, scratch that. I’d never even be within a hundred miles of the damn scenic overlook. I’d be back in our house in Ashfield, Massachusetts, far, far away from Silent Hill and all the madness within. Maybe I’d be sitting in my easy chair right around now, looking at TV, flipping through such exciting entertainment as televangelists and golf and Sunday afternoon movies. Maybe I’d be sitting in my underwear eating a bologna sandwich and potato chips. Maybe I wouldn’t even be that far along. Maybe I’d still be asleep in a bed far too large for one person, sleeping a dreamless sleep, and in a few hours I’d wake up. Then I’d be in the easy chair in my drawers with my cold cuts and ****ty Sunday television fare. Maybe I’d think of a good excuse, so that I could play sick tomorrow morning and stay at home, and I could keep living life to the fullest as I had been all weekend. Put off the drudgery one day longer.


That was why I was here, wasn’t it? Drudgery. Life had lost its meaning for me. I was living and breathing on the outside, but inside, I was no more alive than Mary was. How long would I have been able to exist like that? How long would I have sat by and allowed myself to sink even further into depression, just another inch every day, until I either dropped dead of lethargy or showed at least enough gumption to make sure Uncle Stephen’s Colt was fully-loaded before I put the barrel in my mouth a second time?

I didn’t know how long, but I did know that it was inevitable. It was scary to finally admit that to myself, but it was true. I was here, looking for my wife even though I knew she was dead, and risking my life and my sanity in the process, but now I really knew why; my life and my sanity were all I had left to risk. On my own, they weren’t really worth that much to me. I needed Mary. I got by without her until I met her, but the years I had with her were the greatest of my life, without question. I wanted her and needed her. And that need was so great that I willingly went through all this, all on the pretext of a vague promise

the letter is blank now, was it always blank?

written on a letter with no return address. That, and hope. Hope that I would find Mary up there. That hope was strong, too. If not, I would never have made it this far with my body and my mind intact. If I had let doubt overwhelm me, I would be dead by now. That was the simple truth. I was here now. I didn’t know where or what ‘here’ was, but getting ‘here’ required a devotion and love above and beyond what most would expect, and that had to speak well for my character, even if I had lost a little sanity on the way. I was here because I loved my wife, and that love kept me alive and going so far. Now, I was almost ‘there’.

No time for doubt.

I pushed the door open, ever so slightly, and peeked through the crack. There was nothing between here and the information table near the elevator. Opening more, I got a clear view of the lobby doors. I stepped out into the hall now, faced with an empty hallway. Nothing was visible all the way down to the guest rooms. It was a bit of relief, but I couldn’t see down the stairs, or the hall leading to the lake. There was perhaps twenty feet between myself and the lobby. After double- and triple-checking everything around me, I screwed up my courage and bolted for the door.

Twenty feet is an endless distance when you’re more than half-paranoid that some dark and demonic beast is going to leap out of the shadows and demolish your face. Each running step I took, all seven of them, seemed to come through drying cement for all their lack of speed. Each time my feet struck the carpeted floor, the footfall sent out cacophonous thunder

it galloped across the floor, covering the distance in the span of a heartbeat and leapt at me, trying to tear out my throat

so loud and heavy that I thought for certain that the monster had seen me, that it was hiding around the corner, safely out of sight until it heard me coming and I had my hand on the door but I was too late because I could hear it behind me, I could feel it coming and if I turned I was certain to see

I slammed the doors shut behind me. I was safely in the lobby but my terror was so enormous that I didn’t even realize it right away. Only after a few seconds of leaning against the doors and breathing great gulps of cool air did my bearings properly present themselves to my brain.

I went forward, taking short and tentative steps as I recovered from my latest panic attack. The reception desk was still empty, and the gift shop was bolted up tight. There was a little picture window next to that door, one that used to display all sorts of gaudy little trinkets, like Silent Hill, Maine shot glasses and t-shirts, but was now completely empty. Perhaps the proprietor did the smart thing and got lost before things went to hell here.

The grand staircase dominated the lobby, leading up to the second floor and its forty guest rooms. It was an impressive thing, if one were to consider themselves an admirer of staircases. I couldn’t say that I was. Yet, the real item of note lay near at the foot of these stairs.

It was a music box, but not one of the wind-up tabletop things you saw in department stores. This one was almost as tall as me, encased in rich chestnut and featuring a large brass melody disc set inside the upper compartment. There was a track at waist level, a circular thing which ran inside the casing and back out again. Three ornate little statuettes sat on the runner, made of fine glazed ceramic and depicting figures from some famous fairy tales. Today’s kids have been so weaned on Disney that they wouldn’t realize that the figures here didn’t originate in an animation studio, but in the minds of Charles Perrault and Hans Christian Andersen in centuries past. It was a handsome thing, to be sure. Mary fawned over it the first time we visited, though the receptionist warned her away from winding it.

I don’t know exactly what made me decide to do it now. Personally, though I thought it was a neat-looking unit, my interest was never that great. I noticed it only peripherally on later visits, save for a brief moment one time when a busboy struck it with a baggage cart, leaving a mark on its base that was still visible. That kid caught ten shades of holy hell from the manager later, I’m sure. Except for that, though? Nothing. I guess I like to think it was a dedication of sorts. It sounds sappy, but I think it was true. I was about to climb that leviathan staircase to meet her again after… a long time, and wouldn’t it be fitting for her to finally hear the box chime?

The key was right below the glass door. I turned it slowly, over and over again. It took a full twenty turns before the tension coil reached its limit. Then, I let it go and I stood back.

The entire thing seemed to come to life once I released my grip on the key. The large brass disc turned slowly, and the first notes sounded as the grooves brushed against the melody tines. It wasn’t exactly loud, but the sound was full and rich, and it seemed to fill the entire lobby with its chorus. The song itself was unknown to me. It was quite pretty, but it also sounded somewhat mournful, like there was just a slight, underlying sadness in the notes. I guess that was fitting, too. I sat down on the stairs as I listened to it play out.

Not long after the melody began to play, the figurine turntable came to life, sending the likes of Snow White, Cinderella and the Little Mermaid sliding along the runners and into the concealed interior of the music box. More emerged from the other side, each of them readily identifiable. Sleeping Beauty came first, followed by Rapunzel with her long locks, and finally, the slight figure of Little Red Riding Hood. They were just as beautifully-crafted as the first three, but I really wasn’t paying much attention to that. Something else had emerged along with the figurines, something simple and black and completely out of place amongst the displays. I stood and went over to see what it was. My eyes shot open wide as chasms when I picked it up.

It was a handgun magazine. Fully-loaded, too. The light played along its form, making it look sleek and sinister. At first, I was thrilled, because every extra bullet was that much more insurance.


[iIsn’t it going to be over? If she’s waiting for you up there, why would you need this? Get rid of it. Toss it across the room and forget all about it. You won’t need a gun where you’re going. Chuck them too, both of them. Might you not frighten her if you barge in armed to the teeth? No need for that. Get rid of them. Throw them and run.[/i]

I couldn’t, though. I just couldn’t make myself do it. Caution still held too large a spot on my brain’s committee. Walking around here without a weapon was asking to be torn apart. Mary was up there. In the face of all my growing doubts I still believed it, but I loved her and she loved me. Surely she would understand why I had a pistol in my pocket and a hunting rifle strapped across my back. I would explain if I had to, but I didn’t see that being necessary. She would understand, just as she always did. Empathy was one of her strongest assets as a person. Certainly, it was one of the things I loved about her, being a person who was normally reticent about his feelings and doubts. That’s why I ignored the voice of reckless abandon and pocketed the clip. Then, I was going up the stairs and towards the second floor guest rooms. The music box’s sweet, sorrowful song still floated in the air like a ghost, even as I closed the lobby doors behind me.

This hall branched off too. There was a cloak room to my left, and past that, the branch, which led to the hotel’s reading room. To my right was the real point of interest, the stairs leading to the third floor. These stairs were nowhere near as grand and dominating as those in the lobby, just a simple double-back up to the top of the Lakeview Hotel.

I took them by twos all the way up, and with each step I took, the growing mass of conflicting feelings and emotions grew and intensified. Excitement and longing clashed and meshed with cold dread and terror, all tied together and twisted around by the very fact that I simply did not know exactly what to expect when I opened that door. By the time I reached the top, my stomach was full of butterflies.

That’s when I saw it. The door. Plain and unassuming in comparison with any other in the hotel, yet to me, it was something completely unique and instantly recognizable. How that was, I couldn’t quite say. There was, of course, the brass numbers on the door, identifying it as that of Room 312. Maybe it was something as mundane as that. Maybe it was just its spatial relation, its location amongst its surroundings. I didn’t know. The feeling of recognizance was powerful and buffeting though, and if I had butterflies in my belly climbing the stairs, I had a troupe of three-hundred pound tap dancers going ape**** in there now.

I fished the passkey out of my pocket only after some effort. My hands were trembling so badly that I could barely keep a grip on the damn thing, and I had similar trouble correctly aiming the keyhole above the doorknob. I had to jab at it three or four times before it finally struck home. I turned the key and the bolt slid open with an unexpectedly loud snap, like the crack of a rifle in an open field. I withdrew the key and dropped it in my pocket, and then I laid my hand on the doorknob, a hand now shaking so badly that the knob rattled within my grip. I was breathing so hard I thought I might hyperventilate. I was here. I was here. All the ****, all the horror, the pain and sweat and fear and blood I saw and lost in this horrible place, all of it was for this moment. All of it was for me to open this door and see whatever was behind it. Not knowing for sure was what made it so goddamned twisted and terrifying. But what was the terror? Seeing a monster? No way. Even if Pyramid Head stood behind this door, on some level I was fatalistically prepared for that. No, the terror was opening the door and…

I turned the knob, more as a muscle twitch than any conscious action, and I pushed the door open slowly, the already-intense emotions threatening to reach critical mass. It couldn’t have taken more than three seconds but by God it felt like

three years?

an eternity and a half.

The room was perhaps the brightest indoor dwelling I’d seen in the entire town. The enormous windows caught every last possible ray of light, filtered as it was through the thick, smoky fog. On a clearer day, one would be treated to a fantastic view of Toluca Lake, and you didn’t even need to view it from behind glass, for the window was actually a door that led to a short balcony. Forget the lake, you could see clear across to South Vale. Hell, with my binoculars, I could probably see right into the front door of Pete’s Bowl-A-Rama if I wanted to.

Everything was just as I remembered. It was as if Mary and I had stayed here last week. The bed was made up with a floral comforter and fresh linens. The writing desk still sat in the corner, something both of us thought was rather cute. There was a full living room set against the far wall, a couch and easy chair surrounding an expensive-looking coffee table. Between the two palatial windows was a beautiful old-fashioned television, one of those in a full cherry-finished console. All of it was familiar, all of it was welcome, and the generous light from outside bathed it all in an almost angelic glow.

In spite of it all, my heart sank right into the basement of the place. It didn’t matter how beautiful it was. It could have been the pearly gates of heaven and it wouldn’t have mattered. For all I cared, it meant absolutely nothing.

I was alone in this room. All alone.

No Mary.

She was nowhere to be found. There were no monsters, either. Pyramid Head wasn’t lying in wait, eager to ambush me, but that didn’t matter either. Mary wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t

Of course she isn’t here! She’s dead! She’s dead and gone! Dead people don’t write letters, Sunderland! She’s dead and she’s gone and you came here for what? Did you really think it was going to turn out better than this? Did you really expect a storybook ending to this madness? Stupid. Stupid and crazy, and that’s what you are. Crazy. Loony. Lost yer marbles. Walked off the edge. Short of a six-pack and missing a few cards. You’re insane, I’m insane, we’re insane. La de da, the last string snapped a long time ago and this is what it gets us. Now you know. Now I know. Now we know, it was all for ****. The train has finally run out of track and

I almost laughed, but I didn’t. If I did, I would cry, and if I started to cry, I didn’t think I would be able to stop, because that nagging voice in my head was speaking a truth I did not want to hear, a truth that I wasn’t sure I could really handle.

I was crazy. Didn’t I know it on some level? Hadn’t I questioned my sanity a hundred times over since yesterday? Of course I had. A thousand times. Ten-thousand.

And now I knew why.

There was something different here, though, something small. A detail. On the floor, next to the television, was a VCR. It was a bulky old Magnavox, and its jet casing seemed as out of place as the clip did on the music box’s turntable. Instinctively, my hand shot towards my pocket and the cassette was in my hand.

Silent Hill.

I turned on the television. It hissed to life with crackly white static, drawing unpleasant reminders of the radio. Then I knelt down and fed the tape into the VCR. It accepted the offering with a happy series of mechanical hums and clicks. Then, I pulled the easy chair over and sat down to look at the screen just as the snow disappeared and the tape began to play.

Nice post. Actually many man are know that your post is really nice.

 on: December 13, 2012, 02:55:52 pm 
Started by Coupre - Last post by Mutou Yami
It's been back ages. I ain't goin' back, I'm fine here.

 on: December 11, 2012, 02:38:59 pm 
Started by Coupre - Last post by Coupre

It's back.

 on: November 23, 2012, 07:13:07 am 
Started by Mutou Yami - Last post by Mutou Yami
Grr, due to the massive loss of my data when my Windows 7 was infected with DorkBot the Skype worm, it thrashed my system where I had to run a System Recovery because it would keep causing 7 to lock up/crash/freeze/hang, so during the first recovery, the worm caused 7 to crash which caused a halt meaning my laptop could not boot from Windows 7 because the Mater Boot Records were damaged, so I had to seek telephone help and the recovery went okay but... they told me the wrong option. ASUS has 3 Recovery Options - as the first deletes everything, leaving you with Drive C and a D drive that's a DVD/Disk drive. I dunno what Option 2 does, but Option 3 gives you a Drive C and Recovery Drive [aka Drive D] but because they said the first option, I lost everything - music - sprites - images - videos - ROMs, everything. Once I get my file sorted out my ROM file, I'll re-download all the games, as luckily Vista had most of my files, but outdated, but they've been a help. So, over the rest of November/December, I will be bouncing between research, while I'm back in Gen 1 [cartridge], as my lost Mewtwo is back from the dead, his Special is off by 2, but he's stronger than he was. So, I will create another post once I begin my research.

Here's a bit of 'M, as I will start with it first.

Name: 'M
Hex Number: 00
Level: 3 - 5
OT: Wild - Not Captured
Moves [Wild]:
Sprite: -Coming Soon-.

Name: 'M
Hex Number: 00
Level: 3 - 5
OT: Wild - TR Kira
Moves [Captured]:
Sprite: -Coming Soon-.

 on: October 30, 2012, 04:58:51 am 
Started by The Warden - Last post by Mutou Yami
I wish I was. He was last on 9th of September, and it's now 30th of October. I can't keep this sh.it up with him. As for my "research", that is gone. Lost everything when my laptop crashed during a system recovery which caused Windows 7 un-bootable as I think the Master Boot Records/Win 7 was damaged during the crash. So, I'm starting from scratch in the ROM department, and my Crystal refuses to keep my data without corrupting nor deleting. So, I'm going to have to find ROMs of Gen 2 again as I've been trying to figure out away to get Celebi in the UK version without a GameShark, but haven't figure it out yet.

So yes, he's fu.cked off once again and he said he will never do so. ¬¬

 on: October 29, 2012, 06:08:22 pm 
Started by The Warden - Last post by Shadowscar
You've got to be fricking kidding me.

 on: October 25, 2012, 07:24:59 am 
Started by The Warden - Last post by Mutou Yami
Sorry Chaos, hate to break it to ya, he's fu.cked off again. ¬¬

 on: October 24, 2012, 06:02:49 pm 
Started by The Warden - Last post by Shadowscar
I decide to check up on this old place to find you have returned. Late welcome back.

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