Oswald Mandus's Found Documents are recovered notes and diary entries that are found scattered throughout his estate. They are one of the primary sources of knowledge of Mandus' life and his actions before coming down with a fever from his disastrous expedition to Mexico. They are essentially the Notes and Diaries from The Dark Descent merged into one category, the other being My Journal.
June 24th 1899Edit
This note can be found in the room you wake up in.
In my dreams, I see a man, dressed in jaguar skins and feathered like a blooded saint. What came from the heart lubricated us, it crushed evil under its tread and liberated us all. The fetid heat of the jungle, mirrored somewhere behind my forehead. My temple pounds, the blood boils in my skull. It feels as if there is something alive there; a rat, a damn rat gnawing through my brains, eating its way out into the world. Even the laudanum will not quell its endless hunger.
I hear my children playing in the attic but it fills me with terror, not love. What desperate thoughts are these?
Edwin and Enoch's diary, October 11th 1899Edit
This note can be found in a small crawlspace in the wall in the same room where you pick up the lantern
Daddy says there won't be a Christmas this year, he is much too busy. Nanny says we must not disturb him, he is ever so busy. He is gone for work before she wakes us and often we are asleep before he returns. We found a bird in the garden with a broken wing. We gave it to Nanny, who said it was a filthy thing and hit it with a rolling pin. Later, we crept downstairs to bury the body when everyone was asleep. There was a pig in the garden, we heard it snuffing about. Then Daddy came and said we had to come inside straight away. He was furious, but we think he'd been crying again.
February 14th 1899Edit
This note is found inside a desk in the nanny's bedroom, the bedroom right beside Enoch and Edwin's room.
Yes, he said, I know these ruins.
He was a shabby fellow, all rotten with some malodorous disease. I caught him looking at me strangely, as if what he really wanted to know was how I knew of them. Biting back the temptation to box his ears for the impudence, I simply smiled and told him that my family's library contained intriguing travel books. The illiterate oaf did not understand that of course. He agreed to lead us anyway.
I have told the children, truly, this will be an extraordinary adventure. If those old stones hold the financial benefits I predict, it will be merely the first of many.
November 7th 1898Edit
Can be found in the desk in Oswald's office.
The bank is refusing credit, the ignorant swine. I sit alone at night and weep, once the children and servants are safely asleep, when they cannot hear me. My darling, how I need you now. They say I have squandered my fortune, that my investment in these latest machines has ruined the family name. What? That I was to remain a local butcher?
What are these two arms compared to the multitude that can be applied, without pay, without tire, by adapting the mechanisms we find in the looms and the mills. But, if the bank has its way, it will all come to nothing. If they come for the house I swear I will kill them, I will kill them all. I will take my rifle... my rifle...
Clockwork and the SoulEdit
Use the rifle in Oswald's office to open the hidden path. Enter the path and take the first left. This note is stapled onto the wall near the window.
Replacement is dissatisfactory. So like a pump.
Better the intestinal canal, like a tapeworm, already hosting intrusion and the breed. Brass better than copper, more resistant. Filaments sewn to bone hold. Marrow pipe removal with needle potential. Composite replacement straightforward, will respond to electromagnetic inducement to increase yield rate, serum provides accelerated resetting resulting in naturalised movement within two to three days. Subjects still require severing of frontal lobes to reduce emotional distress upon reactivation.
Damn, damn it. Damn this wretched soul. If only it were clockwork.
Edwin and Enoch's diary, October 3rd 1899Edit
Keep heading straight at the start of the level until you see a small table to your right. The note is on the table.
Daddy says we're not allowed to play with the animals anymore. We were playing hide and seek with Cook and he came and shouted at us, just as we were going to hide behind Mr Grumpy Teddy. Cook say's it because of the guns in there, but he always lets us help polish them, so it can't be that. Anyway, that room is haunted. If you sneak around there at night, you can hear the ghosts in the walls behind the cases. They are often angry, or that's how it sounds. We think that's why you can hear them rattling their chains and slamming doors and things like that. We don't like it there anyway.
Head downstairs and into the banquet hall on your left. This note can be found on the music stand near the grand piano.
Schlaf mein Kind, schlaf
Dein Herz schlägt unter meiner Hand
Und ich wiege Dich
in diesen offenen Wunden mein
Sanft weiter durch mich
Und Dein Herz gehört mir
Und ich wiege Dich
in dieser finster werdenden Liebe
Träum diese heilige Wunde
und die Engel trauern
nur um Dich schlafen zu sehen
Mein Kind, schlaf und ich
werde Dich wiegen.
December 20th 1899Edit
Head back outside, and into the game room on the opposite side of the banquet hall. Then, go through the door on the left inside the room and head down the corridor. The note is on a chest of drawers on the right side at the end of the hallway.
I am to have a visitor, the distinguished Professor A. He is come to ascertain my mental well-being after my prolonged absence from the club. But I am not stupid. He is here to spy for them. When they stalked The Ripper, he was often called to pontificate upon lacerations and missing organs. And now he comes to me, to doff and wheedle and 'my dear sir' and 'but you must still grieve' and 'perhaps just a quick look at your engines, the triumph of the age'. He knows nothing of loss, nothing of sacrifice.
But to refuse? That would simply poke the hornet's nest, invite a swarm of interlopers and thieves. I must entertain this buffoon and submit to his intrusion. Perhaps I should show him the tripery. See whether his stomach, so trained by rummaging in the innards of clumsily vivisected whores, is strong enough to stare into the real engines of his golden age. I may even introduce him to Jack, or his sons at least. We have stronger locks on the windows now, and we bring their toys to them.
Old Sallie i' the Doll's CottagerEdit
The bedroom at the end of the hallway can be opened by turning a valve hidden in a secret compartment that can be accessed through the bathroom. Once you've opened the bedroom, head inside. The note is in a drawer in the dressing table.
O, She come a-snuffling by night round ye door
With her pretty apron right down to the hoof
And her ringlets are fair and her eyes china blue
Like a half-buried hand in the wintery snow-o
Like a hand in the wintery snow
And she'll beg you for apples through the window ajar
Her face be all hidden but her eyes shine aflame
And though you'll be tempted her besom so fair
She'll snatch you and catch you and eat out your heart-o
She'll catch you and eat out your heart
So look to your manners come the eve of the year
Lest Sallie comes calling for apples my dear
And know that some doors ne'er should open wide
Take heed of your father and keep safe inside
Disobedient children make Sallie her pies-o
And warm Sallie's beastly insides
June 3rd 1899Edit
This note is found on a barrel behind you at the very start of the Cellar level.
I realise now that my fear of dirt stems from the disease I contracted climbing those lost jungle temples. It is as if those clean places, so free of humanity's filth, imprinted upon my soul and left it fragile to what I find here.
Fear is what keeps us all in our places, and the fear of the flesh, the ruin of the flesh is the greatest of them all. I am sickened, I am ruined, but I will build such machines to contain this plague and heal us all.
A new century is upon us.
August 19th 1899Edit
You will encounter three machines in the cellar. After finding the third one on the catwalk, head off to the right and down the stairs. The note is on a box in front of you at the bottom of the stairs.
Von Reichenbach writes of the Odic Force, whilst that ignorant charlatan Blavatsky pontificated upon the soul. They are both cretins. To think one could strive for such great heights without wading first through puke and innard, without standing upon the architecture of bones! Montezuma was the wiser. But here, in our temples of steel, I have witnessed the severed head of a man, recently trampled to death by a runaway carriage, immersed in a solution of the Brennenburg compound open his eyes, and cry "Oh where are my legs Sir? Where is my body?" We are breaking through the barriers of death itself. Oh my dead darling Lily, it is too late for you, but I promise you this: I will save our children from death and, if need be, I will wrench them back from the blackness with this wonderful concoction!
August 22nd 1899Edit
It is found in a desk in a small office at the very start of the level. It is the office with the phonograph in it.
In America, they talk of building their cities to the sky. To me this seems folly. But perhaps it is simply a case of a nation founded without a history of its own. We walk upon our histories; they are compacted into the very loam beneath our feet. The engineers we employed talked of this. They talked of how, when building the underground trains they would often come across older tunnels criss-crossing the capital.
What places lie buried beneath us? We are digging, digging, excavating and re-appropriating what we find. At the centre of the planet, my architect tells me, there is a great iron ball. It is the egg of the world.
May 1st 1899Edit
It is found in another desk in an office just opposite the previous one.
But then, what if they could stand upright and walk as men? What if the brute were harnessed thus? Would they sing, would they find their own God?
I have seen these things and I will tell you now, no. No they will not. But they will happily accept fealty to a God thrust upon them, and worship it thus given. In this, I realise, they are no different to the masses. They are much the same as us.
Once this irrevocable threshold is passed, I understand that we too are shackled and must be set free. To free the man, we cut the man. In order to cross that great evolutionary line, it must first be painted upon the ground.
October 11th 1899Edit
Just ahead, on the left at the small balcony, it sits on a box.
We integrate the very latest knowledge of chemistry, using low levels of a laudanum derivate in feed to subdue the product even before the initiation of the process. This means that when we drag them from holding pens onto the line, they are less likely to panic and damage machine components, other products or themselves.
This section of the belt is sheathed in rubber and kept well lit to maintain good spirits, and we have actually found that the intelligent placements of gramophones and simply acoustic amplification tubes around the line means we can use music to further soothe the product.
We find Debussy particularly effective in this regard.
September 28th 1899Edit
On a barrel in a small storage room just before you head into the alley proper.
"Imagine", they say "a machine one day that might think like a man!" As if this is to be desired. One might almost boast of creating a man who breeds like a pig. Men and women upon all fours, rutting carelessly, ejaculating their filthy little missives into the streets. Alleys and gutters running freely with the careless spill of their conjoinings. The air thick with the whimperings of lust. Bodies streaked with their own emissions. We have created a world where man is so utterly debased he will spray his seed over passers-by. And yet, this is the condition Babbage aspired to.
No, this is not the machine we seek. Such an entity should be nothing less than a deity, and we would fall upon our knees and worship it. We shall not carve gods to bicker and fornicate, they will exist to clean the world and set us free. I reject Babbage as I reject these men of government. Let the pigs copulate in the gutters whilst they can, we shall scoop them up and ease their ascension soon enough.
On the footstep of the truck blocking the way to the church.
How in blazes are we supposed to meet these damned schedules if even the basic equipment we are provided with simply will not perform its designated function! These cursed new-fangled trucks will only run a fraction of the distance my old nag managed before running out of stinking gasoline. The gaffer says it's fine and there's plenty of pumps to refill them outside the factory walls, but you end up dragging a blessed tank from the truck to the nearest one to refill it, and the one in the storeroom is empty again. I can't be turning that crank handle all day only to find the tank is empty! Well, sod it says I, enough for a night and to my bed I go. It's not like anyone needs access to the bleeding graveyard anyway.
Harry, if you get this, I'll meet you in the Damson Templar for a jar.
November 23rd 1899Edit
In the first accessible room on your right as you enter the church, it sits on a small table.
Twin candles, bent to the will of the central saint, casting their light to the corners of the chapel. Father Jeremiah I thought could be trusted with the secret, but he is like all of the others. So the old priest has gone to the holding pens with his flock, he says he will enter into our world with them. A shepherd indeed.
Father Jeremiah's Journal, October 1st 1899Edit
Up the stairs, and into a storage room on your right, it can be found on a box at the far end of the room.
They flock to us now, where once I had to walk amongst them, to bring salvation into their lives. Now, drawn by warmth in winter, by the food that Mandus distributes, my church is full and my charges are saved. He walks amongst them and they almost worship him. He will not allow them to work in his factories, claiming that his workforce are specially trained for the new machinery he uses, and that it would be irresponsible, nay unethical, to risk such precious lives as he sees here.
A changed man since Mexico. It is to be praised that in the face of such appalling tragedy, and from the confines of his sickbed, as he is often chained to, he conducts one of the greatest and most benevolent charities in all of London. Not content with the rise to become the dominant food produce business in the land, he distributes his goodwill, his fares, to the poor and they congregate about his kingdom in gratitude.
These final thoughtsEdit
After you open the secret passage in the Church, follow the path filled with cages and you should see it on a table to your right after a while.
What exhumation is this, what rotten fruit, what be-stitching of parts?
I doubt I will ever be found, yet I leave you this, scrawled in the malodorous half-light, whilst my tormentor shuffles below, my fellow prisoners keen and squeal in the gloam, and where I wait for the knocking upon my cage that signifies it is, finally, my turn to make that dark journey into the interior.
October 17th 1899Edit
It's up the stairs in a desk in the "Works Manager" office.
Each compartment is ergonomically designed, with a feed-through at one end, so the product naturally settle into a position ready for the stunning arms to connect to the skull. We use the natural static charge built up by the friction of the carts against the belt to build an electrical charge, which is contained within glass vacuum canisters at the sides of the stunning arm mechanisms and delivered along the stun arms via copper cabling. We have observed that the artificial lightning contained within these canisters seems to calm the product further.
Post-stunning, the line tilts sharply to the vertical, the physics of which tips the stunned product upwards to fall directly onto the hook of the bleeding line. This hook passes normally through the haunch or thigh of the product, and from this point, we dispense with the belt and instead instigate a channelled floor, which creates a funnel allowing blood and by-product excretions to collect and run to the fluid collection tanks.
October 18th 1899Edit
It can be found in the piston control room, on a small desk to your right right after entering the room
A series of collecting vents have been installed along the ceiling at this stage of the line. In the process of stunning and bleeding, the product often expels stinking vapours from its digestive system, which can be collected, condensed, and used in the methane boiler to drive the engine as a whole. In this way, the more product is processed, the more power becomes available to the machine, and productivity is actually increased. A simple stroke of genius, but one that encapsulates the benefits of self-regulatory automation.
October 21st 1899Edit
It's downstairs, on the left side of the room you reach after restarting the furnaces. To reach it, you must first keep on the right side for a bit until it's possible to move to the left, and then backtrack a bit. It's on a workbench, near a furnace. Be careful, as a manpig roams this area.
The product moves now into the bleeding. A system of spring-loaded blades are arranged here. Tension is built via a series of springs that run along the bleeding line, using the momentum of the product itself to build up the energy for the action ahead. The blades are released at a point of optimum tension as the product passes them. The combination of the speed of release and the sudden stop against the rubber buffers at the side of the line sets the blades spinning rapidly enough to cut the throat of the product. It is a clean, sympathetic and efficient process. The product then continues along the line, and the natural bleeding process is allowed time to occur, the blood collecting in the angled basin at the foot of the line. Secondary springblades are positioned at two further points along the line. Should the mid-level rubber buffers continue to be manipulated, in the form of a semi-bled product thrashing or twitching, these movements automatically form the basis of the spring energy required to send the next bleeding blade into activity.
April 30th 1899Edit
After you drop down onto the conveyor belts, head to the right. The note is on a box near a map of the facility.
The crate arrived this morning, and I had it delivered directly to the workshop. The body is remarkably preserved, although there is a subtle yet nauseating stench of damp and rot. It is humanoid in shape, but has suffered severe skeletal deformity. Remnants of leather straps encase the torso, which is deformed, with evidence of substantial muscle mass and displacement. It is difficult to ascertain whether this unfortunate is the recipient of some barbarous surgery, or was born deformed and an attempt to force his gnarled body into some semblance of humanity was made. What he is I cannot tell, but I smell the Orb upon him, and suspect my great uncle's presence in his curious condition.
So it can be done. We can reshape the body into a tool, accelerate the processes of Mr Darwin's evolution. But here my great uncle and I part company. He chose men as the subjects of his experiments, but men are difficult to control and rotten with sentimentality. No, we require a new creature for our chattels: loyal, clever, strong, easily sated.
July 15th 1899Edit
Right after the ride in the dumb waiter, head into the room on your right. The note is on a table on the right.
In order to facilitate assimilation of tissue groups, a compound is required, or the cells will not bond. Disposal of non-bonded subjects must be immediate and using incineration or we risk continuous animation without form. This is... unpleasant.
A simple compound of one part Brennenburg Infusion Vitae to one part Orgone Monad Disperal fluid is sufficient. This can then be administered intravenously to subjects following re-assembly to maintain bonding. The compound is unstable and highly light reactive - once in the body, the Schumann Lamp can be used to activate the compound, but outside the body is highly corrosive. It can even destroy small quantities of metal.
Head downstairs and into the "Low Temperature Storage" section. It can be found on a table near the large barrel
inflamed it is, burning it does. bleeding from each hole, fore and aft, leaking down my legs, blood and excrement. my lungs are in my vomit, i pass clots of my organs now onto the filthy stone. drink this, he says, and i did drink it, i did do that. because of the changes, they ripple inner me, my teeth sneeze out and scatter like mice in the dark. i cannot find them all, gathered what i can, push them back into my grey gums with my fingers but the nails are all weepy and falling out.
drink it, he says, it'll help the running of the fever, because not us all can take the change. on the other table, a beast under a blanket. i never wanted to see under that, but he drank it too, he passed it under the blanket and i heard it drink. dear god almighty, how can a man shit so much blood and still live? (sic)
August 20th 1899Edit
Heading into the "Holding Pens" area of the Tunnels, this note is on a shelf that you'll reach naturally on your path through the area. It's in a small room right before the flashback.
Took delivery of another batch of imbeciles today. They are the sorriest specimens of humanity I have ever seen. No-one asks where they go to. The authorities of Bedlam are simply happy to reduce the over-crowding in their teeming, stinking halls. We measure their skulls, check their teeth. We give them Laudanum to pacify them.
They wait in line, livestock, dull brown eyes and filthy skin. Many soil themselves as they wait.
Into the manipulator they file in silence. I hear the hissing of gas. I hear the dull groaning as teeth are removed, as bones reset. I hear the pigs screaming. We have removed all the mirrors. After the process, it is their reflections that trouble them the most. Afterwards, when they sleep, I walk amongst them. My children, I whisper to their dreams, you are my children now. I have children once again, and your forms imperfect will be the engines to make my own blood flow again.
August 4th 1898Edit
Again in the "Holding Pens" section, once you reach the pneumatic tube, head into the path on your left. The note is on a floor near a gate. This path disappears after you've used it once, so make sure you don't miss this one.
More experiments with Compound X. Took the dog and injected it with strychnine. After the expected convulsions and spasming, it died just after midnight. I immersed the body in a large tank of Compound X and introduced an alternating current via induction coil for a period of three and a half minutes. Partial return was induced. However, damage incurred prior to death was retained upon revival, meaning the dog continued in the acute state of strychnine poisoning until I put a bullet in its skull. But drowning? Perhaps, yes. It is after all known to be the kindest of suicides. If one were to drown, replacing the fluid in the lungs with Compound X should theoretically be perfectly possible as a revival method.
October 22nd 1899Edit
At the very start of the Sewer, head right. It's on the floor next to a skeleton.
Naturally, once bled, the product must be scalded, dehaired and scraped ready for gambrolling and evisceration. For this, we pass them through the steam reservoir, which is kept at a constant temperature by passing excess high-pressure venting from the engines, via the boiler and series of large copper pipes, into a stone chamber just below the workhouse. At the center of the machine, there is a component that must be kept at a consistently low temperature, which controls operations of the processing of product throughout the system. Alongside this, refrigeration is of the utmost importance in retaining product quality, and this also requires heat to be removed from certain areas of the machine. Two problems are therefore combined into a single solution: the removal of heat from some areas and the requirements for increased heat in others.
Conducting panels draw heat using the principles of convection regulated by the boiler and sending freezing air along one set of pipes in one direction, and super-heated vapours in another.
August 1st 1899Edit
It's on a table in the room with the first valve.
Several of the older forms have breached their containment area and escaped into the sewers. They remind me of my limitations - this is no Chełm and I am no Eliyahu, at least, not quite yet. It is the heat generated from keeping the doorway between open that is to blame. We cannot simply pack them about with coolant as we do at the center where the doorway is. The later versions are kept safe by the freezing temperature of those towers. Up here, where the air is hot and fetid, they become overheated, and their duality tears them asunder, as the other place flies from their cells and their vitae splinters. They live sporadically, torn from one world to the other and back again in violent, unpredictable bursts. For a few seconds they are creatures of this world, then they are torn away and cease to have physical form. This vicious ripping back and forth between worlds has driven them quite insane. I have ordered the affected areas sealed, and will not allow my loyal workers to enter. These are damned places now, the abode of failed experiments, ghosts of fear and spite.
February 17th 1899Edit
In the room with the second valve, on a shelf on the right side of the room.
And I said, look, my darlings, can you see it? And they said Yes, Daddy, Yes, we can see it. A tall, weathered cap of a steep sided pyramid, so like those of Egypt. Stone falling away from the summit, vines crawling about intertwining the stucco serpents that thrive about the steps. A palpable sense of stillness, a weight of forgotten. And this, here, this is where the king sat. And this is where the priests lived. This house, this is the house of the dead. And here, where the sun strikes, this is where they threw the hearts that were not consumed.
No, my darlings, they most certainly were not savages. You see, they believed that the sky could fall on their heads and they truly, truly believed that offering blood was the only way of stopping this from happening.
Perhaps, my darling. Perhaps they were mistaken altogether. Or perhaps their tragedy was they could simply not spill blood enough to prevent the sky from falling upon them.
March 15th 1899Edit
At the very start of the level, in the back of the room on a shelf.
Curled into my bunk, all sick and sweat ridden. They clean my room about me, but I can only hear the voice from within that gentlest of stones. It sings to me and I dream of a great machine.
We will build a new world from the ruins of the old. We will plant flowers in the rotten ribcage and let them grow to hold the sky from falling. I remember how it whispered to me, as we rolled sick and heaving. And I remember when we pulled into Southampton and we both wept, for it was every bit as much a desecration as had been sung to me.
And then we came to London and I set it upon the mantelpiece, and went into the house and gathered the servants and set on re-crafting them, and then I went into the garden and buried those tiny shattered skulls under the weeping bulges of the rhododendrons.
December 29th 1899Edit
At the start of the level, on the floor near the ladder.
Can a man construct himself anew? Can a man, on realising who he is, on what he has become, tear himself apart down to the bricks and begin again? Are our souls just this, tiny cogwheels and clockwork, and intricate machines to serve a function that, upon reflection, we might set to a new task? Can a man, defined by his actions, defined by that which he now finds abhorrent, set to sabotaging this body his machine, until those children of his soul turn in a new motion, and he may awake to a new sun, a new year, a new century with hope in his heart? As I reach my hands to the exposed wires I ask myself this - is redemption possible for such a creature as I? And if not, then surely better to die amongst my creations than to continue to live as a monster.
August 31st 1899Edit
Up the ladder, on the machinery in the room labelled "Pressure Regulation"
Children really are the most wonderful, useful creatures! The unfortunates from the orphanage have proved indispensable in cleaning the larger steam pipes. It appears that matter from the slaughtering process may indeed vapourise at source, but drifts like dust through the air and lodges in the pipes, causing them to foul. Periodically, we shut the pressure down and send one of our pixies into the pipes to scrub the reconstituted fat away. Armed with just a shortened broom, our little explorers venture into the dark.
Of course, we can only keep pressure down for a short period, so they must be fast, or they risk being trapped and boiled by the superheated vapours when they rush back into the system. Then we will be sending their comrades in afterwards to scrape free the cooling mess. The survivors tell me you can reach all manner of places within the complex through the pipes. I smile, tell them I am so proud. And then feed them to the pigs.
December 1st 1899Edit
After the cutscene that happens once you're done sabotaging, you'll wake up on the floor and the note will be right in front of you on the floor.
There is a spoon of medicine, I says, and it's a silver spoon what you did get born holding, ever so painful for mummy dear but grasped so hard it was in a little screaming red fist. Later you used your spoon to dig a hole in the garden to get all the way to Mexico, and then you did eat worms with your spoon on the way to stay fat.
This spoon was the same you gave your twins, then you used it to dig a hole to their clockwork souls and you ate up their hearts like soup on the way to keep you fat.
Fat little mole, where will you dig next, I asks, you and your little silver spoon made from the silver spine of your children, and wrapped in the hair of your dearly departed?
Dear Sweet Jesus, my darling Lilibeth, what am I become?
October 25th 1899Edit
Before passing the sign labelled "Berner Street", you'll go through a small wooden cabin. After exiting it check to your right. An apartment has its door smashed in and is accessible. Go upstairs in the apartment and the note is on a table.
No-one misses the poor. Round up some orphans and the world will thank you for it. Disappear a whore and a gentleman applauds you. Cull a beggar and a lady walks safely again.
I hate them. I hate them more than any of the others. This privilege, this pretension. These so called leaders, these pillars of society, these rich and fanciful. They wear their filth on the inside, but they are no less dirty.
I have plans for them all. We will feed them and then we will feed from them.
October 24th 1899Edit
Head past the sign labelled "Berner Street" and turn right on the road, towards the cages. Walk past the cages, and head past the sign labelled "Goulston Street". You'll witness a manpig murdering a woman. The note is on the ground right in front of where the event took place.
We have set aside an entire wing of the mansion for their parties, we invite them from near and far, and we guzzle them in with fine wine and the finest cuts in all of London. My god Mandus, but these chops are rather divine, who is your butcher?
Feed them up, for the wine and the grains will also lend a character to the product, keep the flesh relaxed. Opium in the champagne and gravy. A hog roast every night for the Duke and the Duchess! An actress battered and sliced! An artisan in every mouthful! An importer of fine teas stewed in his own leaves! They bicker and breed under the table, by the fireplace, on the carpet stained with wine and fat, whilst long dead nobles of deformed grace and cold stare watch them from gilded frames along the crooked walls.
We will hose it down later, as we shovel them into our machine.
December 23rd 1899Edit
Head back out onto the street, and crawl into the crawlspace in a building. Head through the building. Ignore the first crawlspace on your right, but crawl through the one in front of you after it. When you're through, stand up, and you'll see the note on a box right in front of you.
I stand and look at myself in the mirror, penis in hand and my reflection grins at me and his mouth is full of the sulphur mustards. "Vain fool", he sneers, "Are you really so very different? Do you genuinely believe your works of evil are any greater than the rest of them? You are simply a weak man, a product of his age, the same as any other. This is Empire, cretin, this is the killing idiocy, the natural result of this social Darwinism. If you are evil, then this world is evil. You just let the blood run in the street rather than hiding it in the poorhouse. You hold the blade and slide it home yourself, you do not pay a man to do this for you where you cannot see it. If you are evil, at least yours is an honest evil and that alone makes you Ubermensch". And thus I wash my hands and take to bed.
October 25th 1899Edit
Right before exiting the level via the elevator, turn around and start crawling behind the boxes behind you. Keep crawling until you've reached the area with the toy blocks, and then the game will flash. After that, a new path is created behind you. Follow that path and you'll reach the page.
A different strategy for the poor, who mistrust the offered hand, the plate of steaming offal. For them, we are become the disappearance in the night.
More efficient and less visible to picking off stragglers and strays is the removal of entire communities in one swoop. Let the ground open under them and fall to the maw. Last month, by activating the doors at shortly after midnight on a balmy Saturday, fifty-seven individual products were obtained in a single catch.
I have instructed the workhouse to begin plans for a street festival before the end of summer, to pack out the narrow lanes with a teeming throng, with hundreds of pairs of feet. We have begun to assemble a network of false streets and have extended the holding pens in preparation. A second pigline will be added to enable the system to cope with the increase in traffic.
October 25th 1899Edit
Head out onto the catwalk and cross the bridge, but before you head through the door, turn left and walk all the way to the end of the catwalk. The note is on a box.
No machine blades for fatty bishop and gluttony heiress. Prime cuts all for the sorting bins, and the very best, as always, back in the dumbwaiter to the kitchens above, to be stewed and plumped and gravied and breadcrumbed and returned to the table for the next night's feast. And not every night, you see, although we have begun to increase the frequency of the final act. Unlike the poor, the rich will be missed, given time. But we continue to spoil and ready them, and our fine foods are now exported to mansions and lodges across London. And it has been noted in the Times of late, how rather overweight the great and the good are becoming, with their diets of fine wine and rich meat. Indeed, in Punch just last week, a cartoon showed Viscount Selwyn as a stuffed pig, laid upon a platter for his peers to dine upon. A vicious and cowardly slander, no doubt.
But he tasted delicious.
October 27th 1899Edit
Head through the vault door and press on until you reach a staircase. Ascend the staircase and enter the room. The note is to your right, nailed onto some machinery on the wall.
Then upstairs, to bed! To bed! To toss and turn on bloated stomachs, to copulate and puke upon chaise-longue, four-poster, or dressing table. Collapse at last into the engulfing mattress, drunk and drugged and fat and stupid and senseless. And spring the trap, manpiggies, spring the trap.
At a pull of a lever, a set of hydraulic pistons and gears are fired, resulting in three walls of steel bars dropping from the ceiling via the canopy to cage the product into the bed, preventing escape. The entire bed is then tilted backwards into the wall by a powerful spring mechanism, also fed by the hydraulics. The pressure for this system is created as a by-product of the vacuum evisceration system employed for mass production elsewhere on the pig line - in this way, we have created our very own bottled revolution, for the movement of the masses is a causal factor in the extermination of the rich!
October 27th 1899Edit
After sabotaging the machine, head through the open vault door behind you. Take the second right and head through another vault door into a small room filled with boxes. This note is on one of the boxes.
And waste not, want not, for here the assorted slop and innards are sifted and sorted and enter the world through more channels and means than one could possibly conceive. The product passes by this section of the engine and is driven through the blade, splitting it into two sections ready for the butcher's block. And in the interim, it is kept in our freezer bags under the house, and the heat produced naturally by the refrigeration process feeds into the pipes and crannies of these rooms and is the very reason, my dear friend, that we can sit here in shirts and waistcoats but no jackets, on a freezing winter's night, without a fire in the grate, and discuss our great enterprise. The warmth in our bellies and toes may be attributed directly to those bellies and toes even now passing through steam, fire and blade beneath our feet.
December 2nd 1899Edit
Keep walking until you reach a long catwalk. Follow the catwalk but stop at the staircase. This note is nailed onto the wall on your right right before the staircase.
Walking away from those temples, that small pile of stones under the rhododendrons. The skulls of innocence under the loose clod. Headless ribcages in the cool stone behind the altars, three thousand miles apart. I trace back my life to this instance, rain channels eroded in ancient stone. The toxins are already in this damp, this falling water.
I hack and retch and vomit into the sink and grasp the bowl with both hands and stare. There in the plughole, as clear as day. a toy spine, clockwork intricate, like a child's spine, but clockwork. How could that be? How could a child's spine be made like clockwork? I washed it carefully and placed it on the mantelpiece, by the egg I laid myself, under the garden where the children's skulls are buried. I call it my Mexico.
25th December 1899: If You Should Find ThisEdit
At the start of the level, after the elevator ride, you can find this note on your left stapled onto the wall near a map of the facility.
Then you already know all I would tell you. You already know what you have done, and what you must now do. Walking away from those temples, that small pile of stones beneath the rhododendrons. The skulls of innocence under the loose clod. Headless ribcages, cruelly torn asunder to expose their flowers, in the cool stone, behind the altars, three thousand miles away.
I trace my life to this instant, rain channels eroded in ancient stone. The toxins are already in this damp, this falling water.
And in that instant, cradling my children's heads in my palms, I knew that I had to unbind what I myself had constructed, though even then it was little more than a sickening dream. This machine is ever mine, and it falls to me to redeem it, and myself.
December 28th 1899Edit
The final document can be found early on in the level. Climb up a ladder, and then climb up another one. The note can be found on the floor of the catwalk, near a teddy bear.
Memories, they surface like bloated bodies rising to the scum of the Thames. I looked at them, covered in the blood of their dead mother, little piglets squalling in their swaddling and my heart at once was filled with a great love and a consuming hate I could never have imagined. At that point, did my soul split, creating him? Was this the egg of my soul, the moment the great clock began to tick? Is the only path to redemption to join us together again, to make myself whole, to close the great circle and take that madman into my heart once more - and forgive him, and myself as well.
These documents were removed from the final version of the game, but can be found in the game's files.
November 29th 1898Edit
Of the few books to survive after those degenerate peasants fired my Great Uncle's castle were his travel diaries. He talks of archaeological digs in Siam, Arabia, which yielded treasures of quite extraordinary worth. And, most interestingly, he hints at those yet to be found, in the Americas where civilisations were consumed by the jungles. Of course, it all makes sense - those conquistadors were only driven so far by their faith - El Dorado did the rest. And yet, there is more. "Find the Temple of the Stone Moon", he writes, "and the world will never more be hungry, and neither shall you."
My mind is made up. Damn the creditors. I shall leave my work unfinished and I shall take to the Americas, and I will return with my soul richer and my pockets bulging.
September 11th 1899Edit
Our power source provides surplus energy for our needs, and the architect has assured me that the excess is being stored safely deep within the factory. I have been as far as the entrance to the storage chambers, but it is clearly hazardous to proceed further. Our workers enter and work there, but they do not last long. We dispose of the bodies beneath the chapel, in an old medieval plague pit, which seems appropriate. They are covered with burns and strange growths upon the skin that blister and split when they are moved. The smell is quite overwhelming.
All we require for the new power source is a steady supply of clean water, which we are diverting from the sewers. Our entire enterprise is thus built upon human waste.
The power source generates substantial heat, which rises through the chimney complex and warms the tunnels for the workers. Provided there is not too much blood in their excrement, it functions as a perfect closed system.
August 1st 1899Edit
Where de Laval spins milk into cream, we will spin life into dead flesh. The mixing process takes approximately two minutes, during which time the process emits harmful Curie Radiation. For this reason, centrifuge controls have been placed into a shielded antechamber where it is advised the operator remains until the spin has ceased. At this point Compound X can be extracted and sent, via the pneumatic delivery system to the Laboratory ready for use on subjects.
March 8th 1899Edit
I have stood before myself, reflected in the cracking mirror of my own life. What forms are these that swim in my dreams? What shadows cast by the lonely temples? As I lay dying on the stone steps, all I saw was a great serpent wound around the pistons and pumps, wounded by the crush of the wheels.
This heart, this vast beating. Stilled now, time and jungle about me. I dreamt of underground, subterranean, an enterprise. To unlock the passion, the coming century. Must we be crushed underfoot by metal feet not mine? Surely this machine can be better, it can serve us as we serve it; it can save us all. I will build to the core of the earth, invert Babel as I am a Midas chained.
December 15th 1899Edit
What ungodly temple is this? Beneath the vast boiler, that barnacle bruise, that cacophony, that barely-contained, that swollen heart of hate, what is this stillness, this silence, this palpable air of death I have found.
What clean blue water without a ripple or a blemish, whose light engulfs me so? What rods fall into this water, this metal so unlike brass or steel, a milky sheen to the surface, a white clean like cotton wrapped upon a pole. Why this humming, this dizzying sense of vibration, electricity, power? How can this deep water be so clear, these rods descend into the earth so?
December 27th 1899Edit
I am halved, I am bisected. I placed my feet in the stirrups of childbirth and I hung upside down and the great blade of history cut me in two like a butchered pig and my guts fell onto my children and smothered them in my love. Each half of me still living, but the guts kept falling onto my children. So we each went our separate ways and one half built a machine instead, to hold his hate in and to keep his heart beating. And the other fell into a sleep, to blunt the pain. And then he had terrible dreams and when he awoke, the other had made ovens and killed and skinned and cooked all of those he held dear. And thus, holding onto his guts, he strode forth to find himself and make himself whole again.
if you are reading thisEdit
then you have got as far as i did so read quick and you may get further. minnie, she told us before they took her down, theres a secret way through. she told us she met two boys in the pipe, no older than us, but dressed like little gents proper they were, but already there in the pipes they was, like they'd always been there. they told her to follow and then they could get all the children free, they knew the way to a secret door that would get us out. she was going to follow them, but then they sounded the steam bell, so she had to get out or she'd have been boiled up like the others. of the two boys, she never saw them again, but i heard others have seen them too and they've said the same thing.
minnie said look for the signs the boys have left. they said they'll always be here, waiting to help us all home. (sic)
- 1, Bathwater Electrification
- 2, Marrow Disposal
- 3, Opiate Dispensers
- 4, The Lord Austin Dean Innard Scoop
- 5, Iron Butler
- 6, Billiard Room Snare
- 7-8, The Gag Throttles
- 9, Vanity Cosh
- 10, Master Bedroom Tenderiser
- 11-12, Teeth Removal Spoons
- 13, Upper Window Lockdown
- 14, Mr Nilsson's Intestinal Clampings
- 15, Charnal Chute
- 16-18 Draining and Hosing
- 19, Anal Parasol Extender
- 20, The Howell Anti-Puckering Pump
- 21-22, Bolster Blades
- 23, Piano Lid Finger Snare
- 24, Old Sallie in the Doll's Cottager
- 25, Tramp Catche
- Translation of Dieses Herz (This Heart): Sleep, my child, sleep/Your heart beats beneath my hand/And I cradle you/In these open wounds of mine/This heart/Softly onward through me/And your heart belongs to me/And I cradle you/In this darkening love/This heart/Dream these sacred wounds will bleed/And the angels mourn/Only to see you sleeping/My child, sleep and I/Will cradle you
The dates on Enoch & Edwin's diary do not fit in the timeline of the story, as they should be dead by the time they had supposedly written them. This is most likely either and error by the producers, or Mandus' mind twisting the dates as a form of refusal about their deaths.