NPC log entries from an absolutely amateur-hour Doom SnapMap level I made. You can find text versions of the logs below the video embed.

Incident Report: UAC Suppression Field Installment #509 (North Dakota Facility)
Documentation Logged: personnel logs [audio transcriptions]

David Harrison - Final Entry

Dunno why I’m recording this. Don’t want to feel alone, maybe. Stayin’ awake’s getting harder. I—

Zelazny lost it, man. Came runnin’ in raving ‘bout how we’re lab rats or some shit. Told him to calm down. Have a beer. Go finish his fucking “sculpture.” Next thing I know, Admin is singin’ a high alert. Somethin’ about a missing power core. Something about—I shit you not—a “demonic presence detected.” Hauled ass for the elevator, but got tagged by… by…

Heh. Ain’t no two ways about it— by an actual fuckin’ demon, I guess. Dunno what else you’d call it. Barely made it back.

Fuck me, my arm…

Malcolm Zelazny - Entry 001

One week down, still 150 to go. Plenty of time to get things done. Apparently we’re just here to “keep an eye on things” by checking on some mystery numbers every hour and, occasionally, whipping out a wrench to do minor maintenance. But for the most part, there’s way more downtime than up. You can guess what drew Harrison’s beer-swilling ass here. No hour-long commutes, no 9-5 grinds leaving you too tired to live your actual life—and all he wants to do is nothing. Whatever. I’ve got my sculpture. It’s in there. And now I finally have the time to dig it out…

Malcolm Zelazny - Entry 221

Doesn’t make any sense. If you’ve got the resources to build whatever the hell this place is, why hire a couple of nobodies? Why not experts or specialists? I don’t recognize half the equipment here. Especially the Heart. Something sinister about that machine. Sounds absurd, I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I swear, if you get real close and listen hard enough, you hear whispers.

I think we’re being watched. Harrison thinks I’m making up excuses to not finish the sculpture. He doesn’t care one way or the other.

Maybe if something breaks that we just can’t fix, they’ll HAVE to send someone down. Then we’ll learn the truth…

David Harrison - Entry 197

Zelazny’s been askin’ a lot of fool questions. Shit like, “what do we do here, what is this place.” Who cares? Man in a nice suit offered us a whole lotta cash for three years work. An all-expenses paid excuse to sit on our asses. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you damn fool.

Guy needs to spend less time “listening to the Heart” or whatever weird shit he’s on about and more time working on his “art.”

Whatever. Hope he gets himself fired. Hope the company replaces him with someone who knows how to fuckin’ relax—someone who’ll have a beer and shoot the shit instead of bein’ a pretentious prick all day.

Malcom Zelazny - Final Entry

I was so wrong. I hope you weren’t stupid enough to come after me, Dave, you son of a bitch. But if you did, I just want you to know—NEED you to know—that I’m. I’m sorry. How could I have known? Took me weeks to find a workaround for the power core. Just wanted to see if I could draw their attention. Soon as the core slid free there was this… Man, I don’t know. A scream. Something ripped me from the ground and knocked me out. Woke up here. Christ, I was only joking when I said this place was hell.

Shit, Dave. I’m scared. There’s so much blood. Monsters everywhere. I think I messed up real bad this time. Fucking sculpture. Didn’t even finish it…

David Harrison - Entry 001

This here is livin’. Sure, the scenery sucks, the menu is shit, and the only company I got is constantly prattling on about his “art”—but man, there’s maybe ten minutes of work we gotta do twelve times a day. The rest? Ours to fuck off with however we choose. Got a steady supply of Japanese beer. Tastes like shit, but gets you where you goin’. Plus all manner of games and movies on the datastacks. No bosses breathin’ down our necks. Practically paradise.