Behaviour Interactive has created eleven original characters for Dead by Daylight and they all have incredible origin stories.
When reading through some of the origin stories for their characters, I was very intrigued by the character Philip Ojomo who players will recognise as the killer The Wraith. He has a pretty sad backstory, and one that I really wanted to give more detail.
The following is a short story inspired by The Wraith that includes non-canon events that happened just before he was recruited by The Entity.
Philip couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. The constant gnawing in the back of his head made sure that he stayed awake. That he remembered what he’d done. His boss was a bad man – a terrible, filthy, unredeemable creature. One that deserved to die. And to think, Philip had almost liked him when they first met.
When they shook hands, Robert had smiled.
“We’re happy to have you, Mr. Ojomo. I’ve got a good feeling about you,” he’d said, gripping Philip’s clammy hand. Philip had been nervous. His first job in America, land of the free. It was his chance to start over. Make a new life. Find someone nice to grow old with. Have a few kids running around in their backyard. He’d build a fence so no one could look in on them. No one could judge them or be envious of his new perfect life.
And it all started here at Autohaven Wreckers.
Of course the work was dull – fixing cars, putting some through the crusher – but he liked dull. Dull was much better than dangerous. Much better than threatening; the way his old home had been. Sure, Robert might’ve hinted that things at Autohaven weren’t exactly as they seemed, but he was fine with that. A few druggies hanging around didn’t bother him. He’d seen much, much worse.
He was happy, those first few weeks. Tinkering with cars and sending some through the crusher was a fine job. Robert paid him well and he made enough to pay for a one bedroom apartment. It was small, but he didn’t need much space. Sure, he was tall so he occasionally knocked his head on the overhang above his kitchen, but he was learning to duck before entering.
On the day that Philip discovered the man in the trunk of one of those cars – the ones in line to be crushed – he was shocked. It happened as fast as a lightning strike. Philip opened the trunk of the old car and saw a man with his legs and arms bound. His face had been beaten to a pulp, purple lumps telling a story of the punches that had landed on him. There was blood all over. He pulled the man free, removing his bindings.
“What happened to you?” Philip asked, but the man ran as fast as he could towards the road. He barely made it ten feet before Robert jumped in front of him, flipped him around in his arms and took a knife to his throat. The man from the trunk was dead. Philip froze. Robert approached him, wiping the blood from the knife on his greasy, white shirt. He grinned.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Mr. Ojomo.”
“Y-y-you…you killed him. You killed that man.”
“Yes, well.” He placed a hand on Philip’s shoulder, “I’m afraid he had seen too much.”
Philip shrugged off Robert’s hand, taking two large steps back. “What are you talking about?”
Philip’s boss clicked his teeth and smiled. “Why don’t you come into the shop with me? I’ll explain everything.”
“No,” Philip shook his head violently. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on! Tell me!”
The man sighed, putting the knife in his back pocket and leaning against the crusher, casually.
“We run a business here, Mr. Ojomo. Sometimes things don’t go as planned for our business partners and someone’s gotta pay.” He pointed to the dead man, laying silently on the ground between them. “Mr. Ortega there was just one of the many that we’ve had to get rid of these last few weeks for our respectable clients.”
Philip’s heart dropped. “What?”
“It’s our job to fulfill the needs of our clients. And that’s what you’ve been doing for me.”
“No.” His hands started to shake.
“You’re the executioner here at Autohaven Wreckers, Philip. You don’t think that was the first body to turn up in the trunk of a car here, do you?” Philip’s boss smiled coyly. “You’re simply fulfilling a service for our clients.”
“You…you bastard.” Philip could barely catch his breath.
“I pay you well,”
“You knew what you were getting into here,” Robert said, not a hint of remorse in his voice.
“No, not this. Not…” Philip gestured weakly at the body on the ground, watching the blood seep from the neck wound. Philip felt a low growl come up through his throat and escape. “You used me,” he snarled, taking a step towards his boss. A ringing in his ears grew loud and all other sounds from around him drowned away to nothing. Robert spoke, but Philip was no longer listening. He charged at that horrible man, pushing him against the crusher.
Robert tried to push back, but Philip was stronger. He pushed him against the crusher again, grabbing at his head and knocking it hard against the metal. When Robert faltered, Philip saw his chance, pulling the man up onto his shoulder. A few steps more and he was pressing the button to start the crusher. Without a second thought, Philip found himself throwing Robert inside.
The sound of Robert’s bones being crushed was like a soft lullaby for Phillip, but the screams – the screams he couldn’t stand. The crusher pressed down on the body slowly, just as it had with a hundred cars before. Blood leaked from the sides, streaming down the cold metal. Robert screeched from the pain.
Philip needed the screaming to stop.
He reached forward towards the crusher, which still had Robert’s body in its unrelenting grasp. Philip gripped Robert’s hair in his hands and pulled, stronger than he’d ever pulled before, until Robert’s head, complete with bloody spine, was removed from his body.
A few moments passed before the ringing stopped and Philip had come to terms with what he’d done.
He dropped Robert’s head and ran as fast as he could.
It was two days later that the police started looking for him. Philip’s town was small and, although he’d only lived there for a short while, he noticed that the police cars were patrolling the streets much more often than usual. Philip wished he could be invisible. It would be better than this sneaking around, scrounging for food and hiding in cold, dark corners. But he couldn’t turn himself in. He couldn’t go back to prison. This time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape.
It was the third night after Robert’s death that Philip started to hear the whispering.
“You’re a natural born killer, Philip. I could use someone like you.” The voice was low and hoarse.
Philip shook it off. He wrapped himself in the blanket he’d stolen from a sleeping homeless man he’d passed the day before. He didn’t feel good about, but he was willing to do anything to survive. He’d barely slept since it happened. He couldn’t go home; they’d find him there. He had no option but to keep moving, lurking where nobody would look for him. But only that morning, while trying to steal a pastry from a nearby street vendor, he’d almost been seen by the police chief who he’d met once before in the town’s only diner.
“I can make you invisible.” The voice called to him again. “Make sacrifices to me and I can give you that ability.”
“No,” Philip said out loud after ducking back into the shadows. “Not again. I’m not a killer.”
“Oh, but you are. And if you join me, you’ll have ultimate power. No one will ever take advantage of you again. You’ll have a new life.”
“A… new life?” Philip wrapped his arms around himself. He felt cold. Freezing. A new life. Exactly what he wanted. A loud sound came from his right. He looked over to see a dark black hole forming in the brick wall beside him.
“Come,” said the voice.
Philip took a step towards it.
“Come,” it said again.
Another step. He could feel the warm air coming from the wall. He wanted to be warm. Wanted to feel… something.
“Come,” it said one final time.
“A new life,” Philip said, before stepping inside.