The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Straggler

As we started walking toward the teens hiding in the bush, I leaned in toward the group and said, “Just from that title I can tell you that this is probably a horror anthology.”

Even More Stories from the Campfire: Fatal Folktales had all the generic hallmarks that you would come to expect from a movie that was really just multiple short stories put together. More than that, it sounded like it was a sequel to an anthology series.

“How does that change things?” Antoine asked.

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I don't know if this is just one of the stories or all of them. Just be ready.”

“Maybe after we finish one story we unlock the next one,” Anna suggested. "Maybe we get a ticket or something."

I shrugged. That sounded a little generous.

Usually, in a horror anthology, there was a frame narrative or outer story. Often, someone inside that story tells the other stories in the anthology, sometimes simply reading them from a book. Other times a horror anthology could be several interwoven stories happening all at once.

I really hoped it wasn't the second option.

We walked along the path until we reached the bush where the two teens were crouched down looking out into the field.

The needle on the plot cycle was pointed to omen still. We hadn't triggered the story yet.

The realization that I was about to be back in a storyline suddenly hit me. “Don’t forget to stay in character On-Screen,” I said.

Most of them looked my way and nodded in a way that signaled “We know.”

They had never done anything to make me think that they would intentionally break character, but still, I worried.

As we approached, the two teens noticed us and stood up.

One of them, the short young man with a backward baseball cap on his head and an oversized jacket, said “I thought you were going to chicken out.”

My friends and I exchanged glances.

“Nope, not us,” Antoine said. “We're not afraid of anything.”

“Good,” the second teen said. He wore a t-shirt and jeans that were designed with really wide legs like you might have seen twenty years ago. He finished the look off with gelled hair and a seashell necklace. “You’ll get to prove it. Old Man Akers shot the last kids who snuck onto his property.”

Their names were Rudy and Jake, respectively. NPCs, Plot Armor: 3. They might have been fourteen or fifteen.

“Well come on,” Rudy said, turning his cap around. “Let’s go.”

They turned to leave.

“Is this a kid’s story?” Camden asked.

I wasn’t sure. “Maybe.”

“If it’s for kids, that means it’s less scary, right?” Kimberly asked.

You would think that wouldn’t you?

As we followed them, the plot cycle switched from omen to choice to party. We were officially in the storyline.

Looking at my friends, I noticed that nothing appeared on the red wallpaper to tell me what their roles in the story would be. I didn’t know if that was because we didn’t have specific roles, or because of the fact that this was an anthology.

The pasture was bordered on both sides by forest. The sun was setting and it would be nighttime soon. It was setting fast enough that I was pretty sure it would be dark by the time we got to where we were going. We were Off-Screen as we walked with occasional exceptions.

By the time we saw the truck, the sun was already gone from the sky.

“Shh,” Rudy said, “He could be anywhere near here.”

There were hay bales placed sporadically around the pasture. The bales were large and appeared to circle around the location where the truck was.

We could see an orange glow coming from the other side of the truck. There was a campfire.

Jake and Rudy hid behind one of the larger hay bales and waved us over to come hide with them.

On-Screen.

Jake turned to us and said, “I dare you to sneak around to the other side of the truck.”

I wasn't sure who he was talking to. The others must not have been either because they didn't respond.

After a moment, he added, “I thought you guys were so brave.”

“Why don’t you do it if you’re not afraid,” Antoine said. “You just want us to do it because you don’t have the nerve.”

Rudy started to laugh. “He’s right. You do it.”

Jake looked flustered, maybe a little scared. “Then you come with me!” He said to Rudy.

“Fine,” Rudy said, “Let’s go.”

The two of them departed from behind the hay bale and slowly crept toward the truck. With every step, they got slower and less sure of themselves. As they got to the truck, they didn't quite know what to do next, so they waited for a bit before taking one last look back at us and sneaking around the other side.

Off-Screen.

Then we waited.

And waited.

“I think they’re dead,” Kimberly said.

“Better them than us,” joked Antoine.

We waited some more.

“It's possible we're going to have to go over there to make this thing go forward,” I said.

“You do it,” Antoine said.

“You have higher Grit than me. What are you afraid of?”

Antoine started to respond but then stopped when Anna started to speak.

“You two are as bad as they are,” Anna said. “We should all go over there.”

On-Screen.

I guess it was decided. We all stood up and slowly made our way to the truck. One by one we peeked our heads around and slid to the other side.

Rudy and Jake were sitting on logs around the campfire roasting hotdogs on the end of sticks. As we approached, they started to laugh.

“Want some?” Rudy asked. “He has a bunch.”

“What are you doing?” Anna asked. “Don’t eat his food.”

“Well, he’s not eating it. Don’t want it to go bad,” Jake said.

Dumb little kids in movies are worse than the creepy little kids in movies. That's my official opinion.

“What are you doing on my property?” a voice asked from behind us.

Great.

There were several audible gasps as we all turned around to see an old man with a cowboy hat and long graying hair. He wore work clothes and boots. Folded over his left arm, was a double-barrel shotgun. He walked slowly, his years informing his every movement.

All I could see from him on the red wallpaper was his name. Weird.

“Stealing my food?”

“We were just borrowing it,” Jake said. “We’ll pay you back. Please don’t hurt us.”

Old Man Akers didn't seem as angry as I might have expected. Instead, he looked worried.

“You kids shouldn't be out here. Don't you know about this place?” He asked. “Don't you know that this property is haunted by all manner of foul things?”

“We just wanted to see,” Rudy said.

Akers simply took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Well go ahead and sit down. There's no use running away now. You'd never make it out. Best stay here around the fire.”

We gathered around and found logs to sit on. Old Man Akers pulled a chair out of the back of his truck and sat down next to a blue cooler, presumably the one that held the hot dogs.

“You have no idea what sort of predicament you're in,” he said. “This land is cursed five times over. Maybe six. You'll be lucky to make it out alive.”

Rudy and Jake looked at each other and then at the rest of us.

“You’re just saying that to scare us,” Rudy said.

“I said it because it’s a fact. Haven't you ever heard any stories about this plot of land? If you had, you would never have come here.”

“We just thought they were rumors,” Jake said.

“Yeah well, that's just because whoever told you didn't tell the story right. They left out the important parts. The parts that chill you to the bone and make certain that you will never make the same mistake as the people in the story.

“Well gather around. We might have just enough time for me to tell you how much trouble you're in. I've lived on this land my whole life. I know everything there is to know about the things that go bump in the night around here.”

Here we go. Looks like we got option one: a frame story where someone tells other stories. Might have been too early to say, but I thought we lucked out. Then again, we still didn't know how things worked.

“Well, the first story happened almost a year ago tonight. Out in the woods to the west. Another group of kids, a few years older than you, they decided to come out and see if the rumors were true. It just so happened; they weren't the only ones visiting me that night.”

Suddenly, the campfire was gone. It was replaced by a metal barrel with scraps of wood inside burning along with a few smoldering crumpled balls of newspaper.

We weren't in the pasture anymore.

Anna, Kimberly, and I were huddled around the burn barrel next to a forested path. Antoine, Dina, and Camden weren't there.

We were Off-Screen.

The sensation of instantly being somewhere else was strange and disorienting. It tickled my brain. We looked at each other with strange smiles on our faces.

I looked around us. The others were nowhere to be found. Something else had changed. My Casting Director trope had activated. We finally had roles on the red wallpaper.

“We're student journalists for Carousel University,” I said. “We're out here investigating some disappearances. We think that the police missed something after a couple of hikers and a woman whose car broke down went missing.”

“That explains this,” Anna said, lifting a 90s model instant print camera and a notebook into view.

I dug into my pocket. I also had a camera like that.

Kimberly produced one just like it.

“Anna, you’re the editor. Kimberly and I are just reporters.”

They nodded.

We heard yelling in the distance, not far up the path.

On-Screen.

“Let’s check that out,” Anna said. “Camera’s out.”

Kimberly and I nodded.

The stars in the sky were just bright enough to guide our path. We crept in the direction of the sound. The forest was thick. If we left the path we probably wouldn't find it again.

“It looks like there's a house up there,” Anna said.

We found a tree to hide behind as we peered up toward the house. There was a light up there like the kind that might come from a lantern. People were arguing.

Off-Screen.

“That’s Camden and Antoine,” Kimberly said. “Who’s that lady with them?"

She answered her own question as she got a better look. "Roberta? An NPC?”

I peeked over at them and looked at the red wallpaper.

“They’re lawyers for the city trying to convince Old Man Akers to sell his property so they can build a turnpike,” I said. Antoine and Camden had gotten completely different roles than we had. That explained why they had an NPC with them—someone to tell them what they were doing there because they didn't have me.

“Look, we’re talking about a lot of money here,” Antoine said. “Don’t you want to live the high life, doing whatever you want?”

“I already do!” Akers said. “You don’t understand how much trouble you’re in. These woods do not like outsiders.”

I whispered to Anna and Kimberly, “Carousel’s really got Antoine’s number, doesn’t it?”

I think practicing law was among the things that Antoine wanted to do with his life. Politics was another.

“Hush,” Anna said.

Old Man Akers started yelling again, “I’m telling you, you have to go right now. It isn’t safe to be here!”

“Is that a threat?” Roberta, the NPC, said.

“Lady, the things that walk in these woods do not threaten. You need to march out of here now. The three of you. Either stay together or walk alone. Never just walk with only one other person. You won't know they are among you until it’s too late.”

“This guy’s a joker,” Roberta said in a whisper yell that was clearly meant to be heard by everyone. She looked back at Akers. “If you ever want to get serious, we can make it worth your while. The city doesn’t have to get your consent, you know. They can exercise eminent domain and snatch this place up at the market rate. If you play ball, we can skip all the court costs.”

Akers wasn’t having it. “Get off my property. Now, together. Remember this: the number that entered will always be the number that leaves. Whether all three of you will be among those leaving is another question.”

On-Screen.

“What is he talking about?” Kimberly asked. “Do you think that has something to do with the missing people?”

“Who knows,” I said. “I’ve heard of stranger things.”

“Hmm,” Tony muttered. It was almost like he had just woken up. His clothes were filthy like he’d been wearing them for days. His face was gaunt, his hair was hastily tied back behind his head.

“We need to make a plan. Get closer to the house. And we can’t let those lawyers see us,” Anna said. “Where’s your camera?”

She was looking at Tony.

He held out his hands slowly. They were empty.

“Anyway,” Anna said, “Get documentation.”

At the last moment, she said, “Let’s stick together. No groups of two. No harm at least humoring him, right?”

Off-Screen.

“We need to get a message to Antoine and Camden,” Anna said.

“Wait,” I interjected.

I looked around at the four of us. Our status on the red wallpaper had changed. I could still see all of the usual information, but there was something extra. It was the same for all four of us. It was all bad news. We were all labeled as monsters:

Straggler

Tropes

Undetectable

This creature warps the mind of its victims so that they will not notice that it does not belong, despite all the evidence.

By The Book

This villain can be defeated by properly understanding its lore and following its rules.

Fate Worse Than Death

This creature does not want to kill its victims, though, in the end, they will wish it had. Victims are Written-Off instead of killed.

Non-Combatant

This villain cannot be attacked On-Screen until it attacks the player or is otherwise identified as hostile. Attacking it will not be effective, nor will it change the story. It will cause the player to go Off-Screen for a time.

Which One Do I Shoot?

Players will not be able to differentiate this creature from other players through the mere use of observation, insight tropes, or common sense. However, these, combined with clever plans and an understanding of lore, may suffice.

Marked Exits Only

The players will not be able to escape the setting except by following the rules.

Bloodless

First and Second Blood need not involve injury or death in this storyline.

It’s All Riding on This!

The players will win or lose at the Finale. They cannot be completely defeated until then.

We were in big trouble. These rules meant that any of us could be a monster.

I had counted four of us.

I had the memory of doing it.

Didn't I?

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