Day... I'm not sure what day it is anymore. The days bleed together now.

I have been sentenced to this island for a seeming eternity now, though it could not have been more than a week or so. My task is to compete, and my competition can only be described as screaming monkeys. The people or things running this competition, collectively referred to as Shinra, are cruel taskmasters, keeping us going day and night. Over the past few days, they actually made us... talk to other people, and come up with new topics to keep the conversation going. My agony cannot be accurately described in mere words.

Most recently, we have been divided into groups. I can only surmise that this is for the Shinra's entertainment, as they have given us menial tasks to complete. Or perhaps the Shinra would like each group to destroy themselves, which is a distinct possibility if I have to deal with the one called Manus for much longer. Although even he has had more to say than "Blackmage," who does nothing but sit in a corner crying about winning "their" respect next time, whoever "they" are. If it is the Shinra's respect he is after, it seems a futile hope.

I am starving, as the Shinra demand we fend for ourselves out here in this forsaken wasteland. That hunger is not likely to be sated tonight, for it is the one called Bleys's turn to cook. I will not go into detail about such trivial things, but will say that I did not heretofore think it was possible to ruin tacos. Perhaps I will sneak over to the group with the women in order to steal some food.