"> The Pyramid Head
"He has many names. The Boogeyman. Fear. But he goes by one true name. The Pyramid Head. Forged by fear and hate, he is a creation of your everlasting eternal darkness. You may not know it, but your mind is already his. Run and he will find you. Hope, and he will crush your faith. Fear, and he will make them a reality. For Silent Hill is his realm, and none escape it."

WARNING: This RP Blog has very explicit content. Ranging from rape to all out gore. The character is extremely dangerous, and may offend other people. This blog is for fun, but it can contain graphic descriptions, uneasy scenarios, and gory threads. If you are uneasy about following, please don't. Do not enter Silent Hill unless you are willing to pay the price.

(Member of the groups: Silent Hill Roleplay and Darkest of Souls RP)
Taking starter requests

Just message my inbox and I’ll get started on it ASAP

I was weak. That’s why I needed you… needed someone to punish me for my sins. But, that’s all over now. I know the truth. Now it’s time to end this.
—James Sunderland, Silent Hill 2 (via noninultuspremor)

the secret to losing followers is being yourself

(via antiheromomo)

So I have no replies to do, and I have no starters to do. So I’m going to pick up where I left off with my video promotion. I’m making it like a video game trailer, and that means I need opinions or ‘reviews’ about the blog and it’s threads if I want to give it that kind of quality about it.

If you could please message me with a short sentence, like that of a video game review on a trailer, I can use it in the trailer promo and put your name beneath it! I don’t want to just make up shit, I want to use YOUR opinions of me for it. 

Any help will be appreciated, thanks a lot!


Lovecraft by Attila Amon
Prelude • adxptable • Silent Hill


©2014 Konami Computer Entertainment



“People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.” 

                                      -‘The Laughing Corpse’ by Laurell Hamilton

The greatest weapon an individual can wield is the ability to question. The ability to question provides insight into the issues of political, theological, scientific, and theoretical questions. It provides answers to questions that, many would consider, normal. Mathematics, for instance, must always provide an answer. Even if that answer is zero it is, in all purposes of the word, still an answer.

However, there are simply some questions that cannot be answered. Or some questions that shouldn’t provide answers.

Questions, while are an individuals best weapon to combat the unknown, are also our greatest enemy. For everyone is plagued by questions, even about themselves. There is never a stop to questioning, because there is an infinite supply of questions that need answers. All people are stricken with questions. But none are so stricken like that of Selina Kyle. The question, the one being tackled in this story, the one that all questions now seem to branch from is, “what is real, and what is not?”

Selina received the letter out of happenstance. It was left for her to find, at her apartment. It wasn’t left at the door, or on the mat, but it was placed inside the home itself. This letter was a dirtied envelope, propped on a chair, that had been moved into the living room of her home. The envelope said, in oddly shaped cursive letters, on the front:


Inside the envelope was something truly and profoundly horrific. Polaroid photographs were all that was inside. It showed images of a town. People smiling, walking down the streets. The photos had to be old, as the cars in the streets were from the 1970’s, maybe the 80’s.

After a while, the photos were that of a little girl, playing in a lake. Long black hair, a smile missing teeth, and a pretty little pink dress were seen as the little girl posed for the pictures at the lake. Then was, what one could assume to be, the first of the photo album set. A photo of the girl and a man, the face of him scratched off with what one could assume to be a straightened paperclip. They stood by their car, a red Chevy, next to a wooden sign. The only two words that were in the shot from the sign was a name, most likely the town.

"Silent Hill!"

It was strange for someone to break into her home to leave a photo album, yes, but the intent didn’t become clear until the last photo. One that would prompt Selina on this journey, and would ultimately shake her very being.

The photo around the person in the center of the image was black. It was not shadows, It was not darkness, it was like staring into the abyss. It was simply nothing. In the center of the Polaroid was a person in a wooden chair.

They were limp, their head to their left side, arms dangling. The body was heavily decomposed, but several things could be made out. It was a woman, for one, because one of the breasts was exposed. The other was that she was in the ground, because all over her were worms, maggots, and dirt that was ground into her skin. There was something else as well. A needle. A needle, shoved into her arm, dangled in the image. 

Her mother.

It was Selina’s dead mother, overdosed and buried many years ago. So many years ago, in what seemed like a past life. The frightening thing, more frightening than the image of her decomposed, rotting mother, was the eyes. They were beautifully real, tears even forming underneath the lids. They stared into the camera, and were the only remaining human thing about her. On the back of the photo was a message, written in the same ink as on the front of the envelope.


With that, the questions were too much. Answers had to be provided. Packing up, she drove the several hours to the only city in America with that name. Silent Hill, Maine. She drove and drove, the pine barrens thickening as she did so. As the forest thickened around the road, so did the fog. She drove on, none the less.

It had been four hours since she left Gotham, driving north towards Canada. The sun had been gone for hours, and it was now as late as three in the morning. She was close; she knew she was, because to the cars right, through the trees, was the same lake from the photos. Suddenly, the car sputtered. Even with her foot on the pedal, the car slowed. The lights on the panel flickered, until they went out all together. 

The car came to a stop, and Selina was now more alone then ever. Fog enveloped the car and it was pitch black outside. But then, the fog seemed to part in an area in front of the car, if only for a moment. In that break of the fog, Selina saw something that chilled her to the bone, but made her know she was on the right path. A sign that many had seen before her, many of them never coming back down the path.

"Welcome to Silent Hill!"

"Killing a person ain’t no big deal. Just put the gun to their head… pow!"

The MASTER of Horror Adventure.