Jonathan Sims
Greetings, you lot of depraved of individuals. My name is Jonathan Sims, and my current occupation is as the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute based in London. If you've never heard of it, consider yourself lucky. The Institute specializes in recording, categorizing, and storing the statements of those whose lives have been negatively affected by anything esoteric, supernatural, or whathaveyou. And before you ask like god knows how many ignorant people before you, no, we are not in fact paranormal investigators. We are merely interested in keeping record of what is unseen and unknown so that society may hopefully one day have a better knowledge of what they don't understand. Nothing more than that.

The only reason why this backalley drug hive is crossing my mind in the first place is because a coworker of mine tipped me on an upcoming event here that would apparently be a haven of supernatural phenomena...a "Killing Game", as he dubbed it. I told him in no uncertain terms that I had no plans to bloody my hands, but he assured me that I could simply set up shop outside of the arena and record the statements of those who wished to vent their ethereal experiences. Somehow, that was enough to placate me, so I accepted. The next game seems to be several months ahead, so in preparation, I felt I should take it upon myself to go out into this community and get a feel for what these...Killing Games are like. I took statements from as many survivors of these games as I could, and here, I will recount the ones that fit the institution's area of expertise the most.


Statement of Solid Snake regarding a battle between life and death. Original statement given on August 28, 2019. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

"You must be shaking in your boots, right? I know what you're thinking: "I can't believe I'm face to face with the Legendary Solid Snake...". Heh, at least I wish I could call myself that. It must be nice for you, having an identity you know you could call your own. I can't say the same. I'm not talking about my so-called backstory, where I'm just one of a group of clones descended from a legendary soldier from the 60s and all that load of bullshit. Let me make myself clear: I am not Snake. Damn it, this isn't even the first of my lives. Let me take you back to a different time, when I was the opposite of renowned...a complete unknown named Mariofan169.

"I remember my first Killing Game like it was yesterday....in fact, that might as well be not so far off. I was in a pretty rough time, and when I got an invitation for a luxury cruise, I didn't care about how suspicious it might have been. All I cared about was having a chance to unwind and get away from it all. I was surprised by how empty it was; I must have counted less than 30 people with me. If we really crammed together, we only could have needed two lifeboats if things went south. And rest assured, it was just that. Soon after we all arrived, this demented little black and white teddy bear got up on a podium. When he announced that we were all players of his own Killing Game, I was close to laughing out of disbelief. I guessed that it was some weird marketing scheme for a new horror movie or something...perhaps this apathy was why I reacted the way I did once we found the cold body of a Japanese girl. Honoka, I think she was called. I immediately thought to myself that I didn't want any part of this. Ironically, with my current identity as a soldier, I would have rather jumped in a vat of boiling acid than take another person's life.

"So...I rejected the game. There weren't any lifeboats, and being in the middle of the ocean, there obviously weren't any other means of calling for rescue. The only thing I could do was lock myself in my bedroom. I only came out for the necessities, like food and the bathroom, but otherwise, I did everything I could to prevent myself from getting killed. It didn't seem the host was pleased with this. After a few days, a speaker in my room blared to life, and the bear, calling himself "Monokuma", asked me to come to his office. I foolishly assumed that he took pity on me and would let me leave the game. Well, suffice to say...I got that wish. Once I arrived, he said that not playing the game was not just a disservice to myself, but to everyone. It seemed like I would be punished, but he didn't appear furious with me. No, his voice had a tone of....amusement, with lack of a better word. He pressed a button on his desk, and I heard what sounded like machines stirring all around me. Seconds later, I felt a piercing pain throughout my entire body. I don't know why I looked down, but when I did, I saw that several harpoons had impaled my body. As I fell to the ground, Monokuma's laugh being the soundtrack to my last scene, I realized that perhaps this was the escape from this game I had desired for so long.

"That should have killed me. I swear to fucking God, that should have killed me.

"Immediately after, I woke up in a white room, as if it was all a horrible dream. I felt a wave of joy spread around me. Was I...dead? Was this the afterlife? Had my life of hardships finally come to an end? I looked out my window, and if it was heaven, it sure didn't look the part. What I saw instead of the pearly gates or any pure white clouds was....an airplane on a runway. An airport? And yet, that wasn't even the true surprise. I noticed a mirror in my room, and....I wasn't a young man. I looked like an elderly woman, with sickly red lipstick, a saggy, weary face, and a blue security guard uniform. I had no idea what the hell was going on. Why would my soul have taken such a drastic change if this was heaven? I left my room and entered a hallway, where I saw that about a dozen other people were leaving their rooms and heading in one direction. I followed them, and,,,,that's when it all clicked. There before me, on a podium, I saw that damned bicolor stuffed bear, greeting us all. This wasn't heaven, this wasn't even hell.

"I had been reincarnated....into another Killing Game.

"I had no blasted idea what to do. Whatever curse that bear pulled on me, I didn't think it would go away. And I couldn't tell other people about my dilemma if I didn't want to become a laughing stock. Besides, what could they have done. The next thing I knew, I fell into the very thing our host wanted...despair. At least I tried to play this time, but my time was spent being an asshole to as many people as I could. They returned the favor, alright. Being electrocuted, shot at, fed with questionable pasta....it seemed like I was better off shutting myself off in my room. But I knew doing that would only make matters worse. So I played by the bear's rules: I killed. Whether it was out of despair or anger, I don't remember anymore, but in any case, all it took was slamming a bladed shoe into an overweight man's throat and slamming a table leg on it. Actually, I do remember why I did it now: perhaps if I got away with a murder, this bloody curse would have ended, as it would be more than enough of the interaction Monokuma wanted out of me. Unfortunately, that's not what happened; over a grevious error on my part, I confessed to the murder, and before I knew it I was about to be flattened by a hammer as part of my "execution". Instead of the relief I had felt before my first...death, this time, I had no idea what to expect.

"So I shouldn't have been surprised when I woke up in a new room. This time, I was a rather flamboyant man with unnaturally purple skin, multicolor hair, and robes that seemed to pulse around me, feeling somewhat unearthly. I was later told that my new body was of Hades, the Greek god of the underworld...it seemed that my curse had grown a sense of irony. This time around, it seemed I was the source of my own punishment; I had another player, a skeleton in a waiter's outfit, shove my hand in a bowling ball dispenser for a murder plot. Not even I knew why I felt compelled to torture myself like this. I think my thoughts were being welded to those of whatever persona I was in...implying that they were preexisting characters. But even then, I didn't want to give much thought into that. My murder this time was strangling a girl with a wig with a pair of hands made of LEGOs....even I was shocked by how bizarre these games were getting. Sure enough, the fact that I "knocked myself out" was the defining factor towards my being caught, and once again, I was executed.

"And once again, I woke up. This time, I was without a room, instead sleeping on the floor, and it seemed I was in a shopping mall. I looked in a mirror, and my new persona was of a man with blonde hair, a pink suit, and penetrating violet eyes. Thoughts that weren't mine swirling inside my head told me that I was assuming the role of a serial killer, but I didn't want to follow that path. In a new bid to break out of this cycle, I did a combination of my previous two playing styles: I would still play the game, but I would try everything I could to win without killing. In the end I came frustratingly close to that goal; I made it to the last night, but I ended up falling prey to a horde of zombies. But even then, I thought that that level of pacifistic commitment would have been enough to end the curse.

"But I woke up. No matter what I tried, I would find myself in a new game as a new person. The next few games went by like a depressingly fast blur. I was a purple hedgehog, and I got killed by what looked like Colonel Sanders. But I woke up. I was a robot with a rather photogenic body, and after killing someone by throwing a desk on them I was executed. But then I woke up. I was a floating, golden triangle with a top hat and one eye, and after trying to reach deals with people I was stabbed through the eye.

"But then I woke up. But then I woke up. But then I woke up.

"And now, here we are. Wearing the skin of a seasoned military veteran. What could be a stroke of luck just happened. The game I'm in was postponed, due to one of the hosts going missing. This seems like a blessing, but really, even if the game is cancelled, I still have no way out. All the exits to this mountain resort have been blocked by an avalanche, and there's no phone in sight. Even when I won, I still lost. I am tired. So very tired. I have no idea how long this cycle will continue, or if there will be an end. Before much longer, I might forget I had a life before the Games at all. Actually....there is one thing I haven't tried. In all the games I've been in, I haven't killed myself. I doubt it will be much different from the other results, but....fuck it, what chance do I have? Wish me luck."

Statement ends.

It seems this Killing Game is yielding much more than I had originally bargained for, mostly in terms of absurdity. In both the claimed events Snake/Mariofan had witnessed, and this long winded account himself. I only managed to contact him through a codec conversation, and as his channel has gone offline after the statement, there is no method to indicate whether he had succeeded in his suicide plan or not. Normally, I would write this off as a tale as a result of being trapped in a secluded resort whose altitude doesn't provide much in terms of oxygen. All of the aliases Snake had claimed to be have reportedly been disposed of in an incinerator after the conclusion of each game, so there's no way to check them for any sort of verification, dead or alive, I've considered reaching out to this....black and white teddy bear for an interview, and while his presence is utterly untraceable, I have a deep feeling we'll cross paths soon enough in this upcoming game. There is one detail that makes this worth considering, however....this isn't the first statement I received that's detailed a series of reincarnations. Of everyone that I've extracted a statement from, 70% have additionally confided in me about their identities "not being their first". While posting these similar statements would be nothing short of redundant, it does feel rather...unsettling.

End recording.
Jonathan Sims
Statement of Superchao regarding an unusual host during Killing Game 2.5. Original statement given September 1, 2019, audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.

“Well, of course I remember my first Killing Game. If you told me to remember one of the dozen after that, you’d just come up a little more empty handed, but no, I couldn’t forget my first Killing Game. It was like learning how to ride a bike. I mean, obviously I was scared when one minute, I was walking down the street listening to some Touhou remixes, and the next, I was drugged and woke up in some seedy mansion. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But after a while, I realized there was something....freeing in the grand scheme of it all. What place would social constructs like law and order have in a game utterly isolated from society and only watched by a black and white teddy bear? I wouldn't have to worry about anyone looking down on me for any reprehensible actions; I could just do whatever the hell I wanted to! Even if I ended up being enlisted in nearly every other Killing Game, I ended up enjoying every last one of them.

“But even then....something happened during this first game that confounds me even to this day. Perhaps even branded me; despite all the murders I've done, this one event was enough to still make me wake up in a cold sweat. And it all came from Mario. Ironic, right? Mr. Video Game himself, the personification of fun, and the source of all the fear in my life. I was surprised to see him, that first night. It was unfortunate that this person whose work I've enjoyed for so long was stuck in the same predicament as me, but nevertheless, it was still an honor to be in his presence, so I reached to shake his hand. When he returned it was the first sign that something was off about him. His gloved hand was....well, I didn't expect much warmth when his hand was covered, but I didn't expect it to be so cold, either. It was almost as if it wasn't part of his body at all, just a plastic attachment. And when he spoke for the first time, there was a slight....buzzing noise emitting from his mouth along with his usual "It's-a me, Mario!" The best way to describe it is a voice filter, of sorts. At the time, I thought nothing of it. I assumed that the drugs used to knock us out before our arrival had some nasty side effects....even if I wasn't feeling the same things, besides a lingering headache.

“Next, well, I'm sure you have records of the first night. Fireworks, loud orgasms, acid juice, all that fun stuff. T-Man's murder was my rite of passage, in a way. Obviously, I was expecting someone to bite it, and I didn't think I'd particularly miss him since he was just a stranger to me, but the manner of his death, being castrated and lying in a blood of urine......it was practically humiliating. But oddly enough, I'm thankful towards it for making me grow accustomed to the other acts of depravity to come. As the Class Trial went on, I was quite confident of who the murderer was, but it didn't stop me from feeling uncomfortable for the entirety of it.

“Mario looked even worse than he did last night. I was right next to him, so I was able to notice that his skin was as pale as a ghost and his hair, which wasn't covered by his hat for some odd reason, was a stringy, unwashed mess. His eyes were chalky, and I almost could have sworn translucent, as well. When he spoke in that cheesy Italian accent, his words were significantly slurred, particularly on the S's, oddly enough. It had to have been an ailment of some sort, but then I heard that buzzing....I thought I was just imagining it the first time, but now it was louder, to the point where I could now hear it even when he wasn't speaking. After the trial was over, I wanted to speak with him, maybe to talk about the trial but mostly out of concern for his well-being, but he just brushed me off. He just staggered back to his room. Not walking, but staggering.

“I tried to brush it off, as well. T-Man's brutal murder conditioned me enough to killing that I wanted to try my hands at it too, and so I made my first attempt. Sure enough, it succeeded; Prune Fairy's head was nothing but a pulpy mess on the Canned Storage. How I even survived past that Trial is beyond me, considering I even admitted to being in the room with the body, but nevertheless, I was off the hook. What was more shocking was the other death I learned about that day. To think that Mario, one of my childhood heroes, was dead, especially by something as nasty as fireworks, was unthinkable. I almost went into hysteria until I remembered the state he was in the last time I saw him, and terror turned into....relief. When I checked his body in the bathroom, besides his limbs strewn all over the place, he was in no worse condition than from when he was alive. I almost foolishly thought I was just imagining what he was like.

“That was,,,until I passed his room after the trial. I had to pass by it to get to my own room, but normally, it was just a regular room. Something was terribly suspicious about it after his death, however. When I passed by it after the trial, I once again heard that buzzing. That droning, infernal buzzing. There was also some smell coming from it, a mix of earthy and floral, but I couldn't figure out what. I tried opening it after my damned curiosity got the better of me, but luckily, it was locked. That night, I couldn't sleep because of that buzzing. I tried asking around during the following investigation, but apparently, no one else had a problem with it. It would make sense if it was just me, what with my room being right next to Mario's. The buzzing got louder and louder every night, and I was on the brink of insanity. I had no idea what to do. I figured asking Monokuma about it wouldn't do a thing, he would just laugh in my face before telling me to suck it up. I truly wondered if it was just all in my head...until I came upon Two Finger's body on Night 5.

“His entire body was covered in red lumps.

“I just knew that this couldn't be a coincidence. I finally snapped, and with a hairpin I forced at Mario's bedroom lock, and I was finally managed to open it.

“I only had it open for two seconds before I closed it.

“The entire room, the walls, the floor, the furniture, everything, was covered in viscous, syrupy honey. I had to struggle opening the door because it, too, was lined with honey. The earthy scent was overwhelming my senses. But that wasn't what made me vomit. No, it was what was on the honey. Hundreds, if not thousands, of large bees were swarming the room. The faint buzzing I heard before I went in the room was now a cacophony of the chant of the insect horde. The only reason I'm alive now is because I closed the door before any of the bees could escape and attack me. After that, I chose to sleep in the kitchen for the rest of the game. I managed to win the whole thing, but I was more relieved to get out of that hellhole than any feeling of satisfaction.

“Look, you have to believe me. Everyone else refuses the true nature of Mario, but I know you have to, it's your damn job, after all. I don't even know why it was just that game. Mario was my coplayer in nearly every game following, but he was his normal, happy go lucky self. He doesn’t even seem to have any recollection of what happened. Just...please, look into it. For closure, not for justice.”

Statement ends.

Well, this brings back some….regrettable memories I’d rather not expound upon. Nostalgia aside, there’s not much in terms of support to keep this case afloat. Superchao did indeed propose lasting side effects of the drugs he undertook for the cause behind Mario’s earliest conditions, but it’s also plausible that the drugs were also hallucinatory in nature. Why else would no one notice Mario’s state or the buzzing in his room? In addition, slurred speech is obviously a symptom of alcohol abuse, something which was especially prevalent in this map. I was about to write this off as just another drug trip until my assistant, Tim, brought me something that makes this worth considering. Previously, I stated that the bodies of every deceased player were burned to a crisp, but miraculously, Tim discovered a morgue containing the corpse of every dead player from the previous games. How does he do it…? He gave me a picture of 2.5 Mario’s body he took there, or rather what was left of it, and I noticed that his entire surface was covered in what appeared to be hundreds of... tiny, hexagon-shaped holes.

End recording.

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