The following is a transcript of an audio tape that the Lost Media Institute has had in storage for several years now. Part of my duties as a member of the Institute involve the transcription of audio tapes like this one. The man who recorded this is listed as Wilhelm Breaker; before my time, I’m afraid to admit, but he was responsible for getting the Institute interested in the field of cursed video games.

Recording Begins

If the words ‘Lost Media’ mean nothing to you, stop listening and contact Zenodotus Megale at the phone number you found with this tape. Tell him that Wilhelm Breaker sends his regards.

(Several seconds of dead air)

I hate the Atlantic.

I have no problems with any other sea, ocean, or lake. My family vacationed in Nice frequently when I was young, so perhaps I have grown more accustomed to the gentler climate there, as opposed to the more tempestuous weather in North America. It’s rained the last three days here, and they’re saying it’s hurricane season. I do not wish to be caught in one.

Truthfully, I am here as a result of my own curiosity. While the majority of my team is attempting to investigate reported anomalies at the Lassiter Hotel in Cape May, I find myself drawn to the nearby city of Wildwood. It is… what’s the word Americans use… eh. I call it the doldroms, the time when school has restarted and all of the tourist families are back home, away from this awful coastline. And yet… businesses continue to operate on the boardwalk. There are some residents here who like the restaurants that face the ocean, or are in denial of the cold weather and walk along the beach. There are the lifeguards, naturally, who even this late in the season are patrolling the shoreline. The tide will take anyone who they do not pay attention to.

More than anything else, I’m drawn to the arcades on the boardwalk; one is still open, despite it being September. I am old enough to remember when arcades included things such as pinball machines without computers in them, and stereoscopes. It’s an alien experience, walking into one and seeing things with names such as Space Invaders and Pac-Man. While the Institute has yet to locate any anomalous video games, I fear it is only a matter of time-- and I fear that time has come.

….Schieße. Sounded better before I said it.

In any case… I found something disturbing when I was in this arcade in Wildwood. At first, I did not believe it was anomalous; I thought it was just a particularly advanced video game. It is a-- I’ve just learned this term-- redemption game, that can be played for tickets that are then redeemed for stuffed animals or LEGO or other toys at the desk. It is called Deluge, and I’m including a photograph of the screen that was displayed.

Scribe’s Note: Due to the anomalous properties of Deluge, it has been deemed unsafe to reproduce the image here; however, the text is reproducible. It reads:

DELUGE

Copyright MCMXCII Graff Software All Rights Reserved

The background image shows a city slowly starting to flood.

The methods you use to play Deluge were… disturbing to me. There were instructions printed on the side, indicating the goal was to flood a coastal city using a ‘weather-altering device’ and ‘unleashing your inner supervillain’. You accomplish this by matching what I believe are representations of hydrogen particles with oxygen particles of the same color that are shot out of what I at first thought was a weather-making machine, but I later realized was something else.

What disturbed me was the cities that were represented. You were allowed to select what cities you wanted to flood, as if you were choosing where to start a miniature apocalypse. There were some obvious choices, like New York, Los Angeles, Athens, Tokyo… but there were some more esoteric ones. New Orleans, for instance, Nice in France, Dover in the UK… and Wildwood itself. Wildwood is a fairly popular tourist town, from what I understand, but compared to the likes of Atlantic City, it’s… essentially just an add-on to Cape May, which is a much nicer city.

I was curious about the name of the company that created it; ‘Graff’ is German for ‘grave’, and the forces of darkness are not known for choosing subtle names when they create their conduits; see also: the defunct Italian studio Diavolo Films. I sat down to play it, inserting seventy-five cents, enough for three plays. And I decided that I would make Wildwood my city of choice.

As I played, I took notes about the game-- as well as I could, at any rate. They will be included with my copy of this tape, but let me read out some of them.

Game seems to be based off of a Skinner box loop-- put effort in, be rewarded, but effort has to be subsidized with money. Twenty-five cents per attempt, more money in at once means more time playing.

The city floods in the background as you continue to match molecules with each other. Wildwood is represented in startling faithfulness, from the shoreline to the boardwalk and beyond. The farthest I got the storm surge to go was up to New Jersey Avenue, about half a mile inland.

The soundscape for the game was unnerving. I’ve played my nephew’s video games before, and they are all bleeps and bloops, sounds you would expect from an episode of Star Trek rather than an authentic experience. I heard waves crashing, thunder rumbling, the wind whipping past my head, the sound of car horns being depressed as they were subsumed in the flood and so much screaming as people were swept away in the storm surge.

There was a new date on the screen when I was playing-- Copyright MMIII, which I know is ‘2003’. I also noticed the name of the weather machine in this level was “Isabel”.

I attempted the New York level after this-- much more difficult. The machine was called “Sandy”, and the copyright was MMXII-- 2012. 

New Orleans = Katrina, MMV=2005

Athens, Eurydice, 2017.

I do not know what they mean, but I lost track of the time-- an attendant came up to me and told me that the machine had run out of tickets when I didn’t notice, and asked if I would like it filled back up. My feet were surrounded by my ill-gotten gains, which I handed off to a young child.

I have… a feeling about this item. Not a good one. Possible prophetic properties. Needs investigation.  I do not know if this is a cause of future floods, or if it is simply displaying them, but it requires investigation. 

As I stepped away from the machine, I found myself drawn back once again. It’s attempting to show me something, but I’m unsure of what. The nature of the weather machines, they’ve changed somehow, subtly, every time I replay a level. I’m $10 deep in this game at this point, and I’m getting strange looks from the arcade staff.

I was… escorted out after spending almost two hours playing the game. The other members of my division will attest to the fact that I do not have an addictive personality; just the opposite. I gave up nicotine without any help, and I’ve helped other members of the Institute out of their gambling habits. I don’t know what came over me, but now… I’m positive there’s an anomaly.

The rain, the constant rain, it’s felt… heavier to me since I played it. It feels as if the weather is attempting to… speak to me, lure me back to play more. But the arcade is closed now, and I’m barred from it for the next three days. Dummkopf, Wilhelm.

I am… I don’t know how I feel. But there is something wrong with that machine. I am going to present my evidence to the rest of the research group-- perhaps we can make an expedition to it in the middle of the night, in this rain. I know the arcade will allow me to enter. Deluge is a game that begs to be played, much like Calliope or Erhcue-- but those are card games, so much simpler than this confounded device.

I must sleep. I hope my dreams are quiet. 

My dreams were not quiet.

I dreamt of the future, flooded. All of the cities I played in, and more. I dreamt of waters glowing with nuclear light in Japan, and of the shores of the Great Lakes of North America inundated. All the time, I saw the molecules from the game being constructed, and as I woke up, my colleagues said I was babbling nonsense, but there were two words they could make out:

“They’re engines!”

I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. The weather machines, I thought they were some science fiction device, but I see now. They’re engines. Of cars, of buses, of planes, of ships… I only realized it when I replayed the Wildwood level. The atoms are joining with each other to create more water-- is this game attempting to show off pollution? Why does pollution equal water?

I’ve sent for another member of the Institute, one familiar with the construction of arcade machines. They… they claim we don’t need the whole cabinet it’s part of. Just a piece of circuitry from within. They can hook it up. But the rain, the rain increases ever more. They don’t predict any hurricanes, but I am still frightened by the weather. But the Breakers did not raise a coward. I will go with my team to extract this circuitry, when our man arrives. But I am afraid of being swept away by the storm.

I think it senses my intent. Twice now, trees by the hotel where we are staying have been struck by lightning, despite the presence of a taller structure. Physics is breaking down, and Kropp, the fool, has the gall to laugh-- “It’s New Jersey, what did you expect to happen?”

There is paranatural activity throughout this area; between the Lassiter’s many unexplained disappearances, all caught on film, Deluge, the ghostly city of Algern-- that I dare not speak the name of for fear of invoking its existence, the journal of Elizabeth Averna… all are linked to this area. And I fear that this is not the end.

I am… scared, well and truly. But courage is not the absence of fear, it is acting in spite of it. But I dare not close my eyes, for when I do, I can… I can see the waters rising.

Alder, the technician, will be here in six hours, soon after sunset. At ten, we will infiltrate the arcade and… well, hope for the best. Maybe this rain will stop. Maybe we will all drown in the Atlantic.

Wilhem Breaker, Senior Agent, Institute for Lost Media Studies, September 14th, 1993.