Should any medical issues arise during your visit to Silent Hill, please stop by the hospital
You are James Sunderland and you've just now left the most depressing bowling alley in the world.
Outside, Maria is gone, and so is the little brat, Laura -- no, wait. You see Maria, running towards you. She tells you that you have to follow Laura, that she was trying to do the same, but that Laura outran her. You are apparently not the only person in Silent Hill who is desperately out of shape. Luckily, Maria actually appears to live in this hellhole and is able to unlock the back door to a nearby alley. Her place of work? She doesn't say and you don't ask.
You climb the decaying stairs, pausing to note an impressive stack of crated beer bottles. You consider rifling through the crates for something of use, or even just a few beers. It wouldn't be the first time you've sought solace in the bitter warmth of beer, the taste heavy on your tongue, warming you now that Mary can't, keeping you company in your dark hours, of which the day is full of since Mary died, sometimes the beer helps you sleep, sometimes it helps you forget, those brief periods of oblivion worth so, so much now that you have nothing ...
With effort, you continue on the stairs, leaving the beer bottles behind.
They're probably empties, anyway.
You and Maria walk down a long corridor before emerging in a perfectly ordinary, if empty, bar, full of perfectly ordinary, empty tables, with perfectly ordinary dart boards on the wall, and a perfectly normal, empty, pole on the stage.
Nothing unusual here.
You leave the bar with Maria and emerge onto another of Silent Hill's strangely deserted streets. She spots Laura down at the southend of the street, slipping into a large building.
The hospital.
Surely, despite all of this madness, there is no safer place to take refuge than the hospital. It should have its own backup power generator in case of emergencies, decent supplies of food and water, not to mention medical supplies, pennacilin, bandages, whatever you might need. Even if the aggravatingly uncooperative Laura wasn't disappearing into the hospital, it seems like the most logical place to set up a base of operations for ... whatever you have to do here in Silent Hill. To find Mary.
Unfortunately, it is quickly evident that the hospital is not the refuge you might have hoped for. As with everywhere else you've been, doors are boarded up, barricaded, locked, jammed and everything in a disorder. There are no doctors in sight, but you do encounter several nurses.
Nurses of a sort.
All the nurses are outfited like something from bad pornography, high stiletto heels and short pink uniforms with tight skirts giving you an ample view of their long, smooth legs which you are quite willing to consider until one stabs you with a scalpel. Each and every one of these nurses seems to have had her face blown off with a shotgun and each walks with a shambling, jerky walk, like a poorly controlled puppet. With a scalpel aimed directly at you. Always you, never Maria.
As much as you hate to do so, you must rely on your trust board with a nail in to make it possible to progress in the hospital and find Laura, find out what she knows about Mary, how she knows Mary, if she knows where Mary is ...
There's no hint of where Laura may be, but you find plenty of other odd things. Strange keys with cryptic imagery on them, scattered sheafs of doctors notes, for some reason all about patients from the mental ward. There's an elevator, but it doesn't seem to be working and you aren't about to try to hotwire an ancient elevator car. You and Maria take the stairs, with you chivalrously taking the lead to protect Maria from any nurses.
It's starting to seem like you've toured a hospital big as the town itself with nothing to show for it beyond blood on your hand thanks to a twisted pin in a booby-trapped teddy bear and a line of dead nurses. The exhertion is clearly beginning to wear on Maria, as she finally sits down, drained, on a bed in one of the rooms. She just wants to rest for a minute, she says, popping some very non-perscription looking drugs as she lies down, shutting her eyes.
You don't try to point out to Maria that this isn't a particularly good time or place to have a liedown in - she doesn't look like she'll listen to you and you think she may already be asleep. You slip out quietly, taking a key from the bedside, and continue searching for Laura on your own.
Luckily, the key from the room Maria decided to nap in unlocks the door to the roof. On the roof must be the generator for the hospital, or at least the elevator. If you can get the elevator to work you'll ... well, you'll have a working elevator and it seems like something that might be useful.
The roof is deserted. There's a book in one corner, which you flip through, but there's no indication of how you might get the elevator running again and then
you hear
a noise
clank
clank
clank
fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck it's the murderous monster rapist in the red helmet WHERE DID HE COME FROM WHERE THE FUCK DID HE COME FROM OH GOD THERE'S NOTHING HERE TO DISTRACT HIM FUCK FUCK FUCK TO THE DOOR THE DOOR OH GOD HOW IS THE DOOR LOCKED WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING FUCK HOW CAN YOU ESCAPE THERE'S NOWHERE TO GO FUCK FUCK FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFU
The man's heavy blade crashes into you and
you fall
down
You wake up sometime later, aching and bloody, your head throbbing. You don't know how long you were out; you aren't entirely sure what happened, but you seem to be alive. There's no sign of the man in the red helmet and you still seem to be in the hospital. Therefore, you see no reason not to continue your exploration.
This hospital must not have been used in a very long time - the blocked doors, the messy notes strewn everywhere, and the shotgunned nurses are bad enough, but you stumble across a shower drain clogged with something oozing and violently green, more nauseating than something even Eddie might produce. Somehow, you manage to discern a glint of something valueable deep in the drain. True, it could just be a razor blade or a penny, but anything visible despite all that gross must be impossible, you're sure of it.
Unfortunately, your sausage-like fingers are too thick to get into the drain. You try using the bent needle you found in the terrible teddy bear, without success. It's just not long enough. Frustrated, you get to your knees, wiping off sickly slime from your pants, and continue your frustrated search.
One room is clearly not a treatment room. It's a padded cell, the white cushions smeared with blood, huge senseless splashes in spots and smears resembling words and numbers in others.
There is also, in the centre of the room, a safe, covered in locks.
You're not sure why the heavily locked off safe is in the bloodied room of a mental patient, but, as your mother always told you, anything behind that many locks has to be important. You scour the cell for clues, hoping for a sticky note with the codes neatly written out for your benefit. You find emo poetry written in blood instead. Not as helpful.
Somehow, you're able to puzzle through the locks and finally pry open the safe to find ...
A strand of hair.
... You suppose you can't really think of anything else a crazy person might furiously hide in a safe. Why not a piece of hair? Why the hell not? It makes about as much sense as anything else you've encountered since you came to this town.
God.
Outside, Maria is gone, and so is the little brat, Laura -- no, wait. You see Maria, running towards you. She tells you that you have to follow Laura, that she was trying to do the same, but that Laura outran her. You are apparently not the only person in Silent Hill who is desperately out of shape. Luckily, Maria actually appears to live in this hellhole and is able to unlock the back door to a nearby alley. Her place of work? She doesn't say and you don't ask.
You climb the decaying stairs, pausing to note an impressive stack of crated beer bottles. You consider rifling through the crates for something of use, or even just a few beers. It wouldn't be the first time you've sought solace in the bitter warmth of beer, the taste heavy on your tongue, warming you now that Mary can't, keeping you company in your dark hours, of which the day is full of since Mary died, sometimes the beer helps you sleep, sometimes it helps you forget, those brief periods of oblivion worth so, so much now that you have nothing ...
With effort, you continue on the stairs, leaving the beer bottles behind.
They're probably empties, anyway.
You and Maria walk down a long corridor before emerging in a perfectly ordinary, if empty, bar, full of perfectly ordinary, empty tables, with perfectly ordinary dart boards on the wall, and a perfectly normal, empty, pole on the stage.
Nothing unusual here.
You leave the bar with Maria and emerge onto another of Silent Hill's strangely deserted streets. She spots Laura down at the southend of the street, slipping into a large building.
The hospital.
Surely, despite all of this madness, there is no safer place to take refuge than the hospital. It should have its own backup power generator in case of emergencies, decent supplies of food and water, not to mention medical supplies, pennacilin, bandages, whatever you might need. Even if the aggravatingly uncooperative Laura wasn't disappearing into the hospital, it seems like the most logical place to set up a base of operations for ... whatever you have to do here in Silent Hill. To find Mary.
Unfortunately, it is quickly evident that the hospital is not the refuge you might have hoped for. As with everywhere else you've been, doors are boarded up, barricaded, locked, jammed and everything in a disorder. There are no doctors in sight, but you do encounter several nurses.
Nurses of a sort.
All the nurses are outfited like something from bad pornography, high stiletto heels and short pink uniforms with tight skirts giving you an ample view of their long, smooth legs which you are quite willing to consider until one stabs you with a scalpel. Each and every one of these nurses seems to have had her face blown off with a shotgun and each walks with a shambling, jerky walk, like a poorly controlled puppet. With a scalpel aimed directly at you. Always you, never Maria.
As much as you hate to do so, you must rely on your trust board with a nail in to make it possible to progress in the hospital and find Laura, find out what she knows about Mary, how she knows Mary, if she knows where Mary is ...
There's no hint of where Laura may be, but you find plenty of other odd things. Strange keys with cryptic imagery on them, scattered sheafs of doctors notes, for some reason all about patients from the mental ward. There's an elevator, but it doesn't seem to be working and you aren't about to try to hotwire an ancient elevator car. You and Maria take the stairs, with you chivalrously taking the lead to protect Maria from any nurses.
It's starting to seem like you've toured a hospital big as the town itself with nothing to show for it beyond blood on your hand thanks to a twisted pin in a booby-trapped teddy bear and a line of dead nurses. The exhertion is clearly beginning to wear on Maria, as she finally sits down, drained, on a bed in one of the rooms. She just wants to rest for a minute, she says, popping some very non-perscription looking drugs as she lies down, shutting her eyes.
You don't try to point out to Maria that this isn't a particularly good time or place to have a liedown in - she doesn't look like she'll listen to you and you think she may already be asleep. You slip out quietly, taking a key from the bedside, and continue searching for Laura on your own.
Luckily, the key from the room Maria decided to nap in unlocks the door to the roof. On the roof must be the generator for the hospital, or at least the elevator. If you can get the elevator to work you'll ... well, you'll have a working elevator and it seems like something that might be useful.
The roof is deserted. There's a book in one corner, which you flip through, but there's no indication of how you might get the elevator running again and then
you hear
a noise
clank
clank
clank
fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck it's the murderous monster rapist in the red helmet WHERE DID HE COME FROM WHERE THE FUCK DID HE COME FROM OH GOD THERE'S NOTHING HERE TO DISTRACT HIM FUCK FUCK FUCK TO THE DOOR THE DOOR OH GOD HOW IS THE DOOR LOCKED WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING FUCK HOW CAN YOU ESCAPE THERE'S NOWHERE TO GO FUCK FUCK FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFU
The man's heavy blade crashes into you and
you fall
down
You wake up sometime later, aching and bloody, your head throbbing. You don't know how long you were out; you aren't entirely sure what happened, but you seem to be alive. There's no sign of the man in the red helmet and you still seem to be in the hospital. Therefore, you see no reason not to continue your exploration.
This hospital must not have been used in a very long time - the blocked doors, the messy notes strewn everywhere, and the shotgunned nurses are bad enough, but you stumble across a shower drain clogged with something oozing and violently green, more nauseating than something even Eddie might produce. Somehow, you manage to discern a glint of something valueable deep in the drain. True, it could just be a razor blade or a penny, but anything visible despite all that gross must be impossible, you're sure of it.
Unfortunately, your sausage-like fingers are too thick to get into the drain. You try using the bent needle you found in the terrible teddy bear, without success. It's just not long enough. Frustrated, you get to your knees, wiping off sickly slime from your pants, and continue your frustrated search.
One room is clearly not a treatment room. It's a padded cell, the white cushions smeared with blood, huge senseless splashes in spots and smears resembling words and numbers in others.
There is also, in the centre of the room, a safe, covered in locks.
You're not sure why the heavily locked off safe is in the bloodied room of a mental patient, but, as your mother always told you, anything behind that many locks has to be important. You scour the cell for clues, hoping for a sticky note with the codes neatly written out for your benefit. You find emo poetry written in blood instead. Not as helpful.
Somehow, you're able to puzzle through the locks and finally pry open the safe to find ...
A strand of hair.
... You suppose you can't really think of anything else a crazy person might furiously hide in a safe. Why not a piece of hair? Why the hell not? It makes about as much sense as anything else you've encountered since you came to this town.
God.