Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

So just to make sure I have it straight:

The fog is real fog, but like people end up here and then they can't leave? Also this place is kinda mental and just sometimes people end up with jobs or get attacked by lobsters or whatever.

And some of the places people come from are real mental like... they don't even got America or something?

And all of it is real and not some prank or reality television.

And robots and aliens and powers are real.



Okay, but what about the werewolves and vampires? Were those real or were you just fucking with me?

I have found the best memoir.
Absolutely great epic stories about this adventurer and his groupies. It's called 'Taryon Darrington and his Vox Machina.'
Anyone ever heard of this guy?

Who has two thumbs and is Dunwich's newest firefighter?

Me. Im the guy. It's me. I'm gonna be out here, punching fires in the face and helping little old ladies out of trees. That should be fun, right?

I'm not saying anyone should start a fire because that would definitely be arson but Im not also saying ive been tremendously bored since I landed in a parking lot a while back. So.

In the words of Mark Twain, I'm not fucking dead.

Super annoyed to have to say I am 100% myself.

So much fun going makes me feel like a parent at a school function. Definitely not my happy place.

This may not be the best time for it given things seem to be... confused, but I've probably worn out Percival's goodwill by being a problem only he's dealing with while I've gotten acclimated to this place as best I can from the confines of one of the rooms inside this Pickman House. Time to be other people's problem, it seems.

So hello. I'm Vax. I think. Vax'ildan if you want to be formal - please don't be - and before I came here I wasn't exactly alive. I don't know how long everyone has been here and it's probably at least crossed someone's mind if it hasn't been discussed to exhaustion, but for my own peace: have we considered that this is some holding area for the afterlife? Is everyone certain they were alive before they came here?

...I shouldn't introduce myself like this, should I. If anyone needs help with whatever it is going on from someone who has no idea about any of it, I suppose I'm the right person for you.

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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.