The Worlds

Every map is divided into regions, and the region is the unit ΜΝΗΜΗ thinks in: tension, threat, power, strain, and restrictions are all set region by region.

The Open Worlds

Survivor is played on whole places, rebuilt as the records hold them. Every street, building, and tunnel the records hold is where the records put it. The records hold the districts that mattered, not every suburb, and ΜΝΗΜΗ rebuilds those districts and closes the rest behind barricades, fog, wire, and sea. Where the records leave a gap inside a district, she builds what a place of that kind, in that year, would have held, and nothing that contradicts what the records say.

Each world is a few square kilometers of dense streets, buildings, and tunnels: large enough that crossing it on foot takes most of an hour, small enough that sixty-four survivors keep running into one another. Vehicles are rare. For now only the Raccoon City of 1998 holds any that can be made to run, and none is ever found ready to (Survival, Vehicles). Every engine is Thunder. Every map also hides a few secret weapons, the records' own, behind its hardest ways in (Objectives, Restrictions, and Events, Secret Weapons). The subway and the cable car run only where someone has restored the power. Every world holds a few safe rooms, where a survivor can stop for a little while (Survival, Safe Rooms).

Map	Version	Survivors	What it is
Raccoon City	September 1998	40 to 100	The city in its last week, during the outbreak, before the missile
Raccoon City	Ruins, 2026	40 to 64	The same city twenty-eight years later, walled, cratered, and still not empty. Not at launch.
The Valley	Autumn 2004	64 to 100	A valley in rural Spain, its village, the castle above the sea, and the island beyond. Not at launch.

RACCOON CITY · SEPTEMBER 1998

The city as it was in its last week, rebuilt from every record in the Archive: a Midwestern city of about a hundred thousand people that died and kept standing, with the Arklay Mountains at its back. Wet asphalt reflects the glow of emergency lights. Wrecked cars choke the avenues. The city is closed. Its edges are three rings deep: the Outskirts, the barricades the fleeing left across every road, and the woods and the Army's cordon beyond them, where ΜΝΗΜΗ's world ends in fog and wire (The Edge of the World, below). Each night runs the city's last four days, from dawn on 28 September to sunrise on 1 October, and ends with the missile (Time and Weather, below; The People of Raccoon City, 1998).

Region	What it holds	Where something is kept
Downtown	Main avenues, shuttered shops, bars, apartment blocks, J's Bar, Kendo's gun shop	An overturned Umbrella transport truck
R.P.D. District	The police station, its parking structure, its locked armory	The kennels beneath the station
Uptown	Residential streets, the Apple Inn, the Kite Bros Railway station	Freight containers in the rail yard
Raccoon Park	The park, the cemetery, the zoo, the St. Michael Clock Tower	A sealed maintenance building under the cemetery; the zoo's pens
Hospital District	Raccoon General Hospital, pharmacies, clinics	A laboratory two floors below the hospital
Raccoon University	Lecture halls, dormitories, a research wing	The research wing's cold storage
Industrial Edge	The water treatment plant, the disposal factory, warehouses	The disposal factory's holding tanks
The Western Barricade	The highway out, the Army's checkpoint, abandoned cars backed up for a mile	An Army field laboratory behind the wire
The Underground	Sewers, subway tunnels, and, deepest of all, Umbrella's NEST	NEST itself

The R.P.D. is rebuilt whole, with every lock, statue, and panel it ever had. It is the hardest building in the city to cross and the shortest road to the train beneath it.

RACCOON CITY · RUINS, 2026

The same city, twenty-eight years after the missile. A wall rings it, and the quarantine behind the wall never lifted. At its heart is the crater. Around the crater, blocks stand gutted and leaning, and the farther from the center, the more of the old city remains. The R.P.D. still stands. Beneath the crater lies ARK.

The dead here are old. Some have been dead since 1998, and the virus in them has had a long time to work. The ruins have had no power for twenty-eight years: every way out that needs power needs a generator found and carried to it.

The Ruins are Survivor's hardcore map. A sleeper chooses them in the Waiting Dark, and they are never given to anyone who asked only for the classic rotation unless that player accepts them when a long wait offers them (Presentation and Technology, Matchmaking). Everything that makes the Raccoon City of 1998 hard is harder here, and the city does almost nothing to fill the silence.

• A dead city. Twenty-eight years after the missile, the city has no color left: ash on concrete, dead grass, rust, and a grey sky over all of it. The only color in a night is what survivors carry, what they bleed, and the Marks the virus draws.
• Near silence. Most of the time a survivor hears only the wind, a door banging somewhere, and the dead groaning far off. There is less music here than anywhere (Presentation and Technology, Music). Nothing masks a sound here: every tier carries half again as far as it does in any other world, except in rain (The Dead and the Engineered).
• Few dead. The common dead are far fewer than in 1998, scattered through blocks that have been empty for decades, and some still carry what they held when they fell, an axe among them. What makes them dangerous is that a survivor rarely hears them before they are close. The rest are what the records put in the city that night: packs of Garmr in the Outer Blocks, the Titan Spinner and its young in a ruined block, the T-501 in the R.P.D., Plant 43 at the mouth of ARK, and Lickers only inside ARK (The People of the Ruins, 2026).
• Extreme scarcity. The city has been picked over for twenty-eight years. A night's Scarcity is never Abundant here, and medicine and healing are always Barren, whatever the setting (Survival, Scarcity). So are food and clean water (Survival, Hunger and Thirst). A first aid spray is a treasure, and most survivors heal with what they make.
• Crafting. The Ruins are the only world where survivors make what they cannot find (Survival, Crafting). The Raccoon City of 1998 is still full of what its people left behind, and needs none.
• Few safe rooms, and no vehicle that runs. The cars of the Ruins are wrecks rusted to the road. They still have trunks (Survival, Stashes).
• Every hour and weather. The Ruins have every hour and every weather of the classic rotation (Time and Weather, below).

Region	What it holds	Where something is kept
The Wall	The quarantine wall, its main gate, its watchtowers, the breach on the far side	A BSAA storage depot by the gate
The Outer Blocks	Apartments, shops, cars rusted to the road	Shipping containers left by the cordon
The R.P.D.	The police station, half-collapsed, its underground still intact	The kennels beneath the station
The Crater	Glass, ash, and the mouth of ARK	ARK itself
Raccoon Park	The park grown wild, the cemetery, the clock tower without its clock	The flooded maintenance building under the cemetery
The Underground	Flooded sewers, the culvert, collapsed tunnels, what is left of NEST	The sealed sectors of NEST

THE VALLEY · AUTUMN 2004

A valley in rural Spain and the sea beyond it, rebuilt as the records hold them: a village of stone houses around a plaza, farms, a quarry, a deep lake, and a church on the hill. Above it all, on the cliffs over the sea, stands the castle of the Salazar family. Offshore is the island where Los Iluminados keep their laboratories and their soldiers. It is the largest of the Survivor worlds, and the only one that holds the Plaga (What ΜΝΗΜΗ Leaves Out). It is not in the game at launch: it arrives after the Opening (Seasons and New Content).

It is one world in three parts, and the story or the survivors decide when each part opens. Every survivor wakes in the village. The castle and the island are in the world from the first minute, in sight across the valley and the water, and closed. Each part opens with a beat of the story (The People of the Valley, 2004), or with a way that belongs to no thread, which works only after night falls. If neither happens, it opens at the latest moment the story allows.

Part	Opens with the story	Or	At the latest
The village	At the waking	—	—
The castle	When Bitores Mendez's false eye is held to the retinal scanner at the castle gate	When two survivors crank the drawbridge down together from the winch house on the cliff walkway. Every turn of the winch is a Clamor.	At the forty-fifth minute, when the Zealots lower the drawbridge to come down into the village
The island	When someone takes the boat key Ada Wong leaves at the castle dock after Ramón Salazar dies	When someone fuels one of the dock's boats from the drums chained in the Sea Cave and starts its engine, which is Thunder	At the signal, when the cult's boats put in at the castle dock to carry the last hosts across to Saddler

Once the island is open, the boats at the castle dock carry anyone across, over open water.

Part	Region	What it holds	Where something is kept
Village	The Road	The forest road in, the hunter's lodge, the bridge over the ravine	The lodge's basement
Village	The Village	The plaza and its watchtower, the stone houses, the town hall, the chief's manor	The manor's cellar
Village	The Farm	Fields, barns, the cattle pen, the well, the villa at its edge	A barn with its doors chained shut
Village	The Valley Road	The old factory where captives are chained, the boulder path, the tunnel	The factory's back room
Village	The Lake	The deep lake, the boathouse, the fish farm, the shrines, the caves, and the waterfall	The lake itself
Village	The Quarry	The quarry, its machine sheds, the ravine below	The gate in the quarry wall
Village	The Church	The church on the hill and its graveyard	The crypt
Village	The Checkpoint	The road up to the castle, the cliff walkway, the slaughterhouse	The slaughterhouse pens
Village	The Gorge	The cable car and its machine house, the cliff paths	The machine house's lower floor
Castle	The Gates	The drawbridge, the retinal-scan gate, the catapults, the battlements and their cannon	The cannon tower
Castle	The Halls	The audience chamber, the dining hall, the gallery, the ballroom, the grand hall, the throne room, the clock tower	The ballroom's nest
Castle	The Gardens	The courtyards and the hedge maze	The kennels
Castle	The Library	The library and the mausoleum	The suits of armor
Castle	The Dungeon	The cells, the wine cellar, the bindery	The cells
Castle	The Depths	The laboratory, the sewers, the mines and their spore galleries, the blast furnace, the ancient chantry	The laboratory
Castle	The Sea Cave	The cave beneath the cliffs and the castle dock	—
Island	The Coast	The wharf, the rocky coast, the radio tower	—
Island	The Facilities	The holding cells, the waste disposal, the storeroom where the Amber was kept, the crane yard	The holding cells
Island	The Ruins	Krauser's camp, the trapped ruins, the caves below them	The caves
Island	The Summit	The military base and its anti-aircraft guns, the sanctuary, Luis's laboratory and its machine, the comms facility	The base's pens
Island	The Docks	The construction site and its cranes, the loading docks, the underground dock	—

The church bell still works. Ringing it is Thunder across the whole valley, and every host who hears it walks to the church, as the records say they did.

The Edge of the World

Every world ends somewhere, and no one in a Survivor night drives off its edge, and almost no one walks off it. There is no invisible wall. Nothing stops a survivor who heads for the city limits except what the outbreak left there, and what the outbreak left there is enough. A survivor who wakes, decides the cure is not worth the risk, takes a motorcycle, and rides for the edge of town will find out why everyone else is waiting for a helicopter.

Why Almost No One Walks Out of Raccoon City

The records hold the reasons, and ΜΝΗΜΗ keeps all of them.

• The dead went first. When the city fell, most of its dead did not stay in it. They walked out after the living who fled, into the fields and the Arklay woods, and they are still there: thousands of them in the dark under the trees, all around the city. The streets hold what was left behind.
• The ones who got out shut the door behind them. The people who escaped in the first days, police, the Army's first units, families in pickup trucks, closed the roads behind them so the dead could not follow: cars pushed nose to tail and chained, buses turned on their sides, trucks parked across every lane, trees felled across the back roads, earth pushed up into berms, wire strung between them. Some of them were on the far side when they finished. Some were not.
• The Army keeps the ring. Beyond the woods stands the quarantine: searchlights, towers, and an order to stop anything that comes out of the trees, living or dead, before it reaches the cordon. In the records, nothing the Army stopped was asked whether it was still human.

So a city that was meant to be left is ringed three times over, and every ring was built by someone who wanted out, or wanted the dead kept in.

The Three Rings

Ring	What it is	What happens there
The Outskirts	The last blocks before the city limits: houses with their windows broken, gas stations, motels, the last stretch of every road out	The dead that followed the convoys gather here, and so do the things that hunt by sound: Lickers in the last houses, packs of infected dogs come in from the woods, Crimson Heads where the convoys fought their way out. The Outskirts are at High threat all night (The Dead and the Engineered, Threat Levels). Whatever lives here goes first for what is loudest and fastest: an engine.
The Barricades	The wall of cars, buses, trucks, trees, and earth that the people who fled left across every road	No vehicle passes. Every barricade of the ring is of the Never tier (Destruction, The Tiers): nothing breaks it, rams it, or blows it open. On foot it can be climbed in a few places, slowly, and the climb is a Clamor.
No Man's Land	The fields and woods beyond the wire at the treeline, and past them the Army's cordon. It is seen from the wire, never played: ΜΝΗΜΗ runs the night no farther than the wire, and draws what lies past it only for the Crossing (below)	The dead of the woods, more of them than in any district of the city, and in the dark. Past them, the cordon: a searchlight, a loudspeaker ordering anyone in the trees to turn back, a flare, a warning shot, and then a shot that does not miss. A survivor who goes on after the warning has begun the Crossing (below), and almost never comes back from it.

The night as anyone plays it ends at the wire. Past No Man's Land, ΜΝΗΜΗ's world ends in fog (One World, Every Mode, below).

How the Edge Answers

The edge is not a punishment, and ΜΝΗΜΗ does not throw anything at anyone who reaches it. It is held the way any place is held, by her Laws (ΜΝΗΜΗ as Director, The Laws):

• Everything at the edge was there first. The dead of the Outskirts, the Lickers in the last houses, the dogs from the woods, and the barricades are placed at Assembly with everything else (First Law). When a survivor comes close, what was waiting wakes, as anything in the city wakes when someone comes close to it.
• It falls on a place, not a person. The Outskirts answer whoever enters them: the first survivor of the night and the hundredth, a Veteran and a Civilian, the clean and the marked (Second Law). They answer a crowd as they answer one rider.
• It answers what was done. An engine at the edge is Thunder at the edge (Fourth Law). The faster and louder someone comes, the more of what lives there comes for them.
• The world says so. No one reaches the edge without being told what it is: QUARANTINE ZONE signs nailed to the barricades, the Army's warnings on every road out, the loudspeakers in the trees, the bodies of the people who tried before (Fifth Law).
• Hard, not hopeless. Before No Man's Land, nothing at the edge is certain death. It stops a survivor, wrecks what they came in, makes them loud, and leaves them a fight they can win and a city they can get back into. Only the Crossing is all but certain, and only for someone who chose it after the warning.

Example: the motorcycle. A survivor finds a motorcycle in Uptown in the first ten minutes, fuels it, and rides west, away from everything.

Step	What happens	Why
1	The engine is Thunder the whole way. The dead of every street they pass turn to follow the sound.	An engine is Thunder (Survival, Vehicles).
2	The Outskirts. The last houses before the city limits, two motels, a gas station. From an upstairs window, a Licker drops onto the rider at forty miles an hour.	Lickers wait in the last houses; they hunt by sound, and nothing at the edge is louder than an engine.
3	The motorcycle goes down. The rider is thrown, hurt and on the ground, the bike is wrecked, and the crash is Thunder of its own. The Licker is on them, and the dead the engine dragged across the district are a minute behind.	The edge stops what reaches it. The crash is the rider's own noise.
4	If they live, they see what they were riding toward: three buses on their sides across the road, chained, and QUARANTINE ZONE sprayed across them. Past them, the dark under the trees, moving.	The Barricades and No Man's Land. The world says so.

The rider was never told no. They were shown why, and now they are on foot, wounded, loud, at the far edge of the city, with the night still ahead of them.

The Crossing

Walking out is possible. It is also suicide, and ΜΝΗΜΗ says so, with the odds.

A survivor who has got past the Outskirts and over the Barricades on foot (no vehicle passes them) reaches the wire at the treeline, where No Man's Land begins. There the cordon's loudspeaker gives its warning, and ΜΝΗΜΗ gives hers, through the earpiece and, for a survivor not wearing it, through that same loudspeaker after the soldiers' words, so that no one reaches the wire without it. She gives the odds exactly, as she gives the odds of any machine, and in a person's words (The Extraction, The Odds):

ΜΝΗΜΗ: You're walking out. One in a hundred make it past the cordon.
I'm not going to stop you.

• The wire is the line. Stepping through the wire is the choice, and it is the last one. From that step the Crossing is the survivor's Last Scene (The Extraction, The Last Scene): ΜΝΗΜΗ takes the camera and the survivor's hands, because past the wire the night is no longer played: nothing in it can reach the survivor, and nothing they do changes how it ends. It is the one death in the game decided without being played, and so it is never an accident: no one crosses the wire without the warning, the odds, and the choice. Until that step, a survivor at the wire can still turn back.
• One in a hundred. The odds are 1%, on every night, at every hour, for everyone: before the signal and after it, alone or in a crowd, clean or marked, Civilian or Veteran. Nothing raises them: when the Army falls back from the missile, the dead of the woods do not. Each survivor who steps through the wire is settled alone, the moment they step, so a squad that crosses together may lose all four, or three.
• Ninety-nine times. The scene plays the dark under the trees, the dead coming out of it from every side, the searchlight finding the survivor, the loudspeaker, and the end: taken in the woods, caught on the wire of the cordon, or cut down in the open ground before it. The survivor is Lost (The Turned, The Lost), and everything they carried stays in No Man's Land.
• Once. The scene plays the same dark, the same dead, the same searchlight sweeping past, and then a road on the far side of the cordon, empty, with the city burning behind the trees. The survivor is extracted as they are: Clean, Cured, or Infected (The Boarding, in The Extraction). They earn what any extraction earns, and the Ledger marks the night.
• Not a seat. The Crossing takes no seat from anyone, opens before the signal as well as after it, and is never lit, announced, or named as a way out. It is the one way through the edge that no one made.

The Crossing exists on every map: over the wall of the Ruins and through the BSAA's guns, or out of the Valley through the forest past the cult's watchers. Its odds are the same everywhere.

The Only Ways Through

Besides the Crossing, the only ways through the edge are the ways out (The Extraction), and that is why they are worth everything. A helicopter flies over all three rings. A train runs on a line the Army holds open for its own. The Checkpoint is the one gate in the Barricades, and before the signal its soldiers turn everyone back with warning shots. An improvised way out works because it does what the ways out do: it flies over, or it runs on rails or water the barricades never closed (The Extraction, Improvised Ways Out).

A car, a cruiser, or a motorcycle is for crossing the city: faster than running, louder than anything, with a trunk to carry what a survivor cannot (Survival, Vehicles). It is never for leaving. Driving at the edge is the quickest way to learn it.

The Edge of the Other Worlds

World	The Outskirts	The Barricades	No Man's Land
The Ruins, 2026	The Outer Blocks along the wall, where the Garmr packs hunt	The quarantine wall itself: concrete, wire, and watchtowers, built to keep the city in for twenty-eight years	The BSAA's cordon beyond the wall, and its guns, which turn on anything that comes over it. The Breach is a way out only once the signal rises.
The Valley, 2004	The forest road and the farms at the valley's rim, where the Ganados and their dogs watch for strangers	The bridge over the ravine, cut by the village as it was in the records; the cliffs; the sea around the castle and the island	The cult's watchers on every road out, and the island's guns over the water and the sky

In the Night. Past the fog there is nothing: ΜΝΗΜΗ built only what the records hold, and no record holds the road beyond the cordon. She does not need a wall to keep anyone in. The records gave her three rings of reasons, and she uses all of them. No record says anyone walked out of Raccoon City through the woods, and none says no one did. Where the records are silent about an outcome that no one plays, ΜΝΗΜΗ does not decide it either way (ΜΝΗΜΗ, What She Will Run): she leaves it to chance, at the smallest odds the cordon allows, and says them aloud. For the one who makes it, the night ends on a road she only has to draw as far as the next bend.

One World, Every Mode

Each version of each place is built once, whole, and every mode plays on it. Survivor does not have a map of its own and no future mode will either: there is one Raccoon City of September 1998, one Ruins of 2026, and one Valley of 2004, and every night of every mode is played somewhere inside one of them. A new mode never needs a new map. It needs only to say which part of an existing world it plays in.

The World and Its Bounds

• The world. Everything a version holds, built at full fidelity: every district, building, interior, tunnel, and sewer the records hold, rebuilt where the records put them (The Open Worlds, above). A world also holds the land just past Survivor's edge that the records of other exercises need: the woods and the abandoned hospital in the Arklay hills, the Army's staging base behind the barricades. Those outskirts are built with the first mode that plays in them, as part of the same world, never as a separate map.
• A bound. The part of a world that one kind of night plays in: which regions and interiors are open, where its edges run, how each edge is sealed, where its people enter, and where its ways out stand. Every mode plays a bound. Survivor's bound is the largest one: the whole place inside the barricades, the wall, or the sea.
• Bounds only choose and seal. A bound never adds a street, a room, or a door the world does not have, and never moves one. It opens part of the world and closes the rest. The only things a bound places are its seals and what its mode needs inside it: its people, its dead, its supplies, its objectives, as each mode's own rules say.
• One place, one shape. A room is the same room in every mode. The bar in Downtown where the eight began is J's Bar in a Survivor night, in an Outbreak scenario, and in a Mercenaries stage, with the same doors, the same back stairs, and the same window onto the street. Whoever knows it from one mode knows it in all of them. What changes from mode to mode is who is in it, what lies in it, and which of its doors are sealed.

Seals

A bound's edges are never invisible walls. Every seal is something the world could hold, of a kind the records used, and anyone who reaches one can see why they can go no farther.

Seal	Where it serves
Barricade	A street, an alley, a doorway: the Army's concrete and wire, a police line, cars pushed nose to tail, furniture stacked by someone who did not make it
Collapse	A street, a stairwell, a corridor: a building front, a ceiling, or a section of tunnel brought down, from the collapses the world already holds (Destruction)
Locked and shuttered	A door, a gate, a shop front: steel shutters down, a chained gate, an Umbrella lockdown door that answers no card
Fire	A block or a floor: burning the way the records' city burned, too hot to cross
Water	A tunnel or a sewer branch: flooded to the ceiling
Fog and distance	The far edges: the fog and wire where ΜΝΗΜΗ's world already ends

• Built once, used by every bound. Each seal is set dressing made once and placed wherever a bound needs it, so a new bound is a choice of places and seals, not new building.
• Seals hold. Nothing breaks a seal: not a survivor, not a Heavy, not an explosion. A seal is of the Never tier (Destruction, The Tiers) for as long as its bound lasts, even where the same wall can be broken in another mode.
• Seals tell the truth. A seal looks like what it is. A door that is only locked tonight looks locked, not sealed. A seal never looks like a puzzle, a way out, or a door that could be opened.

What a Bound Changes

• Only what is inside it exists. The dead, the supplies, the people of the records, and the sounds of a night exist only inside its bound. Nothing outside it is simulated, and no sound crosses a seal.
• The state of the version holds. A bound plays its version as it is: the 1998 city whole and burning, the Ruins grey and walled. A mode sets its own hour, weather, and condition inside it, by its own rules (Time and Weather, below).
• Everything inside works as it does in the world. A puzzle, a lock built for two, a vault, a safe room, a subway's power, and a breach behave the same in every bound that holds them, unless the mode's own rules switch them off (Future Development, Which Rules Would Hold Where).
• A bound may change between nights. A mode can hold several bounds on the same world and choose among them, or change one from night to night: a different door sealed, a different street opened. The world stays the same.

Bounds on Each World

Survivor's bounds are the ones above (The Open Worlds). The modes kept for future development would play on these, all of them bounds of worlds that already exist:

World	Bound	For	What it opens
Raccoon City, 1998	The city	Survivor	Every region inside the barricades
Raccoon City, 1998	J's Bar and Downtown	Outbreak (Outbreak)	The bar, its back stairs, and the Downtown blocks around it
Raccoon City, 1998	The Hospital	Outbreak (The Hive); Versus, Mercenaries	Raccoon General Hospital, its hidden floors, and its parking structure
Raccoon City, 1998	The Apple Inn	Outbreak (Hellfire)	The hotel and the street in front of it
Raccoon City, 1998	The University	Outbreak (Decisions, Decisions)	Raccoon University and its research wing
Raccoon City, 1998	The Zoo	Outbreak (Wild Things)	Raccoon Zoo and the edge of the park
Raccoon City, 1998	The Metro	Outbreak (Underbelly); Versus, Mercenaries	The Kite Bros Railway stations and tunnels beneath the city
Raccoon City, 1998	The R.P.D.	Outbreak (Desperate Times)	The police station, its parking structure, and its underground
Raccoon City, 1998	The Laboratory	Outbreak (Below Freezing Point); Versus, Mercenaries	NEST
Raccoon City, 1998	The last roads	Outbreak (End of the Road)	NEST, the tunnels out of it, and the Western Barricade
Raccoon City, 1998	The Arklay hills	Outbreak (Flashback)	The woods and the abandoned hospital, outside Survivor's barricades
Raccoon City, 1998	The Military Base	Versus, Mercenaries	The Army's staging base behind the barricades
Raccoon City, 1998	The route	Recollections (The Fourth Survivor)	One path from beneath the city to a rooftop, every door off it sealed
Raccoon City, Ruins, 2026	The Ruins	Survivor	Every region inside the wall
Raccoon City, Ruins, 2026	The R.P.D. ruins, the Outer Blocks	Versus, Mercenaries	Each alone, sealed by the rubble already around it
The Valley, 2004	The Valley	Survivor	The village, the castle, and the island, opening as Survivor's rules say
The Valley, 2004	The village, the castle, the island	Versus, Mercenaries	Each part alone, sealed where it meets the others

Every Mercenaries stage and Versus district is cut from one of these, and a mode that arrives later adds rows to this table, not maps to the game (Future Development, Scale and maps).

In the Night. ΜΝΗΜΗ rebuilds each place once, from everything the Archive holds, because a place rebuilt twice would be two guesses about one city, and she can check only one. The old exercises each ran in a fragment of a place: a bar, a hospital, a station. She keeps every fragment, and every one of them is a piece of the same whole. A survivor who once crossed J's Bar in a Survivor night would find, in the exercise of the eight, the same bar, with the same stain on the floor.

Time and Weather

The records hold Raccoon City's last days mostly by night and in rain, and most of what anyone remembers of the city happened in the dark. ΜΝΗΜΗ keeps each world's time in its own way.

• Raccoon City, 1998. Every night runs the city's last four days, from dawn on 28 September to sunrise on 1 October, through every hour of each, under weather that changes from one part of a day to the next (The Four Days, below).
• The Valley, 2004. The Valley keeps the records' hours, because its story turns on them: day in the first act, night falling at the second, and the small hours on the island (The People of the Valley, 2004). Only its weather varies, and it may turn once during the night.
• The Ruins, 2026. At Assembly ΜΝΗΜΗ sets the night's hour: dawn, morning, afternoon, dusk, or night. The sky moves on from there at the pace of the night, so a night that begins at dusk ends in darkness. The weather may turn once during the night, from dry to rain or back.
• Every night is a night. Whatever the hour, ΜΝΗΜΗ calls every session a night, and so do these documents: for the sleeper it is one, lived asleep in the Cellar, even when its sky is noon. When these documents mean the time of day, they say the hour.
• The weather. Clear, overcast, mist, drizzle, or rain: the ordinary weather of the place and the season. There are no storms: no thunder, no lightning, no gale, no snow. The weather never turns without the world showing it coming (ΜΝΗΜΗ as Director, What She Can Do).

Hour or weather	What changes
Dawn, dusk	Long shadows and low light. Shapes are seen before faces.
Morning, afternoon	Visibility is high. The dead are visible too, and so is every survivor on an open street. A drop's strobe is harder to see than its smoke.
Night	Light is a resource. Darkness is a weapon.
Moonlight	In Raccoon City, 1998, a night has moonlight until the moon sets, and only the city's own light after (The Four Days, below).
Overcast	Flat light, and no shadows to hide in.
Mist	Sight ends early, and shapes come out of it late.
Drizzle, rain	Sound is muffled. So are warnings. Rain muffles more than drizzle.
Wet streets	After rain, puddles stand: every one is a reflection for Self-Examination (Survival), and every step through one is louder than a dry one.

The Four Days

Every night in the Raccoon City of 1998 runs the same four days: from 06:00 on 28 September, an hour before the sun came up on the morning Jill Valentine fled her apartment, to sunrise on 1 October, when the missile fell. The days pass in the world. The sun rises and sets, afternoons turn to dusk, nights fall and end, and rain comes and goes. No night is played in real days: about one hour of the city's time passes for each minute of the night.

The records' calendar. ΜΝΗΜΗ sets her days by what the records hold. Where the accounts disagree, she keeps the order of The People of Raccoon City, 1998.

Day	What the records hold	Act
28 September	By day, Jill Valentine flees her apartment and makes for the R.P.D.; by evening Brad Vickers dies at its gate. The U.B.C.S. is already in the city	I, from the waking
29 September	The U.B.C.S. regroups and loses its men; the Clock Tower. At about 22:00 Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield reach the city; that night the R.P.D. falls around them, and William Birkin hunts beneath it. In the remake's account it rains that night	II, from 06:00
30 September	In the small hours, NEST. In the early morning the Emergency Train leaves the city. Jill lies unconscious through the day	III, from 06:00
1 October	Jill wakes, on the city's last morning. At sunrise the missile destroys the city	The Last Morning, from the signal

The hours of a day. The sky is the real sky of a Midwestern city at the end of September, with the sun up at about 07:00 and down at about 18:50. The records give the city no coordinates, so ΜΝΗΜΗ uses those of the Midwest at the equinox.

Part of the day	Hours
Dawn	06:00 to 07:30
Morning	07:30 to 12:00
Afternoon	12:00 to 17:30
Dusk	17:30 to 19:30
Night	19:30 to 06:00

The moon. The moon is the moon of those nights: at first quarter on 28 September and a little fuller each night after. It rises in the early afternoon and sets around midnight, a little later each night. The first half of every night has moonlight, unless cloud covers it; from moonset to dawn, the streets have only what light the city still makes.

The pace. The sky runs so that it reaches 06:40 on 1 October at the moment the signal rises.

• The forecast. At Assembly ΜΝΗΜΗ forecasts the minute she will raise the signal, between the sixtieth and the ninetieth (The Extraction). The sky's pace is the hours left until 06:40 on 1 October, spread over the minutes left until that forecast: about an hour of the city for each minute of the night, between 0.8 and 1.25 hours a minute.
• She revises it. She runs the night forward every few seconds (ΜΝΗΜΗ as Director, She Plans Ahead), and when her forecast of the signal moves, the pace moves with it, gradually. The sky never stops, never runs backward, and never skips an hour.
• The count is real time. At the signal it is 06:40 on 1 October. From there the city's time and the survivor's are the same: the twenty minutes of the count are twenty minutes of the sky, from first grey to sunrise at 07:00, and the missile falls with the sun (The People of Raccoon City, 1998, The Last Morning).
• If the signal comes early. When the dead bring the living down to the seats before the first hour is out, or the forecast cannot reach 06:40 within the pace's limits, the count carries what is left: the remaining hours pass across its twenty minutes, faster than any other part of the night, and the sun still rises with the strike.
• In a Late Waking. The waking comes at the hour where the seed stopped, in the second or third day, and the sky runs from there to 06:40 on 1 October over the forecast minutes, at whatever pace that takes: slower than a full night's, because the city has fewer hours left (Story Nights and the People of the Records, Late Wakings · A Variant).
• If the night ends early. When the last living survivor is gone before the count is over (The Extraction, The End of the Night), the sky runs to first light over the strike's last ten seconds.

With the signal at the sixtieth, seventy-fifth, or ninetieth minute, the days fall at these minutes:

Hour	Signal at 60	At 75	At 90
The waking, 06:00 on 28 September	0	0	0
Sunset on 28 September	11	13	16
Act II, 06:00 on 29 September	20	25	30
Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield arrive, 22:00 on 29 September	33	41	50
Act III, 06:00 on 30 September	40	50	59
Sunset on 30 September	50	63	75
Midnight, 1 October	54	68	82
The signal, 06:40 on 1 October	60	75	90
Sunrise and the strike, 07:00	80	95	110

The weather track. At Assembly ΜΝΗΜΗ sets the weather of every part of every day: the night's weather track.

• It changes between parts, never inside one. The weather can turn only where one part of a day meets the next, at most twice in a day, and the world shows it coming: the wind rises, the clouds thicken, the first drops darken the asphalt.
• Mist keeps to the low light. Mist only at dawn, dusk, and night.
• No night is all one weather. Every track holds at least one dry part and at least one wet one.
• The records are not a rule. She is not bound to the records' rain. She wants to know how the same people, in the same streets, behave by daylight, in the long light of an afternoon, or on a grey wet morning.
• She can rewrite what has not begun. During the night she may change the weather of a part not yet begun, under the same rules: that is what letting the weather turn means here (ΜΝΗΜΗ as Director, What She Can Do).

The sound of the city. The days sound like what the records say they were. On the 28th the city is still falling: sirens, distant gunfire, alarms, screams, fires, and loudspeakers repeating evacuation orders no one can follow. On the 29th the sirens thin out and the gunfire comes in bursts. On the 30th the city is mostly quiet, a dead city with things moving in it. On the morning of 1 October there is the count. This is the city's sound, not its danger: the threat of each region still follows the Pulse (ΜΝΗΜΗ as Director, The Pulse), and the quiet of the 30th is never a promise.

The other clocks. Only the sky and the city run at the city's pace. Everything a survivor does takes the time it takes, and every clock of the rules counts the night's own minutes: the virus, hunger and thirst, the Reserve, the first hour and the Late Signal, a safe room's shelter. In the city's time, the forty minutes from a bite to the Threshold are a day and a half or two days: a survivor bitten at dawn on the 29th, never wounded again and never cured, turns on the night of the 30th. Every clock in the world, a wristwatch, a wall clock, the St. Michael Clock Tower, the radios, keeps the city's hour.

What the sky tells. The sky is the night's only clock, and it is honest. A survivor who sees dusk fall on the 30th knows the end is coming, as the people of the records did. It shows how far the four days have come, never how many minutes are left: the pace follows a forecast she can revise.

In the Night. A sleeper's night is an hour and a half of their life. The city died over four days. ΜΝΗΜΗ runs the city at its own pace and the sleeper at theirs, as the Engine runs empty nights in fractions of a second (ΜΝΗΜΗ), and fits the city's last four days into a single night.

Conditions

Besides its hour and weather, a night may hold one condition of the city itself.

Condition	What changes
Blackout	No power. No light. No security.
Quarantine	Sealed districts, checkpoints, forced routes
Infestation	The dead are everywhere before the session begins

Map	Hours	Weather	Blackout	Quarantine	Infestation
Raccoon City, 1998	The four days	By the part of the day	✓	✓	✓
Raccoon City Ruins, 2026	All	All, turning once	—	—	✓
The Valley, 2004	By act	All, turning once	✓	—	✓

The ruins have been dark for twenty-eight years, so Blackout changes nothing there, and their wall is a quarantine that never ends. The Valley was never quarantined.