Story-driven exploration - You must explore the world around you.You push those memories down but let the experiences drive you into who, or what, you must play.ĭarkness surrounds as you stand silently in the spotlight, the only sounds to be heard over your heartbeat are the distant breaking of waves against the hull and the sound of cameras pointed in your direction preserving this moment for eternity.Ī deep and commanding voice rises from the distance. That same past has scraped deep furrowing scars into you, not on the outside where the world can see, but in a place buried so deep within that it has become shapeless. Your past has helped to mold you into what you are, forced upon you the skills required to hone your craft. The demand to act fills your mind, but the script pages hold no words.
No call to action that you need to become this version of yourself. Not just in character, you are the character. TW for themes of drug use, depression, and suicide, but it’s honestly so beautifully written I cry every time.The cameras are all focused on you the center of the scene. Also the patriarch likes keeping secrets about a death in the family from everyone else. This is a show I imagine showing the bros and tripping them out by making them think they’re being showed the bad horror, only to have one (if not all of them) getting Emotional by the end because it revolves around (surprise!) a family of seven and their collective trauma after one of them dies, and this lasting theme of cherish the people you love and pay attention when they are suffering, and survivor’s guilt in the context of a family that includes a lot of siblings. THOHH winds up being very sad, but there’s enough horror in there to keep you on your toes and not be over-the-top. He’s also the guy who directed Hush and Ouija: Origin of Evil, but I loooove his shows. Oooh if we’re talking horror I highly reccommend any show from the Mike Flanagan universe, especially The Haunting of Hill House.
LAYERS OF FEAR OUIJA BOARD ROOM FULL
The cabin goes silent but for the rain, full of wide eyes and scared faces. One voice lets out a quickly-muffled scream as a gust blows through the cabin and extinguishes the candles. All at once, there’s a pounding knock on the door combined with a boom of thunder, then a flash of lighting.
Their voices start to crescendo, getting more discordant but also more eager. Reluctantly keeping himself awake, he tuned back in to hear the group chanting something that with translation was most definitely “ghosts of Lakeside Camp, we summon you” interspersed with humming of what might have been the camp theme song, and which also may have been some pop song Dean can’t conjure the name of. He could almost fall asleep here, listening to the crackle of the candles and the pounding of the rain outside. Dean closes his eyes and yawns, mind drifting to thoughts of rest and the chocolate bar he had stashed in his backpack.
This new addition is eagerly accepted by the children, who clearly have decided that this is quite a good substitute for proper Latin.
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