Tattered Journal

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## Technical information

### ID

Myst\_Sky

 — In-game description

**Tattered Journal** (Russian: *Дневник мертвеца*) is a text document in *ATOM RPG*.

## Transcript

[b]19/I/2003[/b]

The reason why this diary came to life is so stupid I feel rather awkward to talk about it it, really. However, taking into account the suspicious events of the past few days, I feel it is necessary to do so.

Exactly two weeks ago I was passing through Krasnoznamenny. I was planning to sell a couple wire rolls and buy some food - which I did. But as I was going to step out of the city walls, a crowd of gypsies surrounded me. An old gypsy woman, clearly the leader, offered to tell my fortune, and next thing I knew she was studying my hand with a feigned interest.

I expected traditional "a lot of happinessa sea of pain" and then the demand to pay for the prediction, but what happened next came as a surprise. She let go of my hand and stared me in the eyes, frigtened for some reason.

"He's following you," she whispered.

I wondered who was "following me", but the old woman didn't give me time to enquire.

"Watch the skies!" she screamed and disappeared with her cronies, who went very quiet suddenly.

To be honest, I was puzzled. Not so much by her "prediction", but rather by the fact they hadn't stolen anything from me! I stood there for a while and, having decided at last all of this must be nothing but stupid supersticions of stupid people, I went on.

But her words about someone following me were now imprinted on my memory. I had trouble going to sleep that night. The thought that I was being watched bothered me, and the clear winter sky I could see from the window brought back her warning: "Watch the skies!"

I was still nervous in the morning...My head was full of obsessive frightening thoughts. From time to time I would look around or check on the skies, as if expecting it to change somehow. Everything looked just as usual... But then a thought crawled in my mind that it seemed fake. As if the curtain fell from my eyes after what the old gypsy woman had said, and I started seeing some... wrongness in the world around...

I thought I was going mad. The stresses of life finally turned me in a paranoic, or a schitzophrenic, or both. But then something happened today that gave flesh to my vague suspicions!

I noticed someone... In the corner of my eye, far away... He was clearly following me! The silouette was human, but I couldn't make out the details. Anyway, this was enough, if not to disperse the thought I was going crazy then at least to start exploring other options.

So now I'm sitting in front of the fire, looking at the starry skies and writing my thoughts down. May my diary be my ally, if I'm really losing my mind or if there's really someone watching me.

[b]03/II/2003[/b]

I'm leaving a note here again. Just a little addition to the first one. It is very important: I'm really being watched! I've noticed a dark figure looming on the horizon more than once. Still, every time I move in his direction to check, the bastard disappears! But I know I saw him! I think I should set snares and traps around.

I have a couple theories about who it might be: the first, and also the most probable one, is that it's the gypsies playing some kind of a game with me. I don't really understand what it is they're after. Maybe at some point they will turn up with some "magical" talisman, protection "from evil spirits" or some other anti-scientific trinket. If this is their plan, they've chosen the wrong person! These ridiculous tales won't scare me. If they bring their magical shit to me, I swear I will open fire!

My second theory is that someone's planning to mug me. This too is possible.

In any case, I think the traps will not be out of place.

By the way, I cast a glance at the sky now every time before going to sleep. And there is something about it… As if it changes all the time. It looks different every night!

[b]05/II/2003[/b]

Today I've got another proof I was watched. I was checking the traps and found a scrap of fabric in one of them! It seems woolen, painted black. The scrap I got had a golden star embroidered upon it… I couldn't understand what item of clothes it was torn off: trousers, a jacket, a coat, perhaps even a raincoat. What matters is that someone's been loafing around so close to my camp!

In other news, rabbits got trapped in two of the snares. Not bad!

[b]17/II/2003[/b]

My phantom follower hasn't shown his face for almost a month, and I all but forgot about the diary. But this night I had to get down to it again. At first I thought it was a wounded animal's wailing that woke me up. But as soon as I got my bearings, I realised the ear-piercing sound that had made me jump in cold sweat had something unnatural about it. An animal's howl is full of pain, fear and anxiety. This, however, sounded blank, emotionless, like a signal. Or a siren. People say in ancient Greece sirens lured seamen to rocks. Perhaps he wants to make me leave the camp? I think I was right about his guilty intent. But they've chosen the wrong guy! I know a thing or two myself.

[b]20/III/2003[/b]

It's night again. I was woken up by the rattling squeak again. I armed myself and crawled to the camp's border. No-one. Then suddenly there was rustling of the leaves under the feet of someone invisible, someone running right at me from the underwood. In the quiet of the night, it sounded deafening. I rushed back to the camp, barely managing to cling to my only means of protection against this bugger and his gang! I was running for about two minutes when I realised there was nobody following me. So they weren't going to mug me? What the hell are they after?! What does this black bastard want from me? The days are still too short to go in search of the gypsies who foretold my fortune... And they must have long since left these lands. I need to collect myself.

[b]23/III/2003[/b]

The third night passed quickly. I had no dreams, I had no sensation of time. It felt as if I just lay down and switched off for seven hours. In the morning, I did some household chores. I extracted a young roe from a trap. There were no traces of human presence around the camp. They must have decided to be more careful after the last encounter.

[b]24/III/2003[/b]

I was studying the skies all night. I might not have trusted what I saw before, writing my findings off as pure coincidence or tricks of the eye. But now it's obvious it's all true. The stars are going out. I couldn't locate the dimmest star in the Great Bear. Sagittarius' string has thinned visibly. What is going on?

[b]25/III/2003[/b]

I have an idea. Or rather, a hipothesis. What if "the end of the world" is not just an expression? What if the phrase we use to call the outcome of the Great War is literal, made up by adding its constituents? A rueful profecy, like the one of that gypsy, but on a global scale. What if it's not my personal follower clad in black, the leader of a criminal gang, but a metaphor of the darkness thickening over the world? What if the bombs fell and killed the light? And now the blackness is shrouding us every night, thicker and thicker? There are ever fewer stars on the sky. It's all but gone out.

[b]--/---/----[/b]

Don't be scared of the sky. Don't worry. Don't run from me. Don't bes cared of the sky. Don'two rry. Don'trun fromme. Don't be scared of the sky. Don't worry. Don't run from me. Don't bes cared of the sky. Don'two rry. Don'trun fromme.

[b]28/III/2003[/b]

It is nonsense... Nonsense! But it's true. Or is it? Yes, it is. My senses can't lie, my memory can't deceive me. I slept like a log last night... Emaciated after watching the blackening sky... It wasn't me who left the latest note! It wasn't me who wrote these nonsensical words about the sky! Jeez, it's not even my handwriting! Who was it? Someone sneaked into my camp. It's not safe anymore. I can't stop shaking. Every time I think about him sneaking around... the black figure sent by the gypsies.What gypsies, what do gypsies have to do with it? He leaned over my sleeping body. He rummaged through my belongings. He breathed at me. He wrote in my diary! Leave me alone! What do you want?!

[b]30/III/2003[/b]

I decided not to wait till morning. I hear footsteps around the camp. He wants to get in again, to continue writing in my diary. So I fled, with all the stuff I could carry in the early hours of the morning. I moved to a cave not too far from my bivouac. It's good here, deep and safe. Just one exit, just one entrance. Easy to guard. Don't have to bes cared.

[b]1/IV/2003[/b]

If only the cave entrance didn't open up to the sky! I wouldn't know. I would be calmer, less anxious about myself and my future. But I see it... the last stars are leaving the sky. It's pitch-dark. There's no hope anymore.

[b]13/IV/2003[/b]

No more supplies. Just some water in the flask. I'm afraid to go out and check the snares. He won't let me go outside. He scuffs in the fallen leaves at the entrance. As soon as I come close to the entrance, he jumps up and starts shrieking. He never sleeps. He's always there, at the threshold... waiting. The same colour as the dead sky. Invisible.

[b]16/IV/2003[/b]

He's here!