Dear Diary,
 
   Does anyone want to explain to me why my ass is running around this damn ship. I mean, come on! I AM AN ENGINEER! I'm sorry I had to go all caps there diary, but it needed to be stated, in writing that I am an engineer. Now I spent a long time in school, learning all that math and science, so I'm not exactly combat ready. Sure I had that one elective class, Tae Kwon Do 101, but it didn't prepare me for monsters with sword arms.
 
   Hammond is head of security. Now, I don't know if that means he's ex-military working in the private sector or he took the hour long training course mall cops get, but he's the fighter here. We even meet up pretty soon after all this shit goes down, and he sends me out to get eaten. Couldn't we trade roles? Maybe go together? Nope, there's always a "reason" I have to go. I suspect that he knows Murphy's Law, which states the black guy must die in 97.4% of all horror games/films. Doesn't make sense to me, but that's what happens.
 
    And would it kill them to say thank you once in a while. I've practically rebuilt the ship with tinfoil and apple skins, but not one thank you. You're welcome for keeping you alive, you ungrateful bastards.
 
   Gotta go diary. It hurts my eyes to write in total darkness and that bitch Kendra is whining about something.