Dr.Zootsuit
Duke Fishron
Terraria's lore could stand to be a lot stronger, couldn't it? Ladies, gentlemen, and others, please, sit for a spell and take in the beginning to my narrative. It's a story of betrayal and insanity. Gods and usurpers. Megalomania, ego, and powerlessness. You may not be sure at first how it meshes with the Terraria you may know, but things should become obvious after a time. Prepare now, to see the world of Terraria at a level you have never seen before...
I present... The journal of Dr. Andrews.
Day one stops there. there's a jolt of ink, as if the pen was disturbed. One can only imagine what happened to the author... But I don't believe you'll have to wait for long to find out.
I present... The journal of Dr. Andrews.
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll probably be dead. Or you’ve stolen my notebook. Or I’ve sold my research, in which case, I may as well be dead, because I’m off somewhere sunny drinking fancy wine with beautiful men and women, and you’ve got your nose stuck in some nerds journal, to which I say, ha! That was supposed to be a funny introduction to my journal, but I kind of hate it now. If only I had thought to write in pencil rather than pen. Ah well. DAY ONE: When my therapist first suggested I keep a journal, I scoffed. Being a man of science, I regard journals as something you keep when you have something you’re researching, and the daily goings on of my life and the facility I oversee is hardly what I’d call riveting. Am I allowed to write about government secrets in here?  it. It’s my journal, I’ll do what I like.My name is Andrew. Or, to give the title I had to work for quite a bit; Dr. Andrews. (Yes. Have your laugh. Andrew A. Andrews. First in the phone book! Yuk yuk yuk.) Or, to use my job title; Head-researcher and facility overseer Dr. Andrews! But what facility, you may ask? I don’t know who’s asking that. Anyway, Zeeplex labs! The facility! My facility! Well, technically it’s owned by the shadowy board of directors who fund our research, but you know what I mean. Deep in the frigid, rugged peaks of the inhospitable Colorado mountains lies Zeeplex. A sleepy little boxy installation built back in the 1950’s as a place to develop secret technology back in the cold war. There, I serve my role as head researcher, directing the operations of, and working tirelessly alongside, the brilliant men and women who work there to discover whatever we can about the nature of life, the universe, and everything! Zeeplex’s staff is divided into three groups, more or less. First, there’s research team one. As a privately funded research lab, we mostly do contract work, supplied to us by those shadowy directors I mentioned earlier. Research team one handles this stuff. They’re a fine group of scientists, each trained specially. We have experts in the fields of ballistics, applied physics, biology, chemistry, zoology, medicine, and more. Basically, whatever’s needed to analyze what’s put before them and work out what makes it tick, and possibly discover new, exciting ways of making it tick! Then there’s research team two. Research team two is singularly devoted to one project at the moment. While team one works on things individually, team two is assigned to a really really big contract, albeit an utterly stupid one. See, back in the cold war, a bunch of soviet physicists got drunk and outlined a theoretical device that would allow for dimensional travel. What this actually means is anyone's guess, since this is real life and not goddamn Minecraft. But it doesn’t matter what I think. The Russians threw this idea out the next morning, but the American spy network rushed it back home, and the damn fools started trying to actually build the thing. Everyone involved with the project eventually called it quits or disappeared entirely, and it got stuck in a vault at Black Mesa for the next forty years after the funding ran out in the seventies. Then somebody high up in the military brass decided that “hey baby, I got men working on ripping through dimensions” would be a good pick up line or something, and the project was revived. At Zeeplex. Research team two is, frankly, being wasted. They’re all some of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met. Theoretical physicists, astronomers, masters of quantum mathematics and the like, and I’m being forced to pay them all to try to make a little black box the size of a toaster create miniature black holes. At best, this is a tremendous waste of everyone's time. At worst, they might succeed, and kill us all, because there’s no such thing as an alternate dimension! The ‘D-Drive’ project is utterly nonsensical, and I can’t wait until I can tell team two that they get to do real work again. Ugh. Anyway, aside from them, there’s the maintenance man, the security guard, a couple of interns… I’m kind of running out of stuff to talk about. I’ve got a cup of coffee. That’s pretty nice. The coffee machine was busted, but this morning when I came in, I found it was worki |
Day one stops there. there's a jolt of ink, as if the pen was disturbed. One can only imagine what happened to the author... But I don't believe you'll have to wait for long to find out.