searchlight exposed me for a split second. Enough time
for a guard to be convinced he saw something and call for
someone to come check it out. I didn’t hang around, and
quickly reached a crack in the rock face, which I climbed
to get inside the barracks.
Soldiers were speaking! An honest to god conversation!
Something about Reagan and the futility of nuclear war.
A sign of life in these automatons all the same. I crossed
over the gateway to a high-up dugout that seemed disused
and set up for a day of observation.
At dusk, perhaps due to me spooking them the night
before, they had sentries posted above the gateway which
certainly made my exfiltration trickier. I was halfway
across the gateway when someone thought they saw me.
Pushing on, I hugged the edge of the cliff and could do
nothing but hold my breath as the soldier approached,
torch in one hand, scanning the bushes. He came to stand
just a few feet away.
If I had a tranq gun and no restrictions, this would be
a nothing moment and he’d be unconscious already – but
for my mission, this was as good as dead. I figured this
was it, I’d blown the whole thing. There was no way he
wouldn’t spot me. I even got ready to draw my rifle. Then,
impossibly, he failed to see me, and assumed he must have
imagined it. Turning, he headed back to his post like an
enemy spy hadn’t been two steps away from him. Phew!ESCAPE FROM NEW FOLK
Eh... I hesitated to add this to my report, but after my
escape I noticed I was being pestered by flies – a sign my
odour from a week in the field had grown quite strong.
Sadly, a dip in the nearest river didn’t wash me well
enough to get rid of them, so I was stuck listening to their
buzzing. Facing certain death or torture is one thing, but
these flies, boss? Nothing in my training prepared me for
them and their incessant noise. They’re the USSR’s
greatest asset, a weapon to surpass Metal Gear. Ahem,
once Metal Gear is invented, I mean. What year is it?
The supply depot to the north is surprisingly light on
defences and vulnerable from the back, where I posted
myself on a ridge that views the whole site. I’m not sure
what supplies are kept here, since trucks never seemed to
stop on their way through. I watched for a day and likeevery place before it, nothing unexpected happens. The
Soviet Army is a well-oiled machine, its soldiers following
an endless, unchanging routine. It feels... inhuman.
I moved on under darkness to Central Base Camp,
supposedly the largest presence the Soviet Army has in
the region. What I found was skeletal: the bones of a
massive base occupied by a handful of soldiers stretched
too thin to adequately defend it. It looked formidable from
the outside, but I infiltrated it quite easily. Half the
hangars are ruins. There were no tanks or armoured
vehicles of any kind. Again, I failed to find officers.
I saw what seemed like some kind of briefing among
soldiers, but nobody seemed to be in charge. Who is
running this place? There’s a sense that their forces are
simply locked in a futile effort, dwarfed by the vast
landscape around them, in no way up to the task.
They’re little more than cannon fodder for Big Boss.VOIGHT-KAMPFF TEST
If Soviets are real, where are these activities?PETTING ANIMALS
You telling me a human wouldn’t
befriend those donkeys?TAKE A LEAK
I’m serious! Follow them for
hours, they never need to go.CHAT
They only ever seem to have
conversations when I’m in
earshot... curious.GOOFING OFF
These guys drive around for days
without ever resting. That’s not
human.PERSONAL ADVENTURES IN GAMES
DIARY
TOP: (^) Someone taking their lunch on this hangar
roof is one of my favourite little details.
ABOVE: (^) They’ll never be able to find me while I’m
hiding two inches below a wall.
The look of a woman whose
comrades won’t forget her
codename is Flaming Buffalo.