Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

Well as far as abductions go, this is surprisingly not all that traumatic, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Seriously, when will people learn to leave werewolves alone?

The signboard is all well and good, but why aren't any of my calls going through?

[Beacon Hills]
Are you guys...you? Cause a lot of people seem to be not themselves.

omg? 😳 omg!😲😲😲 what is this? 🧐🧐 where am i?? [...] a new phone?? wow!! 🥰 can i get a case for this phone?😇😇 preferably in pink? 💖💖💖 !!! waitwaitwaitwaitwaaaait! where did all my apps go?? my blog log in??? this is literally a nightmare! 😱😱😱😱😱

also these woods are like super creepy??? so there's that too!

Looks like I'll be working at Alpha Pets.

Makes being here seem that much more...permanent.

I know, people have been disappearing, as mysteriously as we arrive.

Doesn't change the fact having a job feels permanent.

I don't suppose we have any experience vet techs in our group of- what are we calling ourselves again? Anyway, ours just up and left town with no notice which seems to be a pattern for this place, so we could use someone ASAP, if anyone's interested.

Allison & Stiles

I hate the idea that you could both just go I've been thinking. As fun as it is sleeping in a place with a homicidal ghost in the basement if it's still, maybe it would be nice to have our own place.

Hi, Jim Kirk, new arrival.

Does anyone have a shirt I can borrow?

Today is a day of weird.

First I was out near that shop, Needful Things. Looks like a cool place, but it's boarded up. Apparently the owner is on vacation or something? But that's not what's weird. I swear there was someone hanging out there, watching me, and it could have been my twin. I tried to talk to him but he disappeared and no one I asked about it even saw him. Feels like I'm losing my mind. Again.

Oh, and I got a job. I went to the Sixth Street Cafe for a coffee after that, and they told me I was late for my shift. Like what? My name's on the schedule and everything.

[Scott & Stiles]

So I got a job today, at Open Carrie. It was way too easy, like others have been saying.

And I'm having trouble sleeping. Insomnia, I guess. Which figures after everything, right?

Don't suppose there's a place around here to stay that allows dogs? Mine isn't with me yet, but I expect he'll be along once he realizes I'm not coming back.

Siiince we have ~minors~ among us, it has occured that we'll need people to pretend to be guardians~ for parent-teacher conferences, official paperwork, etc.

The current thought is that ~adults~ can express an interest in being such a fake guardian, make their pitch, and then anyone who needs a pretend guardian can pick who they wouldn't mind pretending to be related to.

First up, Klaus Hargreeves.

[FILTER: FLICKLES]

Muuuuuch better than 'I am unmoored'.

OOC: after this

Filters to Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski

You guys want to go to that mixer on the 18th? Could be cool, right?

FILTER: MOBIUS, RICHIE Mobius, dear Mobius. We have gone about this all wrong. For days, the illustrious Richie Tozier and I have been kicking around plans for a mixer party at Pickman without even asking you. I'm sorry! At first, it was just a little thing where we figured we could invite people to come around and eat snacks and mill around the hall, just getting to know each other, but now that we plan to have HEAPS of lobster and who knows what else, plans needs to change. We don't want to risk soiling your gorgeous carpeting and who wants to eat lobster in a hallway? Just weird, right?

Aaaanyway, I was having myself a little look-see when I found the perfect room on the first floor. We do plan to have alcohol present and I don't know how well the perfect strangers around me behave while intoxicated so I would completely understand if you'd prefer we did this elsewhere. If that's what you decide, PLEASE know that we'd still love for you to be there. We're shooting for the eighteenth but we're extremely flexible. Let me know! :)

PICKMAN POSSE, gather round. On the eighteenth of this fine month, you're invited to what will undoubtedly be the grandest mixer party of all time unless you are unreasonably rude to myself or sweet Richie Tozier*. There will be alcohol but we ask that if you are under the legal limit that you keep your little nose clean (unless it is only a deceptively little nose, you know who you are). It'll be on the first floor of our beautiful home, just follow the sounds of fun!

Not that I don't trust our young ones but I do not trust our young ones - can anyone put a magic alarm on our alcohol just in case they get a little sneaky? Thanks!

EDITED TO ADD: My excitement grows with my ever expanding inspiration. There will be a POTLUCK! Show us what you eat at home! There will be a VOLLEYBALL GAME which is going to be so much more fun than I'm sure so many of you are thinking. Just trust me. I know parties. Even if you don't play, the spectacle will be delightful. If you plan to go in hard on this game, I suggest you bring your kneepads! There is plenty of floor but none of it is forgiving.

If you're bringing something for the potluck, please let me know so that I can make sure everything has its place. If you're interested in volleyball, you should let me know that, too, but really just because I'd LOVE to know.

* ooc: be rude all u want, not a real threat ;D

Where am I and why did someone just hand me this phone?

I just have to say -- this is definitely the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me. And I go to a school full of werewolves, sirens, and gorgons. Among other categories.

I didn't...I don't...This isn't...

Hello? Is anybody even seeing this, or am I talking to a void? Typing to a void. I'm not really talking. Except that's what we say, when we use chat apps and stuff. Why do we say we're talking when we're really typing, and reading? I'm typing with my friends is just as valid as talking to them. More so because there's a record of it.

Right. Um. Hi? I'm Stiles. I'd really like to not be here now. No wait. That's rude. I want to go home. That's better. Makes it more personal and less attacky. I want to go home. I'm supposed to call my dad and he gets worried when I don't call, but when I tried to call him, it wouldn't go through, and yeah. Not real thrilled about that.

So I walk down the street early this morning because I can't really sleep and I hear лай and think - this sounds familiar. When I turn the corner, I see a dog - my dog, Fanny, she comes out of the fog in front of me.

Has anyone seen a pet shop yet where I can buy her the things she needs?

I guess I'm the new town vet.

Do we talk about how creepy it is that the old vet just conveniently left town right as I got here?

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.

Seems a lot of people have found this network. That's good. We can communicate from across the town. Thanks to Carol for that. Firstly, I'm not the Natasha from the Infinite Agency, but I'm probably a lot like her. I'm sorry to those of you who knew me there.

There's a lot of us around here, so I'm thinking we should create a command post where everyone can converge and we can figure out what to do from there. There's something weird about this town, outside of our unexplained arrival, and I don't want anyone getting stuck across the town line as a ghost. The ghost line?

I'm also hearing something about some kind of sickness going around. So-n-so's little cousin's best friend's got "angel fever." Whatever that means. None of us will have been exposed if this is a whole new dimension than the other we came from. Probably best to keep it that way.

I'm in the park across from town hall. Center of town. Look for the red head in a black stealth suit. Hair in braids. Let's try and help one another reunite and figure out what to do next.

Is anyone injured? And do we have any doctors?

Right. So....
I'm Lance. This blows.
Two things:

1.

2. Has anyone had any luck contacting anyone? Like other than anyone on this thing?

I don't understand. Where is the Agency? Where are we?

I fell into a body of water actual owkwa, asilik lowng asilik da eye ta kang vedi and one of the locals retrieved me and gave me this... primitive device. He didn't care to answer my questions.

Guess the only one that matters is how do we get back?

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.