Haunted House game

Well, the universal vending machine forum game still seems to live on after two and a half years and 203(!) pages of posts, so I think I’ll risk another, slightly more challenging game in that category. I am hoping this will be accepted as nicely as the UVM game :slight_smile:

Somewhere, there stands a huge haunted house, called Hollow House by locals (it is not apparently hollow, it was the original owner’s last name). And huge barely describes it! From its first stone laid in 1608, it has not only been built but continuously expanded upon, all the way until the present day. Owners feel compelled to add new rooms. Heck, strangers feel compelled to finance new rooms!

The game is this: Describe a room in the house! Each post must include one room, and only one (but you can post more posts with more rooms, if you like!). AND you may only post in the thread if your post includes a room! That means that even if you are just asking what someone means by a certain description, the price for posting is to write up a room. Comments like “Oh man, that’s just like this room in Hellraiser last night!” are more than welcome. But the post has to include a room… Hollow House wants you to build… always…

Rooms can include ghosts or even living people lost or secretly living in the house. The description can be short or long, elegant or to the point. But every post must contain… a room!

This post is no exception, so…

Along one of the southern walls, facing a lush and now overgrown garden, is a large room containing an indoor swimming pool. The pool is small by modern standards, no greater than what might be found in the better part of surburbia, but for its time, it was a great luxury. The water has no chlorine or filtering, and is thus not entirely clear, but it is surprisingly clear enough for a swim, provided one washes afterwards. The outer wall leading to the garden is as much glass as the period could handle (the room was added by a group of local contributors for no apparent reason in 1842). Two glass doors lead straight into the garden, allowing anyone to go from the pool into the garden or vice versa.
Three ghosts inhabit the room. Two are a brother and sister, the boy 13 and the girl 9. They do not remember their deaths, and simply play in the pool from early morning to early evening, then disappear until morning next. They are shy, and will only be seen by people who seem kind and safe, though anyone might hear them by chance from the garden or right outside one of the doors leading out. They are not very mature for their age, clearly having lived protected lives, but they are good kids, well-behaved and respectful (the boy calls everyone Sir or Ma’m).
The third ghost is an old man. He is found sitting in a flimsy garden chair, looking into the pool’s water. He only appears if there is a period of absolute silence, and never leaves the chair. He does not speak, and does not look at anyone, only at the water. In perfect silence, someone listening closely might hear him mumble softly in his long, white beard, repeating conversations with a woman of affection, perhaps his wife. He mutters only to himself, though, not to anyone else, including this unseen wife.

Please, no more forum games. Please.
Plus, I don’t want to have to type a lot…
No offense.

Going into the garden, you’ll find it wild and wide. The gras wasn’t moawned in years. Old grey trees with boles, three adults couldn’t reach around, shadow the whole meadow. Hardly any light goes through their dense leaves, though that doesn’t hinder gras and ranks to grow rapidly. Every leaf is deep green. Huge spiderwebs hand down from the twigs. A strange chilly feeling of familarity strokes you, while you go across this seemingly infinte garden. Tiny, slowly hovering dots of light and colour scatter through the air - it might be fireflys but you can’t be sure. As you wander further, you find a small lake. It’s perectly flat, no wind curls its surface. The reflection of the full moon seems nearer than the moon itself. It’s impossible to see, how deep it is. Misty fumes float over it and glow silvery in the moonlight. Suddenly, you hear a voice. It speaks your motherthongue but just before you’re able to understand, it’s gone. A dolce stroke through down your back, then the impression is entirely gone. As you go on, passing an uncountable number of other huge trees, you finally approach a huge wooden doorframe.

Participation is optional. You don’t even have to read the thread :slight_smile:

My room for the post…

A large sitting room, complete with a fireplace that seems to have undendingly burning firewood on a low flame. There are dusty old paintings all around the room, and statuettes and trophies from forgotten deeds adorn little tables here and there. At a small bar, there is a fine selection of whiskeys and bourbons, but no other class of drink to be found. The contents of the bottles are safe to drink (apart from intoxication), but will taste foul if drunk outside this room. A bottle replaced will be full again the instant it is not being watched.
Anyone in the room will hear what sounds like voices over the sound of the fire. It is hard to hear them, and they can be dismissed as imagination. But someone with a sensitivity to the supernatural will hear them clear as day, and a dozen or more of them, all chattering away in a mess of noise! Someone both sensitive and strong-willed might be able to listen in on single conversations, and will find them telling both tall tales and old stories of the house and its occupants…

Hmmm, would be very nice if this would end in kind of a challenge to rebuild the decribed house :slight_smile:

Though, I guess, this thread wont live too long (which is kind of sad, as it’s a good idea), due to people being lazy and not willing to write long-ish, descriptive posts…

…behind that wooden door from the garden, there is a totally empty room. Nothing is inside, not even dust. The light seems to follow different rules than usual. While looking down on yourself, you notice how you seem to be distorted. The walls are neutral grey and the room seems to be uniformly lit, not at all affected by the moonlight, coming from the garden. you don’t cast any shadow either. This room is very hard on the eyes and it seems impossible to guess its size. It could be merely 2 x 2 meters or hundrets of meters. Then, in the very distant, there seems to be a different grey - it’s not brighter, nor darker. It’s also not differently saturate or has a different hue. Just as neutral grey, but still different. When going closer - there is no way of guessing, how long this takes - the door behind you closes and you see the different kind of grey getting more detailed. You can see yet another door with a lot of patterns. All is similar grey but still, different. There are monsters and humans in an odd shadeless relief, framing the hardly visible door. The handle feels cool, like metal but it looks as diffuse grey as anything else in this room. The door seems to be made of wood. That’s not what the texture says; It doesn’t have any texture, again, it’s as it feels. By now, you feel dizzy and you lost all the feelings for time. Nothing is here and still, this room seems to be full of things. Everything is silent. The only thing you can hear, is your hearbeat, from inside your ears. Your steps didn’t make any noise. Even if you cough, the air doesn’t transmit the sound. You have enough of this and leave the room through the in- and visible door.

The model is a fascinating idea, if enough rooms are added. Or maybe just works inspired by it, either individual rooms or the house as such. The mansion in Stephen King’s “Rose Red” for TV is good inspiration, and inspired this very game!

You may or may not be right about short lifespan, though. The universal vending machine was simpler (though IMHO also boring), allowing people to just punch something in. I am running this game on another forum, an RPG forum, and it is fairly popular already. I have mentioned the idea of doing something more about this game concept, so either here or elsewhere, Hollow House might well continue to grow… grooooow… :smiley:

> The walls are neutral grey and the seems to be uniformly lit, not at all affected by the moonlight

I so felt like I was inside the Blender cube when reading that room :smiley:

And now, to pay the piper:

Behind a wide, elaborately decorated door, this room stands unfinished. Thick dust covers the scafolding scattered throughout it, scafolding that looks no more than a few years old. The walls are naked and some are incomplete, wooden beams showing inside. Stacks of wooden slabs are nicely placed around the room, and tools can be found placed in metal toolboxes. It looks like a regular building project that simply stopped a decade or so ago.
The tools appear entirely mundane upon examination, and can easily be removed from the room. But if used, they will be unusually unwieldy, as if someone is fighting you for them. If not put down as soon as the tools begin resisting hard, whatever has a hold of them will start to make them swing wildly, towards people if some are near. Anyone looking will seem to see the wielder doing the dangerous swinging, almost threatening people around him or her! Hammers will swing as if to strike, screwdrivers will swing as if to stab, and so on. If dropped, the tool will simply fall to the ground and do nothing. If picked up again, they will slowly start to make the wielder swing at others once more.
Anyone wiping enough dust from the scafolding will find crude inscriptions in the wood used. They seem to be gibberish, using Cyrillic letters (anyone knowing slvaic languages will recognize the letters, but none will read anything meaningful from them). There is no sign of a struggle anywhere.


It probably fitst better into an RPG-forum, as this is more or less an RPG, where you take the Role of a certain room, or an observer.
Now, btw, I know, how you could think about so many things lol. You’re probably an experienced RPGamer, when you even think about how the liquids taste and stuff… I tried to do similar quality but failed a bit 'till now. (Doesn’t mean, mine are horrible but… yours are AMAZING)

-> http://e.deviantart.net/emoticons/m/mwahaha.gif <- that’s missing xD

I so felt like I was inside the Blender cube when reading that room :D[/quote]
That was my inspiration lol. Though, it would be VERY hard to model that room with the door being visible and not visible^^

Oh damn, that house will eat me if I don’t add a room now!

The next room behind that strange uniform grey door feels a lot better already. Instantly, you hear your breath again and a loud eeakrtz is audible, as you step on the dark wooden floor. Not being distorted anymore, a load is taken off your mind. This room is dark. Some dim light scatters through dustclouds from several directions - holes in the walls are its source. A bit more light comes from a window, halfway covered with thick wooden planks. Together, that is just enough light to make out everything, directly lit. Any kind of shadow swallows everything, here. Ceiling-high bookshelves cover big parts of the walls. Inside them, you can see hundreds of old rotten books. As you take out one of them, it melts to dust between your fingers. You can also see four heavy victorian oak tables with three thick white candles, sticking in a brass candleholder on each. No candle is lit with fire. However, one glows in a greenish white with a strange, ball-like flame. It’s the middle candle, standing on the last of the four tables. As you come closer, you notice a person, sitting on the table’s chair, made from the same wood. It’s a girl. She must be around the age of 15. Her white hair glow the same way as the odd ghosty flame. All on her is pale and the weak light of the candle is enough to show, that she doesn’t cause any shadows. In her tender hands, she holds probably the oldest book in the whole room. It looks like it weights tons. Every page is yellowed and the ink has faded, making it very hard to read. Nevertheless, this quaint girl reads the book without taking any notice of you. Her face is strangely lit from downside, but her pretty traits frame a peaceful, absent-minded smile. She certainly is in a different world, right now, far away from here, reading away all her sorrows. As you peak over her shoulder to see what she reads, a firm enchanting scent rises upon your nostrils.
The combination of faded ink, yellowed paper and hardly any light makes it impossible to you, to get the meaning of the text. You’re not even sure, wether it’s written in a language, you’re familiar with. You stay for a while, just watching that girl, eagerly turning pages, looking a bit nerved during that short break and going on immediately, reseting her expression to that absent-minded innocence again.
After a while, you get bored and go to the next shelf, taking out another book. Suddenly, you hear clatter. The floor under your feet starts to move, and the other second, you find yourself again in …

None taken.

kbot: Dude, you didn’t post a room. :stuck_out_tongue:

The Red Tearoom.

It is a large, L-shaped room, facing north from the entrance, it extends 25 paces forward, where it turns to the east abruptly, bending into a large gallery.

It is a ghastly piece of architecture, all horrible magnificence and huge gilded columns, long and spindly, with ornamental vine-work and golden fluting running up to the cavernous ceiling above. The room lies concealed in drapes, huge, dark red velvet, pulled back at the gallery wall to reveal huge, leaded windows, each one stretching ominously up to the ceiling where they arch in a sunrise window-lite, forming a peculiar glass arcade which looks out onto the rambling and tattered garden below.

Exactly 12 paces from the entrance to the room is a huge, plush, high-backed, wing-armed chair. Red velvet again, on some kind of rich, dark wood, probably walnut, or old, old oak. The visible wood on the chair is carved with another grisly pattern of opulence, all snarling faces and clawed feet chasing each other up and down the fronts of the armrests, and the backs of the arched, far-too-tall head-rest. The upholstery is… weathered and crumpled, far from the immaculate appearance of the rest of the room. The nap of much of the back of the chair, and around the seat, is worn heavily, as if someone had tried to scrub something out of it at some point in the past.

The seat sits in front of a fireplace, which is lit when you enter the room, and shows no sign of going out. The only other source of light is from the moon, which shines through the windows and falls on the inner wall of the gallery, and part of the far west wall, against which are a series of paintings, and several bookshelves, respectively.

The bookshelves themselves are unremarkable, including such mundane tomes and booklets as On A Part of the Carboniferous or Mountain Limestone Series of North Cumberland, and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

The portraits themselves are subtly disturbing. Totally unremarkable at first, they soon yield to the scrutinizing eye several strange details that, by their sheer, understated, unexplained THERENESS, puzzle and very soon terrify.

Why is there a cat in the hand of the ‘Fine Lady in Green’, and a knife in the other. At what point did one of the children in the background of ‘Emiline At Play’ lose its face, to be replaced with a shadowy blur, with odd… streaks down it’s chin and temples, and black splotches where its eyes should be. A lady in a ball-gown with what looks like a snake coming from under the back of her dress–long and scaly and with a barbed fork at the end. An elderly gentleman with a huge powdered wig, staring out of the painting, a manacle and a chain hanging from one wrist, and a huge and blood-red book clutched under his other arm. Row after row of pale, oddly desolate people stare down at you from their quietly hideous surroundings, and you soon feel unable to look at the pictures much longer without feeling as if they were looking back.

In the silence, a voice whispers through the room. An old man’s voice, with a quaint, fussy little accent, and cares worn in every stammering syllable. It bumbles and stutters as it talks about something, and there’s a distant clinking of glass, and a rich, thick splashing of liquid.

“Oh, oh dear. D-dear me, I must say. But… just… just one more, I think, yes. O-o-o-one more and… and I shall be right as rain. I say, oh, dear me…” There is a hurried swallow, and then, “Oh, oh dearie me. Oh d-dear, dear me. I say… Terrible… ab-s-s-ab-abs’lutely terrible. I–Oh, Fotheringsworth, I–do come in! I was just–just thinking, and I–

The voice stops, very suddenly.

My room has no bed, the pillows, the blankets, no closet, no washroom, not tolet, no shower, no pictures, no computers, no tables, no refridgorator, no FOOD, no lights, no postors, no animals, no batceria, no fungus, no protactista, no dogs, cats, fish, aligator, whale not even ANTS :eek: There is only one window tthat lets the light of the moon go into the room… But those arn’t the scary things, the room has one stool and…

My ex-girlfriend sitting on it ready to have… ‘the talk’ !!!


I hope you guys don’t have bad dream :wink:

Edit:Kram, not very hard to change :stuck_out_tongue:

Linkxgl, all the rooms are from the same haunted house. :wink:

…high heigts, to your feet, there only is a round oak plate from the secret mechanism and where it ends, there is a lark plank. Nothing seems to hold it, rather it looks like it’s glued in place. You can’t see the end of it and that although suddenly, all is bright and the sun stands high. If you look over the edge of the plate you’re still standing on, all you see is haze. If it was black, you’d probably think of a bottom-less pit. No walls are here - even the shelf is just attached to the midair. carefully, you try to pull again the book which let you go here, but there is no use. Now in the bright sunlight of a clear noon sky, all the books look different. You are sure about not knowing the language now. Strange symbols, everywhere. Not a single one looks familiar.
It’s useless. The only things you can do, is to stay or to go on.
As you walk over the plank, it starts to swing in resonance with your step-lenght. It swings up and down and up and down. There is no end in sight infront of you. just blue sky and the lark plank, disappearing in haze.
The further you get, the stronger is the resonance. By now you have the feeling of going up and down, several meters. When stopping, the wavelet-movement stops. You turn around and look back. The shelf where you started from already starts to disappear in haze.
As you go on, the swinging starts again. The sun burns down on you. You start to feel uncomfortably wet and your throat feels dry. In front of you, air-reflections start to emerge from the plank.
Hundreds of meters later, you start to feel dizzy. Still no end in sight and the shelf has finally disappeared. By now, you are used to that resonance and don’t even notice it, except that you can see how the air-reflections change rapidly as you go up and down.
You go on and on until you colapse and fall aside. In the very last moment, you can grab the plank with your left hand but your sweaty fingers don’t find hold for long. Finally, you fall.
And fall.
And fall further.
You keep falling and falling without any sign of a floor under your feet. Wind passes your ears quickly and goes ffftwoooohshfff. Everything above you quickly fades into the distance, while there is still no ground in sight.
Then, without any warning, you land - surprisingly softly. What you are lying on now, feels like paper…

Oh my, that wasn’t a good idea -.- Not quite the best^^

Oh my… Hollow House seems to be drawing in visitors… to stay… :evilgrin:

Seconded. kbot, do not arouse the anger of Hollow House by denying it a sacrifice :stuck_out_tongue:
BTW, I am going to put Hollow House in my sig, just to see if that will draw others in. I do not post much these days, but maybe it will be a Siren call, nonetheless. Anyone wanting to feed the house with unwitting lure is free to do the same :wink:

And a room…

A small dining cove, holding two tables the likeness of those found at a modern cafe, though set in heavy iron. Windows are tall, to let in more light, but a set of spires on another part of the building cast shade through them from noon and until early eve. The spires, no doubt, were built long after the dining cove, with their contributor forgetting to watch where their shadows would fall.
For some strange reason, food tastes different here. Anything eaten will taste as if served in a rich sauce, typically one of fruit or berry; cherry and cranberry are typical flavors to appear. And this is on anything eaten! A chocolate bar, a cracker, a steak, even bubble gum. If, for some other reason, a person were to resort to cannibalism (there is NOTHING in the cove to encourage that, so reasons would have to come from elsewhere), the same would happen. Even spoiled foods taste of the sauces, and the sauces vary slightly from day to day.
People eating ehre and tasting the sauces are likely to feel compelled to eat here whenever possible. It is not an obsession, but the place lures people. And when someone sits and eats with company, there will be an even stronger compulsion to theorize about the nature of the spires, should the shades be on the cove. This, however, is an obsession! And after a few consequitive days of such talks, those having them will get some strange dieas about the spires, ideas which seem to draw on knowledge about the house that they should not have…

Even that house can’t stop Kbot from being like this, it’s more like you reply to his posts with this (everyone of us is Dilbert, Kbot is the pointy haired boss)

CyborgDragon: You didn’t post a room either.

In the house, somewhere, there is a hall full of doors. At the beginning of the hall, there is a stool with a red velvet drape behind it. More red cloth is draped over the stool. On the stool is a curious golden sphere, inlayed with jewels and topped with a small silver cross.

Behind the stool, on an old vanity desk partly hidden by the drapes, are an even more curious collection of objects.

A small hand mirror, an iron gauntlet, a string of pearls, a sawed-off shotgun, a saw, a small… bony object, what looks to be a shark’s tooth.

Beside the stool, a broken manniquin leans against the vanity desk. It is clearly feminine, and has no face, only a smooth surface. Another manniquin lies on the floor, in pieces, across the mouth of the hallway.

Down the hall, the line of doors march, side to side towards one door, half-way down the hall, which is slightly ajar. A bright, yellow light streams out of the doorway, casting a long finger of light out towards the stool, and the mannequins lying on the floor.

An other room is full of mirrors. Mirrors everywhere. Whereever you go, you’ll see yourself a hundreds of times. It seems to be a Maze of them.
The air here seems to be very sterile and dry. Also, there seems to be very little Oxygen, so, you feel dizzy after just a few minutes, walking around aimlessly. Hundreds of yous look more and more exhausted as you go on. It’s getting cold and the amount of oxygen falls further. Infact, the air in general get less dense. The reflections change.It’s not you anymore, looking towards yourself. Insteady, hundreds of different monsters laugh at you or whisper something, you’re not supposed to hear. The longer you go, the less air there is and the more dangerous the monsters look.They squint at you or snarl. After some time, there is barely any air left, a hand comes out of a mirror. Then an other one and an other one. Together with them, there are feet and occationally also heads, detaching from the mirror’s surface.
More and more creatures fill the corners between the mirrors and they turn into your direction and attempt to catch you. So, you start to run.
Suddenly, a couple of meters infront of you, there is a different mirror. It’s not plain-reflective as the others. Instead, it reflects in a deep golden colour. Also, no creature is inside it. You run over and touch the surface of it. Suddenly, a strong force is sucking you inside it.

Well, that was at least better than my last attempt but still, I don’t get the quality, I had at the beginning :S

Pipeline: Would you mind sharing that RPG-Forum? :slight_smile:

Yes, both kbot and CyberDragon now owe us a room :slight_smile:

Kram, the forum thread is http://forums.sjgames.com/showthread.php?t=61385

I just aired a thought about making a forum for this kind of games, you should take a look and leave a comment! And feel free to join that forum just to participate, people seem to like that :wink:

My respectful contribution:

A hobby shop lies deep within the house, on the third floor for reasons unknown! It has hand tools of many kinds, though none that look to be from the last four decades. Little unfinished wooden figures and what looks to be toys can be found around the place, looking as if simply left in a hurry or plain forgotten.
The room is fairly harmless, but it can be very frightening. Things, both tools, the wooden items and even wood shavings on the workbench or floor move around, not by physically moving but simply by suddenly being elsewhere in the room. This happens a lot, silently and chaotically. A person can go into the room with things in one set of places, and have it switch around every five seconds until the person leaves. The only real danger, however, is falling over something that is suddenly on the floor. Nobody ever sees an item actually disappear or reappear, they just pop from one unobserved spot to another. Constantly!

Somewhere in this house lies, a room so scary, so terrifiing, so killer, that if your 12 and under, you may not want to read this… This room has nothing in it except for a couch, but that’s not the terrifing part, it has a couch but, but,

NO T.V!!!




Put a night light in your room if your scared, but my stories are the worst 0.o,