S.T.A.L.K.E.R. SIN: Absolute Contact

They whisper behind my back when I walk into the bar. They look away and cross themselves, thinking I don’t see. They say there’s a grave-cold chill radiating from me. They say I sold my soul to the Zone. They say I myself have become a half-mutant.

Well, sold or didn’t— we’ll see. But the fact remains: something now lives inside me, pulsing and behaving like a neighbor who moved in without asking. And what to do about it, I haven’t figured out yet. Valera is two and a half meters of pure baffled sincerity. A Controller who confuses anomalies with puddles once tried to drink “Sludge,” dreams of learning to use an automatic weapon, and has heartfelt conversations with a rusty barrel. He’s ridiculous. He’s infuriating. He gets himself involved in stories you want to shut your eyes to and ask the ceiling: how is that even possible?

And yes, he’s my best friend. He’s just as shocked as I am. We have a bunker. We have stew. We have buckwheat that Valera promised he’d learn how to cook. Live and rejoice. But something has woken up out there, somewhere normal stalkers don’t go. And those who call themselves the New Ones have already moved out.