a few new child notes and video snippets.

[DoctorBoomstick]

Summary

Content "Adds a collection of new snippets, both child notes and E-logs."

Purpose of change

More variety in present snippets.

Describe the solution

Adds 10 new snippets: 2 child notes and 8 e-logs, with the latter being quite sizable.

Describe alternatives you've considered

Not adding anything, or trying to keep the snippets shorter, the latter of which I have already tried to do to the best of my ability without jeopardizing the meaning behind the snipits.

Testing

They’re simple text additions.

Additional context

[sparr]

test failure is related to json not changed by this PR

[Inglonias]

This is some well written stuff. Good job.

[Maleclypse]

Figured out why your tests were failing.

[github-actions]

Spell checker encountered unrecognized words in the in-game text added in this pull request. See below for details.

Click to expand

• Peering down from what appears to be a security camera mount, this monochromatic segment of footage is focused on a section of airport taxiway. A solitary, desert-drab plane rests upon the stretch of concrete, its boarding stairs lowered, and its twin engines whining as it idles, the drone of its motors almost eclipsing the distant screams and gunfire occasionally conveyed through the crackling audio. Minutes into the tape, a small group of ragged people burst into view: assorted individuals in civilian garb flanked by a scattering of soldiers, all running headlong towards the aircraft. A small child can be seen at the rear of the group, half carried by a serviceman and lagging behind the main body. Suddenly, a violent flutter of gossamer wings fills the view as a dog-sized insectoid lunges past the camera, the colorful wasp alighting on the child’s back and snapping large mandibles about them. As a sickening, writhing carpet of wasps swarms into view and the group’s front-runners begin to hurry up the aircraft’s steps, a terrible game of tug of war ensues between the soldier and the ever-growing number of frenzied parasitoides, culminating in the man reeling back, showered in spurting blood, and clutching the child’s chewed-off arm. As the screaming child is subsumed beneath a twitching carapace of legs and pulsating ovipositors and the soldier is forced up the stairs, he pulls a pistol and fires wildly into the swarm, the ammunition depleting before he’s dragged into the aircraft. The last thing that the camera records is a spherical object being flung from the plane’s closing door—the item pinging off the taxying aircraft’s wing and rolling into the frenzied crowd. The plane powers out of sight, moments before the footage goes white.
• These are a series of five recent voice recordings, all taken on the same day.\n\n18:31: A throaty, young woman’s voice speaks into the microphone, restless footfalls audible in the background. "Okay, can we all—that is, me—just admit how fucked up it is that I've resorted to speaking to my phone to keep my nerves from blowing up? I heard that pretending like someone is listening helps chill you out, but, Jesus, fuck, this ain’t working. Guess it’s better to pretend to talk to someone than to stay quiet, though. Christ. looked like God had decided to wack out the middle finger: bodies everywhere and massive crowds of folks losing their collective shit. Thank heaven, I'd been out hiking and was able to turn tail and mosey back where I came from. I don’t know how long I’d been walking before I found this cabin. The place looked deserted, and the door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I guess I’ll hang out here until something happens. Definitely better than slogging it outside or trying to go back."\n\n19:55: "You know, whoever owned this shack, you sure had one sick taste in art. Some of the walls have these largeish, glass-cased portraits that are, honestly, really well painted. Damn if ain’t most of them skinless faces, though. Oh, and tentacles. Lots of tentacles." The speaker falls silent as an unearthly squeal echoes in the distance.\n\n23:05: "Windows. The portraits were windows. The faces aren’t there anymore. God, help me."\n\n0:21: Amidst what sounds like distant, monstrous whispers and crashing reverberations of unknown origin, the woman’s hysterical, shrieking voice sobs. "I blacked out a few minutes ago and found myself about to open the front door. I’ve tied myself to the stovetop. They're out there! They want me to come out! I don’t want to go! I don’t want to! I don’t want…"\n\n0:44: Interspersed by whining shrieks and heavy pants, the woman’s voice struggles to be heard within the distorted recording. "Snakes. I see them! They're everywhere! They’re inside of me; I know it! slithering! Crawling! Writhing! I need to get them out. Dear God, get them out of me! Get them out!" The sound of a drawer being wrenched open can be heard, followed by the characteristic clatter of a metallic implement being drawn. The sickening sound of sawing meat and cracking bones can be heard, all but lost beneath the woman’s agonized screams. For the last 15 minutes of the recording, only the dripping sound of coils of wet, viscous material dribbling to the ground can be heard.
• This appears to have been a segment of let's play footage, a face-cam section occupying the film’s upper corner and depicting an unshaven man sitting within a windowed bedroom. Maintaining an enthused monolog, the youth’s upbeat commentary plods along for most of the video, undisturbed by intermittent, inhuman screams and distant detonations. Indeed, even when the sky beyond his window abruptly darkens, the man shows little reaction save for moving to turn on an adjacent lamp, his commentary swiftly resuming despite the device failing to turn on.\n\nMinutes pass, and, following a particularly violent glitch, an amorphous, white shape can be seen suspended in the gloom, some distance beyond the window. A chain of malfunctions suddenly begins, each glitch rendering the screen dark. With every glitch, the form grows steadily closer until its visage is suddenly pressed against the glass. Bearing the shape of a woman, with patches of fish-like scales knitting between jagged rows of protruding teeth that emerge from its skin, the naked aberration grins with a mouth full of slithering tentacles, its eye sockets replaced by gnashing maws, and many dozens of staring eyes sunken into its undulating flesh. Another malfunction darkens the screen, only for the view to be nearly subsumed by the nightmare’s writhing face when vision returns, the creature’s rotten, bloated body merging straight through the still-babbling man’s trunk. A final malfunction robs the footage of visuals, and when it returns, only the man can be seen—sitting quietly alone, his bloodied, empty eye sockets staring at the camera, his toothless maw gaping. The film goes black, and for the final minutes, only the man’s soft crying can be heard.
• This is an archived text sent through a messaging app.\n\nL. C. Carlsen: Yo, I just got this pick sent over from my buddy in the Air Force. Dude, check this shite out.n\nAn attached high-resolution photo shows an aerial view of several residential and commercial city blocks, with most of the buildings leveled and heavy bomb damage throughout. A yawning chasm splits the ground where a main road had evidently lain; the concrete thoroughfare burst open as though from some tremendous subterranean pressure. Mottled, gray mold cakes the surroundings, swamping debris, street fixtures, and entire vehicles in layers of fungal matter, giant, mushroom-like stems lifting heavy heads to the roofs of buildings. A solitary soldier stands atop a half-collapsed roof, quivering mold reaching almost level with the structure’s parapet. The quality of the photo is such that you can almost distinguish the individual tears that dampen the soldier’s cheeks and trace the bright outline of the flare that they hold above their head.
• This is an archived voice message sent through a chat app.\n\nThe recording opens with the low purr of a vehicle’s motor, with various rattling clinks and clangs audible as a man’s Hispanic accent forces its way through the choppy audio. "HEY CHICA, CAN YOU GIVE A MAN ONE HELL OF A WOOHOO? I just got off the plane from Costa Rica—one full hour ahead of schedule! Let me tell you something: the airport was emptier than a fucking graveyard, and the staff, sheesh, jumpier than Pablo when he sees the neighbors’ dog. I didn’t know that a few riots would put the fear of God in all you gun-toting Americans, but if they’re anything like down in San Jose, I suppose I can’t blame people."\n\nAs the man talks, the regular thump of large helicopter rotors grows audible in the background, the aircraft seeming to roar right overhead as the driver concludes. "Anyway, I’m in a rental and heading to right now; I should be there in less than an hour. I’ll get back to you later. There’s a pretty big roadblock ahead, and it looks like they’re flagging me down. I’ll see you soon, guapa, love…" The recording is cut short by a burst of automatic gunfire.
• untitled2047-2842.mp4\nThe video starts with a shaky view of a deserted city street, filmed through a pane of glass framed by drawn curtains. The grind of tracks and base-growl of an engine dominate the choppy audio as an Abrams tank rumbles into view, flanked by several squads of armed soldiers running beside the vehicle. Locked behind the rubber shell of a gas mask, each man carries an automatic rifle, skulking carefully along the sides of the tank as the group proceeds down the road. As the view pans, a soldier leading the column briefly pauses by a blown-open cellar, the cameraman audibly whispering hurried prayers as the infantryman trains their rifle on the abyss. The view jerks sharply as a glistening, artery-like appendage writhes from an unseen point, crashing through the soldier’s mask and bursting out the back of their skull before yanking them from the ground. The desperate liturgies grow louder as the view tilts up and reveals the opposite building’s roof line, thickly coated in a crust of churning cytoplasm and organ-like flesh, and over which the hapless soldier’s body is dragged out of sight, before a waterfall of blood erupts and spurts across the convoy. As the cameraman whimpers in terror, a nightmarish, spidery amalgamation of flesh and bones clambers over the roof’s edge and plunges into the amassed soldiers. The scene erupts in a mass of gunfire and frantic screams.

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