Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

Call me a purist, but I've always thought a mob of angry undead was a fairly standard part of an American high school dance.

The sweet silence that is the LACK of shrieking mayflies. What the hell was that about anyway? Who crossed the ghost line for that?

GILES:

Guess what I found.

I forgot to mention I got a job at the college. Physics and Quantum Physics professor so it's right up my alley. If you're planning to go to college and do something sciencey, maybe sign up for one of my classes!

RUPERT GILES:

Which means, Giles, you can use the library if you're with me.

[Text to Giles]


Right. What do you want?

Let me guess, you're planning another field trip to the lighthouse.

BUFFYVERSE:

GILES

HOW DO YOU LIBRARIAN?

[Text message to Buffy Summers]

-- Do you want the good news or the bad news?
-- j/k
-- I never have good news

25 MAR 2023, late night

Giles & Spike
"That is what we are looking for"

Brody's Lighthouse | ⚠ N/A

( Read more... )

Oi. I need somebody to run some recon for me.

The butcher, who's a native, is being weird and making getting blood difficult.

That's gonna start to be a real problem if he cuts me off entirely.

So whatever wanker upset him Giles; I'd appreciate you going and taking it back, because if you think you have a vampire problem now wait till I'm starving. That tends to make us act a bit feral.

Wouldn't mind if somebody went in during regular business hours to check things out, either. He's plenty loud about that chip on his shoulder so it wouldn't be as much 'sluething' as being willing to have an ear blistered by a nutter with a grudge. I'll owe you one, though, cash that how you want to.

[Filtered to Faith Lehane, Spike]

Has anyone's patrols taken them up towards the lighthouse in the past week or so?

2 March, late night/

Rupert Giles
"Now the sirens have a still more deadly weapon, namely their silence."

Brody's Lighthouse| Low | ⚠ Heights, excessive introspection

( Read more... )

✨ Seeking daring and intrepid adventurers! ✨

Greetings, fellow interdimensional travelers and/or refugees! My name is Gilmore, (former) proprietor of Gilmore's Glorious Goods, a sundry boutique specializing in bringing magic into your everyday life-- be you adventurer or not! I am an artificer by trade, which is to say I craft (glorious) enchanted items and magical remedies to enhance your life in all sorts of fabulous ways. As we continue to sort out the where and the how and why to all of this-- I thought my talents might suit our burgeoning community. What I need are ingredients-- whether to brew into potions or to make spell scrolls or (in time) objects imbued with magic. I am interested in contracting with potential suppliers of these ingredients to (eventually) reopen my (glorious)(fabulous)(exceedingly beautiful in every respect) shop while we remain here in Dunwich. Should a particularly intrepid adventurer come across an enchanted item that they do not need or cannot use, I could also be interested in buying it off your hands.

At present moment, I can be found (like many others) at the Pickman House, though I anticipate I will be moving into my own quarters once I find a suitable storefront.

Gloriously,
~ Gilmore 🔮

My phone has hieroglyphs.

I get the little faces. Weird, but alright.

Not sure what these mean: 🤡👽🤗🎃

I like this strange little town. Good food, odd people, and more than a few mysteries to keep me from getting bored. Still I never figured I'd find a job that was anything like my old one. But then I walked into that beautiful building; what with it's long lines, constant flickering of the florescent lights, and that vague yet lingering sense of mundane tedium...well it was perfect.

Anyway, if you folks find yourself needing anything from the D.M.V just swing by some time and take a number. I'm sure you'll find your way to the front of that seemingly unending line sooner or later, and if you make it to the counter I'll see what I can do to help you out. Just ask for Bel, if I'm not out front.

[Private Message to Addie]

Speaking of good food, that pizza the other day was great. But one of my new coworkers mentioned something called tacos, so you down to join me in trying them?

You're looking at the new mortician at Dunwich Hospital. It's a two-story building with a basement. Very basic facilities, no surgeries done there.

And double trouble, the morgue there doubles as the police department's morgue.

Somehow they knew my name and where I'd be. This is really bizarre. None of them said a thing about my hair or how pale I am either.

As excruciating as crossing the ghost line is, I don't recommend it. I was enjoy the feeling of walking through jello when a creature that looked like some sort of insect came out of my form. It was not behind me or in front of me when it came out. It was as if it used me as a conduit. It's out there somewhere.

I will attempt to draw it, but for now, it was the size of a pigeon and had three faces. It didn't speak with its mouths, but telepathically. Normally, I don't mind unpleasant conversations, but the sounds they made were excruciatingly painful to my ears, and I enjoy fingers on a chalkboard.

I was not able to figure out where it went as it took me a while to return to the ghost line and my body.

Hey, I know there's a lot of chatter happening on the network right now. Natasha is gathering up a group of people to try and organize things. Let her know if you find anyone injured or have any medical expertise.

In the meantime, I think I've got a line on a place we can stay. Apparently there's an old boarding house that's just been remodeled into a studio apartment complex, completely vacant. The owners think I'm the new manager. I say we pull a fast one, I fill out paperwork for everyone and we worry about how we're going to balance the books at a later date. Just to get everyone off the street.

The Pickman House is at [address].

If you find anyone without a phone or communication device, or someone who doesn't know how to use one, you can send them my way. We'll figure something out. Better we all stay in contact.

My name is Mobius, a few of you may know me from other timelines. In any case, nice to meet you.

Right. So ignoring how we're all suddenly here and no one seems to know why, are we going to talk about what happens when you try to leave?

Because if you haven't tried you turn into a ghost until you come back to this town, then you wake up flat on your back wherever you left. Sort of like there's some invisible boundary keeping us trapped here.

I know it's more than just one spot cause I tried, because there's shit I need to get back to and can't. So if anyone figures out a way to cross the ghost line, let me know.

Oh. It's creepy as hell so you may not want to actually try. Unless that's your thing, in which case knock yourself out.

[FILTERED FROM LANCE]

Hey, so I need some help? Given the kinds of posts I'm seeing on this network I'm guessing that a recently fertilized dragon egg that makes anyone that touches it instantly protective of it won't be the most insane thing anyone has ever heard?

So... I sort of had this egg with me and then I met Lance and... He probably doesn't want to play Mother of Dragons to an egg for however long it takes us to get back, so a little help?

Problem One: There's a spell to undo the effects of the egg, it's pretty basic, but I can't do magic at the moment.

Problem Two: Getting him far enough way from the egg to do said spell. I could send him off on an errand, but I would need people to... basically sort of kidnap him until the spell can be done?

Help?

ARRIVAL

The thick, ghastly haze of the mist, once practically opaque to the naked eye, fades and opens up to a nostalgic homegrown New England town. A friendly gazebo, freshly painted white sits on a neatly mown lawn at the center of the town square. Vehicles stop at the redlight while locals cross the street, birds chirp in the trees, and a school bus stops to pick up a few children in oversized backpacks. Pedestrians walk by you without a second glance. Did they not see you suddenly appearing out of nowhere? How could they not have noticed that all encompassing fog? And why doesn’t your obviously otherworldly attire catch their attention? This appears to be a small, close knit community. And it’s clear you’re not from around these parts.

But these are simply the first of many mysteries you’re about to discover.

The further you investigate your new surroundings, the more ominous this seemingly quaint and colloquial town becomes. There’s something dark beneath its pleasant guise. You can’t shake the chill at the back of your neck and the sense that someone—or something—is watching you. Then there’s the odd graffiti on the alleyway walls and the way the locals talk about certain locations. And while the mist is gone, there are places in town that make you reminisce about the mist. Places that feel supernaturally thin. Thin enough to let in whispers from the other side. Or maybe even screams.

And don’t worry if you hear laughter or the jingling chimes of carnival coming from the rain gutters in the street. That’s just your imagination. There’s nothing down there.

Nothing that floats.