A bot for quotes from the game Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice | During dialogue with multiple characters, speakers other than Senua are indicated with ||
Where are we now? … a burial mound. So strange that we go to such lengths to bury death, something so very ordinary, inevitable. It’s as if we conspire to hide death, because we have no answer for it.
||And though Findan never set eyes on his dear sister again, I, Druth, have found you, Senua…||
I wish you could have seen my home before these dark times.
Shhhh. I know what you’re thinking. He’s not really here. It seems there is no escaping the past in this place. And so she is forced to relive it. To what end?
Ahh. It’s not like the old stories is it? The noble warrior facing evil in the search of victory and honour. Clear dividing lines. No, this place is not quite like that. It’s as if it knows that true torment lies within: memories you cannot defeat, cannot escape. This is her Hel.
|| I can see the darkness in your eyes child… ||
I met a boy…the chieftain’s son…he said he could help me…
|| No. It’s a trick! ||
He says I can be normal.
|| Normal?! ||
Yes!
Did you see her die? I don’t remember. I was only five. They told me that she escaped the darkness, and that she is with the gods. But what if they lied? What if the darkness took her and trapped her here?
Oh how rude of me. I never told you of the others… You hear them too, right? They’ve been around ever since the tragedy. Well… that’s not quite true. Some are old, some are new, but they’ve… changed. I think the darkness changed them just like it changed her.
I’m so sorry. I thought I left this all behind.
|| Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. ||
He was right. It’s inside of me. It won’t let me go.
|| Senua. My father. He taught me that the hardest battles are fought in the mind, not the sword. ||
I will give you my life. That’s what you want isn’t it? My soul? Take it. I’ll be your…I’ll be your slave warrior. Fight with you at Ragnarok…if you release him.
Where are we now? … a burial mound. So strange that we go to such lengths to bury death, something so very ordinary, inevitable. It’s as if we conspire to hide death, because we have no answer for it.
How could they know such a thing? Are they gods? None of us are. They’re just…people. Good people, but they’re scared. They’re afraid of what they can’t see. Like children scared of the dark. So they make up stories to fill the void. That doesn’t make them true.