The following is one House of the Dead fan's interpretation of the attract mode if a sixth entry were to come.
It's written like a script because it felt natural to me. Plus, the House of the Dead games aren't particularly known for their stories, so the characters and plot aren't super deep. Arcade attract modes also don't tell you the whole story; just a teaser to get your quarters.
This will be my first fanfic. Because of the dodgy legality of it I'll likely not do much (or maybe it's ok-I'm a noob but writing original stuff as well). However, House of the Dead has been an important part of my childhood, and it still was fun working around franchise I've cherished in arcades.
I've considered writing scripts for an entire (fictional) House of the Dead 6 game. Not sure. Anyone who's interested-please leave a comment. I've sat on ideas for years.
Any other criticism or feedback is appreciated. Also...happy anniversary of the 1998 Curien Mansion Incident.
The House of the Dead and all characters, names, and settings belong to SEGA.
FADE IN:
The SEGA logo appears and disappears against a pitch-black background. Silence.
G (Voice-Over)
But Rogan… do you think this will change anything?
MUSIC starts. We turn back the clocks.
BEGIN FLASHBACK:
CUT TO:
EXT: THE WHEEL OF FATE'S INCUBATION CHAMBER. OCTOBER 31ST, 2019.
A metallic humanoid, levitating in electricity, SCREAMS on fire. Pillars of light burst from all corners of its body. It is THE WHEEL OF FATE.
A brilliant blue EXPLOSION envelops the room in smoke.
Standing there, awe-struck and shotgun-toting: LISA ROGAN. A 20-year-old self-believer. Blonde, wearing a dog tag.
Next to her is DANIEL CURIEN, son of the infamous DR. ROY CURIEN. Cured from a terminal-illness, but at the expense of others slaughtered by his father's macabre research.
Daniel BREATHES FAST; the Wheel of Fate WAS HIS RESURRECTED FATHER. The Curien legacy is over.
As the smoke lifts, the shotgun-toting duo STARE at the now EMPTY laboratory.
THOMAS ROGAN (Voice-Over)
It's their future…
From the corner of the room, a FIGURE watches.
Lisa motions to the exit. Daniel HESITATES, but nods; for the first time in his life, he's no longer bound by the past, but walking toward the future.
CUT TO:
On the ground, we see a GLOWING VIAL.
ROGAN (V.O)
(sighs) Maybe nothing will change… Maybe everything will be different…
Drifting into our ears like an apparition, FOOTSTEPS.
Leather shoes. One CLOMPS over metal flooring; the other DRAGS across it.
CUT TO:
A young brown-haired, suited man limps over on his right leg. THORNHEART.
He crouches, grabs the vial. Clutches it in both hands.
ROGAN (V.O.)
We've done our part.
Thornheart SMILES. He limps off into the distance, his back facing the camera.
END FLASHBACK.
FADE TO:
EXT: DBR LABORATORIES (NIGHT).
In the present, Thornheart — back still facing us — limps toward a NONDESCRIPT, PALE-WHITE CONCRETE BUILDING. The windows are cracked; the front door is guarded by vases of wilting flowers. He is ALONE.
Images and dates FADE IN AND OUT around him:
2003: A four-armed behemoth (JUSTICE) chases AMS agents KATE GREEN and JAMES TAYLOR through the sewers.
2006: PARTY GUESTS scream and run as a dinner party at SCARECROW MANSION turns bloody—courtesy of a horde of horrible CREATURES.
CUT TO:
INT: THORNHEART'S OFFICE.
Thornheart sits in a swivel chair. He places the vial on the marble desk in front of him. He pulls out an AMS PDA.
Rogan (V.O)
The rest is up to them, to believe in themselves, and walk their own paths.
Thornheart taps THE "MAIL" APP on the device. He scrolls down a list of names, stopping on one: THOMAS ROGAN.
CUT TO BLACK.
A DATE appears:
MARCH 15TH, 2021
CUT TO:
EXT. ABANDONED CITY (DAY)
Inhuman MOANS fill the air as hordes of CREATURES shamble empty streets—some tall, some short; some shirtless, some clothed.
Smashed cars lay half-buried in the ground. Street poles are toppled over, and appear to have been BENT BY BRUTE STRENGTH. Ramshackle buildings are everywhere—foundations exposed, windows smashed open.
A sleek office building is stained of blood and debris, but is otherwise still standing.
Three silver letters protrude from top, looking ready to fall off: AMS.
INT. AMS HEADQUARTERS.
The office cubicles are stuffed with blankets, water jugs, and stacks of canned goods. All the unidentified SURVIVORS are sleeping.
Except Thomas Rogan.
The 54-year-old retired AMS agent lounges back in a swivel chair of his own. Clad in a brown, dusty jacket and jeans. He looks PARANOID.
Rogan glances at the LONGCOAT slung over a cubicle wall. He's never worn it since December 18, 1998. The dry blood spatters still remain. I should really get that cleaned, he must be thinking.
Next to it on a desk: a trio of framed photos: him and his wife, SOPHIE RICHARDS, kissing at the altar; Sophie laying in a hospital gown, clutching her bawling bundle of joy; him, Sophie, and their grown-up daughter Lisa posing for the camera.
Then he looks at the BIRTHDAY CARD. It reads:
"Believe in yourself, dad, no matter what happens. See? I've learned a thing or two from you, old man! Happy 54th. -Love, Lisa"
Rogan's PDA BLINKS. He GASPS.
He FUMBLES for the device in his pocket. Staring at the screen, his face PALES.
ROGAN
What?!
CUT TO:
We catch a glimpse over Rogan's arched shoulders at the PDA screen. It's a MESSAGE from a certain "?"
?:
Happy belated birthday. In time, I hope you'll appreciate my gift.
Rogan's eyes WIDEN. He gets to his feet. Looks ready to hurl the PDA across the room.
And then he hears the SCREAM.
The same one he heard 23 years ago.
CUT TO:
INT. AMS BREAK ROOM.
Rogan CHARGES through the double doors as a window SHATTERS.
Sophie, hand outstretched to her husband, is in the clutches of AN UNIDENTIFIED, DUEL KATANA-WIELDING CREATURE.
The creature LEAPS through the open window in a single bound.
ROGAN
Sophie!
CUT TO BLACK.
TEXT appears:
A NEW NIGHTMARE TO REJOICE.
CUT TO:
INT. AMS MEETING ROOM.
We pan over the shoulders of one seated AMS agent after another Rogan lectures at a podium.
ROGAN
(points at PDA) Things changed, alright…but for the worst.
CUT TO:
EXT. UNKNOWN ROAD.
The tires of two dirty VANS kick up clouds of dirt as they travel to unknown destination.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. AMS MEETING ROOM.
ROGAN
It's not safe here anymore.
EXT. UNKNOWN ROAD.
The tires SQUEAL in front of an UNKNOWN LOCATION.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. AMS MEETING ROOM.
ROGAN
Everyone—grab your guns and follow me. Let's end this once and for all! (slams fist on podium).
The crowd of AMS agents CHEER… except Lisa; she sits glumly in her chair, head bowed to the ground.
LISA
Mom…
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. UNKNOWN ROAD (DAY)
The camera pans back. The vans have pulled up in front of DBR LABORATORIES. The grounds are infested by CREATURES; they rear their ugly heads at the sound of REVVING ENGINES.
TEXT appears:
THE BATTLE IS STARTING AGAIN.
CUT TO:
INT. AMS ARMORY.
Rogan shoulders a SUBMACHINE GUN. He's donning the LONGCOAT. The bloodstains of creatures long ago adorn it; he proudly displays them like medals.
Next to him, a figure in a BLACK LONGCOAT approaches.
G
You sure you wanna do this, Rogan?
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. DBR LABORATORY FRONT LAWN.
The van's driver door OPENS. Rogan's FEET step onto the grass.
ROGAN (V.O.)
I won't rest until it's over.
The camera pans up to Rogan's VENGEFUL face. He SLAMS the door.
ROGAN (V.O.)
(chuckles) Like old times, right?
The camera pans back as G joins alongside his partner. Other AGENTS are faintly seen in the background.
Rogan and G RAISE THEIR GUNS.
G (V.O)
Yeah.
They RUN at the camera and begin SHOOTING.
A GAMEPLAY MONTAGE follows: hordes of attacking creatures get DISMEMBERED. Axes hurtle through the air. A class container of MURRERS (mutant worms) shatters, and the little things crawl about the floor for a bite.
FADE TO:
INT. DBR LABORATORY.
Thornheart stands among rows of INCUBATION PODS; he STAGGERS in between them with a cane.
THORNHEART
(cont.)
Why resist a predefined future?
CUT TO BLACK.
TEXT appears:
FADE TO:
INT. DBR SEWERS.
G and Rogan run from some large, bizarre FROG-LIZARD hybrid in a sewage system. The FLASHLIGHTS on their guns illuminate the dark, fetid tunnels. Following them are AMS agents GARY STEWART, AMY CRYSTAL, and HARRY HARRIS.
ROGAN
Keep running!
GARY
Watch out!
The creature ROARS and TAIL-WHIPS the camera.
CUT TO:
Rogan and G, back-to-back, kill hordes of creatures surrounding them in a decapitated lab.
We focus in on Rogan. His eyes SQUINT; his body shakes with every bullet unloaded from the gun.
The camera freezes on his face; TEXT appears:
FORMER AMS AGENT THOMAS ROGAN
G
Not even you were this persistent.
ROGAN
(rolls his eyes) Very funny!
We pan over to G, freezing on his SERIOUS, almost robotic face.
TEXT appears:
FORMER AMS AGENT G
CUT TO:
INT. THORNHEART'S LAB
Thornheart SMILES WITH GLEE as he stands on a catwalk, watching armies of creatures shamble toward the camera.
TEXT appears:
THORNHEART
The "HOUSE OF THE DEAD 6" logo appears onscreen, announced by a gravelly voice.
CUT TO BLACK.