Who You Will Encounter:

Atlas (radio)

New Enemies:

Thuggish Splicer

Leadhead Splicer

New Weapons:




ElectroBolt - located in the lounge at the Gatherer’s Garden



Audio Diaries: 

"Hole in the Bathroom Wall" by Steve Barker - located in the Kashmir restaurant on the "Dames" bathroom floor

"New Year’s Eve Alone" by Diane McClintock - located on the bottom floor of the Kashmir restaurant on top of a table

Bioshock AU [Closed]

askkolathecourier (I’ll make this in 1958 before the fall - we can time skip if you want)
It had been a surprisingly quiet day in Rapture. The Splicers had only britaly murdered a /few/ people, the mysterious Atlas hadn’t done anything the whole day - even Sophia Lamb, down in her little prison area hadn’t been seen doing anything. Vincent had taken to sitting in a quiet corner of the safe Kashmir restaurant, sipping on a scotch. He hadn’t done much except gamble with a few old friends.

Lamb Tikka Masala with rice, spicy Chicken Madras, and Tandoori Naan at Kashmir Restaurant. It’s expensive for what you get, but that’s just the way it is in Vieux-Montreal. Still it’s the best Lamb Tikka I’ve had and the Chicken Madras listed as “slightly spicy” was waaaaay to hot for me but more than enough to satisfy my chilihead boyfriend.


138, rue Saint-Paul Est, Montréal, QC H2Y 1G6 (We had a hard time finding it, but its on the south side of the pedestrian-only section of Saint-Paul. Keep and eye out for the sign. It’s up a flight of stairs on the second floor.)

    WITH FONTAINE dead, the closing of Fontaine Futuristics, and Atlas rising, there’s been quite a few… rallies for multiple reasons, all having the same purpose. The most recent one being the assault on the Kashmir Restaurant. An organized group Atlas had sent out comprised of terrorists had hit the restaurant on new years eve of 1958. Planted explosives in key locations went off, and the group stormed in to finish what the bombs couldn’t.

    IN ATTENDANCE to this masquerade ball was FLUXX, NANCY DREW, AOI ASAHINA, and ASTER ELIZABETH CHERETTE. Thankfully they were the few who survived.

There’s a siren stood outside the lush Kashmir Restaurant, twirling an Oxford Club cigarette and scheming. A siren who despised the rich fools that waded in and out of the restaurant so easily.. So engulfed in maintaining their social status that they ignored the schism growing in the city. ‘If we destroy our braincells with copious amounts of alcohol we won’t have to worry about the war.’, they silently chanted with each dollar spent.

Fine! Let them drink themselves into oblivion. When the bastards came stumbling out of the club, lost and seeking their warm beds, the Siren would step in and lure them away. She’d lead them to jagged cliffs and when their pockets and hearts were emptied she’d cast them headlong into the rocks.

    ”Ahoy there, my love.. You wouldn’t happen to have a light would you? I seem to have run dry of EVE, all my snapping is doing is giving me a headache..”

billybeaubrown asked:

send me a ✍ to see a glimpse of a muse i might want to play.

BRENDA ( aka the female splicer in the kashmir )

      “Charlie? Charlie, where y’gone?” He’d been there, hammering on the door just moments earlier. Yelling at her to let him in, and she’d screamed bloody murder, hollering at him to go away, holding the ADAM they’d scavenged to her chest tight, clinging for dear life. But his sudden scream and that thud had startled the living daylights out of her. She and Charles, they worked together. They hadn’t known each other before the fall —- he’d been a Pauper’s Drop guy, and she, she’d owned this once fine establishment, the Kashmir Restaurant. But then it had all gone to hell. And while fighting over a Little Sister, she and Charlie had…found something in one another. They were an ill suited couple, constantly bickering, slapping and shoving each other. He spat at her and pulled her hair, and she screamed down his ear-hole and thumped him in the jaw. In the next bat of an eyelid, they’d be all over one another, cooing and giggling, high as a kite off their ADAM fix. It was unhealthy. But so were they, in body and mind.

       The doors slid open. Brenda glanced ‘round, still holding the container they’d stored the ADAM in against her chest, the other hand holding her pipe with shaky grip. Her eyes fell to the floor — and landed on the pool of crimson leaking out of the back of Charlie’s shattered skull. Head smashed it from the use of a wrench, stunned with use of electricity. “CHARLIE!" Horrified, she staggered forwards, mind reeling, her eyes rolling in their bruised eye-sockets, darting ‘round for the perpetrator —- only to catch a glimpse of someone, someone standing on the staircase. “YOU!" she screeched like a thing possessed, flying up the staircase, swinging her pipe furiously, "Y’ KILLED MY CHARLIE! I’LL KILL Y’, I’LL KILL Y’, I’LL MAKE IT DOUBLE!

I’m at this Indian restaurant, Kashmir, and every other word I hear out of the mouth’s of white people around me is “spicy”.