Archive 00 [Drama Drama Duck intro]
If there's anyone out there who can read this, then - please, for the love of god, send help. Send us weapons, send us food, even send us songs and stories and hope that the world at large isn't as royally fucked as San Francisco.
And if there's no one out there who can read this... I hope that this can be a fitting chronicle of the last, desperate defense of humanity, our final stand - but there's no fucking chance of that, is there?
Shit, I'm just some 15 year old, half cholo half gringo jerkoff. I'm a soldier, not some writer that's trained to be good with words and writing short letters instead of long ones. But if no one else is gonna record this, write about what's going on, when they have the means to, then fuck it. I'm not the worst guy for the job. Just bear with me if I'm not the best.
My name is Joshua. Josh Preston... I'm a soldier, part of a Resistance, an insurgency against an alien enemy - if they are aliens, and not our own nightmares, or pissed off pagan gods, or devils from straight outta hell - that invaded our dreams, then our planet. We call them the Nightmares - we call what they did to our parents the Bliss. Seven years ago, they managed to get... any adult who falls asleep doesn't wake up. They aren't dead. They're as good as, though. Or maybe worse...
I really, really wish I knew what our enemy was, why the came here, what they're after, and what's up with the Bliss, but... but I don't. And the Colonle... my dad... doesn't wanna know. It's... he hasn't slept for seven years and it shows, and he resents the NIghtmares for it. I would too...
The only weapon we have to fight them back with is some kind of reverse-engineered alien telepathic crap. The Alien Numina Inversion Machine... we can call on our friends, people we love or hate and use them for armor, for weapons, for ammo... but it uses us up. We can tell... each battle, we can feel our faith in each other wavering, our trust ebbing away. I try to be a nice guy, and I am most of the time, and it helps. But we can't keep doing this without some change...
If no one can hear this, we're going to hold out for as long as we can, and I'll keep writing this down so someone else can fight for us. But if someone can...
Please. We need help. We need hope.
Joshua Preston signing off.
And if there's no one out there who can read this... I hope that this can be a fitting chronicle of the last, desperate defense of humanity, our final stand - but there's no fucking chance of that, is there?
Shit, I'm just some 15 year old, half cholo half gringo jerkoff. I'm a soldier, not some writer that's trained to be good with words and writing short letters instead of long ones. But if no one else is gonna record this, write about what's going on, when they have the means to, then fuck it. I'm not the worst guy for the job. Just bear with me if I'm not the best.
My name is Joshua. Josh Preston... I'm a soldier, part of a Resistance, an insurgency against an alien enemy - if they are aliens, and not our own nightmares, or pissed off pagan gods, or devils from straight outta hell - that invaded our dreams, then our planet. We call them the Nightmares - we call what they did to our parents the Bliss. Seven years ago, they managed to get... any adult who falls asleep doesn't wake up. They aren't dead. They're as good as, though. Or maybe worse...
I really, really wish I knew what our enemy was, why the came here, what they're after, and what's up with the Bliss, but... but I don't. And the Colonle... my dad... doesn't wanna know. It's... he hasn't slept for seven years and it shows, and he resents the NIghtmares for it. I would too...
The only weapon we have to fight them back with is some kind of reverse-engineered alien telepathic crap. The Alien Numina Inversion Machine... we can call on our friends, people we love or hate and use them for armor, for weapons, for ammo... but it uses us up. We can tell... each battle, we can feel our faith in each other wavering, our trust ebbing away. I try to be a nice guy, and I am most of the time, and it helps. But we can't keep doing this without some change...
If no one can hear this, we're going to hold out for as long as we can, and I'll keep writing this down so someone else can fight for us. But if someone can...
Please. We need help. We need hope.
Joshua Preston signing off.