开头出现主角凯恩斯 Keons 手持 Ned 头上的角在控制 Trash 龙，他的眼睛发出黄色，说明是他借助念力拯救了 Clancy（这个情节在《Saturday》出现，Trash 攻击了船，但是 Clancy 最后得救了，在离开 Trench 大陆以外的一个 Voldsøy 小岛上存活下来）。其他八名主角发现以后用刀子刺死了凯恩斯。
Clancy 在岛上醒来，遇见了手举火炬的反叛军领袖。他们发现了 Ned，一只 Ned 在洞穴外给了 Clancy 它头上的角。Clancy 手持角、施法控制凯恩斯的尸体，他的尸体随着 Clancy 的舞步开始跳舞。其他主角吓得不敢动他。最后 Clancy 借助角的力量打破了一根霓虹灯管。
他们下一步的计划恐怕是联合德玛城内的市民一起摧毁德玛城并重建那里（就像日记里面写的那样）。
3月18日，《The Outside》音乐录影带解禁，讲述了 Clancy 和火炬手到达小岛后，幸运地获得了 Ned 头上的角，以此来附身于德玛城的主教凯恩斯身上来摧毁德玛城的故事。之前乐队曾经把 Ned 扩写为“神经扩展装置”（Neuro-Expansion Device，比如在这个 Instagram 个人页面）。根据这支录影带里面的内容，双手握住 Ned 头上的这对角并向上举起，就可以附身在其他的躯体身上并控制他们的行为——无论是活人（《Jumpsuit》里面的 Clancy），动物（《Saturday》和这支影片开头的 Trash）还是死人（这支影片末尾的凯恩斯）。
同日 dmaorg.info 更新一篇克兰西的日记和一张照片。日记基本上是对《The Outside》影片的复述。照片描绘了如何利用 Ned 身上的扩展装置来附身别的躯体，包括跳舞的动作。照片左上角写着“seize Keons”（夺取凯恩斯）。左侧关于角的图示下侧用罗马文写着“Ψυχή κίνησις”，即 Psychokinesis（念力，来源），使用意识去移动物体的力量。图示下方的文字应该是关于如何寻找躯体并附身主教的指示“seize available vessel at Voldsøy eastern cave intercept bishops/glorious gone = available vessel/bishops control the available vessel! intercept & seize/they will make you a weapon”（在Voldsøy东部洞穴夺取可用的容器 拦截主教/光荣的逝去者=可用的容器/主教控制可用的容器！拦截和夺取/他们将使你成为武器）。
这是什么东西？这个装置？这个礼物？某种神经连结或者扩展装置。心灵制动的武器？
这太荒谬了。
为什么这个东西要送给我？为什么我是唯一一个可以掌控它的人？这就是我存活下来的原因吗？
当我在石块上面等待时，我的头脑飞速运转——向黑暗处望去。等着对面的火炬跟我们汇合——那个他让我等候的信号。
这个东西给我的感觉异常熟悉。不是手里的芒刺，而是它驾驭的力量。我以前感觉到过。
我在城市的黑暗角落里面听到过的说法是不是也是来源这里？那些传说和故事我原本以为是妄言，只是小孩的噩梦而已——关于主教如何使用那些躯体的传说。那些荣耀逝去的“光荣”市民——他们被称作空余的容器。
这一切都开始能够解释得通了。
我会出现的症状：血红色的画面，梦见自己飞起来，见到河上骑马者时的出体经历，电视节目上逐渐衰竭的主持人，指挥将沉之船的穿长袍的人……
我们是不是都被主教们用同样的方式“夺取”了？这是不是就是他们力量的来源？他们是真的永生不死，还是说他们只是从另一具躯体身上吸取能量，给他们的宿主带来短暂的第二人生？我还在我的第一人生里面，为什么我已经有了这种掌控力？
一直以来我以为我在和自己的内心世界作斗争。但事实上我是不是在受到其他东西的袭击？其他人的袭击？
这个神秘的小岛给了我一件武器。我们都相信我们可以用它来转变这场战争的势头。
现在，我们必须回到大陆，他们会在那里接收我们的到来。我们会摧毁那里然后重建。虽然距离他上一次跟他们说话已经过去了好几年，我希望他们还没有对火炬手的计划放弃希望。
但这一切是怎么会事先计划好的？
——克兰西
英文原文：来自 @Spark_Visuals
What is this thing? This device? This gift? Some sort of neurological connection or expansion. psychokinetic weapon?
This is absurd.
Why was this given to me? Why am I the only one that can weild it? Was this the reason that I survived?
My mind is racing as I wait here on the rocks – staring off into the darkness. Waiting for our torches to be mirrorred – The signal he told me to wait for.
It feels oddly familiar. Not the spikes in my hand, but the power it harnesses. I’ve felt it before.
Is this also the source of those rumors I heard in the dark corners of the city? Legends and stories that I assumed were myth, inspired by children’s nightmares – tales of what the bishops would use the bodies for. Those “honorable” citizens who achieved The Glorious Gone – referred to as available vessels.
It all begins to make sense.
The episodes I would have: the blood red vision, my dreams of flying, the out of body account of the rider in the river, the decaying hosts of the television show, the robed figures that commanded the doomed ship…
Had we all been “seized” by the bishops using this same technique? Is this where their power comes from? are they immortal, or just feeding off the next body, giving their hosts a brief second-life? I am in my original life, why am I available to this control?
This whole time I thought I was battling my inner self. Was I actually under assault from something else? someone else?
This small eerie island has made me a weapon. We both believev that we can use it to change the momentum of this war.
now, we must return to the mainland where they should be there to receive us. We will destroy and rebuild. Though it’s been years since he last spoke with them, I hope they have not lost faith in The Torchbearer’s plan.
But how could any of this have been planned?
– Clancy
《克兰西的日记》更新022 03MOON 17 http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html
另：《The Outside》音乐录影带会在今晚12点释出。
前情提要：昨天的更新是一张 Trench 地图，大陆上的是 Trench，旁边一个岛屿是 voldsøy（暴力岛，island of violence）。这篇日记描写了主角短暂获得自由后加入了《Scaled And Icy》专辑发行直播演唱会，以及《Saturday》音乐录影带的演出，这个故事线结束之后主角流落到了 voldsøy 这个小岛上面生活。
* * * * * *
很长一段时间我没有能力写作，这段时间长的像是一辈子。这种短缺对我的影响最大。不是食物的欠缺，或者景色的改变——他们不让我写任何东西。
嗯，至少他们在这里的时候不行。
那天的记忆很新鲜。他们先是放我出来。即便走廊还是灰蒙蒙一片，这种体验对我还是一种冲击——跟平常的监禁截然不同。我努力地跟上守卫的脚步，我们的脚步声在长长的走廊里回荡。我紧紧跟在他后面，好像我别无选择一样。冰冷的混凝土包围着我们，好像给我们下了一种魔咒，让我们陷入这种人为的平静之中。服从。
我们到了一扇蓝色的门前面。这跟身后的混凝土迷宫形成了奇怪的反差。当我走进门的时候，我发现自己又进入了另一间灰色房间，就跟其他德玛的房间一模一样。唯一的区别是谁在里面等候我。
他们当中的四个。我不认识其中三个，但一个显然是凯恩斯。我知道他的声音。
他们提出了一个想法。一个电视节目——或者他们的什么叫法。我不知道我在自己的牢房以外也有人认识我，但他们告诉我，因为我的出逃计划和情绪爆发而让自己获得了恶名。他们想利用我的面孔来给德玛城带来一些好处。他们递给我一支笔——一件熟悉的工具。但是在我使用这支笔的时候，他们必须要在场。
他们想要管控我的想象和视野。尽管我被束缚住了，最起码我可以再一次创作了。
于是创作议程开始了。
每一天，我的牢门会打开。我跟着守卫穿过熟悉的走廊，走进蓝色的门，坐在桌椅旁边。
为我准备的创作空间——完美地摆放在他们的视线正中央。有时候三个人，有时候八个人——没有一次是全部九个人全都在场的。他从没在这里，如果他在这里我会感觉到的。
每个创作议程结束，凯恩斯都会带走我的笔，整理好我的写作内容，把我送回牢房。这样持续了几个月。
我们在创作些什么？我不清楚。一个带有歌曲和演出片段的综艺秀？这个窒息城市的统治者真的在给他们的人民提供娱乐节目吗？
我所创作的一切必须是“为了德玛市民的利益”——这是一个我经常听到的词汇。我没有质疑他们——我很高兴能走出牢房——并且在纸张上写下词句。
最后一天，当我写下最后一段，我被问到要把它取名叫什么？这个问题让我措手不及。这好像应该是一个他们做的决定。
演出日：他们把我打扮好，让我笑起来——这个可怜的伎俩是为了尽量掩盖我的睡眠不足。一切都五颜六色的，好像是为了补全这座城市的灰色一样。
一切都是模糊一片。在我意识到之前，这场演出结束了，我被送回了自己的牢房。我只能够记住片段——只有色彩和喧哗的模糊幻觉——像一场梦。这一切的困惑在我头脑里回响。这是为了什么？
……但这还没完。
我猜这次演出进行得足够好，以至于他们想要我做更多演出。我对德玛很有用，我的创作力以全新的方式被利用——他们想让我成为年度集会荣耀的娱乐嘉宾——这是一场在海里举行的、为德玛的杰出市民而举办的表演。
我知道船上的不是真正的主教。
我要快点入场——我要跟上火炬手，
在演出当中，我们被水中的什么东西攻击了。我不知道什么迫使那种生物来攻击我们，但这次攻击感觉很怪，而且感觉特别有意而为。许多人在这次攻击中丧命，而我被冰冷的海水反复击打却存活了下来。这个“冰冷”保全了我吗？为什么我能幸免于难？我写下这些的时候仍然感觉好冷。
这个地方感觉很陌生——跟 Trench 完全不像。在寒冷的海面上，这里的空气比周围的水更加寒冷。
我有一个奇怪的感觉，这个岛会给我带来答案。
我必须走了。
——克兰西
英文原文来自 https://pastebin.com/Q2cX7ZgN
I haven’t had the ability to write for what seems like a lifetime. This deprivation is what weighed on me the most. Not the lack of food, or the change of scenery – they wouldn’t let me write anything down.
Well, at least not without them present…
I remember that day vividly. First, they let me out. Even though the hallway was still gray and drab, the new experience was a shock to my system – significantly different than usual captivity. I tried to match the rhythm of the nameless guard’s footsteps as we echoed down the long corridor. I followed close behind, as if I had no choice. Cold concrete encapsulated us and seemed to cast a spell of synthetic calmness. Obedience.
We arrived at a blue door. It was an odd contrast to this concrete maze. As I went through the doorway I found myself in another typical gray Dema room. The only difference was who was waiting for me.
Four of them. Three of them were unknown to me, but one was clearly Keons. I knew his voice
They proposed an idea. a television show – or whatever it was. I had no idea that I was known outside of my cell, but they informed me that I had garnered notoriety for my schemes and outbursts. They wanted to use my face for the benefit of the city. They handed me a pen – a familiar instrument. yet they must be present when I use it.
They wanted to manage my imagination and vision. although shackled, at least I could create again.
Thus began the sessions.
Everyday my cell door would open. I followed the guard down the familiar hall, through the blue door, to sit down at the desk and chair.
My designated creative space – perfectly centered under their watchful eye. Sometimes three, sometimes eight – not once were all nine present. He was never there. I would have felt it if he was.
At the end of the session, Keons would take my pen, gather my writings and send me back. This went on for months
What were we creating? I wasn’t sure. A variety show with songs and set pieces? Were the rulers of this stifled city actually attempting entertainment for its people?
Everything I created had to be “for the benefit of the citizens of Dema” – a phrase I heard often. I didn’t question them – I was happy to be out of my cell – and putting words to paper.
On the final day, after I wrote the last line, I was asked what to name it? The question caught me off guard. This seemed like a decision they would make.
Show Day: They dressed me up and asked me to smile – a poor attempt at hiding my sleep deprivation. It was all so colorful, as if compensating for the grayness of the city.
It was a blur. Before I knew it, it was over, and I was back in my cell. I can only remember fragments -only blurred hallucinations of color and chaos – like a dream. The confusion of it all hangs overhead. What was it all for?
…. but it wasn’t over.
I guess it went well enough for them to request more of me. I was useful to Dema, and my creativity was exploited in new forms – They wanted me to be the entertainment at the annual assemblage of the Glorified – a performance at sea for the premiere citizens of Dema.
I knew those weren’t the real bishops on that ship.
I’ll quicken the entry – I need to keep up with The Torchbearer.
During the performance, we were attacked by something in the water. I don’t know what possessed the creature to attack, but it was odd, and felt incredibly intentional. Many lost their lives in the attack, and I was thrashed through the bitter cold water, yet somehow survived. Did this ‘icy cold’ preserve me? Why was I spared? I am still so cold as I write.
This place feels foreign – nothing like Trench. From the frigid sea, the air here is somehow colder than the water that surrounds it.
I have a strange feeling that this island will provide answers.
I must go.
– Clancy