There's really no wonder why Umbrella decided to unleash the T-Virus on its own employees, they were probably sick to death of finding endless slips of paper adorned with the memoirs and personal thoughts of its peons cluttering up the place. But hey, at least it gives Chris or Jill a break to do some light reading between stomping on heads and peppering zombies with bullets. The various documents you find scattered about the dormitories, research labs and dusty old caverns aren't always the most riveting works of fiction, but they appeal to the voyeuristic nature in all of us - and nothing says morbid curiosity better than finding a diary detailing the last few days of a man's life as he starts to succumb to a T-Virus infection. The complaints of itchy skin, rotting flesh and a deteriorating mind are made all the more poignant when you realise the writer of the diary is metres behind you, banging on the closet door, hungering for some tasty human flesh.