Drowse — Andrew VO Takes
Performed by CosmiCat · 95 of 96 lines recorded · 404 takes · updated 5 Sept 2026
Andrew Collins, thirties, small American town, 1997. His French Bulldog Oxmo — his best friend — died two weeks ago. Grief plus medication are warping his perception of reality; he's hollow, dazed, and barely holding on. Everything he says is filtered through exhaustion and sedation. DARK ANDREW is his shadow self — same actor, deeper and more certain. Other characters' lines (Neighbor, Rachel, the Doctoress) are greyed-out context.
Apartment — evening
7:55 PM, Tuesday, October 10, 1997, Andrew's place. Music at full volume, TV news running (a power-plant explosion caused a blackout near town). Andrew takes his meds and gets ready for bed; the player can free-roam the apartment.
Optional line — plays if the player looks at Oxmo's photographs on the couch.
Optional beat: Andrew on the couch, looking at photographs of Oxmo. A quiet, broken murmur to the photos — a few words or barely more than a breath ('Hey buddy…' or whatever lands) — small, private, heavy with grief.
Grieving, hollow, intimate
The neighbor at the door
The neighbor knocks late about the loud music — not the first time. Andrew opens the door a crack and never looks at him; only the neighbor's shadow is visible.
Plays when the neighbor's knock first occurs — the player's cue to head to the door.
Reaction the moment the knocking starts
Startled for a beat, then weary, put-upon
Plays if the player takes too long to answer the door.
Conditional: if the player stalls instead of answering the knocking, Andrew acknowledges it — a reluctant, dragging 'Yeah, yeah… coming' or a put-upon groan, whatever comes naturally.
Sluggish, reluctant, muttered
“Hey, sorry to bother you.”
Calm, keeping it together; it's not the first time he's knocked so late
“I know it's difficult for you, but could you please turn the volume down? Walls are thin, you know that, that's not the first time I'm telling it. I'm really sorry for your situation, but-”
Gets cut off by Andrew
He cuts the neighbor off mid-sentence.
“Okay okay… I'll turn it down. I've planned to sleep anyway.”
Sighing, sluggish, annoyed
A strange noise is heard; the neighbor looks toward the source of the sound.
“Huh? What now?”
Surprised
“Don't make me come again Mr. Collins, it's Tuesday and I need to sleep. Next time, I'll not be alone, it's enough. Good night, thanks for your understanding.”
Sighs, in a hurry to end the conversation
Neighbor — door reactions (conditional)
Played if Andrew walks away from the door mid-conversation. Marked [NOT IMPLEMENTED IN PROJECT] in the 2026-08-15 script — Neighbor lines only, nothing for Andrew to record.
“Do you hear me? You still there?”
Intrigued
“Are you serious?”
A bit more irritated, impatient
“What are you doing?”
Sighing first, then annoyed, irritated
Kitchen bulb (after the door)
After the door is answered — free-roam before bed. If Andrew enters the kitchen, the light bulb blows overhead. The event can't trigger before the door scene and is paused during the phone call, re-enabled after.
Triggers if the player enters the kitchen and the bulb blows.
Startled reaction as the kitchen light bulb blows overhead — a short surprised exclamation, whatever comes naturally. Keep it low-key and dazed rather than a big jump-scare yell; he's medicated and running on empty.
Surprised
Phone call with Rachel
Right after the neighbor leaves: strange things occur, Andrew is struck by dizziness, then the phone rings. Rachel — his colleague and closest friend — nudges him into covering a quick task at the office tonight. The call ends with a dial tone.
“Hey, Andrew? Wassup?”
Happy to have him on the phone, smiling
“Oh hey Rachel.”
Out of it, a false, faint glimmer of sympathy
“How do you feel? Are you okay?”
Friendly, supportive
“Fine… I'm fine.”
Trying to stay neutral
Andrew stays silent in response.
“I left you a voicemail on your line at the office, did you hear it?”
Interrogative
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
Friendly
“I know, it's just that I'm tired, I've just took my meds, I think I need to rest. I was about to go to sleep.”
Nonchalant, tired
“Humm… 'kay, got it. By the way, have you done what I asked you yesterday?”
Understanding, then interrogative
“Ah shit… I forgot, I'm sorry…”
Guilty, takes the hit
“That's okay but… hmm… Can you do it right now? It's not that late and I've already informed Jack that you're gonna do that part for me… And you know… They wait for you to make a mistake, so don't give them that opportunity. It's a quick task.”
Sighs mid-line
“I don't know… I was planning to try to sleep early tonight, Mike can't do it?”
Confused, tired, lazy, weary
“Come on Andrew, it's about 10 minutes and the office is near your place. You need that job, what are you gonna do if you lose that income? Seriously Andrew, if you don't do it for you, do it for me, I've talked to Jack already.”
Pushing, caring
“Fine… Let me prepare myself and I go there.”
Sighing on 'Fine…', then exasperated
“Thank you Andrew, be careful on the road, I will call you there in 20 minutes. Bye, kisses.”
Relieved
Stairwell — the neighbor scream
On the way down to the office. From the devs: 'just a moderate scream for the neighbor down the stairs.' Moderate = clearly a scream, but held back from full horror-shriek intensity.
Ambiguous in the devs' message whether Andrew screams at the neighbor or the neighbor is heard screaming from below — confirm with KhotiCeres, or record a flavor of each.
A moderate scream for the 'neighbor down the stairs' beat — alarmed and raw, controlled intensity, wordless or nearly so. Record a few flavors: one short and sharp, one longer with a trail-off.
Moderate scream — projected, not full throat
At the office
The quick errand Rachel talked Andrew into. Improv during gameplay is explicitly welcome — the devs love the apartment additions ('Everyone love it!').
Plays when the player inspects the Tamagotchi on Steve's desk — in the lore, a gift from Andrew. The pet on it is dead. Wording polished from the devs' draft; adjust freely.
“Oh… it's the Tamagotchi I gave Steve. Looks like he hasn't been taking care of it.”
Dry, muted — the dead pet on the little screen lands harder than he lets on
Not recorded by you — context for the office errand.
“[DRAFT — still being written/validated, currently in French] Voicemail on Andrew's office line: she can't reach him, keeps getting voicemail; she forgot to ask him to drop the photocopies at each seat in the conference room; call her back, she wants to know he's okay.”
Worried, warm
Whispers — Rachel's audio tape
Section exists in the script but has no lines yet — placeholder until the devs fill it in.
Parking (haunted) — Dark Andrew, the “Screamer”
The haunted parking lot. Dark Andrew's voice: anger, deep voice — the script's “inspiration” means an audible in-breath (French), so let the inhale be part of the take. Where it says (x3), the devs want three distinct variations.
“That's your fault.”
Anger, deep voice
Wordless shout — anger, deep voice, guttural growl, with an audible in-breath before or inside it. Three distinct variations wanted (x3).
Shouting, guttural growl, deep
Laugh — Joker-like, deep, with an audible in-breath. Three distinct variations wanted (x3).
Laughing, Joker-like, deep
“She can't do anything for you.”
Disappointed, angry, deep voice
“Why won't you understand?”
Angry, deep voice
“You don't ever try to understand.”
Angry, deep voice
“You're not listening.”
Angry, deep voice
Parking (haunted) — the Doctoress's office
Andrew uses the boss card, walks a purple corridor to a door, opens it — the Doctoress (the vet) is waiting. Andrew is cornered and defensive; she is calm and relentless.
“Good morning Mr. Collins. Please. Have a seat.”
“The hell?”
Muffled, murmured — under his breath (étouffé, murmurant)
“What's going on here?”
To the Doctoress — confused, wary
Andrew takes a seat.
“Just listen for once. Please, sit.”
“Your condition is concerning. Since last we met, I haven't seen any improvements. You still refuse to move forward. It looks like you don't even try.”
“I'm trying… I'm trying my best…”
Small, defensive, fraying
“That's not what I'm seeing. You're making no effort to accept reality. You keep clinging to things that cannot be saved. Are you still taking your medication?”
“More isn't going to help. You can't numb yourself forever. You need to understand that this can't go on. This is not healthy, all of this has to stop. You have to accept it.”
“I can't… I don't want to…”
Breaking, pleading
“Listen, this has to stop, TONIGHT. Take some time to clear your head. Come back when you're ready. We'll see each other again soon.”
Animal hospital — front desk
Andrew arrives at the Animal Hospital and rings the desk bell. Nobody comes.
He rings the desk bell.
“Is anyone here?”
Calling out, tentative
Flashback — the alley, finding the dog
Andrew walks home from work at night and hears a dog from an alley. This is PAST Andrew — warmer, gentler, before the grief. Then Dark Andrew takes over the memory: storytelling calm that snaps into accusation.
Reaction to hearing a dog noise from the alley — a startled, curious half-word or breath.
Reacting, improvised
He finds a small dog behind a dumpster.
“Hey buddy”
Soft, gentle — crouching down
“It's okay now, you'll be fine, you're safe now”
Soothing
“What a beautiful moment, right? I remember it like it was yesterday.”
Like telling a story — calm, almost playful, conversational, never hesitant
“That poor thing would've never made it out there without us.”
Calm, storytelling
“Do you remember what it felt like to be useful? To have someone who needed you? To not be alone anymore?”
Calm, storytelling — almost fond
“But...”
The turn — let it hang
“And now? He's gone! Can't you see? Gone!”
Instant anger — accusatory, almost explosive. Can be shouted.
“Gone like your self-respect at work. Gone like your dignity.”
Accusatory, bitter
“We were so happy. We were on top of the world! And now look at you!”
Explosive on the exclamations
“Digging. Digging and digging again. But there's nothing left to find.”
Contempt — “Digging and digging again” hits hard
“There is no hope. There is no light down here, Andrew! There is no escape.”
Anger peaking on the middle line
Clinic — overhearing the vet (flashback)
The vet is in the lunch-room talking to someone off-screen. The door is cracked open but the player cannot enter; Andrew overhears a conversation he was never meant to hear.
“I need a quick break. Mr. Johnson is still here with his cat, waiting for his wife to pick him up. It's finally quiet in here. (Sighs.) Andrew should be here soon. He's been coming in every day since Oxmo was brought in. When he gets here, send him to me. I'm really nervous. He's so attached to that dog. I've told him multiple times that we can't save him anymore. It's only a matter of time, and the poor thing is suffering. He wants me to keep going for as long as possible, but it breaks my heart. I know it's futile. He's spending all his money trying to save him. This is so sad... (Long pause.) Maybe I shouldn't, but... I think I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell him it's over.”
The faces (short taunts)
Confirmed by KhotiCeres on 2026-08-15: still needed alongside the Screamer and Whispers sections. Disembodied voices taunt Andrew. Every line is delivered in TWO versions: one whispered and neutral, one clear with some anger. Devs: feel free to improvise as always. Wording kept as the devs wrote it (fragmented on purpose); only spelling normalized.
“They making fun of you”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“They making fun of you”
Clear voice, with some anger
“It's your fault”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“It's your fault”
Clear voice, with some anger
“Where are you going”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“Where are you going”
Clear voice, with some anger
“You can't escape”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“You can't escape”
Clear voice, with some anger
“Look what you've done”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“Look what you've done”
Clear voice, with some anger
“Everyone hates you”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
“Everyone hates you”
Clear voice, with some anger
“What's happening”
Whispered, neutral — flat, close, unsettling
Final confrontation — the vet's office
Andrew opens the vet's office door and Dark Andrew is sitting in her chair. For the whole scene Dark Andrew is dominant but not truly hostile — a “good” anger, trying to change Andrew's mind. Andrew is shy, almost a kid listening to an adult. Lines are grouped into beats for performance flow; the devs' original row breaks are kept as sentences.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Surprised, muted
“Why do you look so surprised? Who did you expect to be here?”
Confident, calm. Almost conversational at first.
“This isn't about her. This isn't about them. This is about us. This is all about YOU.”
Calm, certain — lands on YOU
Dark Andrew stands. Everything but the desk and floor falls away into darkness, a single spot from above.
“You keep looking for something to blame. The doctors. Your coworkers. Everyone who treated you like a fucking joke.”
Standing now — firmer
“And when that wasn't enough... you blamed yourself….”
Quieter — the knife turns
“You lost your patience with all of them. You walked away from everything. And you thought that would make you feel better. It didn't.”
Steady, accusatory but not cruel
“Because you didn't leave them behind, Andrew. You brought all of it with you.”
Pointed
“I just needed to get away…”
Small, shy — a kid being told off
“I know. And maybe you did. But you don't have to keep running.”
Softening for a moment
“And the pills... You thought they'd make it easier. They didn't. They just made it quieter.”
After a long pause
“Your thoughts. Your feelings. The pain. Everything.”
Slow list, each one weighted
“You keep taking more, hoping it'll all just disappear. But you're not healing, Andrew. You're hiding.”
Firm
“And sooner or later, you're going to have to stop hiding behind those pills. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to stop.”
The “good” anger — insistent
“The silence isn't quiet anymore.”
Quiet, final
Andrew looks at him.
“You know what you never noticed? Rachel.”
After a pause — a turn toward warmth
“She was there. From the beginning. Every time you needed someone. Every time you shut yourself away. Every time everyone else walked past you... she didn't.”
Gentle, building
“She kept coming back. She checks on you. She listens to you. She worries about you. And you never even noticed.”
Gentle reproach
“Yeah. Rachel. The one person who actually gives a damn about you.”
Warm, certain
“You kept telling yourself you were alone. But you weren't. You just refused to see the people who stayed.”
Steady
“You were so busy mourning everything you'd lost... you never noticed what you still had.”
After a pause — the thesis of the scene
“I don't know what to do.”
Lost, honest — the passage to acceptance begins
“You don't have to know. You don't have to fix everything. You don't have to forget Oxmo. You don't have to pretend you're okay.”
Softer now — the anger has become care
Dark Andrew gets closer.
“I'm not going anywhere. You can't get rid of me.”
Intimate, not threatening
“I'm your pain. Your anger. Your loneliness. Your grief. I'm everything you've been carrying all this time.”
Each one named, unhurried
“You don't have to destroy me. You just have to accept that I'm here.”
Gentle
Andrew looks directly at him; the two Andrews are face to face.
“So look at me, Andrew. Really look at us.”
After a long pause
“You're not alone. You never were. And you don't have to be anymore.”
Quiet, warm
Epilogue — the empty apartment
The camera pulls back: Andrew alone at his bathroom mirror, pills on the sink — he pushes them aside. Scratching at the door. He opens it: the apartment is packed into boxes, a small white dog plays between them, and Rachel is waiting.
“Are you okay?”
Gentle
“Yes, I think!”
Light — the first real lightness in the whole game
“Ready for our new life?”
Smiling
