AFMBE Resident Evil Corebook

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    Table of contents:Introduction Page 003History Page 006Story ideas Page 011Characters & Creatures Page 013

    Umbrella Page 014S.T.A.R.S. Page 031Tyrant Class Page 057Hunter Genus Page 073Human Experiments Page 082Infected Animals Page 103Insectile Species Page 124Early Failures Page 140

    Weapons, Equipment and Attributes Page 151Handguns Page 152Magnums Page 156Shotguns Page 158Automatics Page 161Heavy Ordinance Page 164Special Weapons Page 166Special Ammo Types Page 169Miscellaneous Page 176Creature Attributes Page 179Qualities, Skills and Drawbacks Page 184

    The French Umbrella Facility Page 186Introduction & First Floor Page 186Executive Suites Page 187Roof Page 189Basement Level Page 189Sewage Plant Page 189Dome Entrance Point Page 191The Dome Page 193

    Thanks Page 199


  • Umbrella Inc., New York Headquarters.The members of the press gathered in the conference room of Umbrella Inc., New York division, waited

    impatiently for Derrick Mullens to put in an appearance on the stage. The murmurs and mutterings of the gathered crowd died as he strolled onto the platform and stood in front of the podium, adjusting his pale blue tie and looking out across the crowd. The flash of numerous cameras constantly went off as he spoke, and reporters feverishly took notes as he spoke.

    "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I thank you all for attending our press conference."As you know, the terrible destruction of Raccoon City has dealt a significant blow to thousands of

    people. Umbrella has suffered a substantial loss, with our many medical and research facilities there destroyed and knocking us back years of progress. However, this is not our reason for calling you here. Though our loss was a major financial one, we will recover: The hundreds of thousands of people that perished in those explosions will never recover, nor will they be replaced. As a loving and caring company, we nurtured Raccoon City from a small mountain community populated by a few hundred, to the sprawling city it was. We looked upon Raccoon and its population as our children, and this act of terrorism has left us empty: Like a mother who has had her child ripped from her teat while it suckled.

    Mullens allowed his words to linger in the minds of the reporters for a minute. He could have worded it better if he had been allowed to write the statement himself, but he was forced to read whatever the jackasses in Publicity wrote. If this was what the Board of Directors wanted him to read, then how could he refuse? And the reporters seemed to be taking it in.

    And life, indeed, is what Umbrella is all about. Creating life, enhancing life, prolonging life. Our revolutionary research and techniques as provided humanity with marvellous advances...

    Jesus, is this a press conference or an advertisement? he thought. And we will continue to do so, well into the future. In remembrance of the thousands of workers and families who were lost in the city, Umbrella are going to set up the Raccoon City Memorial Fund, to help the suffering families who have experienced a loss. We intend to donate fifty million dollars, and we also urge our own investors to do the same thing. While no price can be put on a human life, we hope that this will at least show the mourning families that our hearts are with them in this time of need. We will also offer them counselling and support, twenty-four hours a day.

    One of the reporters in the front of the room stood and raised a hand, not waiting for Mullens to acknowledge her before launching into her question.


  • Christine Walsh, Herald and Post. What does Umbrella have to say about the numerous accusations that state Umbrella and its research are directly responsible for the tragic events in Raccoon City?

    Mullens had been expecting this, and barely glanced at his notes.Yes, these claims made by a small group of Eco-Terrorists. Activists who say they support human

    rights, but would rather watch a small child die of a disease instead of letting us help. They feel we play at being God... But if playing God is giving an unfortunate babe a second chance at life, shouldnt we be allowed to do that?

    This is, of course, the same group that was reported to be seen fleeing the city by local police officers only hours before the bombs went off. Bombs we believe them to have planted themselves.

    Mullens could feel the sweat coming now. The writers had really screwed the pooch on this one, almost turning it into a one-sided debate about the rights and wrongs of genetic engineering. As soon as this was over, he was going to go see his manager and put in for some vacation time. These matters or terrorist activity, though, are best left to the man in charge of the investigation. May I introduce Captain Wesker?

    Mullens nodded, then stepped back from the podium. A large man, six foot and dressed in dark blue fatigues, strolled onto the stage. His shock of white-blond hair was sculpted immaculately, and he wore a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He took his position behind the podium, clasped either side of it with his gloved hands, then glared out into the crowd of press agents.

    Hello, my name is Captain Albert Wesker, and I am the S.T.A.R.S. operative in charge of this investigation. I am pleased to announce that we are making steady progress on this investigation, and several suspects have already been apprehended and detained for further questioning.

    If these terrorists are caught, what will become of them?Wesker turned to face the reporter, the cold glare of his sunglasses transfixing him. These people are

    responsible for the death of over two hundred thousand men, women and children. I think that the death penalty is not entirely out the question. Naturally, their organisation and any alias we have for them has been placed at the top of the FBIs most wanted list.

    Eric Briggs, announced a second journalist, standing and raising his hand holding his notepad. There are more rumours circulating that these terrorist are in fact a breakaway faction faction of S.T.A.R.S. Do you have any comments on this?

    Mr Briggs, I know your work, you write for the Chronicle. A Pulitzer prize winner. I thought a man of your calibre would do better than listen to gossipmongers and rumours.

    Are you going to answer my question?No, stormed Wesker, gripping the podium and digging his fingers into the wooden surface. It began to

    crumble in his hands. They are not S.T.A.R.S., and I can quite assure you that a counter-terrorist organisation would not...

    But I have names, protested Briggs, leafing through his notepad. Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, to name two...

    Redfield, stormed Wesker, quickly trying to regain his composure. Redfield and Valentine were S.T.A.R.S. operatives stationed in Raccoon. They were actually in the police station when the bombs went off... I know because I was talking to them on the phone when he explosions began.

    Wesker shuddered, as if shaking off the memory, the addressed the crowd once more.Now, if youll excuse me, I have a job to do. Please."Captain Wesker, just one more..."Mullens sprang back to the microphone, announcing the end of the end of the conference. "You heard

    the captain, he has a job, as do we all. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen."Leaving the stage, Mullens went behind the stage to see Wesker bending over a table, fists clenched and

    supporting his weight. Sir, are you okay?Wesker was on him in less than a second, springing from the table to his position and gripping him by

    the neck, lifting the portly press officer off the floor. He no longer wore his glasses, exposing golden lizard-like eyes which seemed to bore into him.


  • Briggs, where the fuck did he get those names from? Who the fuck is his informant?Mullens barely managed a choking rasp, before Wesker threw him across the room. Unsheathing the

    combat knife that dangled from his belt, he pounced on him, pressing the blade against his neck. You find out some information for me. I want to know where that son of bitch lives. He knows too much.

    A smile spread across Weskers face, an eerie and toothy grin.I need to talk to him in private...He released Mullens, then made his way towards the door leading to the car park. Find out where he

    lives, or I come and visit you!




    At the foot of the Arkley Mountains a little north of Raccoon City, hidden from sight by towering stone walls adorned with moss and covered by shrubbery and trees, there once stood a fine mansion.Built in 1962, and taking five years to

    build, it was made to order by Lord Ozwell E. Spenser, where he worked in close conjunction with the architect George Trevor. Only Trevor could visualise and create the many unique secret rooms and hidden passages that the eccentric millionaire craved: Enthralled with spy movies and cloak-and-dagger novels, it was Spensers dream to live in a mysterious mansion, and the money he offered the architect gave him sufficient motivation to make even the most bizarre and deadly trap work. Upon completion of the mansion, only

    two men knew the building inside out, knew the location of each secret and the trick to each trap. The Lord, and the Architect. Spensers paranoia gets the best of him, and luring the architect and his to the new home, he entombed George Trevor in one the secret rooms, and experimented on his wife and child with early genetic experiments. It was through these early experiments, Ozwell Spenser and his business associate Alexander Ashford, two of the founding members of Umbre