Fans of the wonderful Angela Orosco from Silent Hill 2 can come here to enjoy some great stories and facts about this excellent character. Very few characters have left a memory in my mind after playing a game. Angela is one of them.
ORCA782 / CVXFREAK Original SH2 'Plot Analysis'.
You can visit my original Gamer Page here.
Here are some official and "non" official theories and stories about Angela. Enjoy!
Abstracted Daddy, By Rain Ocampo /Edited by jdodson
The Abstracted Daddy. As you can see by it's rather disturbing shape, it looking like two people in bed with each other, also one of the people appears to be alot bigger than the other, again suggesting an adult raping a child, this is a visual representation of Thomas Orosco raping Angela in her own bed...
The door part I believe represents how Angela would hide in her room, with the door locked and closed, and Thomas would return home drunk, violent and he would slam on the door repeatedly either trying to force entry or tell Angela to let him in... eventually poor Angela would relise no one was coming to save her, and have to give up... and let him in...
Also on the stairs of fire, there is a rather disturbing image of a body on the wall, with a bloody crotch area, this I believe represents how after Angela's violent rape, she was left with a rather... I can't even say it... she eventually snapped and murdered her father, and her mother in a sudden shock of losing her husband, knowing it was Angela she was enraged with her, and pronounced 'You deserved to be raped!' Angela's mother then called the police and reported the murder, although not telling the police it was her daughter....
Angela Details and Storyline, By ORCA782 and CVXFREAK
She was abused and molested, along with her mother, by her father. She is also schizophrenic because of her need to put the damage done on someone else, leaving her other personality harsh and angry. Though the game seems to point to Angela having killed her father, there is no concrete fact within the game, so I revert to criminal and sexual abuse studies, which point out that in this situation, it is much more likely that Angela's mother killed the father, not Angela herself. Then Angela took the knife, having seen her father dead, and holds onto it, thinking it is the last she will remember of her father, and also it represents safety to her from her father, as well as the last resort to life itself.
She says at one point that her mother says she is bad, or wrong, or something to that nature. What her mother is saying is that she deserved what her father did to her. She is not saying that Angela killed her father. The mother too was afraid of the father, and thus she had to justify his violent tendencies, and she justified them by making Angela into a bad child in her own mind (the mother, this is). People often tell me that the gravestone in the second cemetery shows that Angela is guilty. I don't believe this. I think that it shows that similar to "The Matrix," Silent Hill allows the people in it to feel exactly how they want to, and if Angela FEELS guilty, then she gets to go to the darker Silent Hills, because she THINKS she has done something wrong. Sex crime victims often feel that they are to blame, not the offender, especially if the offender is a family member.
Cemetery: Angela is actually the first character we meet in the game. She is in a cemetery on the outskirts of town, looking for the grave of her Father. She tells James however that she is looking for her father and mother and brother in the town, as if she did not know that her father at least was dead. Angela is still in denial at this point that her father is dead. She has the knife at this point, but it has not yet made its appearance, because this is the most sane Angela ever gets. She is looking for her father in the town because part of her wants to believe that he is not dead, but another part knows that he is dead, and is trying to prove the other part of her wrong by finding the gravestone.
West Wing Apartment: Angela is in a passive state in this meeting. She is holding the knife, probably having remembered that her father is dead, and that she is safe as long as she has the knife. She is already seeing the fires around her now, but there are no monsters in the room, so she does not see her father in this room. The tEddie bear outside the door shows that Angela is thinking of her childhood. She is looking in the mirror to determine who she really is, because she honestly doesn't know.
Room in the Labyrinth: At this point, Angela sees the thing James sees as a monster to be her father. She is practically catatonic with fear in a corner, and she sits still while James kills the creature. She says "No daddy, don't," which is a key clue to realizing that Angela was very young when her father abused her, and that he most likely sexually abused her, because telling someone who's angry "don't" will get you nowhere, but if he is acting friendly towards her, in order to violate her, her saying "don't" can be construed as a request of a friend, a plea if you will. After you kill the creature, she drops a TV on the creature, which symbolizes her hate of what her father did to her. However, she then falls to the floor and retches, which shows that just that act of hate is enough to make her queasy. Then she addresses James, and becomes suddenly violent in attitude, in order to defend herself from anyone she sees as a danger, I.E. any male figure. James has saved her, so she looks up to him, but the only other male that she looked up to was her father, so James reminds her of her father, and she gets very defensive.
Hotel Burning Hallway: This is the final encounter with Angela, so it attempts to sum up her meaningfulness in the game. She knows that whether it was her, or her mother who killed her father, she will never live in peace again. She asks James if he thinks he could protect her, of if he would just force her, like "he" did. She then realizes that James cannot help her, and she walks off into the blaze, most likely to her death. If you zoom the camera and watch Angela walk up the stairs, the fire eventually engulfs her. She's murdered by her own insanity that is Hell.
Basiclly I wrote a short Silent Hill Halloween story for a online contest last year. Although Angela is not in it, I'll dedicated it to her. Also note that each set of paraghraps have there own "title" to them. I was inspired by James Alan Gardner by this writing style. So here it is.
Nothing, By jdodson
'Review of what has happened so far...'
It's been only days since Deken Hart had been assigned to the small, peaceful town of Silent Hill. Assigned to continue work on the mysterious string of serial murders taken place in the quiet resort. In all the years of experience gained through his tremendous work as a detective, no training ever involved such results of what he has experienced in this town. No, not ever...
Though it's only been a few hours for Deken, it seems to have been days, lost in the fog, alone.
We catch us to our fallen hero, as he is to have come across many of strange "Things" on his quest for justice. The victims were always little girls, sometimes-young teens, but Stacy Eden was a mere six-year-old girl. Deken was sure that either way, whether Stacy was with the killer or somewhere in town by herself, that she was in serious danger. So far the only other people Deken has yet to see in town were Stacy, himself, and the dead that seem to saunter like stringed hand puppets. Things had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and Deken has yet to realize this fully.
The young voice was so easy to depict in the fog bank. For blocks, I followed the young girl's singing rhymes. Of course I tried calling out to her, but like all children, she didn't listen. It wasn't necessarily as humid as I expected it to be this time of year. The fog seemed to have a special "control" over everything it touch. Probably even me. The day was bright, even though the sun was nowhere in site. It's not really this fog that bothering me that much anymore but what I had just witnessed a few blocks back on 15th street. Even thinking about it still froze me in horror. I had never even believed such an unfeasible act could have happened.
I had just made my first contact with little Stacy as I walked the streets, befuddled. I was so relieved that I had found her so easily. On the other hand, the town was empty of life. That's when she ran off, skipping along, singing her melodies. I chased her for blocks and blocks, street after street and behind every corner taken. "What the hell is wrong with this girl?" I thought to myself many of times since then. I lowered my run to a regular pace. The fog was bulky. I could barely see the hand that I held in front of me.
It always kind of freaked me out when I came pone a large structure, like a truck or even a building. Objects just seemed to appear five feet in front of you out of nowhere. This was the result of the heavy bank.
As I walked though, I heard something extremely loud and distorted, off rhythm, like an engine of some type. Suddenly, a large black object stood in front of me, mere steps away a car, wrecked beyond recognition. The front of the car stood slammed into a large light post. An accident of some sort it seemed. I moved closer to examine what I had found. Glass laid shattered everywhere, parts of the vehicle literally pulled from its original body laid near by. Slowly walking past the car, I took notice to another discovery, a grim one at that. Inside the ruin machine, laid a body, sitting back onto the driver's seat. The head of the man, pulled back on the seat's headrest. Blood painted the inside of the vehicle haphazardly every which way. There was so much of it, it was hard to believe all of it came from this one person. I couldn't even begin to guess what the original colors of the car's insides were. "Shit" The man's flesh was charted and torn beyond reality. His face was gone, melted to his chin. He must have burned to death. Or maybe bled. There was so much goddamn blood; even I couldn't tell how it might of happened first.
The only real thing to keep me from barfing my fucking brains out was my professionalism, but I was beyond disgusted. A small shine came from the broken dashboard. A key? It was just barely stained enough for me to see under the mess of redness. Carefully, I began to prepare to retrieve the item, who knows, it may come in some use. As I leaned inside the car window, tried my hardest not to look at the deformed corpse as I reached over it, stretching my arm as far as I could. The smell was almost unbearable, but I had already lost Stacy again, and this was all I had to go on for now. "Just my luck." I was but a mere inch from grabbing my treasure, when out of nowhere, this god-forsaken scream wailed at me. It was so loud, so chaotic, like a child having a grand fit. But it was the voice of a man. I reacted wrong. I was so startled by the scream, I jumped up while inside the vehicle, slamming my head on the inside roof. I could feel fresh blood splatter all the way down the back of my head. It was colder than anything I had felt before, dead cold.
Pain soared through my right ear. Backing away out of the window, I held my head with one hand as I took notice to the turmoil act in front of me. The man was reacting to my presents. He was shaking drastically. Shaking, harder and harder as he screamed of pain. It was so loud, and it made absolutely no sense. He kicked the bottom of the seat drastically as if he were drowning out of breath. His face held no expression, not that it really could anyway. Nothing but brown puss spilled from the remaining of his face. At one point, he spattered a large blob of the brown mess onto the front of the broken windshield, vomiting horrendously out of control. The screaming continued, even as he became sicker, literally destroying himself even more with each passing moan.
I fell back on my side from the horror, fuck; I had no idea what I was supposed to do! This isn't supposed to be able to happen! I got up, and I began to run, with out the key.
'Out of breath'
I must had been running for at lease twenty minutes, maybe even longer than that. My sprint had brought me far from the accident, to an unknown place, and another unknown street. The green sign that stood high above me read "Mason St." That sounded strangely familiar I thought to myself as I continued to walk. I now continued to try my hardest to forget the unfeasible act. "Oh wait" I thought to myself, "I already said that." I'm worst off by myself alone, I just realized, when I start repeating myself. I can't even remember the date, I think it's Halloween or something.
As I re grouped my thoughts once again, putting the pass asides as best I could, there it was again. That damn little girl again, and she was singing once more. Stacy was literally toying with me. I swear she was. But she is still just a kid. She truly has no idea what danger she's in.
I followed the sweet sounding voice. It wasn't long before I located its home of engendering. A tall building stood before me. It looked like a small apartment complex of some type. Most the windows were boarded up; those that weren't boarded were already busted. I glared up to the sky, I had no idea how tall it was, the fog made it look like a mere one story home, but the buildings ancient designs gave it away to being much taller. Not to mention the row of thirty small mailboxes lined crowded together side by side along the wall. By this time I was already in the building, scanning the area, gun in hand. I hadn't had to use my weapon yet, so far that is. The sing had stopped. I was at the foot of a flight of stairs.
'Some time later'
"This is ridicules as hell." I was on the third floor by the time I was starting to get pissed. Every damn door I tried never open, all lock or jammed. "?"
The apartment complex was designed like a basic apartment complex. Made up of basic U turns with about five rooms on each floor. "Thirty boxes?" I thought to myself, "There must me a second half to this building." One of the doors I passed was completely destroyed. It looked like the door walk way just caved in some how. Nothing but shattered wood blocked the path; I doubted that Stacy was able to get through here. So I moved on.
Suddenly, a large creak came from above. The ceiling cracked and moaned like it was actually breathing. "Somebody's running up stairs, Stacy?" I moved fast, making my way up the next flight of stairs, searching for her as I went.
I barely made it to the final step leading to the fourth floor, when suddenly... "Err, w-what the hell?!!" My head, it started pounding, like a terrible migraine splitting through me. Ripping me apart. Then a noise, a loud god-forsaken noise, like that of a fire siren or something. But the noise wasn't coming from around me. It was coming from inside, inside me. "Ahhh!!" I fell to my knees in pain. I laid there for minutes, waiting for the sirens to stop.
And it did, just like that the wailing had stopped. I stood up, regaining myself once again. "What the hell was that?" I looked around to investigate, but nothing had changed. Nothing had, from what I could tell but something had to have happened, it feels, different.
Something had to have just happened. I wasn't imagining things! Or dreaming for that matter, this was real, too real. I walk to the end of the current corridor. Nothing really. Nothing new or different, except the door in front of me was now unlocked. I stepped through into another long corridor. "What the hell? A hallway?" As far as I could tell, this was supposed to be another living quarters. But it was a thin hallway instead. Rotten. "??!!" The walls were pealing away, the wallpaper curled of its symbiotic partner like the spoiled peal of a banana. It sounded funny, but it fucking wasn't. The ceiling of the path way was stained with something black, moss most likely, but it was too wet looking. And the floor was no longer made of the hard wooden panel I had been walking on all this time, but now made up of a long, rusted fence that clanged deafeningly with every step I took forward.
'The Last Bebop'
I hadn't heard little Stacy's voice since I entered the building. But besides the running footstep noises from before, that was the only proof I had that she was here. The clanging effect of the gated floor was so loud, I'm pretty sure I would have heard her came this way if she did, but with all the pass doors locked and my short time of passing out, she probably came this way during my seizer, thus me being unable to hear at the time. Made sense.
I walked pass, who knows how many, corners and passages, I was pretty sure I was lost by now. But there was no point in going back now, at lease. I followed the darkness forever, occasionally passing an overhead light to guide my way. I never knew how much rust could fucking smell. The smell was getting even worst as I continued on the path. Then I finally came upon something new during the path of corrosion. It looked like a kitchen area of some sort; everything was black and rusted here as well. A bright lamp lights the room high above, and I entered the room I took immediate attention to the acts happening to my left. A large fire burned inside an open furnest. Tools of all sorts lay about near the coal chamber. Axes, hammers, saws, nails and so on, a workshop of some sort it seemed. Sheets of metal and wood lay scattered about over many old looking tables and other broken things. Nope not a kitchen, but it did look like one in the long run. "That smell? what the hell is that?" In the back of my eye I took notice to a ramped flashing to my right. Another small hall stood in front of me, many tables lined up on each side of it. The flashing light came from above were a broken over light tried it's hardest to stay on to light the dark path. The hall went about thirty feet to an open door way, the door was wide open.
The flashing was unbearable, making it hard to concentrate what was on the tables at my sides as I walked. And the smell, that familiar smell surrounded me now. Suddenly, without any warning, the light stops flashing. The broken lamp above was now fixed, and the room's light shun bright as ever. "?!!! AHHHHH!!!!! What is this?!!" There, there all over the tables, parts, parts of human remains laid unsystematically everywhere. A small arm was being held open by small surgeon tools, exposing missing pieces of muscle and bones. A torso laid next to it, completely ripped apart, limbs missing, most of the organs pulled through the breast and mid back areas. Most of the inner intestines had been "dropped" onto the floor, making random string patterns of blood on everything it had touched. The head was missing as well.
I turned to throw up all over myself; I had never seen such desecration of a human being before. I was too busy being sick and taking in the horror to realize what I was vomiting on. Legs, a pair of small legs were jammed under one of the tables, one on top of the other. They were cut open from the ankles to the thigh area. The bones were nowhere in sight. They laid there, wet and slumped over each other lifelessly, like drenched paper, covered with long brown hair. I backed up quick, almost slipping on the eternal mess on the floor behind me. Turning around, I was barley that far from the doorway, when I made another discovery. I had just found the head.
It, it was the head of a young girl, Stacy's head. It was beyond lifeless. Like it had been there forever. It had been ripped from her body, I could tell because most the veins and muscle tissue was spread out beneath it, out of her neck, or what remand of it. Her head was in some kind of large silver clamp devise; the type a carpenter might use to hold a block of wood for secure cutting methods. Most of her upper face was torn asunder, cuts went deep and beyond her forehead, and most her brunette hair had been pulled out of her skull. Blood poured where patches of hair should have been.
Writers Note: This section of the story is missing and is not included in the public version.
I was about to throw up again, this wasn't like me, but she had been so brutally torn apart, it so was unreal. Terror scratched through my veins, making it hard for me to stand much longer. And that was then, I saw him, for the first time. A dark figure stood inside the doorway, blocking my path mere yards away. The male figure stood slightly slumped over, long, dark hair covers most of his face. His clothes were torn and filth end with mud. He carried a large weapon of some sort. A huge, over size battle-axe oxidize with rust and blood. It was the cause of his improper stance.
Stacy's killer!! I drew my gun fast, all my years of training and police work now surge through me, canceling out the pass horrors and replaced it with pure anger and hatred for the man. "Stop right there!!" I was about to blow his fucking head apart, but I waited, waited to see what he was going to do next. He just stood there. He was staring at the floor the whole time of his appearance, nothing more. Then, right then, another noise began to surface. "What the hell?!" I look around in horror. "Not another seizer!!" I waited, listening closely. My head did not hurt, and the nose seemed to be coming from around me, not from inside like the previous event. The noise became louder every second, I had no idea what it was. My attention was back on the killer. He was moving! The man lifted his head, taking a sharp look at me for the first time I'm sure. I could barely tell, but I'm sure he was just now grinning at me. He then took one small step forward; his step was preformed so quickly I had not thought to react. He had already let go of his gigantic axe. It did not fall, but stayed magically in place at an angle on the floor next to him. He now had opened his mouth as wide as he could, but no words came from it. He just stood there, paused once again, with his mouth wide open, as if he were screaming at me. The noise, that fucking noise is getting louder!! What is it?! I backed up in shock to what was happening next. The man's face began fallen apart into small pieces. But instead of fallen to the floor, they soaked up into the ceiling above him, disappearing in to the darkness above him, like small shards of paper burning in a fire. His face continued to burn away and now the loud noise was that of static. I looked around me, trying to identify the object of chaotic tearing. I glanced to my right, looking away from the man whose arms were now dripping to the floor; a small object laid almost neatly on the table next me. The broken scratching static frequency became worst with ever passing moment. It was a small hand held radio screaming at me.
Written By: jdodson October 14, 2002