Happy birthday

steam wont let me put a bounty on your head, why wont you die

January 28th, 2022. We have stopped exploring the room beyond the damaged walls after multiple scouts were devoured by a tall, lanky beast. Though we initially believed we could evade it, its long claws with which it taps the walls also help it to pluck us up as we scurry past. In better news, our project to redirect the leak above our town has been quite successful. Unfortunately, during construction, some of our stocks were damaged, including the primary meat store. To the north, our scouts believe they have located one of the sources of the screaming. The room measures approximately 10 lengths by 14 lengths, and shares one wall with the room in which the long-nailed creature resides. No entrance into the room has been discovered yet, and the council is currently debating how to proceed in our investigations. Some factions of the Eastward party have suggested attempting some form of diplomacy with the long-clawed one, though this position remains highly controversial.

January 4th, 2022. The new year holds no new blessings for me. The growth on my left arm has entirely overtaken it. Despite this, I relish the fact I can feel pain there no longer. I found the hole the rats were coming in through. A hidden pipe, between the rotting husk and the broken sink. If I brave the scent of rotten meat long enough I can press my eye up to the hole but I cannot see a thing. My nails are long enough I can push one through and feel there's a room just on the other side of the wall. The wall is dense, but not thick. With the right tool maybe I can punch through, but as long as my arm remains like this I feel little hope.

penis

October 21st, 2021. The dark grows closer, but I still have time. The cameras still haven't powered down. There must be someone pulling the strings, even after all of this. I'm running out of rats to eat. I no longer have the energy to feel hungry. I am going to attempt to breed them again, I pray it goes smoother than it did in July. Water doesn't seem to be a problem. The gray liquid oozing from the pipe above my bone pile lets out more for me to drink every day. It's been months and that infernal screeching and writhing from beyond the walls has yet to cease. My only comfort from it is that I have grown to predict it's patterns. Three times a day, the monster bellows for me. That's how I know how long I've been here, well, at least how long I've been here since I learned. I'll report again during the next aurora, the light is already fading and the words are going dark.