During the game, you will come across letters that tell you a bit about the past of ZombiU. Below will be a description of what is on the letters, in order of appearance.
Ron Freedman's ApartmentEdit
Address on Envelope:
St. George's Mental NHS Trust
7 Corbell Road, London, SW17 7DJ
I'll never forget everything you've given me. Our time together was the happiest of my life.... but now those memories are tarnished, and I want it to stop. We both know you don't belong in the trauma unit. But the injustice of it all has changed you. You're not the man I fell in love with any more, the man who risked (and lost) everything to try to prepare the world for the coming storm. That man seems to be dead. Looking back, your letters have become more and more bitter over time, filled with cynicism and contempt, God knows. I can't blame you, after everything that has happened! But I don't want to know this new man. I don't think we have anything constructive to say to one another anymore. If I do somehow survive the Blight, if any of us do, it'll be thanks to you, I owe that to the man I loved. He'll remain a part of me. forever.
I'm sorry, but I just don't think we're going to agree on this point of interpretation. You seem dead set on "scorched earth" reading of the BP, whereas I (and Ron, and many others) see it more as a warning that we need to help people, not stand by and watch it as it happens.
I know you're angry with me and Ron for arguing with you at the last meeting, but I hope you can see that we're just advocating a "better safe then sorry" approach. It's like global warming -- if we're wrong, well, at least we tried to make the world a better place, and no harm done. But if we're right, and we don't act quickly. we're putting the whole planet in danger. I wish you could see that.
We're not trying to shut you out or shoot you down, like you suggested. I know you said those thing in the heat of the moment, but even if you didn't mean them. they hurt. Your experience is invaluable to us, that's why I was asked to recruit you in the first place.
But we're not children, and we do understand your point of view. We just Disagree.
The council has asked me to suggest you take some time off from the meetings, because they don't feel you're being productive right now. I'm not going to do that, because I still love you and know how much being excluded from the council would frustrate you, but I agree this fatalist agenda isn't productive.
I'm about to leave for Clermont-Ferrand. to see what I can dig up in their Library about the Physici, as discussed at the last meeting. But I'll be back in time for Bonfire Night, so I'll call you and we can go up Ally Pally for the display. It's been too long since we spent an evening together. and I'm sorry about that.
- The Angel chided me, thus: 'Ignorance was the nakedness whereby you were first tormented. and the first Plague that fell upon man was the wanting of science... the want of science hinders you from knowledge of your own self.'
- The patients succumb immediately to infection in the region where the malady enters the body. Violent convulsions follow, and the veins turn black as ink. Poison blood radiates from the wound, spreading like the roots of a venomous tree, accelerated by unnatural haste... It would be beautiful, were it not for its dark design.
- In some subjects, pockets filled with a rich, acrid pus form near hot, inflamed areas around the groin, armpits, and jaw. I have extracted this liquid for further investigation...
- ...the Patient must be restrained and cannot be calmed by any manner of herbal sedative... She seems ravenous and nothing I feed her can satiate her monstrous appetite, as if compelled by a most foul instinct to devour all life within her reach. She freed herself from her bonds yesterday, and would have gutted our horse alive if I had not reached her in time! I find myself in awe of the piteous state to which man is reduced... a walking conduit -- a mere empty coil -- which lives only to feed its greedy and carnal instincts...
Spitalfields Green NurseryEdit
This is Gillian, the nursery manager. I'm... not sure what's happening. but I'm taking the children down to the basement. The screaming outside is upsetting them, and cotton wool in their ears isn't enough... Sorry, I'm sorry, just... oh please, just get us out of here... Oh God.
Day three, and things get worse by the hour. Some of Omega Group still hold out hope of a rescue, but wouldn't someone have contacted us by now? I fear we may be trapped here. And the number of infected is growing.
Day four. I have insisted the family be quarantined in the laboratory's secure area, as the number of infected guards rises. The one thing for which I'm grateful is my personal interest in the alchemical Panacea. Today, I will resume my work, and perhaps thereby restore some hope.
Day five. The Panacea work is progressing, albeit slowly. If only I could get into the Palace library, or call on friends who possess texts that would help... but alas. Testing begins this afternoon.
Day five supplemental. No Panacea yet, but tests have turned up an effective virucidal poison. I will spend today manufacturing syringes, and encourage the guards to distribute them as widely as possible.
Day six. The Panacea tests have... not gone well. None of the infected soldiers we managed to trap and inject have displayed remission, although it has definitely changed the manner of their infection. To what end, I can't say.
Day seven. Disaster. We are all infected. Only the latest iteration of my Panacea tests keep me, and the family, from succumbing entirely. But I will not shy from the task! I must succeed... for Queen and country!
I have discovered several entirely new vectors and pathogens through my examination of the infection. It really is quite remarkable. Is there even a journal left to publish in? I doubt it.
At last! I have all the pieces necessary to begin my final testing of the Panacea! Science will triumph, I am sure of it!
The family's condition deteriorates day by day. Even science cannot save them... or me, I fear. My own condition shows no sign of improving.
Finally... the Panacea is ready, but... but, it's a vaccine, not a cure... still, it must be given to the world... I've backed up the formula to the server mainframe, in the royal quarters... because now I must go to the surface... to call for help... I don't know if I'll return.
- The Prepper was the man who tried to prepare everyone from the Blight. He hates Sondra, and she wrote to him, begging for his forgiveness. This most likely means that John is The Prepper.