Instead of text cutscenes, there will be readable text files that come with the LOI remake to detail the story and plot. Messages will pop up at the end of certain levels telling you which file to read.
Anyway, I'd like to share part of the storyline with everyone here. Here's a sample of one of the texts.
This one is the intro.
Cheap vodka never tasted so good. Most people drank to forget their troubles, but Logan knew that no matter how much he drank, the memories would never fade. Not even time itself could heal his wounded soul.
“1918 hasn’t been a good year for you so far has it?” asked the bar patron sitting beside him.
Logan set down his empty glass. “Obviously not,” he replied flatly. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
The patron offered a sympathetic smile. “Care to bend my ear? Want to talk to me about it?”
Logan shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know!”
Other than the two of them and the bartender, there were only about a dozen others in the bar. Some were drinking and others were listening to the radio. These days, the Great War was the biggest news, keeping people updated on what was happening, who was dying, and what was being destroyed.
“I hope this war ends soon,” the bartender said as he dried a glass. “War is the scourge of –”
“Don’t say that word!” Logan suddenly shouted. Everyone looked up from their drinks or away from the radio. He suddenly felt very foolish. Here he was only moments ago simply minding his own business, and now all eyes were on him as if he were some kind of lunatic who escaped from the asylum.
“I-I’m sorry,” Logan stammered. “I’m just not feeling well these days.”
“That’s an understatement,” the bartender said. “You’ve been coming in here day after day for the past three weeks since the start of September. I have yet to see an improvement in your mood.”
Logan paid the bartender for his drink and hurried out of the bar, ignoring the stares of the other patrons before they resumed drinking and listening to the news.
Scourge. Logan hated that one word more than any other in the English language. Not as much as he hated a certain name.
Only a year ago, while working at the gunsmith shop owned and formerly managed by his father who died fighting in the Great War, Logan had been visited by a mysterious man dressed in black and brown. From the look of his clothing, Logan guessed that he was a religious man.
He introduced himself as Garibaldi. Logan had never seen this man before, but the name was familiar. He had first heard the name from reading a newspaper article weeks ago where a group of inmates had mysteriously vanished from a German prison. Garibaldi had come to visit those he claimed were “friends of his”. No tunnel had been dug. No clue as to how they had vanished. Even Garibaldi had been nowhere to be found. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air.
Garibaldi told Logan that he was recruiting people for an organization dedicated to fighting the evils of the world. This organization was an army known as the Scourge. Anyone could join up, no matter who they were. Even criminals and women could sign on. It was a place where one could make a name for himself or herself, promised fame, power, and glory. Being only twenty-three and with the shop doing poorly, Logan accepted Garibaldi’s offer.
At the time, joining the Scourge was the best choice Logan had ever made. Thousands of members worldwide and even from other dimensions united to form a powerful army. Long ago, the ancient cathedral had been a place of worship, but only recently had been converted into their home base, which led Logan to suspect that perhaps Garibaldi was not as religious as he believed him to be. Somewhere else in the land, the Scourge were building a new fortress to fend off invaders and house their growing numbers.
Logan had always been skilled in the use of firearms. As a youth, he shot up glass bottles set up on the fence back home for fun. So it was no surprise that within only one year, he had gained respect among his comrades among the Scourge as one of their top sharpshooters.
Logan had made a few friends among the Scourge, but none more closer to him than a woman named Katrina.
Katrina. It still hurt him to think of her name.
He hailed from Romania, she from England. Despite the distance between the two countries, there was none between them in their relationship. It was only a matter of time before friendship blossomed into love.
But then, Katrina had made a terrible discovery. Garibaldi was actually using the Scourge to wage war against humanity itself. Despite the fact that she was quite adept with a gun, her compassionate nature would not allow her to harm the innocent. When she voiced her concerns and objections to Garibaldi and decided to resign, he had her executed, branding her as a traitor and a coward. Her fellow comrades pumped her full of buckshot and more lead than a pencil, and Logan himself was powerless to save her. She died in his arms.
Ever since that moment, Logan had hated everything about the Scourge. Upon returning home, the first thing he did was shatter the crystal cross amulet that Garibaldi had given him to allow him to travel between the Scourge’s home world and his own when he was first initiated. He did not intend to go back, ever.
Logan’s apartment had only one room with a bed, a chest of drawers, two night tables, and a bookshelf. A poster for Jojo the idiot circus boy and the book signing of his autobiography hung near his bed. Downstairs was where the tenants went for their meals and their laundry. There were no windows to see the brown evening sky or mountains surrounding the small city.
On one of the night tables was a book. Inside, Logan found a photograph of a beautiful young woman his age. The photograph was in black and white, but Logan remembered she had chocolate brown hair tied back in a ponytail with green ribbon and blue eyes.
“Katrina…” Logan sighed. He kissed the woman on her lips and closed the book. Had fate not been so cruel, they would be engaged by now.
He had only set the book down when the sound of the town siren began to roar. With the Great War ravaging Europe, people had said it would only be a matter of time before the violence came here.
Outside, he heard the sounds of gunfire, screams of men and women followed, mixed with the groans and moans of the wounded and dying He felt his knees shaking as if they were made of jelly. They forced him to the floor as he clapped both hands over his ears and buried his face into the bed sheet. Even though it had only been three weeks, the memory of his beloved’s execution burned fresh in his mind. How could he ever forget the sounds of her body being shot up and her cries of anguish?
“I will never forgive any of you for this!” he had told the execution squad and Garibaldi.
A pounding at the door forced him back to reality.
“Open up Logan! I know you’re in there!”
What a time for my landlord to seek the monthly rent! Logan thought. “It’s not due till the end of the month!” he shouted.
Without warning, the door was flung open with a mighty crash. In strode a man dressed in a dark gray robe. With a gasp, Logan stepped backwards until his back brushed against the night table. Here he was, face to face with a member of the Scourge. This was one of the gunners who killed his beloved Katrina.
“I knew I’d find you here Logan,” he said smiling.
“So it’s true!” Logan said, anger boiling his blood. “The Scourge are waging war against humanity!” Just as Katrina discovered. Fighting the evils of the world? Ha! What a joke!
“Lord Garibaldi considers you far too valuable a resource to be merely tossed aside Logan,” the Scourge soldier said. Logan knew from their time in training that he was a deadly shot with a Thompson machine gun. “Join us and Garibaldi shall certainly reward you.”
Logan felt the muscles in his face tense. “Never!” he said in a voice above a whisper. With one hand behind his back, he quietly opened the drawer.
“Didn’t I warn you and the others after Katrina died?” he said. “If you ever see me again, shoot first. Because if you don’t, I will!”
His hand searched through a pile of clothes until it closed itself around the handle of a double-barreled sawed off shotgun.
He saw the Scourge gunner’s eyes move to look at the open drawer and they widened. Logan knew he had to act quickly as the intruder now knew what he was doing and what he intended.
The gunner’s eyes narrowed as he reached into his robe and pulled out his Tommy gun. “Have it your way traitor!”
Logan pulled out his weapon and aimed it ahead as the Scourge gunman aimed the barrel of his own gun at him. He had never killed anything with a gun, but now he had no choice. His own life depended on it!
Unlike Katrina, Logan thought, I will not die without a fight!
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