Twenty journal entries can be uncovered in Splatterhouse, elaborating on the origins of Dr. Henry West. At each 5% completion interval, a new journal entry appears in the game's Collectibles menu. A number of lines from West's journals are spoken during flashback sequences, or can be heard on gramophones scattered throughout West Mansion.
Journal 1[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham, 1756
Was it only four years ago that I first stepped ashore at Boston harbor, with my beloved bride Leonora at my side? She is dead now, taken by cholera.
These surgeon's hands saved hundreds in the outbreak that swept the colonies, yet I failed to prevent the death of my own wife. Tonight, God willing, I will join her.
To take one's life is a mortal sin. But perhaps I can lead his hand. Poison shall be my repenthe.
I leave my estate to the people of Arkham. This mansion has become a place of horror; in time my it known as a place of healing, and stand as a memorial to her beauty and grace.
L'amour triomphe de la mort...
It seems that the good Lord is not yet ready to accept me, nor to forgive my sins. As I lay at the threshold to the eternal abyss an angel spoke to me, his face a pale mask of serenity.
His message - "She doesn't have to die."
I returned from that dark place with knowledge of a means by which to arrest time's advances upon the flesh and the promise that, god willing, science may one day restore Leonora back to life.
My rational mind tells me it was a delusion born of the Laudanum, nothing more and yet...and yet the apparition had spoken the truth.
She lies perfectly preserved now, serene as if sleeping, like some princess in a Grimm tale. She shall sleep enough for the both of us; I must go to work.
Journal 2[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham, 1777
The war against the British continues. General Washington hails me as a hero, and credits me with saving the lives of many of his troops, through my skills as a surgeon.
All that matters, though, is the knowledge I can glean from the shattered and bloody bodies that are laid out before me on this table.
They will be the text books from which I will learn the secrets of life and death.
I have learned so much in the last twenty years of study, but my beloved Leonora remains perfect but lifeless, while I continue to age.
I fear the secrets I seek will not be easily discovered in the span of one normal human lifetime. ...
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Mid-Atlantic, 1784
I have exhausted all possible sources of knowledge in the fledging nation of these United States.
With the limited resources available to one in the Americas, I have already achieved some small success in my experiments in the reanimation of dead matter, a scientific discipline that I have come to call Necrobiology.
It is my belief that further advances may be made through close study of some of the knowledge contained within the countless libraries and universities of Europe, for I think that this may not be a new science at all, but a very old one; one previously dismissed as necromancy.
I leave my beloved Leonora behind me, preserved in a catacomb beneath a large plot of land I have purchased outside Arkham. She will remain there, safe and hidden until I return.
Journal 3[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Edinburgh, 1789
At last, a breakthrough! After scouring Europe in search of the crumbs of knowledge I required, I found the last few pieces I needed here in Edinburgh, where I first studied to be a physician decades ago.
What I found is not a means of restoring life, but of prolonging it. Armed with this new knowledge, I will be able to extend my life far beyond its natural limit, allowing me to work tirelessly to achieve my goal!
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Paris, 1794
Wherever I go, I am driven out, pursued by angry mobs and rumors of witchcraft and murder. These ignorant fools! It's not witchcraft that I practice, but science. And does not science require sacrifice?
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Waterloo, 1815
War again, as the Great European Powers take to the field against each other again.
I care not for the petty squabbles of nations and conquerors. All that matters is the work, and the advancements of my knowledge of the frailties of human flesh, and the ways in which they can be surgically altered and improved upon.
Surgery is the key to the restoration of life, I feel sure of it now. A few more decades, a few more wars, and my scalpel blade will finally cut through to find the secret knowledge that I know is hidden within these maimed and bloody forms.
Journal 4[]
From the Journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
It is for Henry West MD to leave Arkham once more. I have been here too long, and rumors are beginning to circulate, drawing attention to my apparently un-ageing appearance. I have already laid the groundwork for my eventual return. A nephew has been mentioned, Howard Philips West. A surgeon and man of science, like myself. A decade or two from now, he will come to Arkham to claim the inheritance left to him by his now late uncle.
I leave my beloved Leonora resting in the secret place within the chapel I have built for her, where I know she will patiently await my return.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - The Crimean Peninsula, 1854
Europe is at war again, providing me with more surgical fodder for my work. Humanity concerns itself with death.
I am concerned with life, with reversing the effects of death and restoring my beloved Leonora to my side, with conquering death itself.
From the Journal of Doctor Henry West - Georgia, 1864
Arkham is a distant memory and my image of Leonora has grown indistinct, yet I can vividly recall the scent of her hair, and the warmth of her lips. I know she awaits for me still.
Almost a century has passed since I began my search. I have seen wars, famine, empires rise and fall, and so much suffering.
My experiences have lead me to explore realms I would once have dismissed as supersition and fancy. Now at last my journey is over; at last I have the means to restore my beloved to life!
I return to West Mansion and my love; the house shall soon be alive once more with the infectious sound of Leonora's joyful laughter.
Journal 5[]
Disaster! All has been in vain; I am a fool. Leonora has returned a ghoulish, screeching, drooling thing.
She watches without seeing, through blind eyes older than time. I keep her restrained for her own benefit.
In rare moments of lucidity she is herself again, and begs that I set her free.
It is a ruse, as I have already learned to my cost. Yet perversely these fleeting instances give me cause for hope. We're close, my love, so close.
I must go; she is hungry.
Leonora slipped her chains once more last night. I found her at dawn on the outskirts of Arkham, her face blooded, her beautiful ivory wedding gown stained black with gore...
...and this time, clutched tightly in her hands, were the shattered remains of a porcelain doll.
Oh God - the children...
From the Journal of Doctor Henry West - Cambridge, 1866
What devilry is this? I have been sent out to Cambridge on a wild-goose chase by Arkham's magistrate.
The patient did not keep our appointment, his house is deserted. Two days of travel have been for naught.
I cannot shake this dread feeling deep in my heart that something is terribly amiss.
Six o' clock; too exhausted to sleep. The sun rises, today as every other. Yet something is forever changed. I feel not its warm embrace.
I cannot yet make sense of this madness. I write this account of last night only to convince myself of its irrevocable outcome. My heart is dead...
Leonora is...no more.
Journal 6[]
I reached Arkham at nightfall. As my horse 'Providence' crested the ridge that overlooks the estate I witnessed a chilling scene, and the purpose of this fool's errand became clear...
Towering over the mansion stood a sacrificial Wickerman, crudely fashioned.
Even at distance I could make out the mob, and the flailing figure of a woman dressed in an ivory gown trussed and borne on their shoulders.
A jury of the great and good of Arkham town had already pronounced judgment. Their intent was plain...
...Leonora was to be burned as a witch. I rode with haste...
As I rode a cacophony of jeers and cries and such screaming reached my ears, and I grimly observed that the good Christian folk of Arkham town have not entirely abandoned their pagan roots.
Cowards... How quickly man will revert to superstition in dealing with matters he does not understand.
I prayed for help to any God that would listen; but it was not our Lord that answered...
I could not say what fate befell that mob; only that their shouting and jeering turned to screams and then a strange inhuman moaning that chilled my blood.
In the garden last night I did bear witness to a succession of events I can scarcely believe, though they did happen.
Journal 7[]
Before the Wickerman stood a masked brute, drawn straight from the pages of some lurid penny dreadful. And then... In her own voice Leonora cried out to me!
In a ghastly parody of life that rough-hewn effigy did begin to move... Groaning, creaking like the gates of hell!
The brute began to scale that tumbledown colossus, and with unhuman strength did he tear apart the Wickerman...
...and set Leonora...free...
I used my talents only to serve mankind. My reward is ruination. So be it.
All that remains of my wife are memories and her wedding ring. In time both with tarnish.
Science has failed me. Humanity is a luxury I can no longer afford; I shall put my faith in older gods.
I will tear down the gates of heaven to find you Leonora, and I shall reach them on a stairway built from the stacked corpses of the good people of Arkham!
And the body of her masked executioner shall form the final step.
Journal 8[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
All is not lost. There are greater forces in the universe than science and so-called reason.
In my researches into the obscure arcana buried away in the furthest corners of human learning, I have come across hints of them many times before. Always, I dismissed them as superstitious nonsense, but no more.
Artificially-induced longevity of my own lifespan. The reanimation of dead matter. Gross surgical alterations of the human form. All these things would be dismissed as impossible, and yet all these things I know to be possible.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
The secrets are there, if you know where to look. To find them, you need wealth - a great deal of wealth - and time to spend decades in patient searching.
Fortunately, I had both in abundance. I traveled the world. I filled my home wit the curios and books I collected. Most of it was useless, but I enough of it would provide me with what I needed.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Peru, 1923
The world is filled with secret voices. They talk to us from ancient books, from artifacts stolen from tombs, from the hieroglyphics carved into the walls of lost and secret temples. I listened to them all. Finally, after decades of waiting, I found the right one to unlock the knowledge I sought.
Journal 9[]
From the Journal of Dr. Henry West - en route, 1925
The Southern Americas have proven to be fertile grounds for my research, and we set sail from To-loom well-laden with the arcane relics of religions long-dead.
I sense I am being steered by some invisible force, more powerful than the wind and the tides.
Two days ago, just north of Puerto Rico and in an unnatural fog, the ship was dashed against rocks and wrecked.
I awoke on the shores of this lonely atoll. Where? I cannot say; the constellations in the night sky are not those I learned as a child.
It is a strange place, desolate, eerie; like home.
It would seem that I am the solitary survivor of the wreck; yet I am not alone here.
Even now in the darkness I hear their dreadful, ceaseless chant; La! La! Kuh-thoo-loo ff-tag-en!
Periodically the island is ravaged by fierce storms. In the days that follow seafarers from eras long past are washed ashore, while the wreckage of flying machines from some distant future lies strewn across the landscape.
In this place yesterday, tomorrow and forever after exist together in the here and now.
At sites throughout the island the air crackles with an unknowable energy, jagged as broken glass; it in these places that the fabric of reality has worn most thin. But worn thin by what?
From cannibalized mechanical parts I have devised a system of relays stretching across this island with a mind to harnessing this energy, perhaps to exploit the unique properties of this place for my own ends.
Journal 10[]
No doubt this climate is treacherous, yet those marooned here face more immediate dangers.
The island's inhabitants hunt them down, tirelessly and with grim delight. With each sacrifice my instruments measure a surge of some dark power.
Those that evade capture are slowly change; corrupted. I alone am spared.
I have penetrated the inner sanctum of the Thule Temple. At its center stands a golden sarcophagus, Aztec in origin; radiant, glorious.
It seems strangely familiar - as if from a dream of long ago. It intrigues me; one could say it calls to me. I should like to study it further.
This day I have made contact with the island's indigenous inhabitants. It is as if I had been expected.
They are men of the sea; slimy, grotesque. Once, perhaps, they were human.
The Gods that came to my aid the night Leonora died are known to these creatures. They are their Masters; at last I shall learn their name.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The dead possess a hidden energy. This necrotic power - or 'necro energy' - is released at the moment of death, and can be harnessed by those with the power to see it. The Masters feed on it. Death is the source of their nourishment.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West, 1930
Doorways! Everywhere doorways, between here, there - and perhaps the hereafter.
I travel freely now, unencumbered by such trivial concepts as time and distance.
I channel limitless energy through these portals directly to West Mansion; and so my research continues.
Journal 11[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - City of Carcosa on the shores of lake Hali; constellation of Aldebaran
What wonders have been opened up to me now that the secrets of Portal travel are mine! I have sat in caverns deep beneath the earth and conversed in dead languages with the inhuman things that dwell there. I have stood on alien worlds and looked up at stars far different from our own. The hidden pathways of the universe are mine to command!
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The Abyss. That is the name of the prison my Masters are trapped in. It is Elsewhere. Part of Overspace, a place far beyond human understanding. They have been there for longer than time can be measured, but it is written that they will return one day, when the stars are aligned. When they do, they will reward those who have aided their return.
The Dark Masters; at last I have found them. The energy required to create the smallest breech into the great void was immense; so much suffering, so many deaths.
No matter; something was let out, all tentacles and horns, immeasurably vast, awful. It is but the slightest projection of their form into this domain. It is the Lord Thule.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
I return now to Arkham, to West Manor. I return too as another Henry West, nephew of the previous owner of West Mansion, and legal heir to all that was his.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
They are the Great Old Ones. The Many-Angled Ones. The Rulers of the Impossible Gulfs. The Masters of All That Is Seen and Unseen. They have a name, though I only ever dare say it once, and never again. They are The Corrupted, and if I serve them faithfully they will give me what I want.
Journal 12[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
The Masters were, the Masters are, and the Masters shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, They exist serene and primal, formless and to us unseen.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
I have not always gone by my true name. In London, in 1888, I called myself Jack. I was bored, but soon found ways to keep myself amused.
Now I go by the name of Henry West again. Before that, I was Derleth West; before him, Randolph Carter West. Clark Ashton West, Howard Philips West, Charles Dexter West; so many different names, but all with the same face and purpose.
I like this modern world. So cold and impersonal. A pity it must all be destroyed.
I watch with amusement as mankind sends rockets and satellites into the cosmos. If they knew what else was out there, waiting for them, they would run and hide and never look up again. The human race are vermin, infesting the Earth while its true owners are absent. I will be the exterminator.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
To while away the years, and to tap the youthful life energies of the Miskatonic's student body, I have once again taken up a post at the university, the fourth time I have been a member of the faculty in the last hundred years. We Wests have always been at the forefront of the advancements of learning.
Journal 13[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - The Arctic, 1951
The greatest discovery of all. An ice palace, built beneath the polar wastes! A cathedral to the glories of the Masters, founded upon the ruins of something far older! It is all nothing more than a monument to grand folly, though. Those that built this place sought to use the Masters for their own ends. They were punished for their arrogance, while I will be rewarded for my faithful service.
There are places of power here on Earth that have known the touch of the Masters. They are few in number, and watched over by terrible guardians, but I must find them. Everything depends on it.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
Despite my attempts to unlock its secrets, the Terror Mask continues to frustrate me. I thought I sensed a power within it, but perhaps it is no more than it appears to be - and unremarkable ceremonial bone mask. I return it to its place among my collection, and turn my attention to more important matters.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
I have consulted the texts I have so painstakingly collected. They say the secrets of the Abyss are contained within the pages of the Necronomicon.
By chance, a copy of that most infamous of books is kept under lock and key in the restricted section of Miskatonic University. Whatever the cost, I must have it.
Journal 14[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
My home has changed much since I first built it. New wings and floors have been added, hidden cellars and dungeons excavated, and out-buildings have grown up in the grounds around it. it has its secrets, and it has guardians to protect those secrets.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham
Arkham is in an uproar today. There was a break-in at the university library last night. A nightwatchman and some interfering fool of a librarian were killed, and a rare volume stolen, although the authorities refuse to name it. No matter. I now have what I need.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
I have traveled through these portals to the remote and mystic places that have known the touch of the Masters.
Fools reassure themselves that these places of horrors and wonders exist far from their own doorsteps, but the touch of the Corrupted is everywhere.
They are here, among us, if only we had eyes to see them. Look for them among the haunted and abandoned places of our everyday world, the places we instinctively shun, even if we do not know why. They are there. They are waiting for us.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham, 1971
Last night, through ways too strange to easily relate here, I made direct contact with the Masters, and they made their Divine Will known to me.
It will take years to plan, and decades more to implement, but time is something I have no shortage of. Their Will shall be done.
Journal 15[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
How many days have I sat in the mansion's chapel? First of all it was the resting place of my beloved Leonora, then it became a place of communion with the Masters. So many ways to the secrets of my home intersect here. It is at the heart of everything I work for.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham 1976
I have made a Holy Covenant with the Rulers of the Impossible Gulfs. When the stars are right and the way has been prepared, I will open up a Gateway to allow them to escape their prison. This world shall be theirs. In return they will restore my Leonora to me.
Poets write of a love so strong that it shakes the world. The love that I bear will destroy it instead.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The Necronomicon speaks of a war in the Abyss, and a renegade that escaped. Weak, dying, it oozed through the cracks in reality and into this world. The Masters assure me these legends are lies.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The masters put my scientific knowledge to good use. In my labs beneath the mansion, I create new forms of servant creatures for them, splicing together abominations and monstrosities. I build their armies for them and they are grateful.
Problem: Subjects' screams disturb my concentration while I am working. Solution: Sew up the mouth or sever the vocal chords.
Journal 16[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
For every year I have spent in West Mansion, I have spent several more traveling the world in search of knowledge. I do not worry at leaving my home unoccupied for so long. The things that roam its grounds and lie in wait within its walls will deter any unwelcome guests.
I do not sleep. A side-effect of the longevity process. I lie in the darkness, and hear only the screams of my victims. It has been like this for more than 200 years now.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The Masters' true forms cannot exist in this world. They require host bodies, but what form, what kind of flesh is strong enough to contain the terrible power of their life forces? It will be the supreme challenge to build new bodies for them.
I remold flesh and resculpt bone. I create things both unnatural and wondrous. I enjoy my work.
I have seen hundreds - thousands, more likely - die before me on the surgeon's table. Their gods did not answer their babbling prayers. Mine will.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
Humanity is doomed. I am convinced of that now. While mankind sleeps, the Masters and their servants grow in numbers and gather their strength.
They build their armies in readiness for the glorious day when the gates are opened and Those Who Wait In Darkness return to reclaim what has always been theirs. We are not the owners of the Earth. We are merely its unwelcome tenants.
Journal 17[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The servants of the Masters are crude, bestial things. With one exception. It calls itself 'Biggy Man', and, although as savage as many of the others, is possessed by a primitive but cunning intelligence. The others fear it greatly, and, in my dealings with it, even I have felt wary of its tricks.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
These creatures that are harvested for food here - what are they, I wonder? The remnants of some elder race? An offshoot of humanity itself? It doesn't matter.
They are merely Cattle; an appetizer to the main course. A foretaste of mankind's fate, once the Masters return.
The Masters of the Abyss reward those who serve them. Food is one such reward. I will be rewarded too. My beloved Leonora will be returned to me.
The Masters are patient, for after summer comes winter and after winder comes summer. They know their time will come again.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
Host Body A's natural strength and size has been increased through surgical augmentation, making it powerful enough to contain the life essence of one of the Masters. Of course, the process has driven it violently insane, but living flesh is always easier to work with than dead.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
It is more than thirty years since our Covenant was made, and still I wait. The places of power on the other side of the Portal-ways must be explored and prepared.
Intricate rituals must be conducted. The movements of the heavens must be observed, and still I wait. I am patient. I will have my reward.
Journal 18[]
Leonora and I were never blessed with children, but I think of all my creations as my children now. They play in the grounds of the mansion and make their lairs in its darkest corners.
The children grow restless and hungry. I must arrange for another student to visit me here at the mansion and keep them entertained.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
Even after the rituals have been conducted and the heavens are in the correct alignment, a Sacrifice is needed.
Fate will provide the right victim, the Masters tell me. I will know the Sacrifice when I see them, they promise me.
The children consume human flesh with much relish. I tried it once. It was not to my taste.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
In the Old Testament, it is Ahriman, the Terror That Stalks By Night. The Necronomicon calls it the Great Devourer.
The insectoid race that once inhabited the dead world of Formosa called it Y'siggthugga, and burned their entire planet to ash in sacrifice to it.
It is the Overlord of The Corrupted, and it will be the first to cross over when the Gateway is opened.
When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the cosmos, consuming all. But when the stars were wrong, They are confined to the Abyss. Soon, the stars will be right again.
Journal 19[]
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
The moment grows near. The Time of Cosmic Alignment is only a few short weeks away. The Masters have promised me that the Sacrifice would manifest themselves, but still I wait. This moment has been decades in coming. Has it all been for nothing?
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
My theories in Necrobiology find little favor with the sensibilities of this modern age. There are protests and complaints. In previous centuries, they stoned me and drove me from town. In this age, they write protest emails to the college newspaper. I live in an age of naive innocents.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
My work still requires subjects. The rituals require sacrifices. The creatures in my mansion require feeding. Luckily, the student population at the university is ample enough to provide me with everything I need.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
They do not like my theories, but my cash is a different matter. I tell them the life essence-draining devices I hook them up to are a private research project.
They leave weakened and faint but fifty dollars richer. They spend the money on beer and pizza, no doubt. Poor compensation for the ten years or more that I have just stolen from their likely lifespan!
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham, 2009
My hand trembles, even as I record this. Today, in my office at Miskatonic, a young woman came to see me. Her name was Jennifer Willis, a student at the university. In looks and manner, she is the near-double of my beloved Leonora. The Masters were right. Fate has provided us with a Chosen Sacrifice.
Journal 20[]
I have known no friends, no close acquaintances, no human companionship for two and a half centuries now. I do not need such things. I have my work and the assurance that my beloved will be returned to me. I will offer up that girl's soul to the Masters, and her flesh will become my beloved's flesh.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West
All is as it should be. This girl Jennifer will die, so that my Leonora will live again. When the Sacrifice is made, at the right time and in the appointed place, the gateway will open and the Masters will be released. Leonora will be returned to me, reborn in this other woman's flesh.
From the journal of Doctor Henry West, Arkham - 2010
The Alignment comes tomorrow. I have found the right bait to lure this woman to my mansion. There, I will carry her through the Portals, to enact a portion of the ritual at each of the places of power. Then comes the Sacrifice, and the opening of the Gateway. Nothing can go wrong!
From the journal of Doctor Henry West - Arkham, 2010
She is here! I hear her talking in the hallway below! She has brought another with her, against my instructions. Some feeble-minded boyfriend, no doubt. No matter. He will not save her. Nothing can...