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Last
Half of Darkness Walkthrough
(WRF Studios, 2000)
By Alexander Tait
December 23, 2001
I feel I must share
with you the events of that night, fearful as I am to even think,
to recall, the horrors that I witnessed. I am a God-fearing man, but
since that night I have learned there is more to fear than God…
Preface
It arrived oh-so innocently. A sun faded envelope with a brief note
on an ancient scroll. A woman named Mira needed my help. I knew I
did not know any Mira and this was further reinforced by her use of
the word "stranger" to address me. She wrote that I should
bring the scroll and the spiders. Spiders? I turned my wrist to gaze
at my watch. Suddenly, three tiny spiders, each painted with a single
dab of color, fell from the envelope as if summoned by my question.
The seriousness of the tone in the letter prompted me to leave right
away. I summoned a coach that I knew would take me only to the edge
of town. The rest of the way I would have to travel on foot…
The Swamp
I arrived in the swamp. I brought nothing with me. A pungent stench
surrounded me the minute I entered. The water was dark and muddy.
Was anything there? It was far too dark to tell. Strangely, there
were gravestones emerging from the water like so many teeth in a decrepit
witch's mouth. I touched one and suddenly was blinded by a vision-a
vision of a creature, horrific yet familiar! Some type of ape? And
then, the vision disappeared. Was it ever there?
My heart slowly returned
to the regular thump-thud-thump. I felt it best at this time to take
note of my surroundings. I collected my wits and traveled west toward
a small building, some sort of shed or garden house.
The Garden House
I was now a little jittery and primordial call within me encouraged
me to be forearmed and forewarned. Perhaps a weapon could be found
within? The door was locked. Not wanting to draw attention to myself,
I made to return to the swamp. Ever so hidden in the shadows, I barely
noticed a path to the right of the garden path leading away to a bridge
and the house beyond. Not wanting to enter the house yet, I returned
to the swamp.
The Swamp
I continued my travels east and came upon more gravestones. With dread,
I felt compelled to walk along the path to the graveyard. I tried
to justify the decision to myself-at least it was dry land…
The Graveyard
More
gravestones! What did I expect in a graveyard? I wished I had not
asked myself that question-there are far too many fanciful answers
to that question, none pleasant to consider. With care, and frequent
turns of the head at suspicious noises, I examined the graves. Only
one had legible writing-the years of elemental power had worn the
writing off the others. The gravestone read, "Here lies Rex".
Another flash filled me yet again with dread. Images of skeletons,
grinning with malice appeared. Without further consideration, I walked
to the family crypt.
The Crypt
With some relief I found the crypt too dark to traverse safely without
a light source. It was not fear that drove me back to the swamp, or
so I tried to tell my inner self. Fear of the unknown is a ridiculous
concept only to those who believe there is less in Heaven and Earth
than is contained in their philosophy…
The Swamp
I forayed west further into the swamp. I found strange, twisted statues
and a lit grave. Any recognizable features were long worn away. I
returned to where I arrived and made my way toward the large gate
that guarded entry.
The Gate
Lightning flashed and peals of thunder roared as I approached, as
if summoned to notify the residents within the house of my arrival.
A path east led me once again to the bridge I discovered before. Stealthily,
and with care not to cut myself on the rusted edges, I squeezed through
the narrow gap in the gate. I found myself standing at the front of
the ancient, imposing house.
The Front of the House
The mansion beckoned me inside. Dimly lit windows attempted to convince
me that this was all it looked to be: a very old house. I decided
to reconnoiter the grounds. I walked around the east side of the house.
The East Side of the
House
This side of the house had French doors, darkened by age and candle
smoke. The doors would not budge. A solitary candle burned in one
room. I followed a path towards the back yard.
The Side Path
An undistinguished path lined wit moss and ivy led to the back yard.
The Back Yard
A caretaker's house stood in the middle of the back yard, flanked
by eagle sculptures on pedestals, one on either side. The doors were
sealed with a solid piece of wood which, try as I might, I could not
remove. I resolved to return when I had something to remove it. I
continued to the back of the house.
The Back of the House
More lightning flashes. I jumped and made to cry out but someone kept
my composure and muffled my scream. No access to the house here. I
trudged toward the west side.
The West Side of the
House
A glassed in gazebo formed some king of garden room. No external access,
however. A huge tree with substantial branches surely strong enough
to hold my weight reached out for the upper floors of the house. Perhaps
I could climb it? The tree was far too wet, the lichen and other plant
growths like oil against my hands preventing me from gaining purchase.
I resigned myself to entering from returning to the front of the house
and using the front door.
The Entrance Hall
The door opened into opulence such as I had never seen, even on the
one occasion that my millionaire uncle took me to O'Brien's club on
the exclusive Regent Street. An old inlaid fireplace at left, a gold
and crystal chandelier above an exquisite dining table. A set of dust
covered steps led upstairs. A doorway led into another hall. I decided
I would forego the upstairs at this time in favor of exploring the
ground floor.
North Hall
Two upholstered chairs flanked the door to the library, visible beyond
even in the candlelight. A door to the left led to a kitchen, and
the right hand door led to a billiards room. I chose the library as
a potential hive of information.
Library
Another fireplace, though this one was paneled with smoky wood. Several
paintings hung on the walls, including one that had a familiarity
about-a mother and her child. If I recognized it, surely it could
not be an original? A table, slightly off center to the right, was
covered with books and indescribable knickknacks. Statues stood across
from a medium sized bookcase, at right, filled almost exclusively
with ghost stories. With a shiver, I recall today how bizarre that
it contained few secular works. Atop yet more ghost stories, I discovered
a magnifying glass. I pocketed it, certain it would help in the near
future. A door left led to a parlor. An open walkway led out to the
garden house that I had seen during my jaunt around the west of the
house. I chose the serenity of the plants.
The Garden Room
This was the room that I had seen before. It held a wicker chair and
a table set for tea. Plants filled every nook and cranny. I picked
up and took a jug. The quietness of the room was off-putting, so I
made my way to the other room, the parlor.
The Parlor
Yet more dust permeated this room. Strange that despite candles being
lit, there was no evidence of habitation for years. A dusty couch
and a cabinet were the main furniture in this room. Many knickknacks
filled the room: flowers, a bird statue, a guitar, and a peacock in
the corner. Exploring the cabinet, I found a hammer, which I knew,
could be useful. A dark doorway led out of the room.
The Music Room
The piano here was quiet, yet I almost expected ghostly hands to appear
and perform a sonata. A mirror opposite the piano flanked by candelabras
sat above the fireplace. My intrigue carried me out through an open
doorway to the billiards room.
The Billiards Room
The pool table was the most notable feature in this room excepting
the beautifully paneled fireplace at center. I found nothing to further
my knowledge of my mysterious host. The door out took me back to the
hallway. Although, I felt nauseated at the thought of food, I entered
the kitchen.
The Kitchen
Dusty carrots and fruit remained on the kitchen bench table. A drawer
in the table yielded naught but a match. It was dry, unused, and would
light by being struck on any hard surface. I seized my residual emotional
strength and primed myself for any attacker that may have lain in
wait in the pantry.
The Pantry
My breathing became more labored as I was exposed to yet more dust.
Even the strawberries here were covered with a thick layer, as though
dipped in fluffy, light gray chocolate. A wicked knife gleamed on
the sill. I took it, carrying it before me. I knew that the best defense
was a strong offense. I was becoming stifled by the overbearing darkness
and sought fresh air. I decided to return to the back yard, possessing
now a hammer, which could remove the piece of wood.
The Back Yard
The wood bar parted from the doors of the caretaker's house easily
with the hammer. I opened the doors. Suddenly, IT appeared. A disembodied
doll's head. Equal parts terror and fascination prevented me from
turning and fleeing. It would not allow me to pass until I brought
the flower. It disappeared after delivering its ominous message. I
turned and returned to the entrance hall.
The Entrance Hall
Having explored all the rooms on the ground floor, I went upstairs.
The Upstairs Hall
I moved to strike the dark, hooded and gowned apparition that appeared
before me but in an instant it was an eerie memory. Who was it? What
was it? I entered the first of three bedrooms along the right side
of the hall. I would leave the end of the hall until after I had searched
all three rooms for answers or my host. I entered the first room.
Bedroom 1
A large bed, perhaps a queen size, dominated this room. A particularly
old painting above the bed caught my eye, as did the antique lamp
on the bedside. This was obviously the main bedroom. An arrangement
of beautiful flowers, lightly brushed with dust, sat on a dresser.
I found a box marked with a flame etching right at the back of the
dresser drawer. I turned around and noted a desk. Papers sat on it;
my interest was piqued.
The page on the desk
was a poem. I read it-it talked of midnight tears and mirrored fears.
What could this mean? I placed the poem in my pocket. Another page
in a book on a table to the right of the desk mentioned someone's
sister's song could restore her from the grave. Could it be the mysterious
Mira? Could the poem be the song mentioned in the book? I left the
room and entered the second room.
Bedroom 2
This room was a woman's room, all in white. Perfume sat on the table,
unused for eons, it seemed. A paneled area of the wall at left appeared
slightly off kilter. I knocked and found it to be hollow. Narrow slits
in the panel confirmed my suspicions. The knife I took from the kitchen
slid neatly into the slits. The panel glided open in response to an
echoed unlatching. I entered a secret room.
The Secret Room
Immediately, I was filled with an uneasy combination of fear and dread.
This room was occupied by a power beyond my knowledge. The room was
sparsely filled with vases on pedestals. An artist's easel held the
source of the emanation. A smoky oilskin cloth covered a painting.
My fingers burned at
the contact with the painting and I knew this was the central reason
for my summoning. I approached the painting. I could hear a faint
woman's voice. On closer examination with my magnifying glass, I could
see it was a painting of a doll, yet beyond the superficial level
of the oil on canvas, I knew a woman was imprisoned within the painting.
The left eye of the doll glowed with the evil force that kept her
there. I knew that Mira was here, reigned by this evil. But how to
free her? I would need to search for a way. I reluctantly left the
secret room with a sense of hopelessness that I could not help her.
With greater resolve than before, I entered the next room.
Bedroom 3
Again a different scheme in this room. A single bed decorated with
a patchwork quilt. At the bedside dresser, I found a journal. I was
buoyed by the words in the journal-the yellow gi-gi herb could aid
in soul transference. This must be the flower the doll's head spirit
sought. The journal also implied that there might be a reversal elixir
within the house. I pocketed this information. I knew I was getting
closer.
I turned and noted a
dresser with a large mirror. A drawer in the dresser was locked. I
looked at the mirror again. Whether it was divine enlightenment or
just sudden inspiration, I knew what I had to do with the poem. Mirrored
fears…it was obvious. I unfolded the poem, held it in front of
the mirror. The sudden transformation was metaphysical. There is no
earthly force that could explain the change I observed in the mirror.
The poem held instructions for calculating a secret time!
I pulled out the scroll
and paint-dipped spiders I had been sent. The spiders needed to be
placed on a corresponding colored hour on one of three clocks. This
seemed easy until I read on. The total of the three hours needed to
add up to twelve to correspond with the twelfth night of the full
moon. By trial and error I calculated there were three possible times:
4:53, 5:43, and 8:22. Armed with this information, I rushed out of
the room to the end of the corridor.
The End of the Corridor
At the end of the corridor, I paused briefly to examine my surroundings.
There stood a chair, a plant stand with several vases, and a cabinet
with books and a bowl of fruit on it. I opened the cabinet: empty.
I almost expected to find something in it, yet nothing. I considered
going in a door in front of me initially to delay the dark west corridor
but whilst contemplating which, discovered another room at left. I
entered it.
Bedroom 4
Another bedroom and another mirror. The rug on the floor was filthy.
Two dressers stood at left, locked. A painting at left had scratches
around it. I moved the painting to reveal a cache. I had found the
elixir! Carefully, for I knew my success rested on it, I took the
elixir. I left this room and entered the other room from the end of
the hall.
The Bathroom
A mold filled bath did nothing for my state of mind. I inspected it
none the less. It is fortunate that I had not eaten, for at that moment
another vision flashed before my eyes. Skeletal forms suddenly appeared,
flesh rotting off their bones as I stared. In a blink of my eyes,
they were gone. I backed away quickly, though only half as quick as
my pounding heart, without inspecting the toilet, sink, or toiletries
around the sink. I proceeded down the west corridor.
The West Corridor
Yet another darkened part of this house. The black and white checked
floor pattern led further into the darkness. Chairs lined the corridor
at odd intervals. I entered the room at left.
Bedroom 5
The doll on the bed struck me with terror. It was the one that I had
seen at the caretaker's house, only this one had a body, was not flying,
and did not speak to me in a garbled grating voice…yet. I picked
up the doll and immediately knew it was inanimate. The poster bed
looked comfortable. How I would have loved to have forgotten the evil
filling this house and descend into a world of dreams. The chest at
the foot of the bed held grooming items that held no use for me.
When I saw the imposing
case clock on the right side of the room, I knew this was where I
needed to use the secret time. I set the clock arbitrarily to 5:43,
though I sensed 4:53 or 8:22 would also have held the same power.
The clock suddenly underwent a change. Blood began to drip from the
face! I fled back to the corridor and continued down into the darkness,
lucky there was nothing in front of me. My blind terror would have
caused me to run straight into whatever evil lurked there. I stopped
at a staircase leading up.
The Dark Staircase
I tread lightly at the side of the staircase so as not to alert anything
at the top of the stairs. They led into an uninhabited attic.
The Attic
I sat and composed myself guiltily for several moments, well aware
that Mira's life was in the balance and time was running out. This
room was peaceful, if any room in this cursed mansion could be called
peaceful. It was stored with junk. Golf clubs, a bucket, a sled, a
birdcage, suitcases, and bottles sat discarded and useless. I took
an oil lantern. It was functional and was almost full of oil, more
than enough to explore the crypt.
The Crypt
I lit my lone match. Luckily it held in the deathly susurration of
the breeze and I lit the lantern. I entered the crypt. I knew from
the eerie whispers in the crypt that I was not welcome here. The crypt
was spectacular, intricately inlaid, and yet somber at the same time.
A passage led into a maze. I saw the shovel and had an idea. I picked
up the shovel and walked back to the graveyard.
The Graveyard
I would never have thought myself capable of grave robbing. The grave
marked "Rex" was different to the others and I knew it held
the key. Little did I know how literally I would take that statement.
I proceeded to dig. Strangely, the body was not six feet under, as
is the custom. Within eight minutes, I had discovered Rex, someone's
beloved pet (deserving of a good, Christian burial, no less!). Near
the bones, was a golden key. I walked through the swamp to garden
house, wondering if this was the key for the doors.
The Garden House
I used the key on the lock. The doors swung open. Plants filled every
possible space in the garden house, mostly at death's door or behind
it. A wicker chair and table were the only furniture in the room.
I ignored a rusty pail. A plant that seemed familiar sat at chest
level across from me. The potential existed for revitalization. I
walked back outside, collected some water with the jug and added it
to the parched soil of the gi-gi plant. Time would tell whether I
was green or black-thumbed. So, what to do while I waited? I examined
the items I had collected. I was struck by the etching on the side
of the box. I recalled I had seen a fire burning in one of the fireplaces
in the house. Where? I trudged back to the billiards room.
The Billiards Room
Hoping that I was making the correct decision, I gingerly placed the
flamed box in the fire. The wood melted away revealing another gold
key! After it had cooled sufficiently, I returned to the third bedroom-the
place I had found the box, and where, if memory served me, was a locked
dresser drawer.
Bedroom 3
The key fit the lock perfectly. I pulled out a parchment-an old map
of the crypt. I knew now that my trepidation would have to be foregone
in order to find what piece of the puzzle the maze held. I decided
to check on the gi-gi plant before I returned to the crypt.
The Garden House
As I expected, the supernatural atmosphere of this place affected
all things. A bud had bloomed into a spectacular yellow flower. I
could now appease the guardian of the caretaker's house. The crypt
would wait. I sighed with relief and strode purposefully to the caretaker's
house.
The Caretaker's House
The gi-gi flower was snatched from my hands in a gust of wind as I
approached the house, yet it was calm here. The doll's head did not
return. I entered the house. On the caretaker's desk, I learned from
a page in the journal that Rex was the caretaker's dog. His words
were bitter and tinged with intentions of revenge. Perhaps the caretaker
was involved in this wickedness?
I opened the closet
next to the desk and withdrew a paintbrush. Somehow, this would be
involved with the painting in the secret room. I knew I was nearing
the end of my quest. Pieces of the puzzle were fitting together. An
image was forming, like that in a crystal ball, first hazy and gradually
clearer. I returned to the crypt.
The Crypt
Lantern held up before me like a talisman, I entered the passage beyond
the crypt. I consulted my map as I walked. A voice boomed with mocking
malice, asserting that I would soon be lost hopelessly. I knew I would
find my way provided I used the map. I traveled north, east, and north
again. I continued east until I could travel east no longer. At a
junction, I turned south and followed this passage to a dead end.
I returned to the junction, only this time to carry on north.
The passage ended of
a sudden at a hovering skull, silent yet menacing. The steady drumbeat
of my heart reached a rapid crescendo as I poured the elixir on the
skull. It vanished with a banshee's scream. I knew that the power
over Mira had been extinguished. I rushed, full of hope, to the secret
room.
The Secret Room
Even the air seemed to be less heavy with the stench of evil in the
house. I examined the painting with the magnifying glass. Mira's eye
looked back at me! Why wasn't she free? I knew the paintbrush held
the answer: she needed to be painted out of the picture. I had been
everywhere on the grounds and in the house. There was no paint anywhere.
I tried the paintbrush rush but it was useless. Then I had a macabre
thought-the blood that dripped from the grandfather clock… I
entered the fifth bedroom.
Bedroom 5
With a sense of necessity holding back my revulsion. I dipped the
paintbrush in the blood. I rushed back to the painting frightened
that the blood would congeal before I applied it to canvas. I did
not want to do this again.
The Secret Room
I painted the canvas with the still wet, crimson ichor from the clock.
A flash rose before my eyes and I knew I had banished the evil and
freed Mira's soul. At the very moment of my action, I saw Mira walking
on a beach, freed from the undercurrent of the ocean of limbo. She
held the doll's head in her hand, a symbol of triumph. I knew her
soul could now move on.
Conclusion
Though I conquered the evil spirit that held sway over Mira, I cannot
sleep any longer without the nightmare vision of the doll's head taunting
me. The evil that was in Mira has infected my very being. I have been
painting for two days now, slowly and deliberately. I can see the
face, the empty sockets that will soon be my window on the world.
I know it will not be long before I succumb to the power. I can only
hope that another will save me when I am in the painting. I have sent
the scroll and the spiders to my friend, Gabriel. Perhaps he will
save me. He has some experience in such matters…
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