Formaldehyde's Video Game Preserve

[Formalhaut]

Halloween Image.png

Marvel and Observe Gaming's Biggest Horrors...

You arrive before a quaint suburban home in an nondescript neighbourhood. The front lawn is mowed to perfection, in keeping with the Joneses. The shrubs and bushes and trimmed back, and a simple paved path leads to the front door. You walk forward, your intention dissonant from the sunny day. You ring the bell and wait patiently, unsure who will answer. You doubt yourself. Anxious, you check the business card that was delivered through your letterbox. It is blank, save for an address, but you already knew what you were expecting.

You hear a small shuffle. A closed curtain ruffles out of the corner of your eye. Suddenly the front door opens, beckoning you forward. You step into the normal looking hallway while the door closes behind. You look ahead once again, only this time a smartly dressed man wearing white gloves appears before you.

Ah, you must be the visitor I was expecting. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Formaldehyde... Oh? You look puzzled. You must have been expecting Formy. I'm afraid his interests do not align... with my own. For you see, as I'm sure you are aware, my interest is in the horrible, the ghoulish and the incomprehensible. My display is renowned for its blood-curdling terror. One sight upon my collection will send people into uncontrollable weeping. I understand if you are sceptical. Everyone is at first. Surely, it cannot be that bad, you say, but such words betray the honest truth of things. But I shall speak no more. Come, follow me. I shall be your guide. I will lead you through my preserve, and answer any questions you have therein.

He speaks politely, but it belies a certain zeal for his trade. His hands gesticulate wildly as he speaks to you, while you keep quiet, analysing the situation. Have you made a mistake coming here? It's too late now. The door is closed. And such a secretive man wouldn't care for sudden farewells. You decide it is best to follow him. He continues talking about his collection in vague terms as he leads the way further into the house. At least he seems happy and contented. The pretty hallway turns right at the end, where all illusions of normality are dropped. The walls are yellowed and the wallpaper has started to curl at the corners. The carpet in the hallway gives way to uneven wooden floors, with unusual stains best kept hidden from the imagination.

You must forgive the state of my museum. I so rarely get visitors. I keep the house and visible areas clean for neighbours and the occasional mailman, but my time is often spent on my craft. Speaking of which, we will be entering the first exhibit soon. I hope you are prepared.

He stops before staircase leading down to what appears to be a basement, or maybe a cellar. Like much of this part of the bungalow, the basement door looks worn, probably from overuse. The well-dressed man's immaculate white gloves wrap around the battered door handle, awaiting an affirmative response. Your body starts to tense at the uncertainty of what awaits beyond the door. It could be everything, or it could be nothing. Patience turns into impatience. You know a response is expected any moment now. You inhale sharply.

Enter the door?

[Pike]

Enter the door?

y... yes

trick or treat!!

[Bubba]

Trick or treat!

[Fynn]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!

[Pumpkin]

TREAT OR TREAT!

[Freya]

Treat or trick!

[Psychotic]

Ding dong! Hello I am the last vestiges of dignity the human race clings tightly to! Trick or treat!

[Karifean]

"Hee hee hee. I'm glad to have the chance to attend this 'terrifying exhibition' of yours.
Trick or treat."

[Formalhaut]

Enter the door?

y... yes

trick or treat!!

Trick or Treat?

Brave Pike stands before the door. With a trembling voice, she affirms her fate. The white-gloved gentleman opens the door formally, his back slightly bent as if beckoning her forward. Pike enters and heads down stone steps towards what appears to be a simple corridor. A confused expression fixes on her face. Wasn't this supposed to be a museum? Yet another corridor? Confusion folds into annoyance and irritation.

Hmm? You don't seem to be enjoying the experience? I would apologise like any host should, but you see, that is actually the point. While I escort you towards the exhibition, we are in fact 'in' an exhibition. For fear of further confusing you, I shall reveal that we are in fact in an escort mission. He leans in ominously. And you must protect me.

Suddenly, you hear a faint noise in the far distance...scuttling? You ready yourself, aware you have no weapon. Suddenly, you receive a sword from the gentleman, who obtained it, seemingly from thin-air. You clumsily hold it, not used to the implement. You tell the white-gloved gentleman to get behind you, but instead he walks casually towards danger. You can see the enemy now: larger-than-average spiders. You grab the gentleman by the collar and pull him back. Blocking a spider's lunge, you thrust the sword through the spider's abdomen, and you barely have enough time to defend against another spider. You're glad the corridor is narrow.

Protect me! The gentleman screams while he runs into the spiders. You rush in, shrugging off nips to protect your charge. This time you push him through and tell him to run to the exit. You begin to flee, and you get near the door when you hear a yelp behind you.

Yelp!

Turning back, you notice your escort has barely moved. Spiders are beginning to surround him and take small bites. You rush back, frustrated, and pull him back once more but not before taking a bite of your own. You feel the blood begin to seep through your trouser leg. You hack through a few more of the spiders furiously, and you actually manage to cull back the small crowd to just two. You gear up for another sweeping horizontal swipe, but as you glide the sword through the air, the gentleman wanders into the path of the blade. It catches him square in the chest, creating a gory mess.

Gagahrhrk!

Horrified, you let go of the sword as your charge crumples on the floor. The two remaining spiders crawl over the body towards you. You refuse to move, still in shock over your failure. What a trick.

[Formalhaut]

treat or trick

Trick or Treat?

Jinx stands before the door. Hesitating no more, she boldly declares her intentions and opens the door herself. The gentleman acquiesces and allows you to enter a medium-sized waiting room. It is decorated in a stately manner, with lush carpets and bold red floor curtains that flow towards the ground like a waterfall. Pieces of furniture - cupboards, drawers and boxes adorn the room around the sides, but the most absorbing feature was the door in the back wall. Naturally attracted to the door, you go to open it, but find it is locked. The door has a knob, and you try turning it every which way, to no effect. You kick the door, to no effect. You shoulder charge the door, but before long you must stop to catch your breath. Breathlessly, you confront the gentleman.

You appeared to have stumbled into a fetch quest, my honoured guest. You see, the way into the exhibition is through that door. I have the key, but I cannot enter without first obtaining twenty-five miniature candy apples. It is part of this obscure religion that I practice. Once you give me twenty-five candy apples, I will give you the door key. I would help you search, but I am a humble quest-giver and have no autonomy.

Irritated that entry into the exhibition was delayed by a trivial, meaningless task, you give the gentleman a look and begin to exit the waiting room, only to find the door locked.

Ah, yes, that door is now closed. I do hope it doesn't impede your progress.

Further annoyed by his smarmy tone, you resist the urge to punch him (and therefore fail the quest) and begin searching the room. There was an incredible array of furniture. You spent much time rummaging through drawers, checking every nook and cranny. The candy apples were wrapped - thank goodness - saving your hands from the sticky toffee. You wonder why the gentleman even needs candy apples, or wonder why he hid them in the drawers. You conclude that the man is a deranged lunatic, and continue searching. Mercifully, finding them is an easy task. But try as you might, you can't seem to find the last one. You keep checking and rechecking and re-rechecking to no effect. Frantically, you look back to the gentleman, who was still standing in the same place as before. He responds, as if intimately aware of your intentions.

Oh, you can't seem to find all of them? What a pity. But come to think of it, I do believe there was one miniature candle apple past the locked door here. He points to the door you walked through earlier. Yes, I'm almost positive. But that door closed once we entered this room.

Your face falls.

You thought the fetch quest was part of the exhibition, right? Oh no, what I was in fact showing you was a case of an unwinnable game. This particular gaming horror was rife among early adventure games. Games like King's Quest, Sonic, even Metroid can be made unwinnable, be it through glitch, bug or design. Thankfully, such fatal errors are becoming rarer and rarer, but they can still happen. Unfortunately for you, you and I appear to have been swallowed up by one.