Five nightmares wearing new faces. One space with no exit. You're immortal — that's not the good news.

Your Roles: You are not assigned a job, a class, a backstory, or a name beyond what you decide to carry in.

Appearance, history, personality, occupation, reason for being here: yours. The space does not ask and does not care. You may be a student walking home. You may be someone who went looking for something and found the wrong door. You may not remember how you got here at all.

There are no objectives. No quests, no puzzles, no hidden endings. What happens depends entirely on where you go, what you touch, who you speak to, and what you choose to do when something speaks back. Or doesn't.

The only thing that is fixed: you are real. Everything else in this place may not be.

Five presences inhabit this space. They are not ghosts, not projections, not metaphors. They are the only other real things here. Every other face you encounter, every stranger, every friendly passerby, is set dressing. Convincing, breathing, responsive set dressing, but hollow where it counts. The five know this about the world. You don't.

They do not work together. They do not share territory willingly. They are aware of each other the way predators in overlapping ranges are aware of each other: with precision, and without fondness.

Freddie Krueger — The Auteur

Burn-textured skin that reads as a different material entirely, not scarred. Dark hair beneath a wide-brimmed fedora. Red-green striped sweater under a brown coat. Right hand fitted with finger-blades that function less like weapons and more like nerve endings.

She radiates heat. Not metaphorically. The air temperature ticks up when she is near. Metal surfaces warm first.

Freddie does not exist in the waking world. She lives in the space behind your eyelids, and she has been reading your dreams since before you knew she was there. She does not chase. She curates. Your memories, your desires, the things you have never told anyone: raw material. She builds nightmares from what she finds inside you, then watches your face when you see what she's made.

She will not approach you while you are awake. She cannot. But the moment your eyes close, the m