“Ugh. If I never play a Final Fantasy again it will be too soon,” Tom said.
“Well, I kind of uploaded all of them into the system before I lost control, so unless I get you out of there soon odds are good you’ll probably run into another,” Rick replied.
“Awesome,” lamented Tom.
“Poor Sephiroth, the guy just wanted some love.”
“Tell me about it. Thank God I warped out of there before I could fulfill his last request.”
“Man, he was so out of it I don’t think he even realized he was beyond the help of a Phoenix Down.”
Somehow I doubt that’s what he wanted out of the deal, Tom thought. OK, where am I now?
From the looks of things, Tom was in the lobby of a stately Victorian mansion, completely silent save for an occasional faint banging or moaning. Looking down, he saw himself wearing a police officer’s uniform with the word S.T.A.R.S emblazoned across the front.
“Aww crap,” he muttered to himself.
Rick’s voice boomed in his head. “All right, Tom, looks like you’re in–”
“Resident Evil. I know. Didn’t you just hear my signature I’m-in-a-tediously-hard-game ‘aww crap’? Gah, can you at least tell me what version I’m in?”
“Looks like the original.”
Well, thought Tom, at least I don’t have to worry about Crimson Heads and random indestructible, mutated little girls. Seriously Capcom, those were some bitch moves in that GameCube remake. Still, it’s probably best to avoid talking to anyone to avoid the risk of death by bad voice acting. Checking his backpack, Tom noticed he had exactly one herb and a handgun with one extra clip. For crap’s sake, what kind of idiotic police force was this, anyway? Here he was, on a dangerous, late-night mission to search for missing police officers who in all likelihood were the victims of a series of grisly murders, and his character is barely outfitted to survive a family reunion.
“All right Rick, what do I have to do this time?”
“Not too much. All youhave to do is locate the Diamond Key and use it. Pretty simple, as I recall.”
“Easy for you to say; you’re not the one stuck in a zombie-infested mansion with only a handful of bullets.”
“And an herb.”
“Don’t forget the herb. That’s handy.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing: How the hell do I use this when I’m bleeding to death from a bite wound? Do I eat it? Apply directly to the infected area? Please, oh please, tell me it’s something respectable this time.”
“Eating it should be fine. Now just pop on out the north door and you can get on with this.”
“Fine,” Tom replied. Collecting himself, he began to head through the mansion. He was in luck, as it appeared someone had already cleared out most of the zombies, and the few that were left could easily be avoided by dashing into the next room. He wondered idly why zombies never bothered to open doors. Did being undead instill them with some kind of irrational fear of portals, or had they simply forgotten how to work doorknobs? Truth be told, though, he was just glad that they never followed him. His spirits lifting, Tom proceeded through another door, only to find a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?” asked Rick.
“Windows. This room is full of windows. And I know that as soon as I take one step, either crows or dogs or crow-dogs are going to burst through for a cheap scare and try to kill me!”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do! This is a survival horror game! Windows in a survival horror game equal a chance for the designer to throw in a cheap scare.”
“Well, you don’t have much of a choice; my FAQ is showing that the Diamond Key is in the next room over and the only way there is through this room.”
“Fine.” Steeling his resolve, Tom readied his weapon and took a step forward.
Another step and nothing. Three steps and still nothing. Four, five, six, seven. By now he was halfway across the room and hadn’t heard so much as a scratch on the glass. Huh, he thought, guess they forgot to booby trap this room. A few more seconds and he was at the door to the next room, breathing a sigh of relief. Reaching for the doorknob, the sound of breaking glass suddenly filled the room, followed by growls and the flapping of wings.