Post by Trent Matsunoshin on Sept 22, 2007 1:48:36 GMT 1
game of the year hands down!
www.gameinformer.com/NR/exeres/41497688-5BCB-4C0A-B952-A1B1440E2139.htm
1960
Mid-Atlantic
"They told me, 'Son, you're special. You were born to do great things.' You know what? They were right."
And that was the last thing I could remember. A present and an explosion. The water around me was dark and cold, devoid of any life. I, alone, was the single survivor. The water around me penetrated my very soul, freezing me from the inside out. Gasping for air, I struggled to break the water's surface only to find a hellish wasteland filled with fire, debris, and the endless waters. In the distance I could make out the plane, properly silhouetted against the flames. I only had a small chance for hope and that laid inside of the very plane that just tossed me into this mess. If there was some sort of emergency radio to be found inside, maybe I could call for help.
Taking in a deep breath, I made my way towards the plane. The waves in the middle of the ocean are null. They appear to be like an old man, too tired to keep on fighting as they unenthusiastically lick at my face and arms. Even this little bit of an attack is too much, it holds my worn body back, unable to make any headway. A large explosion catches my attention. My only chance for survival, the plane, is nowhere to be seen. Hopelessness. Despair. Betrayal.The water drifts in and out, pushing me along like a rag doll. My fate is set in stone.
As I take in my final breath, a glimpse of light catches my eye. This is my hope. This is my saviour.
This is my story.
BIOSHOCK:The Narrative
The flames continue to burn around me in the water. A strange mixture of intense freezing and destructive heat. Forcing myself to through the water was difficult enough,let alone towards what may have onl been a mirage. I see it again, the light coming from a far-off object, much higher than that of the water level. Straining my eyes to see through the flames, I'm able to make out a large black structure rising from the sea. Pushing myself with all of the might i have left, I swim towards the unknown obelisk.
A staircase? Rising from the water almost unbelievably, a staircase leads up to the figure. Unable to shake the terrible fatigue, my eyes begin to blur. My limbs begin to feel heavy. Everything is numb. My mind goes blank. Silence.
The sea's gentle waves were the cause of my return to consciousness The cool salty water slapping my face against the already cold steps of the giant obelisk before me. How long had I been unconscious? The plane was at this point, completely gone, submerged under the cruel waves the ocean. Working hard with all of my effort, I grabbed hold of the railing to my left, decorated with some working lights, and pulled myself up. Working up the steps was difficult, I still had little feeling in my legs. Unable to hold myself properly, my head sunk and watched the ground as I walked up the steps. Chipped, and broken steps. This place had definitely seen better days.
At the top of the steps I found myself face-to-face with an open door. It was gigantic, gold, and daunting. Peering inside, I find that it's darker in there than out here. Surely, only a madman would press on if they had another choice. Clearly, I was the madman in this scenario.
Stepping inside I feel a cold chill up my spine, almost a signal of importance. The door behind my swings shut as I run back. I pound on the doors, desperately trying to get back outside where I at least know my worst enemy is the ocean waves.
-click-
Turning around, I notice that somehow a light has just been turned on. Not one to question my luck, I look up into the face of a golden statue holding a banner:
"No Gods or Kings. Only Man."
Stepping forward, I notice a plaque in front of the banner on a small podium. Carved into a gold sheet are the words "In what country is there a place for people like me? -Andrew Ryan."
I stared, transfixed, at the plaque trying to make sense of it all. What made this man different from anyone else? Why did he need to find a country for people like himself? He looked normal enough, even immortalized in gold. I had little time to ponder these deep questions as suddenly I heard the whirring of a generator and the click of a light. The area became instantly illuminated and I could see that there was a walkway to the back of the statue. Walking around the gargantuan life-like body, I realized there was an entrance into another dark room. The lights flashed on in there as well, quickly revealing a set of stairs going downward. Unable to defy my growing curiosity, I took my first step on my way to the bottom of the ocean.
I continue down the steps with twists and new revealing aspects at each step. A right into a hallway, another right into a downward spiral and finally a split-decision: right or left? Both sides were dark so it wouldn’t have mattered too much in the end, but I chose the left. A light shot on and went down the incline finally leading to a flat surface. There I was faced with a large bronze sphere. It looked old, tarnished, and greatly rusted. It had a door that was wide open and inside was enough room to hold about 8 people- rather uncomfortably. Stepping inside, I saw a label for this monstrosity. It was called a “Bathysphere.” Looking around, I spotted a gold lever. It seemed to almost…sparkle. It was as if some higher force was calling me to pull it. I reached forward and pulled it downwards.
A sudden start and the door of the bathysphere closed. I was locked inside of this contraption as it began to shake and submerge into the water. I was trapped and there was nothing I could do. Signs outside indicated the depth at which I traveled. 10 fathoms…14 fathoms…18 fathoms…how far would I be submerged? I looked outside trying to get a closer look as the light stops filtering in. A wall ascends from the floor and blocks out my view as what appears to be a television screen is shown over the wall. A video begins to play as I find myself locked, gaze-to-gaze with it.
“I am Andrew Ryan, and I’m here to ask you a question. ‘Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?’ ‘No!’ says the man in Washington, ‘It belongs to the poor.’ ‘No!’ says the man in the Vatican, ‘It belongs to God.’ ‘No’ says the man in Moscow, ‘It belongs to everyone.’ I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose”
The wall descended as quickly as it had ascended revealing the bottom of the ocean, a magnificent view of sea creatures and beautiful rock formations. The bathyspehere quickly rode over these and revealed a humongous, city.
"...Rapture! A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
With the end of Andrew Ryan’s speech a statue was seen made of pure bronze. A sterling figure of human power, muscular and bold he seemed to almost confront anyone coming in to challenge the greatness of Rapture. Great glass hallways were seen connecting every building to one another creating a utopia. Sea creatures were able to come and go, drifting peacefully through the city creating an aura of serenity. As the bathysphere begins to flow slower I can hear a voice of some kind inside the sphere. Two men talking although I can’t make out what they say. Signs outside of the bathysphere begin to light up:
All Good Things. Flow. Into The City.”
And the bathysphere stops suddenly inside of a chamber. There are what appear to be advertisements on the wall inside the chamber. I see one that advertises “Telekinesis.” Such a thing is preposterous! How can you sell telekinesis? The bathysphere begins to rise and I can hear the voices again.
”Get to that bathysphere! We’ve got company.”
As I surface, I can make out what looks like two people against the darkness of the ocean outside. They are only silhouettes, but they are moving cautiously around one another.
”Please…just don’t hurt me.” the voice sends a chill up my neck. Such a tone, one of pure concentrated fear. ”You can have my gun! Just, please, let me go!”
I hear a sudden screech and the second figure lunges at the first figure, slashing open his stomach. Against the brief lights I make out the shower of crimson red against the blue of the sea. The second figure picks up the first and tears him in half, tossing his body aside like a discarded toy. “…is there someone new…?”
The same horrifying screech is heard again as the second figure leaps on top of the bathysphere desperately slashing at it, trying to crack it open like a walnut to get at the morsels inside. Sparks are flying everywhere as what sounds like hooks scrape against the top, rocking it back and froth. The creature finally leaps off and runs off, giving up its attempt for the time being.
“Would you kindly pick up that shortwave radio?”
I looked around and quickly noticed the source of the voice. Attached to the left of the bathysphere there was what appeared to be a tiny speaker. Picking it up quickly, I held it to my ear.
"Oi don't know 'ow 'ou survived tha' plane crash, but oi've never been one ta question providence." He spoke with a thick scottish accent and a soft compassionate voice. "I'm Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive. Now keep on moving...we're gonna have to get you to higher ground."
With a loud clank, the door to the bathysphere opened. Not sure what to make of it all, I glanced outside warily. The mysterious man on the other end of the radio addressed these fears. "Jus' take uh deep breath an' step outta ta bathysphere. I won' leave ya twistin in da wind."
Slightly reassured by his words, I find the courage to step out into the dark room before me. There's a red carpet that leads down what appears to have the likeliness of an altar. I step forward and start the walk down it.
A loud crack is heard behind me and I twist around, answered quickly by Atlas on the radio again. "We're gunna need ta draw'er outta hidin', but yer gonna 'ave to trust me."
Turning to the right at the end of the carpet I spot a large stack of suitcases. What went on here? Was there some mad rush to leave? This place is clearly dead now but at one point, it appeared, it wasn't. A large tube is seen behind the suitcases. What is this thing, I question. It's so out of place from the rest of the area. A slight electrical charge moves swiftly inside, but nothing gives a hint to the contraptions purpose.
I turned around, still looking for a way out of this dank area. There are signs everywhere, each one representing some disdain towards this place. "Rapture is Dead!" "We're NOT your Property!" "Ryan Doesn't Own Us!" I walked past them, feeling a bit of fear in the pit of my stomach. Something terrible had gone wrong in this place. Something terrible.
An explosion straight ahead of me. A circuit breaker cracked and a shower of sparks were sent over me. I shielded my eyes to protect myself, of all the places to be blind this wasn't a good one. "Just a bit further..." I heard a sickening voice say as my lack of a weapon became pain-stakingly clear. How would i defend myself if this creature leaped out at me?
Suddenly a creature lept from the ceiling to the ground, madly scrapping two metal hooks together as it stared at me. I was frozen in fear when a spotlight shot on, blinding the creature and partly myself.
"Gotcha! How do ya like that!?" Atlas yelled out of the radio as a robot came flying down, blaring an alarm and shooting rapidly at the monster. It shrieked and latched onto the wall, climbing out of the way of the shots and disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
"Now, would ya kindly find uh crowbar er somethin?"
Text of the best video game intro EVER....
www.gameinformer.com/NR/exeres/41497688-5BCB-4C0A-B952-A1B1440E2139.htm
1960
Mid-Atlantic
"They told me, 'Son, you're special. You were born to do great things.' You know what? They were right."
And that was the last thing I could remember. A present and an explosion. The water around me was dark and cold, devoid of any life. I, alone, was the single survivor. The water around me penetrated my very soul, freezing me from the inside out. Gasping for air, I struggled to break the water's surface only to find a hellish wasteland filled with fire, debris, and the endless waters. In the distance I could make out the plane, properly silhouetted against the flames. I only had a small chance for hope and that laid inside of the very plane that just tossed me into this mess. If there was some sort of emergency radio to be found inside, maybe I could call for help.
Taking in a deep breath, I made my way towards the plane. The waves in the middle of the ocean are null. They appear to be like an old man, too tired to keep on fighting as they unenthusiastically lick at my face and arms. Even this little bit of an attack is too much, it holds my worn body back, unable to make any headway. A large explosion catches my attention. My only chance for survival, the plane, is nowhere to be seen. Hopelessness. Despair. Betrayal.The water drifts in and out, pushing me along like a rag doll. My fate is set in stone.
As I take in my final breath, a glimpse of light catches my eye. This is my hope. This is my saviour.
This is my story.
BIOSHOCK:The Narrative
The flames continue to burn around me in the water. A strange mixture of intense freezing and destructive heat. Forcing myself to through the water was difficult enough,let alone towards what may have onl been a mirage. I see it again, the light coming from a far-off object, much higher than that of the water level. Straining my eyes to see through the flames, I'm able to make out a large black structure rising from the sea. Pushing myself with all of the might i have left, I swim towards the unknown obelisk.
A staircase? Rising from the water almost unbelievably, a staircase leads up to the figure. Unable to shake the terrible fatigue, my eyes begin to blur. My limbs begin to feel heavy. Everything is numb. My mind goes blank. Silence.
The sea's gentle waves were the cause of my return to consciousness The cool salty water slapping my face against the already cold steps of the giant obelisk before me. How long had I been unconscious? The plane was at this point, completely gone, submerged under the cruel waves the ocean. Working hard with all of my effort, I grabbed hold of the railing to my left, decorated with some working lights, and pulled myself up. Working up the steps was difficult, I still had little feeling in my legs. Unable to hold myself properly, my head sunk and watched the ground as I walked up the steps. Chipped, and broken steps. This place had definitely seen better days.
At the top of the steps I found myself face-to-face with an open door. It was gigantic, gold, and daunting. Peering inside, I find that it's darker in there than out here. Surely, only a madman would press on if they had another choice. Clearly, I was the madman in this scenario.
Stepping inside I feel a cold chill up my spine, almost a signal of importance. The door behind my swings shut as I run back. I pound on the doors, desperately trying to get back outside where I at least know my worst enemy is the ocean waves.
-click-
Turning around, I notice that somehow a light has just been turned on. Not one to question my luck, I look up into the face of a golden statue holding a banner:
"No Gods or Kings. Only Man."
Stepping forward, I notice a plaque in front of the banner on a small podium. Carved into a gold sheet are the words "In what country is there a place for people like me? -Andrew Ryan."
I stared, transfixed, at the plaque trying to make sense of it all. What made this man different from anyone else? Why did he need to find a country for people like himself? He looked normal enough, even immortalized in gold. I had little time to ponder these deep questions as suddenly I heard the whirring of a generator and the click of a light. The area became instantly illuminated and I could see that there was a walkway to the back of the statue. Walking around the gargantuan life-like body, I realized there was an entrance into another dark room. The lights flashed on in there as well, quickly revealing a set of stairs going downward. Unable to defy my growing curiosity, I took my first step on my way to the bottom of the ocean.
I continue down the steps with twists and new revealing aspects at each step. A right into a hallway, another right into a downward spiral and finally a split-decision: right or left? Both sides were dark so it wouldn’t have mattered too much in the end, but I chose the left. A light shot on and went down the incline finally leading to a flat surface. There I was faced with a large bronze sphere. It looked old, tarnished, and greatly rusted. It had a door that was wide open and inside was enough room to hold about 8 people- rather uncomfortably. Stepping inside, I saw a label for this monstrosity. It was called a “Bathysphere.” Looking around, I spotted a gold lever. It seemed to almost…sparkle. It was as if some higher force was calling me to pull it. I reached forward and pulled it downwards.
A sudden start and the door of the bathysphere closed. I was locked inside of this contraption as it began to shake and submerge into the water. I was trapped and there was nothing I could do. Signs outside indicated the depth at which I traveled. 10 fathoms…14 fathoms…18 fathoms…how far would I be submerged? I looked outside trying to get a closer look as the light stops filtering in. A wall ascends from the floor and blocks out my view as what appears to be a television screen is shown over the wall. A video begins to play as I find myself locked, gaze-to-gaze with it.
“I am Andrew Ryan, and I’m here to ask you a question. ‘Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?’ ‘No!’ says the man in Washington, ‘It belongs to the poor.’ ‘No!’ says the man in the Vatican, ‘It belongs to God.’ ‘No’ says the man in Moscow, ‘It belongs to everyone.’ I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose”
The wall descended as quickly as it had ascended revealing the bottom of the ocean, a magnificent view of sea creatures and beautiful rock formations. The bathyspehere quickly rode over these and revealed a humongous, city.
"...Rapture! A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, Where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well."
With the end of Andrew Ryan’s speech a statue was seen made of pure bronze. A sterling figure of human power, muscular and bold he seemed to almost confront anyone coming in to challenge the greatness of Rapture. Great glass hallways were seen connecting every building to one another creating a utopia. Sea creatures were able to come and go, drifting peacefully through the city creating an aura of serenity. As the bathysphere begins to flow slower I can hear a voice of some kind inside the sphere. Two men talking although I can’t make out what they say. Signs outside of the bathysphere begin to light up:
All Good Things. Flow. Into The City.”
And the bathysphere stops suddenly inside of a chamber. There are what appear to be advertisements on the wall inside the chamber. I see one that advertises “Telekinesis.” Such a thing is preposterous! How can you sell telekinesis? The bathysphere begins to rise and I can hear the voices again.
”Get to that bathysphere! We’ve got company.”
As I surface, I can make out what looks like two people against the darkness of the ocean outside. They are only silhouettes, but they are moving cautiously around one another.
”Please…just don’t hurt me.” the voice sends a chill up my neck. Such a tone, one of pure concentrated fear. ”You can have my gun! Just, please, let me go!”
I hear a sudden screech and the second figure lunges at the first figure, slashing open his stomach. Against the brief lights I make out the shower of crimson red against the blue of the sea. The second figure picks up the first and tears him in half, tossing his body aside like a discarded toy. “…is there someone new…?”
The same horrifying screech is heard again as the second figure leaps on top of the bathysphere desperately slashing at it, trying to crack it open like a walnut to get at the morsels inside. Sparks are flying everywhere as what sounds like hooks scrape against the top, rocking it back and froth. The creature finally leaps off and runs off, giving up its attempt for the time being.
“Would you kindly pick up that shortwave radio?”
I looked around and quickly noticed the source of the voice. Attached to the left of the bathysphere there was what appeared to be a tiny speaker. Picking it up quickly, I held it to my ear.
"Oi don't know 'ow 'ou survived tha' plane crash, but oi've never been one ta question providence." He spoke with a thick scottish accent and a soft compassionate voice. "I'm Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive. Now keep on moving...we're gonna have to get you to higher ground."
With a loud clank, the door to the bathysphere opened. Not sure what to make of it all, I glanced outside warily. The mysterious man on the other end of the radio addressed these fears. "Jus' take uh deep breath an' step outta ta bathysphere. I won' leave ya twistin in da wind."
Slightly reassured by his words, I find the courage to step out into the dark room before me. There's a red carpet that leads down what appears to have the likeliness of an altar. I step forward and start the walk down it.
A loud crack is heard behind me and I twist around, answered quickly by Atlas on the radio again. "We're gunna need ta draw'er outta hidin', but yer gonna 'ave to trust me."
Turning to the right at the end of the carpet I spot a large stack of suitcases. What went on here? Was there some mad rush to leave? This place is clearly dead now but at one point, it appeared, it wasn't. A large tube is seen behind the suitcases. What is this thing, I question. It's so out of place from the rest of the area. A slight electrical charge moves swiftly inside, but nothing gives a hint to the contraptions purpose.
I turned around, still looking for a way out of this dank area. There are signs everywhere, each one representing some disdain towards this place. "Rapture is Dead!" "We're NOT your Property!" "Ryan Doesn't Own Us!" I walked past them, feeling a bit of fear in the pit of my stomach. Something terrible had gone wrong in this place. Something terrible.
An explosion straight ahead of me. A circuit breaker cracked and a shower of sparks were sent over me. I shielded my eyes to protect myself, of all the places to be blind this wasn't a good one. "Just a bit further..." I heard a sickening voice say as my lack of a weapon became pain-stakingly clear. How would i defend myself if this creature leaped out at me?
Suddenly a creature lept from the ceiling to the ground, madly scrapping two metal hooks together as it stared at me. I was frozen in fear when a spotlight shot on, blinding the creature and partly myself.
"Gotcha! How do ya like that!?" Atlas yelled out of the radio as a robot came flying down, blaring an alarm and shooting rapidly at the monster. It shrieked and latched onto the wall, climbing out of the way of the shots and disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
"Now, would ya kindly find uh crowbar er somethin?"
Text of the best video game intro EVER....