Logbook Entry
The other day Dr. Everett again brought up that theory he has about nothing truly being lost in the Zone. You know, ""Nothing really goes away, but is only moved somewhere else, maybe even someWHEN else."" If we searched long and hard enough then things won't just be found, they'll be... preserved. Every object, maybe even every sound, every thought, every... I don't know if I feel much of my work or even my life is preserved here. So much is gone. We all lost a lot these last three years. Some people encourage you to be philosophical and view it as change, but I lack that wisdom or optimism. The Zone and these damn experiments took so much. Including you. So I'm writing you this note and maybe, maybe it will even find you, preserved somewhere, somehow, amongst all the other mangled moments and memories that make up this place. Maybe it will find someone else, perhaps as they find something they want. Whatever. I just need at least one person to know that I, Beverly Gates, love you, Maria Valentina Suarez so, so much, and I don't care who knows it, or whether I am supposed to love you, or how professional it is for two colleagues to make their own damn personal choices. I miss you and I still think about you when I hear the lock turn on Lab Six, or when I smell lavender in the air, and I will preserve that love and all its moments long after I've left this nightmare wilderness of sorrow.
Found in
Contents
Synopsis
When The Driver abandons their trip or dies in a junction, they leave behind a burnt-out husk of their car. This husk then becomes a fixture in said junction, which can later be returned to, and some of the lost materials and equipment may be salvaged.
- In instances where The Driver abandons their trip or dies in a junction with the No Second Chances condition, no Remnant Ghost will be left behind and all items will be lost to them forever.