Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

TELEPATHIC MESSAGE TO CHARLES ROWLAND + JEAN GREY:

Who are you and why are you yelling for us?

Right, so- let me get this down.

- I got mugged by some sort of supernatural fog.
- I'm stuck in another coastal American town by forces I don't understand.
- Loads more people can see me here than should be able to.

I'm never hearing the end of this one.

On the tragically short list of positives, we all agree this wasn't something I did, yeah? Cause I was aiming for the record shop up the road, not whatever this is.

Edwin?

(hello?)

[OoC: Dan's zip-zip is quiet and soft-spoken. No threat here, just curiosity.]

'Curiouser and curiouser,' cried Alice.

Lewis Carroll seems quite apt at the moment, as Dunwich would appear to be extremely curious indeed. I have been reading through this network for some time now. Such a range of inhabitants, from all manner of worlds and times, and some not so far removed from my own world. Fascinating.

For those who do not know me already, I am Dr. Hank McCoy. Hello.

Just making this official. I've never said it and it wasn't really a thing when I'm from. But being here and getting to know more, I've been trying it on, though, seeing how it felt. Some of you already do it. I've been going back and forth.

And nothing's changing. Still the same Morph, still the same flavor you've come to love just with updated packaging. (Wink, wink.)

They/them. 😉

X-Men/Mutants

We're all still here, right? I think Rahne was a mutant but I hadn't met her yet.

Everybody here, everybody good? I can't lose any of you yet

Private to X-Men / Mutants

Bonjour. I'm not -- I don't know you all, I think. But most of you I do. Anyway. I'm Remy. Hi.

I know some of you been here for longer than me, probably got jobs you're into, all that. But I just want you all to know that I just came into the deed of a building -- a Club -- that'd just been opened not long ago.

It's a little muddled right now. Bit of everything, not enough focus, and so I'm gonna take a lil time, get it into the sort of order I'd like, to make it a proper sort of place I think folks could enjoy. But if you want a job, or just a place to go --

The door is open, oui?

Rogue, chére, there ain't nobody out there who'd make a hotter bouncer than you.
Logan, you too, obviously.
Morph, unless you really wanted that typing job, I think you'd be a bang up bartender. With the option to ... head up some weekly entertainment? Karaoke? Trivia?

Just ideas, is all. You let me know. We work together on this.

Private to Lucifer
Under the impression you played some piano at the Up and Up?

May 3

Jean & Logan
"The coffee here isn’t too shabby."

Jolly's Diner | ⚠ Spoilers from '97, talk of cloning and mental manipulation.

( Read more... )

So where can a guy get a decent burger around here?

I have a few positions which have opened up, several of them are extremely important.

Head of Security: this position will monitor threats around Dunwich via email, online, police scans, etc for any strangeness going on that we may need to deploy our emergency responders. You will also work closely with the Dunwich PD, particularly Mistake PD members.

Head of Research: You will be responsible for managing our researchers and putting together the documentation that we keep on file of all the strange things that have happened to Dunwich as a whole, individuals who tell you something happened to them, and anything we have found on the town. This information will be available to all Mistakes through our online network. This includes: labeling photographs and items from the time capsule we found in June of last year, as well as cataloging gifts that people received — during the holidays or not.

Head of Research & Development: This position is not the same as above. It's strictly a science position. Updating the network, updating our servers, creating new gadgets for people. Updated changes to the Ghost Line. This position belonged to Tony Stark and then Spock after that, if that tells you what I'm looking for.

None of these positions are first come, first server. You will be interviewed, and your skills assessed.

I'll be watching the stars outside Pickman tonight if anyone would like to join me. River Song means a great deal to me. I'm sad to see her go.

CLARA:

I could use some

ROSE:

Could you

DOCTORS+COMPANIONS:

She's gone back, we're sure of it?

Think I've got to admit to myself that I might well actually be stuck here for a bit. Which is -- y'know. Alright. A little insulting to someone with my skillsets, mais.

Speaking of skill sets. Jobs. What do we -- think of those? Any of you have one yet?

Did someone mess with the past again?

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.