I’m a huge fan of games’ fan (!) fiction.
Remember Tronyn’s short story over at Quaddicted?
“Miles and miles, on the floor, walls, ceilings, into seeming infinity. Some inconcievable mad god. Iâ€™ve met enough disciples â€“ things without eyes that crawl out of the darkness.”
What about ijed’s?
“He fired until empty, dropped the gun with precision. Just a knight,
lower class, nothing special. Infected, the rage and hate of the place.
He wasnâ€™t always like this. Leaning his head on the wall he tried to
think back, the harsh edges of the stone a cold counterpoint to the warm
images he was trying to summon.”
And finally, what about a great masterpiece by Death Knight over at QuakeOne.com?
“You find yourself at the entrance of
E1M1. You don’t know how you got here and you don’t remember taking any
slipgates or portals that lead to this location, not for a long long
time anyway. You are Ray, a veteran military ranger that once
single-handedly stopped the invasion of Quake. You had thought those
days behind you once you killed Shub Niggurath, but as you survay the
surroundings of this familier area, you realize that maybe that was too
much to hope for.”
This one’s a keeper!
I dare you to write the best piece of fiction about the Quake universe.
First entry is written by enclave and it’s called “The Art Of Quake Booth”
“I dragged myself slowly from the brown sludge, filthy and wet I lay
prone on the cold stone floor. Raising my head I vomited putrid water,
gagging on the last vestiges of grime and ogre piss. I always assumed
I’d meet my end at the hand of a knights spear or a rogue grenade. At
this moment I was more worried about dying from an infection. Looking
down I noticed a large chunk of putrid flesh attached to my boots, I
ripped it off and threw it back into the water in disgust. Fuck this
The stench of the mire beside me became too much and I crawled over
to the relative safety of an empty alcove. Exhausted I lay my nailgun on
the floor and leaned back against the bricks. How long had it been?
Days?, weeks? It all seemed so confusing. Time in this place loses all
sense of meaning, no night, no day, just the shadowy velvet sky,
stretching into infinity.
Was there even a way out of this place?
I closed my eyes and listened to the water lapping against the
cobble stone, it was almost serene. In the distance the low groan of the
undead echoed down empty halls, and something else, something faint,
but always present, was it the wind? The endless drone blowing through
rusted metal and brick? No, it was something else, a whisper, a call, it
was her again. Always speaking to me in tongues, but I knew what she
wanted, the Grand Shub Niggurath, the malefic queen, the spawn of all.
Mal’Li Kn’tar, Grand Mother, Kurath Vivsem,
I shook my head, the bitch was getting inside, twisting my thoughts. It was getting worse.
Attempting to calm my frayed nerves I reached into my backpack.
Two grenades, 15 nails, no shotgun ammo. If I didn’t find a stash
soon I was fucked. Grimacing I paused, did I care anymore? I’d been
fighting for so long. My body was wracked with cuts and bruises, my
sanity slowly fading, the blood and viscera, the stench of death, and
that call, that bitches fucking call. Why wont she stop?
I was exhausted.
Sleep. I need to sleep. This small asylum was as good as any.
Shivering I slowly removed my armour and clothing. Every part of me
ached, I took the opportunity to examine some of my latest wounds, a
deep cut across my stomach, a fresh wound from that fucking fiends horns
on my left arm, and the most painful, a clean gunshot wound to my right
shoulder. I looked closer and could see the exit wound, at least I
wouldn’t be digging buckshot out of my body today. Satisfied I wrapped
myself in a tattered blanket, using my backpack as a rudimentary pillow I
lay down and tried to get as comfortable as I could. Shivering, naked
and alone, I tried to listen to the wind, my last thoughts were of her.
It’s dark in here, I can hear the steady breath of something, I can
smell its presence. The floor is slick with some kind of viscous goo, it
stinks of bile and excrement. Suddenly my body constricts, I can feel
something wrap itself around me. I try to pull away but it’s too strong.
I can feel it slowly squeeze the air from my lungs. I try to scream but
all that comes is a pathetic whisper. I lose all sense of direction as
my body is pulled upwards, I feel the blood rush to my head. The
tentacles wrap around my naked form and I’m pulled ever closer. She
speaks to me, whispering dark secrets, untold eons of wisdom flow into
my mind, I can see her plan, her magnificent dream. Before me stretches
the purple sky, an endless city of ebony and azure. Below, millions of
her young work tirelessly, constructing ever grander palaces in worship
of their master. The tallest structure of all, a slip-gate larger than
any seen before, a mile wide and hundreds of metres tall dominates the
landscape. This is her will.
The tentacles loosen their grip, Her warmth, her desires are mine.
She pulls me into her body, I do not fight. I am home. Enveloped within
her body. We are one.
I wake suddenly and sit up, sweat drips from my body, the blanket is drenched.
It all makes sense now. There is no use in fighting, she will
prevail, the mother has a plan. Stoic, defeated I look down, the nailgun
still slick with blood.
I reach down and place it against my head. Its cold barrel pressed against my frontal lobe.
There is no pain, only relief. My battle is over.
Hands shaking I fight back the tears.
“Mal’Li Kn’tar, Mal’Li Kn’tar, I am coming mother”
I pull the trigger.”
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