Hello all. After finishing Bioshock, I am stunned. This is one of the greatest artistic acheivements in a long time. Unfortunately, not all have the ability or opportunity to play this wonder. I have started writing a novelization, and in second person, to try to stay faithful to the original. Sorry if the first installment is sub-par, 2nd-person perspective takes a little getting used to.

BIOSHOCK

Do not consider Collectivists as "sincere but deluded idealists". The proposal to enslave some men for the sake of others is not an ideal; brutality is not "idealistic," no matter what its purpose. Do not ever say that the desire to "do good" by force is a good motive. Neither power-lust nor stupidity are good motives.

-Ayn Rand

Not armies, not nations, have advanced the race; but here and there, in the course of ages, an individual has stood up and cast his shadow over the world.

-Edwin Hubbell Chapin

1

It started with a plane.

You can't put your finger on it, but oh well, right? Might as well just enjoy yourself. A nice relaxing plane trip? Check. Unusually cool summer breeze? Check. Best decade in American history? The Sixties? Perhaps. You kick back and light up your favorite brand. Taking out your wallet, you touch the image of your loving family. The memories put a sappy smile on your face, but you get pulled back to the present when you remember the strange gift you received recently. It has a red ribbon and blue wrapping paper. It has a note attached. It reads,

"To Jack, with love from mom and dad….."

You have no time to read any more. The plane jolts and you fall out of your seat. One passenger sitting next to you looks to you in pure horror. The plane falls.

Water.

Dark.

Crashing.

Burning.

Screaming.

Dying.

Death.

DeadDeadDeadDead- You must be dead.

Light. Not Dead. A propeller flies past and lets you know this fact. Surrounded by water, you swim up. You panic as lights dance around you. You break the surface and gasp. Your lungs painfully fill with air.

"I'm alive," You utter, stunned. "I'm alive!" You shout, to unseen corpses. You wonder if there are any survivors, but the burning submerged plane answers without any spoken response. You see a large lighthouse in the distance and you swim towards it, relieved. When you finally reach the large stairway leading up to it, you pull yourself up. Freezing and soaked, but mostly unharmed, you stare at the large iron doors, and step inside. Cautiously, anyway. It's dark.

"Hello? Anyone there?" No response. When the door slams shut behind you, you jump. Locked. That wasn't the damn wind. You just had to go into the forbidding darkness. Like I had a choice! As you argue with yourself, the lights start to come on. A huge statue of a man is attached to the wall. A large banner reads, "No Gods or Kings, only men." I don't think this is a lighthouse. Or, just a lighthouse, you think. It's like some cult meeting place. Anyway, with no other logical option, you descend the stairs. Doors open for you on chains, and you walk through. At the bottom of the stairs is a large bathysphere. As you step inside, there is a lever on the far side of it. After a moment's hesitation, you pull it, and the door closes. As it starts slowly moving down, you sit down on a small bench, heart pounding in your chest. This is not smart. Why the hell would you pull that lever? A small window is available to you on the door. You hear a projector chug to life, and cheesy fanfare. A picture of a man sitting at a desk appears. "From the desk of Andrew Ryan," it says next to him. A thick Russian accent comes out of the projector.

"I am Andrew Ryan and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?" You scoff. You want to hear this. A picture of a hard working farmhand wiping (of course) sweat from his brow appears.

"No, says the man in Washington. It belongs to the poor." An Eagle descending on the farmhand from the top of the White House.

"No, says the man in the Vatican. It belongs to God." You can't help but chuckle. Now a large hand is looming over the man. He certainly is an unlucky fellow.

"No, says the man in Moscow. It belongs to everyone." Finally, the man's attacker changes into a hammer and sickle.

"I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose ... Rapture."

Your attitude changes from sneering contempt to awe, because the projection screen lowers, and you see…a city. Underwater. You stand up abruptly and hit your head on the ceiling, but it only briefly distracts you. Giant buildings and neon signs. Statues with tributes to the Greeks. Large tubes connect the "sky" scrapers, and your jaw drops as a humpback whale swims by far below.

"A city where the artist would not fear the censor, where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality, where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well." As Ryan's voice fades a new one surfaces, coming from a radio…somewhere. Static, and then, faintly, "…but the lighthouse is all lit up like hellfire. Looks like some kinda plane crash." The voice was slightly Irish, and he was talking to someone. American, probably.

"But we're in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, how could it-."

"Dunno. You'd best get over there, and be quick about. The splicers are comin."

"You've gotta be kidding. How do you know someone's even coming?"

"'Cause we got a bathysphere on its way down, that means we've got company."

"O-okay, just one more minute. The 'sphere - the 'sphere is coming up now-!"

"Johnny! Security's banding off all over! Get a move on!"

Splicer? What the hell is that? You're confused. The sphere approaches a series of rings, which when put together, form a sentence.

ALL GOOD THINGS

FLOW

INTO THE CITY

The end of "into the city," crackles and fades. You move into a tunnel heading up, and the sphere ascends. As it reaches the top, you see a man backing away from…something. Someone? It was humanoid.

"Please, lady…I didn't mean no trespass. Just…just don't hurt me. Please, let me go…you can keep my gun! You can-!"

He is cut off, as she darts forward, and impales him with what appear to be hooks. She rips them out, and he falls over. You press against the back of the bathysphere. Godohgodohgod.

You are going to die.

In some shitty sphere, thousands of leagues under the ocean. Like that Jules Verne story…what was it? You can't remember, and it doesn't matter.

She breathes heavily on the other side. "Is it someone new…?" She lets out a shriek and disappears from site. A thud on the top of the sphere. Two guesses who that is. Her demonic claws tear at the ceiling and sparks fly.

Prepare to evacuate soul in 5…4….3…2….gone.

She's gone. She left. You breathe a sigh of relief but panic when the door opens.

"Would you kindly pick up that shortwave radio?" You jump and look to your left. There it is, plain to see. You pick it up and listen in to it.

"I don't know how you survived that plane crash, but I've never been one to question providence. I'm Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive. Now keep on moving, we're gonna have to get you to higher ground. Take a deep breath and step out of the bathysphere. I won't leave you twisting in the wind."

"M-m-my n-name's Jack…" You reply, trying to steady yourself as you step out.

"Jack, eh? That's a fine name. Wish I could say it's nice to meet you, but in the circumstances…."

"Okay. Now, would you mind telling me where the hell I am? All I know is that some individualist built this undersea "utopia". Also, that the prick's idealism didn't last too long," You say.

"Yeah, this is Rapture, all right. I came here looking for paradise. We all did. A place where a man could make an honest day's pay and not be fucked over by any president, or monarch, or whoever."

You walk in silence, stepping over a couple of protest signs that say: Rapture's Dead, Ryan Doesn't own us, or Fuck Fontaine.

You look around the large room and can't help but marvel at the intricacy of the architecture. This Ryan guy musta had a lot of time on his hands. Heh. You had stepped off a red carpet, which trailed down and around, lining your path, including the steps at the far northwest. There's a banner to the left, keeping you from falling into the water. On the right is a large see-through glass, through which you can see various other buildings. You run up and turn at the foot of the stairs.

"We're gonna need to draw her out of hiding. But you're gonna have to trust me." Atlas says.

"I'll wrap you in a sheet….." Your blood turns cold at the sound of her voice. Before you can react, a bizarre flying metal thing with a propeller comes into view. It has several small green eyes, and a mounted machine gun. It starts firing and the "woman" falls to the floor.

"How do you like that, sister?" Atlas calls laughing and triumphant. She tries to escape but is pelted with bullets and falls.

"Now, would you kindly find a crowbar or something? Bloody splicers sealed Johnny in before they…goddamn splicers!" You look around at the top of the stairs. There's rubble everywhere. You smile as you find a rather large wrench. Hitting a mess of stones in front of you, you clear an enterance to a small crawl space. Crawling on hands and knees, you begin to recall the days of your youth….