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Notes are objects that the player character can discover in the game world. Picking it up will add a new note to the player's Journal.

Below are notes obtainable in We Happy Few so far as of build Alpha V.38678 (not an exhaustive list):

(Note, any non-British English spellings or typos are intentional as that is how they appear in game).

Eel Pie Holm Shelter Notes

Tie a String

4 October 1964

TO: Mr. Rupert Underhill, Station 4

FROM: Jim Watt, Chief Engineer

Dear Rupert,

Are you quite certain Teddy's off his Joy? Perhaps he merely forgot. You've got to look after your mates, man. Have you tried tying a string around his finger? That always helps me.

Anyway, I can't reassign Teddy because I haven't got a replacement. All the juniors are off at Scargill. The subsidence has been severing all sorts of connections, and The Motilene Must Flow.

I really appreciate you sticking by your post. If we don't do our duty, who are we?

But try the string around the finger. I feel certain that you will manage the situation.

All my best,
Jimmy

Rupert Underhill Memo

6 October 1964

TO: Mr. James Watt, Chief Engineer

FROM: Rupert Underhill, Station 4

He's not "off his Joy." He's lost the plot completely. And he's hoarding all the carrots, and he growls at me when I try to eat mine. I'm going to try to talk sense to him. Then I'm coming back to the village, duty be damned.

R.

Diary of Theodore Miner

September 18

I look into the lights like the Doctors ordered. I could swear I see shapes in there, moving around. Like shadows, but made of light.

And there's shadows all around. Always around the corner.

He keeps turning the lights off. Says he wants to save the bulbs. He's trying to make me think I'm going blind, isn't he? How he loves to feel superior!

September 19
Took TWO Joy just so I could stand his ugly face. Why won't it work?

Has he swapped them out for something? Paracetamol? Jelly beans?

Jesus, we haven't had jelly beans since... have we ever had jelly beans?

September 20
I hate when he talks in that slow, condescending voice. Like I'm a child. I'm not a child, am I? I don't even know any children.

Obviously.

Jesus, what is wrong with my Joy?

September 22
There he is scritching away in the corner. Scribble, scribble, scribble, eh, Mr. Gibbon?

And then the whoosh of the pneumatic tube! He's blaming it all on me what happened, isn't he?

He says it's his missus. I don't believe he's still got a missus. With his big mossy teeth? I bet she went on holiday long ago.

Was I married once? How did it end? I get an awful feeling in my stomach. I'm not sure I'm going to enjoy remembering.

Something is all fucked about the Joy! And he won't send me home. We've got to stay here. Duty!

September 25

I can hear him crunching in the dark. It ISN'T rats! It's his big mossy teeth!

I lie awake and picture squeezing his throat till he turns the colour of my carrots he bloody well stole. He's plotting something.

September 28

Let him try to weasel out of this one! I SAW him writing those LIES!!! Reassign me, will he? "Off my Joy", am I? I'm bloody well tripling up and he KNOWS IT!!!

October 6

WE'VE COME TO THE END OF OUR TIME! WE'VE COME TO THE END OF OUR TIME! WE'VE COME TO THE END OF OUR TIME!

Garden District Notes

Vector

October 5

Dr. Robin Byron
St. Michael's Hospital
102 The Parade
Wellington Wells


My Dear Dr Byron:

I've spotted what seems to be a case of full blown plague in the Garden District. Of course, my colleagues and I immediately resolved the matter. I don't suppose anyone could have got across the Lud's Holm bridge? It would be well to check.

Assuming that vector is still shut off, then we must consider the plague to be possibly waterborne. In that case, dumping the bodies of the victims in the river needs to cease forthwith, don't you think? It's bad enough what already gets through the filters at the water plant.

Hopefully we've nipped this outbreak in the bud. If not, we'll need to equip the constables with gas masks on Eel Pie as well.

Yours very truly


St. John Keats, M.D.

Liebchen.png

Liebchen

Liebe Marta:

I must write you, even if I no longer know if you are alive, or even if I am.

We live in a world of absurdity, and the most absurd is that we are apart.

I wish I had not been a coward, and I had joined you on the last train. It seems I am one coward after another. I don't even know what you loved in me.

I wish to God we will meet in the afterlife. Until then, my sweet, my dove,

I am ever

Your love


PS Do you ever see my son? Is he well? Why am I asking? No one can send this letter to Germany.

Mrs. Marley's Letter

Obtained via the quest "Bring out Your Dead"

Dearest Archie:

I doubt you'll ever read this darling. But if you do, please forgive me. I know you wanted me to wait for the fourth flavour, but I couldn't. The vomiting was bad enough. But the memories came back. They began screaming, every day, all day. And the steam whistle, and those horrible huge steel wheels. Every day.

I still hear them, out here. But it's quiet. If you talk to them a bit, they quiet down. Even though you know you're lying to them, and they know it. It's a ghost town here, the streets are crowded with ghosts. Most of them are friends.

But there is very little to eat. I'd hope to make my money last a bit longer, but I put it in a safe for keeping, and I've lost my key. You'd mock me for a silly woman, but I haven't eaten in days.

I think if I can get the safe up to roof, I can drop it down into the pavement, and if all goes well, it will break open. I wish you were here to help. You're so good mechanically.

Bridge

October 8

Executive Committee
City Hall
5 The Parade
Wellington Wells


Dear Committee Members:

It's a lovely day for it!

We are ransacking the last of the old Victory gardens. There might be enough potatos in the entire Garden District to last two weeks. Do you plan to starve us all to death?

If you have no food to spare, could you at least open the Bridge so that we can try our luck in the wilderness? I'd rather die by a bandit's hand than starve. It's so much more glamorous.

Your former neighbors,

Colin Drysdale
Elliot Fitz-Lloyd
Chris Fox

Things I Remember

Things I remember.

I used to have a dog. What did we call him again?

Boozoo. That wasn't his name, it was just what we called him.

Mum used to call him an English Kerbside Setter, because he would sit by the kerb.

We were so hungry.

We sort of had a cat. She visited, anyway. We called he Anne Bonny because she'd lost an eye.

She got very skinny. And then she was gone. Neighbors wouldn't look at us for days.

I lived on Englishcombe Lane. Next to the Royal Dragon. I still hate the smell of beer.

I had a sister, Beth. She liked bugs, and she would show them to me to make me scared.

I worried about her ever getting married.

I wonder if she ever did get married, where they took her. She'd be twenty... five now?

My dad died at Ramsgate, when they landed the first time. He was a hero they told mum.

All I can remember is things I've lost.

I wish I could still take Joy.

Church Services

To Whomsoever Opens This Missive

Dear Fellow Wellingtonian-

-for are we not all still fellow citizens of Wellington Wells?

Good news! God has not forsaken us. He is still with us, even amidst the rubble of these waste lands.

Do not take our present suffering as a sign of His abandonment! For He tested his only Son even to his mortal limit. Like Job, let us never lose faith.

For there are those who turn aside from His love, who have given their faith to witchcraft, or the most outlandish of vegetable idols, or even demons of unspeakable shape!

Do not succumb to these delusions. Where there is faith, there is redemption. And if you have lost hope in this life, then all the more should you prepare yourself for the next.

Let us gather, Sunday at noon, on the Bridge to Lud's Holm, and make of ourselves a congregation.

Yours In Christ,


Rev. Charles Peter
Formerly of St. George's Church

Recordings

October 4 , 1964

Executive Committee
City Hall
5 The Parade
Wellington Wells


Dear Sir or Madam:

We understand that you have exiled us to the Garden District to protect yourselves from our dreadful memories. It seems a bit unfair to us, since none of us is willingly a Downer. We don't choose not to take Joy. It's not a style of life that anyone would choose. What makes us Wastrels is that when we take Joy, it gives us the most violent reaction. The body thrashes; the memories come back, edged in fire.

But surely this is not news to you. We write for another reason. We miss Uncle Jack.

Oh, yes, of course Uncle Jack's shows are piped into the Garden District. But unlike the ones we used to get in the village, these seem to be recordings. The proof is that you keep broadcasting the same shows over and over! When I was a decent proper citizen, Jack always had something new to say. Surely that can't just be Joy-ful forgetting?

Couldn't you play us whatever Jack's saying at the moment? Or if you must play us recordings, could you at least swap out the recordings from time to time? Abandon us if you must; but please don't take away our old friend Jack.

Yours faithfully,


Hilary Charkham
Harrison St. Claire
Evelyn Middlewood

Tub.png

Tub

September 29. 1964

Dearest Kate:

I think I've found a boat. Not a real boat, of course; barely more than a washtub with a washcloth for a sail. But the smaller the vessel, the more likely we are to sneak past the patrol boats, don't you think? I know nothing about the currents, but it must be pretty hard to sail West and not land on Ireland.

I haven't seen you in seven days. I hope you're all right. I'll look for you in the shadow of the crashed V-1, at noon on Saturday. I hope to God you get this. If not, I'll try to come back for you, if I make it.

I love you. I hate these times.

Love,


Tony

Sally's Old Toy Car

Obtained via visiting White Tree Park, which starts the quest "Walkabout"

Heavens! That's Sally's toy car. This is our tree, isn't it? We'd sneak out at night to smoke here. And she'd make up stories about how we'd be spies and zip around in our powder blue Austin Healey. Of course she'd look fabulous in a white leather catsuit, and I'd be the one in a suit with a bowler hat and an umbrella. At least it was a sword umbrella, in her stories.

Once we took some of those magic mushrooms, and Sally wouldn't stop crying, but she for once let me comfort her, and all those memories came up for about Mum and how nice things were before the War. I wonder, if I ate some here, some night, would it jar some of the old memories loose, some of the good ones?

I wish I could remember more.

Margery Flowerdew's Diary

Obtained via the quest "If You Give a Pig a Pancake"

The Journal of Margery Flowerdew

April 1, 1964

This morning my garden had turned to weeds,
where once my lilacs grew like reeds.
I took a second Joy at noon,
And once again my garden bloomed.

April 3, 1964

My poor sister, she loved her flowers so. If only she'd had Joy. But they developed it too late for her.

What was her girl's name again? Sandy? Sally? Oh goodness, what am I talking about, it's time for my Joy.

April 6, 1964

Did I have a sister? I must have written down a dream. Relieved my Joy is working. Been spotty lately.

April 10, 1964

The rain it raineth every day,
It raineth every single fucking day.

April 12, 1964

A three-Joy afternoon, and a bit of a headache. The whole world smells like soup.

April 13, 1964

Is this how it starts? My joy feels so small. I wake up shaking and don't know why. The Downers in the Garden District - are they like me without a smile?

April 15, 1964

Never, never, never, never, never-
Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her. Look, her lips.
Look there, look there. O, O, O, O.

April 16, 1964

Rue for Mrs. Flowerdew. I remember remember remember. Their little faces in the garden. Oh God, I remember them all

Haworth Laboratory

Obtained via the quest "If You Give a Pig a Pancake"

Haworth Laboratory
4 Haworth Crescent
Holm of Usglass

Mr. Humphry Repton
13 Candlestick Lane
Village of Wellington Wells
Maidenholm

April 6, 1964


Dear Mr. Repton:

I have received your letter of March 29 expressing your concerns about your friend, Margery. You have done the right thing by writing to me. It is indeed troubling that her Joy no longer works as it should.

However, your timing is quite fortunate. Haworth Laboratory is beginning an experimental treatment for citizens with exactly your friend's condition. We believe the cure is a simple matter of adjusting her dosage of Joy, or perhaps switching her to a different flavour.

If you and your friend will kindly present yourselves at Haworth Laboratory during business hours, our staff will be happy to admit Mrs. Flowerdew to our clinic for treatment.

Sincere regards,

Dr. Sebastian Verloc, Ph.D


P.S. The anxiety you express in your letter suggests that perhaps you yourself may need a topping up of Joy. We would be delighted to admit you to our experimental program as well, as a preemptive measure.

Everybody's A Winner

Obtained via the quest "Shibboleth"

It's a clipping from Saturday's newspaper:

"The Hamlyn Village weekly Simon Says game offered more than the usual excitement last Friday. The game was reaching its usual fever pitch, with contestants dropping out right and left, when suddenly alert villagers noted a small squad of Wastrels sneaking up from the direction of the bridge to the Garden District. They were presumably taking advantage of the absence of the villagers from their homes and shops in order to steal into town and, well, steal.

"As everyone knows, there is plenty of Wastrels to eat in the Garden District - it is, after all, the Garden District - but they seem to like our food better.

"The hue and cry went up, and the entire village chased after these "Joy-less" malcontents, who escaped into the river and were never seen again. So, although no prize could be awarded, since no one could remember who was still in the game, everyone was a winner!

"The break-in seems to have resulted from a temporary failure in a diagnostic kiosk on the bridge. The kiosk has been fixed, so future games of Simon Says can go ahead undisturbed."

Hamlyn Village Notes

Dear Vicar

The Reverend John Dainty
St. Michael's Church
22 Hither Lane
St. George Holm

Dear Vicar:

I am writing to you because I was disturbed by the joke you made about a Downer in yesterday's sermon. I know everyone thought I was a very funny joke. I love a laugh as much as anyone, and I thought it was funny at the time.

But then it began to bother me. Not in the sense of feeling bad or sad, of course, but philosophically. Who are we to mock Downers, in Christ's church? Did Christ mock the poor and downtrodden? Or did he mock the Pharisees and the hypocrites? Do we really want to start by drowning a hundred Downers? Where would we end?

I know I am going on entirely too long about one joke. But it is important to keep up standards, don't you think? And as a vicar, we look to you to set the standard, don't you?

It's perfectly fine when Uncle Jack makes jokes about Downers. No one takes him too seriously, not when he has his jolly hat on. And I have laughed at many a Downer joke. It seems we tell new ones every day; at any rate, they seem new. But in a sermon, shouldn't we have more sympathy? Instead of mocking, shouldn't we be praying for Downers to come to their senses and take their Joy again?

Yours most devotedly,


Sylvia Hockney

Worker's Petition

Obtained via the quest "Really Bad Gas" to access the Maidenholm shelter.

As MANAGEMENT knows, Motilene gas fumes are deadly without a gas mask. WE THE WORKERS have repeatedly expressed our concern that our gas masks do not last for the full duration of an extended shift. WE THE WORKERS thus demand a second gas mask for each man. Otherwise, MANAGEMENT must cease to demand overtime.

Memo from Dickie Bow, Manager

Obtained via the quest "Really Bad Gas" to access the Maidenholm shelter.

TO: All Workers
FROM: Dickie Bow, Manager
I'm sure you all find this Bolshevik banging on thrilling, but it's taking time away from your duties, requiring even more overtime to make quota. Scargill Quality Control tell me your gas masks are quite sufficient. There is therefore no danger in using them for longer shifts. Kindly get back to work, unless you malingering Reds want to experience doing any further banging on at home.

Dear Mrs. Brown

Dear Mrs. Brown

We of the Ladies Village Improvement Society would like to thank you for the many years you have done such a superb job contributing to the loveliness of our dear village of Hamlyn. Although you live on your own, as so many of us do these days, the figures you have painting in your windows have given so many of us a feeling of neighbourly comfort. It is good to feel watched over, even if the watchers are not necessarily three dimensional!

However, in the past little while, we regret to say, we have noticed that your windows are beginning to deteriorate a bit. No doubt you have been terribly busy; we all have so many things to do. But it rather spoils the effect when the paint begins to flake; it no longer "trompes" the "l'oiel" if you will. In particular, the adorable grandmother in the second story window to the right has lost parts of her jaw, and looks a bit monstrous.

I am sure this is not intentional. Indeed, who looks at her own house? And on Joy one tends not to notice uncomfortable little details.

But some of use have begun to notice it, and to question why you have not seen to it. Surely you are not a secret Downer! they say.

Of course you are not a Downer! And we are positive you'll show them they're wrong, by fixing up your house once again, in your own inimitable style.

All the best,


Helen Burtenshaw
Ladies' Village Improvement Society

Executive Committee Letter

From the Desk of Beatrix Reeve
Voting Member, Executive Committee


Chief Inspector Lawrence Alma-Tadema
City of Wellington Wells Special Constabulary
222 Parade Street
Apple Holm


Dear Chief Inspector:

The smart bird refused to peck at the nice morsels we offered her. I fear she plans to take wing. You know what happens if the ravens flee the Tower: it all comes tumbling down.

I don't think a wing clipping will do it. I took the precaution of preparing a proper golden cage at the location we discussed. Would you mind conducting her to her new habitat?

Of course we'll need one or two caretakers to keep her feeder filled and change the newspaper. I know a couple of "confirmed bachelors" who ought to be perfect: won't make a peep themselves, and they're too stupid to be suborned.

We of the Executive Committee appreciate all you do, Chief Inspector. I know we're on the same side: law and order. I hope we can return the favour some time soon.

Yours truly,


B

Letter from the Electrician

Where's My Materials, Lads?

Casing the Joint

Jack

Volunteer

Dear Uncle Jack

I'm a Rubbish Cook

Letter from Helen Faraday

Invitation to Reform Club

Damp Diary

Dear Father McCartney

Removed Notes

Below are notes that existed in older builds of We Happy Few, but have since been removed or are otherwise unobtainable in the latest build.

Mrs. Stokes' Diary.jpg

Mrs. Stokes Diary

Obtained while exploring the first shelter prior to The Clockwork Update

"Bitter dankeschoens"

"My memories are all combing back. It's horrible. I try to think only about nice things, but whenever I walk around these old streets I can see her running up and down.

Does she remember me, do you think? She was so young. Practicing her bitter dankeschoens. I wonder where they took her. And why she stopped writing.

I try to think what Stanley would say, but he's no use at all. He never was.

I don't know how much longer I can stand all this."

"There is that hatch on Apple Holm"

"If only I could flee to the mainland. There must be some people out there, otherwise did we trade for food with all those years?

But the Bridge is in the Parade District.

I suppose there is a subway hatch Stanley was always nattering on about, on Apple Holm. Stanley said one of his mates had a boat in there. You could row to the Parade, he said.

That ridiculous man, always talking rubbish. They've been dumping poison on Apple Holm for years. The fumes would kill you in a half a minute. Why on Earth did I marry such an idiot? I miss him so."

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