Skuld

Salutations reader! As I would hope, many of you have managed to discover and view The Giant's introduction scene, identifying the presence of twice as many Richtofens as we were prepared for. However, one must note the ease with which the Origins crew converses with this altogether strange and different Richtofen, of the warnings of impending doom they thrust upon him. They've obviously gained some form of knowledge as to the results of his nefarious experimentation, yet from who? None of the Origins crew was ever in possession of the information they so readily give in the intro during the course of the Origins map, suggesting that a 5th man, an unknown party, has supplied them with such information. Who that is, we cannot say, but yet again another crew is being guided by yet another voice, directed to carry out the whims of what could well be one more would-be God, be it a familiar face, or an altogether new Announcer guiding the path we take for survival. The only questions now are where did this unknown person ever manage to grasp an understanding of multiple timelines and the crux points at which the stream splits in a panorama of damnation and ascension? And why would such wisdom ever be provided to us in the first place? The last question simplest of all: Who is the 5th Man?

As you may know, perks are a constant ever-updating facet of the Zombies experience, handy beverages that enhance the abilities of a player via numerous, perhaps magical effects within these seemingly rather mundane soft drinks. However, their creation, nor the explanation of how they achieve these effects has as of yet, not been explained in entirety within the storyline. Not one for merely slapping on the lazy story writing excuse of "it's magic", I'd love to entertain an explanation tied down with real life science, along with the sci-fi genre's pseudo-science, however misguided or a self-delusion it may be. So keeping such in mind, despite the depth of detail and research I've gone at lengths to reiterate the perks in semi-scientific terms, this theory is not meant to misguide you into accepting the below as established fact. Now that we've moved that out the way, let me begin: In their attempts at creating the perfect Nazi super-soldier, Group 935 at one point came along the perk beverage machines. Each perk alters the recipient, enhancing reload time, providing greater endurance, improving fire rate, and more. Yet, despite all these wonders, we've not yet heard of an experiment wherein a squadron of soldiers were given these wonderful beverages and sent into battle to crush the inferior equipped Allies. This exemption has always led me to believe the perks themselves contain a flaw to great to overcome for group 935 to apply to the entirety of the Axis armies. As such I looked at the common method by which a player loses his/or her perks: the process of "bleeding out", upon revival said player is rid of all perks they've ingested. This suggests, that along with blood loss, is perk loss, a certainly large flaw, for can one imagine a Group 935 experiment where one Nazi soldier was pumped with Perk drinks, sent into battle, only to find out he is once again reduced to a mortal man the moment he is shot? If these perks can only grant their gifts to men lucky enough not to get shot, it would undermine their use, as a every-day part of war is indeed inevitable blood loss. But not to be stopped there, I decided to expand further upon this theory. I'd speculate that the perk beverages themselves, alter the blood cells. Due to blood loss draining a player of the benefits, one could assess that the blood is necessary or integral to the effect of a perk. Just as one ingests medicine, which is soon dispersed amongst the human system, perks would disperse through the digestive tract and alter the blood cells, but not the brain. See, during a normal day, when one loses blood, the brain sends the orders to regenerate new blood cells, based upon "blueprints" it has stored within. But, since the perk drinks are unable to effect the brain, bleeding out perk altered blood cells means the brain will regenerate normal blood, as opposed to making more Perk cells. Indeed, we never see if the Perk drinks ever wear off with time, although one could assume that inevitably a character uses the restroom faculties. So saying, upon tying the Perks to blood, one must then describe them in such terms. Below is such: Stamin-Up: Cellular respiration is the process wherein a person converts oxygen in the blood stream to ATP energy which is then either immediately used or stored as myoglobin. The harder you work, the more oxygen is required, and should you run out of ATP energy, your body begins converting available glucose into lactic acid an act that causes muscle cramps and fatigue. Eventually your body runs out of available energy in its entirety and the muscles then seize, a term noted as the lactate threshold. Fortunately Stamin-up avoids this problem by altering the oxygen enrichment of each blood cell, amplifying the amount of oxygen present in the stream, allowing your body to have a constant supply of ATP energy, and thus prolonging the period at which you run indefinitely, extending the the lactate threshold. Although it should be noted that despite Stamin-up, the body eventually requires sleep, thus stopping you short of running forever with this perk. Juggernog: Normal skin-repair requires extended time for platelets to appear and clot the wound through the blood stream, and white blood cell count determines the speed at which the system may fight against infectious disease. However, with Juggernog, white blood cells are augmented in power, and increased in amount, preventing almost any infection from deterring the physical body, as well as increasing the speed and count of platelets available to scab a wound and repair. A warning nonetheless, as speedily one recovers in use of Juggernog, it does not prevent all physical harm, and has a limit to which it can address wounds, until it depletes entirely. Speed-Cola: Reaction time can depend upon the speed that blood flow reaches the brain, allowing it to send commands in response to stimuli. With the introduction of Speed-Cola, blood cells are adapted to flow at greater speeds, as the heat begins to pump slightly faster, with the addition of some adrenaline to initiate faster pump times. As such, most recipients are able to react much faster than the average human with this stim, as do their reload times with weapons. Double-Tap: Muscle cramps that occur as an involuntary reaction, are normally due to a loss of electrolytes/or dehydration. When firing a weapon this can be cumbersome, as a twitch of the finger can either mean a faster shot, or a fumbling delay in fire. Playing upon this, Double-Tap targets the muscles in the hands, sending in small devices to measure the time at which a gun's hammer releases, and the muscles in the hand begin to feel pressure give way. detecting this distance for the next shot, Double-Tap drains the electrolytes at the minimum required distance to trigger a weapon, thus allowing one to fire faster. As a side-result, occasionally one may be given the amount of time to pull the trigger twice in such a period of time as to fire two bullets almost simultaneously. Be wary though, for extensive use of Double-Tap's now voluntary cramp reaction, bullets should deplete faster than normally assigned rates. Quick-Revive: Developed alongside the use of morphine as a pain medication, the Quick-revive beverage causes the drinker to become more responsive to Morphine effects, by combating tolerance of morphine over time with the introduction of numerous amounts of proglumide not only reducing tolerance, but preventing or enhancing the effect of Morphine. As such, each event calling for a quick jab of morphine ensures the maximum, and in some occasions even increased, reaction, allowing the injured to recuperate quicker. Dead-shot daiquiri: In order to increase the effectiveness of the human eye, this Daiquiri spreads a film of hydration over the eye, amplifying the detail at which it views. This film also carries high oxygen rates, constantly renewing the surrounding blood vessels to the eye. Eye irritation or dehydration of the body, depletes the film. Common uses of this drink in combat situation show an increase in accuracy. PHD Flopper: PHD Flopper adapts the response of all liquids in the body to outside pressure, along with augmentation of the pores for pressure release. In normal situations, upon a fast change in outside pressure, liquids in the body began exerting pressure of their own in response, an effect commonly known as the Bends, occurring most often in diving. This effect is multiplied when the human body is exposed to most explosives, noted as the balloon effect. Examples include the use of HE 155 bombs, which upon explosion in proximity to a human, will result in the liquids in said human's liquids rupturing out the body, even if shrapnel does not find its way to injure them. PHD Flopper negates the pressure of explosions or any other forces which apply pressure to the body, by allowing blood cells to respond in kind with exerted oxygen through reinforced pores. By doing so the body will now respond evenly to pressure, negating any explosive balloon effects. This response has been found to reduce the often dangerous effects on both the muscle and bone structure in jumps from large heights, although due to the even spread of air by the blood cells, the pores will still disperse their pressure, causing a wave of air to ripple around the subject. In environments where the air is filled with flammable gases, this ripple has the chance to ignite those gases, creating a minor explosion, should the pressures involved be great enough. This newer perk has found use nominally in bomb squads and the like, but it should be noted that it will not respond at all to low pressure, stabbing and the likes will penetrate the body, injuring and then depleting the subject of PHD Flopper effects through blood loss. Electric Cherry: Upon being consumed, this Perk spreads a chemical within the blood stream, that remains latent until the body produces epinephrine (better known as adrenaline), upon the arrival of epinephrine, this chemical agent strips the blood and surface area of the skin of most electrons, increasing their conductivity. As soon a proper friction is introduced, the surrounding area of the subject is bombarded by electricity. As a pre-caution, this effect is only available during times of great stress, which normally induce adrenaline. (For example: In combat situations both the haste, which may produce an adrenaline rush, and friction of reloading a weapon can induce the electrical effect. Do not attempt to force the reaction, as either limited or no reaction will occur.) Unfortunately, this taser-like defense has poor conductivity in other living beings, but has proven effective against the dead, due to a lack of mitigating factors. Tombstone Soda: Developed in response to other Perk's decay over both time, and severe loss of blood/or hydration, this beverage renews previous perk effects once following such an incident as described above. Nanite-esque devices in the drink first measure and store the data of other Perk's genetic blueprints, and then embed themselves in the brain. Upon a perk draining event, this data is discharged into the neurological system, allowing it to replenish blood and liquid reserves with cells identical to those altered by any Perk. Much to our misfortune, these devices deteriorate following a single use, and take their data with them, requiring a secondary cola to reproduce the devices. Mule-Kick: This drink was produced with the use of agents found in Stamin-up and Double-tap, and as such uses limited versions of their processes. Only targeting the muscles in the upper torso (primarily the arms and back muscles) these areas are enriched with oxygen, and forced into flexation. The resulting muscle tissue is permanently enlarged, although initial tears can cause sore pain in the torso. Thankfully, this minor pain is balanced by the ability of the subject to carry and use greater weight. Combat use remains to be the increase of weapon capacity, although it is occasionally used for cargo movement. Vulture-Aid: Yet another perk of unknown origin, it can be speculated that vulture aid was created as a supplement for hunting expeditions. By introducing a bacterial eliminating component (possibly trisodium phosphate) to the eccrine sweat glands, the perk almost eliminates human body odor, as the component 's anti-bacterial properties, once released, clean the affected skin. Unfortunately, it has little effect on outer clothing, and the untouched areas of skin (primarily the apocrine gland surfaces, such as the armpit), and as such the two items are subject to producing trace amounts of identifiable odor. However, a efficient remedy to its short falling, is that due to the reduced stench, one may coat their body in a masking agent, ie mud, fruit juices, or decomposed flesh. By doing so, the drinker's prey will remain oblivious to them. However, in the case of utilizing decomposed flesh, one must be wary enough to re-apply, as following several stages of decay, dead meat can lose its scent, becoming odorless in stages 4 and 5 when sufficient bacteria is not readily available within the corpse. Who's Who: Lacking in entirety any specific scientific base, this beverage allows astral projection, in response to great trauma. However, it can be speculated, that although beyond current understandings, this drink either achieves real practical use of ascetic hindu meditation; wherein the meditated being escapes the self and inhabits another organism, or perhaps achieves this by a relay of all psychological data, entering the damaged body into a regenerative hibernation and transferring consciousness via former contact to an empty vessel, in this case an infected husk; even more far flung is the drink acts as an escape mechanism, trauma prompting it to traverse to a similar reality, allowing momentary rectification of mistakes, before merging into the seams of a new universe. It can be further assumed it is nothing more than an indicator for the current Announcer to temporarily allow a reprieve, nothing more than a Get out of Jail free card appropriated for His game. nonetheless, it seems this final perk escapes any logical earthly bindings, re-affirming that all this, is none but a game.

Under the subsection of shrieker zombies, it should be noted that they are not truly zombies at all. In fact, I believe the proper term for them is Djinn, which you may know as genies. In numerous religions, Djinn are malevolent (sometimes depicted as benevolent) spirits of the sand, hence their attitude towards the player, as well as their garb, not to mention the method in which they spawn, rising as sand from the ground. It could be speculated that due to either 115 exposure, or the present Anouncer's control of the undead, they too seek to attack the player. It is quite possible that the current Announcer, is not just in control of the undead, as a result of 115, but that they are in control of spirits, and 115 works as a better conduit, akin to gold's superiority to copper. this is further supported by Richtofen's need for increased power, and technology to manipulate Stuhlinger, who as we know, was himself suffering from extended 115 exposure.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the Origins map, I wouldn't put the Maxis represented within the game being dissected as the true Maxis, especially given the end cutscene following its Easter Egg, therefore I'd not count it as his corpereal form since the cutscene shows it isn't a true story after all. Not to mention, I don't doubt he's a character within the story, and my reference to him as an author is due to his manipulations of said story, hence the capitalization, I mean Author as akin to a manipulator, a being like the Editor in the Sisters Grimm series, or an entity removed from the story in such a way as to be able to influence it, yet still be intertwined within it. A Doogie Howser MD inner monologue situation, applied to the entirety of the zombies story if you will. Gimmick you may think it, that certainly doesn't remove it's potential to achieve anything represented in the theory, for I'd believe it altogether not unlike Treyarch to play upon a minor detail such as this being used throughout the game, and expanding it into a greater plot device. Supposedly the yelling of Sam by the zombies in Nacht was altogether imagined by the first players, and yet later was expanded into the character Samantha by the zombie producers. At this point I can't properly debate the validity further, as the term theory suggest I'm certainly not writing this intending you to taker it as known fact. Nor can you deny it's possibility either for the same reasons. However, I'm not one to be boisterous, so I will certainly concede if this proves a fruitless theory.

Entry 1 Countless times I had dreamed of achieving my own enlightenment, meeting eyes with my own maker. So I toiled, constantly, without rest or woe as soon as I had graduated. Germany unfortunately had hit hard times; there were no calls for bright young minds, no room for creativity. Every man, woman, and child, felt the weight, the burden of, a war lost. Financial debt consumed our government, and soon led to my own, and many others, left with poverty. But I continued on, trying to exploit something, anything, that would let me see my maker, and yet avoid the cold kiss of Death. But alas, without funding, it was none more than a silly dream. And then, a light of hope spread 'round my town, nay my country. The favored Nazi Party brought with it the promise of jobs, and money, an end to the nation's troubles. And infatuated with their glittering promises, I selfishly ignored the devil speaking through them. Joining their party, along with rising through it's ranks, caught the eye of our Fuhrer. He was, not to say the least, unhinged, yet he undoubtedly wanted to fund my early exploits into the Afterlife. For what reason I could only ever guess: perhaps for the more unsavory ideals he omitted in those early campaigning speeches, or maybe he wanted to see the face of our Lord, to hear His judgement, most likely the sick fantasy that he would be given some holy blessing. The man had lost many a young German to his ill-fated war, one that encapsulated our entire world, for the second time. Whatever the reason I was happy that I could work towards my goal again. Entry 2 It appears I have made the most foolhardy of mistakes in accepting this offer. My funding is virtually cut off, and progress has yet to be made, it seems I am to be shipped to the 935 facilities as yet another of their "bright" consultants. Their work apparently is much more important than my own... Entry 3 Work here at 935 is steadily disappointing, who would think that so many brilliant minds would be set towards these unthinking abominations?! The Undead, resurrected by the meteor one can only name as Wormwood, mined for radioactive material, will be the destruction of us all! My displeasure is not unheard of however, the good Dr. Richtofen, another consultant who's own work was cast aside, has agreed to induct me into a secret group of Alumni. Secrets within secrets, our burgeoning supplies of metal must be for soundproof walls, for I had never heard of such a group. After much consultation, and even some praise at Edward's foolish teleportation machine, I had earned a seat at the society. Under the cover of night, my work was transferred to a Russian base, run by the very same Illuminati. Perhaps soon, I shall travel to that haven to meet my creator, visit that Aether realm. But first, work is to be done on the device to carry me there.

The whir of helicopter rotors eases as we touch down to the forest based garbage facility. Before I can get bearings, a grotesque scent assaults my nostrils, mounds of trash envelop my vision, the occasional plastic bag violently forced away from our landing zone, as our vehicle's blades create a whirlwind of refuse around us. Not too eager to consent to the foul odors, I pull up my mask, blocking off the evil smell, directing the other members of the squad to do the same, lest it distract them from competent mission conduct. Trudging forward through the mounds of rusted cars, broken toys, the occasional marking station, whereas the actual facility is a vague impression on the outskirts of the horizon, we arrive at the first Hive growth. As if by miracle, the rotting stench has increased tenfold, breaching my mask, but risk of attack by the adversary lends a fervent speed, and I start clearing waste to allow for the drill to puncture through, and that's when I see it. A lifeless appendage, perhaps a hand, and desperation latches on to my heart, and I claw at the remaining rubbish, revealing a ring of corpses round the Hive, tendrils bonding them to it, gaunt eyes burning into me. Whatever new occurrence this may be, I know with clarity that the dead workers are fertilizing the Hive growth, like some twisted version of true decomposition. The sight disgusts my fellows, and I allow them a few fleeting moments to steel their stomachs. Once again gathered, I place the drill, flinching as it cracks through bone, and we await the arrival of the Cryptids. For several anxiety-filled minutes none but the shriek of the drill is heard, no enemy, adrenaline laced blood calms to normality. There was nothing. No pools of acid burning the soles of our boots, no talons tearing into flesh, after what may have been just 10 minutes, the sickening pop is heard, and we watch the Hive collapse upon itself. Pushing the curiosity aside, I point the team onward, towards the next target. That's when we hear it. Shrieks, piercing calls the noise burrowing into my skull, resounding across my mind. Shadows lapped at the edges of my sight, prowlers provoking fear within my stomach. But without warning the screams ceased. A calm before a storm. Then, out the surrounding garbage, pounced our attackers, the freakish insectoids trying to rip away limbs. Military experience, no, will, failed us then we hesitated staring at the monsters facing us. They were skinny, but well muscled, minor exoskeleton covering their bodies, pronged horns like that of a dung beetle. Teeth bared I fired, whereas Tom, perhaps James, I just hadn't learned their names, too many die, stood dumbfounded. He was the first to go, wailing as they packed around his flesh, gouging him, but that was to be expected, what happened following, was not. Before we could continue the battle, they simply dragged his corpse away, without even the most modest regard for the bullets firing into their forms. I wanted to run after, save him, save a dead man, cowardice stopped me, halted us all. Guilt clouded thought afterwards, depression, I remember little. Just periods of silence interrupted by those eerie shrieks, and the loss of another man, and us all watching the beasts drag the bodies through the junk. I finally collapsed at my goal, the Hive, alone mayhaps aided by another survivor, truthfully I was too long gone by then to even care. Begrudgingly I shuffled back up, placed the drill, and did the same old procedure, wiping off the point of contact for the drill. I should have expected it, I must have honestly thought those damn Cryptids took their corpses to some heavenly pile of refuse, but the blow to my psyche preempted all that dribble, and instead I looked upon the festering faces of my squad. I cried. I was a grown man and I just wailed, cursing whatever gods I could dredge up. It was folly, because as soon as the sorrow ebbed away, I noticed the sound hadn't stopped. Shrill cries in tandem with my own. This time I just sat in place, felt eager hands surround me, strapping me in with my fellows. Shelter for shelter, company for company, I felt woozy as the Hive enveloped me, but I had a clarity enough to watch as those of my squad beckoned me along, we'd stay together, all feeding the Hive. Loyalty to each other, to the Hive. Valkyries: Cryptids resembling that of a seeker mixed with the common Dung beetle, they ensure Hives are well kept. Prowling in the background they shall await a kill by their brethren, to gather aroundst a corpse, dragging the dying soldiers to the next nearest Hive to serve as a fertilizer of sorts. The steady supply of deceased to a Hive Growth increases it's regeneration ability. In game: Seldom provoked to attack a player alone, Valkyries will wait until he is downed, and then proceed to drag him to a Hive not currently being drilled upon. Ignorant of any bullets, they can only be stopped by death, but be forewarned, even with the intention of saving an ally from being enveloped into a Hive, when a Valkyrie has its grip on a player, that same player may be subjected to friendly fire. Should the Valkyries succeed in placing him on a Hive, and he dies, that Hive will now require a longer amount of time to be drilled. Considering such, allowing an ally to die at the hands of several Valkyrie only serves to detriment the entire match, as players must then endure greater waves of enemies. At higher rounds, losing a player to a Valkyrie, can mean a couple more Rhinos to do in the survivors. (The above is merely a concept I'd enjoy being introduced to Extinction, written and completed 3/6/2014)

Actually Electric, it's entirely possible that Maxis, in the "true reality" is still nothing other than an electronic recording, a Hal 9000 for his "Family". It would explain why, in an effort to perhaps bond with her "Father", Samantha gives herself a German accent in the original maps. And if you backtrack to the plan of creating unquestioning soldiers, who would be more easily impressionable than children? Imagine a community wherein Maxis' plan is realized by collecting the orphaned children of an apocalypse into a society of his own making, free to indoctrinate them with all matter of lies, for there certainly aren't heroes to stop him yet. In fact there are several oddities in the Origins End Cutscene: 1: As they exit through the door, what appear to either be bullet or claw marks on the door itself. 2:Samantha's teddy bear is covered in the trademark blood, despite their seemingly safe home. 3: On the Dresser's leg, you see tally marks; Eddy's has less, because he has not been at the community as long as Sam, her father being the one in charge. (Eddy 10 days, Samantha 20) 4: "Their eyes should be blue" perhaps, unlike Samantha who has seemingly been safe with Maxis from the start, Eddy knows of the true zombies eyes. 5:"Girls don't know enough about Zombies." Eddy says this as if it is a daily part of life, the history of zombies. Perhaps there is a REAL history taught to the inhabitants, he says it as if "Girls don't know enough about sports" resulting in the feeling that zombies have been around for ages. 6: The siren resounds around the house, if the community was just their one house, why use a siren, Maxis could merely open the door and ask them to go into the basement. This shows the community is much larger. 7: "My father has a plan." Safety Plan. But what would need curing? 8: Maxis has stayed a voice throughout the whole game, even our cut scene with the children. Omnipotence is a gift.

Salutations my peers! Within this article you shall find a collection of facts regarding the supposed science-fiction hive mentality of our insectoid trespassers, as introduced in Extinction. A common misconception of these alien creatures would be the application of the term "Hive Mind" to their social functions. This implies a collective conscience, where all members share the memories and experience of another organism of their swarm. In fact, the actual term for the foreign Extinction race's organizational ability, would be Eusociality. The most common participants in such an animal society would be ants, bees, wasps, and termites; each has a caste based existence, each level of caste serving various functions, from worker to warrior, such applies to Extinction creatures as well. Due to this, one can place the Extinction beasts in a separate category than the all-consuming force some of the community have labeled them as, as if they were akin to The Flood, etc. A secondary consequence of their eusocial activities, would place them lower on the food chain, meaning that there are others, greater predators, and the seemingly mindless insectoid destroyers are not apex predators, but perhaps secondary/or primary consumers, requiring by nature that a larger threat exists among the stars. Although the monsters' apparent colonization strategy coupled by their increased aggression could mark them as artificially engineered shock troops, sent by a higher echelon of intelligence. Continuing on, I have prepared an analysis of more recent events, namely "The Solaris Event" (a term propagated at one time by the PTGCentral YouTube channel). The most common cultural reference I could obtain with relevancy is in relation to the novel Solaris: "Solaris chronicles the ultimate futility of attempted communications with the extraterrestrial life on a far-distant planet. Solaris is almost completely covered with an ocean that is revealed to be a single, planet-encompassing organism, with whom Terran scientists are attempting communication. What appear to be waves on its surface are later revealed to be the equivalents of muscle contractions. Kris Kelvin arrives aboard "Solaris Station",[3] a scientific research station hovering (via anti-gravity generators) near the oceanic surface of the planet Solaris. The scientists there have studied the planet and its ocean for many decades, a scientific discipline known as Solaristics, which over the years has degenerated to simply observe, record and categorize the complex phenomena that occur upon the surface of the ocean. Thus far, they have only achieved the formal classification of the phenomena with an elaborate nomenclature— yet do not understand what such activities really mean in a strictly scientific sense. Shortly before psychologist Kelvin's arrival, the crew has exposed the ocean to a more aggressive and unauthorized experimentation with a high-energy X-ray bombardment. Their experimentation gives unexpected results and becomes psychologically traumatic for them as individually flawed humans. The ocean's response to their aggression exposes the deeper, hidden aspects of the personalities of the human scientists — whilst revealing nothing of the ocean’s nature itself. To the extent that the ocean’s actions can be understood, the ocean then seems to test the minds of the scientists by confronting them with their most painful and repressed thoughts and memories. It does this via the materialization of physical human simulacra; Kelvin confronts memories of his dead lover and guilt about her suicide. The torments of the other researchers are only alluded to but seem even worse than Kelvin’s personal ordeal. The ocean’s intelligence expresses physical phenomena in ways difficult for their limited earth science to explain, deeply upsetting the scientists. The alien (extraterrestrial) mind of Solaris is so greatly different from the human mind of (objective) consciousness that attempts at inter-species communications are a dismal failure." - Obtained from Wikipedia The main purpose of the tale is for the readers to recognize the futility of human communication with an extraterrestrial specie. This is due to vast differences in each race's evolutionary process, beings that develop from different classes of organic life will no doubt create cultural differences and moral standards so foreign to an alien world, that to apply any type of human thought to them would be impossible. The ideology of war, colonization, emotions, languages, nations, science, none would apply. This lack of communication would entail dangerous outcomes put into play by both sides. We would be unable to comprehend extraterrestrials at most, if not all, levels; how can one put aside the millennia of history that we as a race have input to our very core? Death is guaranteed, if They didn't pull the trigger, soon we would; our only hope for integration would require such an unlikely similarity between each race, as to allow minor communication, which itself is a very low probability.In correlation to Extinction, one could assume this refer to a point of attempted communication by one species to another, only to meet utter failure. Cross' existence could suggest she would be a catalyst to bridge a Solaris event, and establish communication, possibly even command between each specie. Should this be the same Solaris, we are at the mercy of lifeforms who know, and perhaps care not of us, for that is the sad truth of such a Solaris Event.

There is a growing certainty within me that our Maxis is more than a mere man, and maybe not even by spirit standards either. A common Literary ploy that re-occurs in many a book I read: Omnipresent 3rd Person Voices are normally Authors. And the fact that The Zombies team strives so much to keep Maxis from becoming physical in ANY way at all in our story points towards that. You see to be an author you cannot be a character. No exceptions. Even if an author made a character named after himself, who looks, speaks, and thinks like himself, he is not the Author. It's not only due to the fact that by writing any type of fictional story, the characters therein are fictional as well, but because no man can write his entire being onto paper, no matter how vast or even minuscule his thoughts be. I could strive my entire lifetime to sum up my personality, my features, with the strokes of graphite amongst a lined paper canvas, and fail. Because every person who attempts so always skews the truth: Ignores whether they have blatant flaws, like selfishness or jealousy, not willing to admit such to the reader. Instead what they make is only a storybook counterpart, an amalgamation of ideals the author believes applies to himself. But the fact that we never see, nor directly interact with Maxis, he stays Omnipresent. Now we come to the Godly part. The only other explanation beyond Maxis being an Author of sorts, is omnipresence. Immortality separates you from this plane. If one is a God you are Immortal, and immortality means time does not effect you. But without time, you may never touch the Earth, nor travel, smell, see; no, in order to view our dimension space and time must be in tandem, you cannot have one without the other. Schrodinger's Cat: Once the cat leaves space or view it becomes neither alive nor dead, we cannot be certain of it's form without seeing the space the cat occupies. Same goes with time: if one becomes immortal he must adjust to a new plane of existence, one wherein time is no longer a factor. Unfortunately this theory upon Maxis' condition would be skewed, if he was immune to time (different then eternal life), he shouldn't be able to contact us at all, unless some dimensional rift was between his place of habitation and ours. This again points back to his possible position as an author or such. So far throughout the entire story-line the actions of Maxis have dictated our players, and even Samantha's and Richtofen's actions. Indeed if Maxis tells us to do, we do so. The same would be if on paper Maxis wrote them; as much as we believe his orders are suggestions, they are fated. Just look at how we view the story: To advance the plot we must either follow or contradict Maxis. In fact the only freedom one can experience as one of the Author's characters is via Richtofen's orders, but like the others his orders are made in response to Maxis, if it were not for Maxis interruption into Edward's scheme, he would have no need to order us, thus his orders are because of Maxis'. Until Maxis becomes more than a voice, he will always be the puppeteer. An Author, a Narrator, we just don't know, but as of yet he is most definitely a director for every step, every action we take. (I'd welcome any debate on the above within the comments below, so as to refine it, and further explain it to those who question an exemption or mistake I've made in it's creation, for I would like to further elaborate upon it should you find err.) Yours truly, Skuld

Fire and brimstone. The words repeating constantly throughout his skull, rebounding amongst the twisted corridors of his mind. It had become all he knew when the world had ended. But that wasn't true. I knew of other things. Of Flesh, torn asunder, by people he once knew; the people now mockeries of life, their decaying meat revealing bloodied grins, hungering for my own skin. I ran for so long. But you can only run so far, until you realize there isn't anywhere left. Today I made my newest home in the crumbling corpse of what was once a great skyscraper, now a perfect haven from the hordes of the plague-ridden. I crept into my cot, falling into slumber at the burning skies, as ash darkened them, beckoning night. My body awoke to screams. I hesitated, self-preservation had become my savior despite the sin; the other Savior I knew abandoned me long ago. But, acting on what was left of a moral compass, I rushed from my hiding spot onto a nearby stairway, and begun the descent, hoping I would not be too late. Adrenaline fueling me, I gathered in the gory scene; blood caked the floor, and several of the unholy creatures strove for a being in the back of the dim hallway. I gripped my only weapon, a lengthy steel bar, whittled into a razor edge, equipped with crosspiece and grip, a regular sword of ages past hand built by my weathered hands. The sharpened metal edge cleaved through bodies and skulls, brain matter and bone fragments began to fly in my wake. Each of the hungry souls lusted after my flesh, and I met their avarice with its only mode of satisfaction, free entry into abyss. Finally I breached the mosh of undead, reaching my goal, a young girl, whose wails had all but died, thanks to a series of gaping wounds, bit deep into her flesh. I was too late. Dropping to my knees, as darkness worked its way into my muscles and bones, beckoning me to sleep endlessly and join this young child, promising me an end to the misery I was forced to experience each day. But what little humanity in me flickered, causing me to reach out, close her eyes, the beginning of a process of burial I'd carried out one too many times in the latest years. Bloodied hands touched her pallid face, only for the eyes to erupt open, blue light streaming from newly re-awakened sight, as one more starving mouth leapt forward, sinking into the flesh of my hand and scraping across bone, mere moments before I could silence her with a stroke of cold iron. Such pain as I'd never known crashed amongst my senses, eliciting a primal scream, brought forth from the deepest wells of agony in my hollowed body, viral infection now coursing throughout my veins, unto my heart. Oh how I yearned for abyss before disease could take my mind. Such thought sparked action, and I raised my sword shakily, dissecting the offending hand from forearm, perhaps it would be enough to stop infection. Thus so, I kicked away the truly dead girl, and stood frailly upon my feet, as blood spurted from my wound. I eased towards my hideaway, hoping to medicate myself, but upon arrival, I collapsed, as darkness embraced me.