Straight Dope Horror Movie Game

Game Premise: Several Dopers find themselves in the confines of a horror movie. Sort of a story-based game with rules.


  1. You may write yourself into/ back into the movie at any time you like
  2. You can only interact with Dopers who are present(do not write in any doper but yourself), and any non-doper/animal/monster/mineral you wish to write in.
  3. You can kill off any doper who writes themself into the thread the thread
  4. Speak of yourself in the 3rd person (too many I’s would be confusing)

This thread might provide tips on how to survive the game but make it boring :smiley:

Elfkin477 reaches for her flashlight. There it was again, an unearthly howl off in the distance. The dog’s hackles raise, and though she wouldn’t mind it’s backup, she sends it back to the house to be with the kids. Taking a deep breath she steps into the fog…

**Tristan wandered into the graveyard… it was late, the moon was already down, and a thin fog covered the ground.

He moved forward, towards the grave, a small bottle in one hand and a knife glittering in the other.

Kat knocked on the door of the fog-surrounded house. She heard a low growl behind her and turned to see a shivering dog.

js_africanus, in the depths of a raging ether bender, stumbles on elfkin477 lying on the ground with a broken stiletto heel, screaming like a school girl. He turns to see a figure approaching in the fog…

The approaching figure resembled robertliguori superficially. Same build, same height, same face. But when js/ looked at him, something deep within him noticed the changes. Some hindbrain relic from before consciousness evolved intercepted what may or may not have been robertliguori, knew the primal wrongness that lay beneath and tried to warn him off.
js/ hesitated. robertliguori smiled. The sight of the smile increased the crawling sensation of utter wrongess a hundredfold. Then robertliguoui toppled backwards, dead.

Derleth, dressed in a long black coat, glides out of the mist. He takes a look around and he begins to tense and release his grip on his matte black knife, ground to a razor sharpness capable of neatly slicing tough, rubbery tissue. The chill does not bother him: He has been out on these graveyard excursions for years, watching and waiting for the stars to be right once again.

He feels the inhuman presence. He feels the Old Ones.

A moon like a baleful clotted eye rises quickly, illuminating the mist with a red glow. Soon, the half-formed inbred Spawn, mindless idiot-demons powerful in their terrible numbers and their allegiance with the Powers Beyond Time, will be sweeping down on the peaceful fishing villiage.

He will be ready.

Kat scratches the dog behind his ears. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” The door that she had knocked on suddenly opens with a dramatic screeching-hinges noise.

“Who’s there?”

BraheSilver shivers and hugs his jacket tigher around himself as the fog closes in. He’s been waiting for over half an hour for his friends, but so far they haven’t shown up yet.

Why do I let myself get talked into these things? he wonders to himself. It had seemed so simple back at the bar. One of them would bring a camera, another a shovel, and they’d all head down to the mortuary to see where youthful frivolity and several bottles of strong liquor would lead them. Now it was cold and damp, and the cheerful whiskey-flavored haze that had been his companion for this long was starting to wear off.

Screw it, he thinks. Let them find me. As he climbs the wall into the cemetery, he notices the unusual amount of traffic wandering amongst the graves this night.

Popular place, Brahe thinks, seizing the shovel and dropping from the wall into the graveyard. They certainly won’t mind one more.

js_africanus stares in stunned silence at the corpse of the alleged robertliguori while elfkin477 breaks off the other heel with her hand. “Balance,” she says.

…Meanwhile, completely unprovoked, the dog, an Ibezan hound, bites Kat in the ass. She looks into its eyes…the eyes of a long dead pharoh?! “I thought that curse only affected my family during leisure pursuits!”

Mesmerized by the hound, Kat keeps staring in its eyes while js_africanus and elfkin477 tend to her sorely bitten ass. In the background, three dark figures are observing the scene with interest. BraheSilver, the mighty shoveler, and Derleth and Tristan, renowned for their knife-wielding skills are ready to enter the fray, but for now keep their distance. Wary and wily beyond their years, they conserve their strength for battling the horrors that undoubtedly are in the not-too distant future.

With a barely noticable nod elfkin477 expresses her gratitude at the presence of these trusted fellows on this unholy quest. They are ready. Ready for whatever may come.

At least that is what they think. Little do they realize the magnitude of the trials that await them. The hound is only the smallest of messengers of the Great One that is lurking around the graveyard, whose presence is almost tangible, whose spirit our intrepid explorers inhale with every foggy breath they take.

Having provisionally restored the integrity of Kat’s posterior, the members of our party are going on their way. The hound has become docile again when patted by elfkin477 and meekly follows them around. Is the animal contrite for its burst of wildness, or is it secretly trying to lure the humans in a false sense of security? They don’t know and don’t think about it. Their thoughts are exclusively on Kat. She is in trance and nothing they do can gets her out of it. Then she begins to speak.

Strange words, belonging to a far and best-forgotten era of mankind leave her lips. “Urma dooleth, urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh.” (Derleth jumps at the sound of this, but hides his reaction well). None of the others understand the words. Still they are chilled to the bone by the undeniable evil of these words. Kat begins to walk slowly but surely. The others follow her, the lights of their flashlights criss-crossing over the muddy ground like the legs of a ghostly spider.

Finally they arrive at a man-high tomb covered with inscriptions. Who dares to approach first?

Meanwhile no-one notices TTT lying behind a nearby tombstone. He seems be struggling with… what is that? A giant thread is choking him. If anyone would listen closely he might hear him sputter “Can’t… catch… break”.

Gaijin walks past the graveyard, having just purchased myriad miscellaneous objects from a local Wal-Mart, including food stuffs, flash lights, rope, firearms of varying power, and an English translation of the Necronomicon. Obviously, he leads a very boring life. But then he stops- his ears prick up, and ever so slowly, Gaijin pivots on his heels and faces the graveyard. His eyes widen in bewilderment as he gazes upon the party of trespassers gathered around a strange tomb. Fear and adrenaline begin to pump through him when he notices the zombie-stomp of Kat, and utter horror is poured upon him when he hears the ungodly words she is chanting. Finally, understanding dawns upon him when he identifies Derleth- he has seen him practicing his arcane rituals among the dead here before. I can stop all of this, he tells himself. He starts to rifle through his bag of goodies, intending to ready one of his many weapons.

But then, he knows.

He drops the bag. It’s contents spill out upon the ground, but Gaijin does not attempt to gather them up. He knows. It’s all too perfect. He knows - he is in a horror movie.

And then, following this logic to the end, he is attacked by greater feelings of horror then one would be filled with when contemplating the mindless depths of the infinite darkness of space that surround the Crawling Chaos. For he remembers- he remembers the time he rented the Necronomicon VHS- the movie advertised as “H.P. Lovecraft’s Necronomicon,” but which, it turned out, had nothing at all to do with H.P. Lovecraft or his wonderful works. He remembers, worst of all, the story within a story that was set some 80 years ahead of when the main plot was taking place, which should not have been possible within the confines of the story line of the main plot.

He knows.

If this horror movie is associated with H.P. Lovecraft - and by the poor souls about to enter that god-forsaken tomb, Gaijin safely assumes it is - he is in what is probably going to turn out to be one of the crappiest horror films of all time. Ever.

Shaking now, rabid and nonsensical with the instinctual fear only possessed by that still feral part of him, he ties a noose, tosses it over a tree limb, places the loop around his neck, and jumps.


But the Old Ones, wherever they are, laugh. This is exactly what they wanted. For the poor mortal, who’s lifeless body now swings in the wind, never stopped to think that perhaps that VHS was one of the most potent tools they possessed - who’s very crappiness alone could cause the only men with knowledge enough to stop the Old Ones to take their own lives instead.

And the party within the graveyard step still closer to the tomb.

“Urma dooleth, Urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh.”

“Urma dooleth, urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh.” The words reverberate, as if they echo off nothing.

“Is the moon a strange color to you tonight?” aks elfkin477.

“Indeed. Sort of a purplish-yellow…if you can believe that,” says BraheSilver.

Derleth looks around in shock. “The shadows!” he wispers, “They’re going the wrong way…or are they?”

With an open bottle in one hand and a hankerchief to his nose, js_africanus says, “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quite huffing ether.”

“Urma dooleth, urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh. Urma dooleth, urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh! Urma dooleth, urma dooleth horoban. Amareh, amareh!!

Blackeyes, on a nightly walk, after deciding to go exploring through the scary woods, after he crossed the bridge made of the bones of 200 Chinese laborers over Blood Death Creek, came by the foggy graveyard where he saw many people walking around, some dazed.

“Meh. Seems like the thing to do.” He said as he climbed over the fence. He wanted to follow the crowd.

** Elfkin477** nudges robertliguori’s still form with her toe. " For God’s sake, I didn’t even hit him with my heel, why is he dead?" She asks the rest of the people in the graveyard. Most of them shrug.

Gaijin sorts through supplies and wishes that he’d remembed to buy a shovel. " So…any idea what to do with the body? Graveyard or no, it’d be hard to bury him without a shovel.

The sound of a branch snapping echoes in the nearby woods. Everyone freezes.

Grelby cursed under his breath as the branch broke under his foot. He didn’t need them to see him, not now!

He had been drawn here by the distant sound of chanting. Something dark had been walking the night of late, and hehad to know what it was - and if it could be stopped. But he wouldn’t be able to do much if the… people he was investigating spotted him.

The night was cold and windy, and Grelby had his long gray coat pulled tightly around him to keep out the gusts. He shivered a bit as the strange company continued to scan the woods, searching for some imagined beast. After what seemed like an eternity, they looked away, back at the tomb. Grelby breathed a silent sigh of relief as he tightened his wool cap over his head.
He reassured himself of the presence of his trusty .38 and fighting knife, under his coat, and started once more to creep forward - and then he saw why the others had turned back to the tomb…

Slowly and rhythmically, strange noises started coming from the tomb. First, a faint thud as though miles away into the depth of who knows what. But slowly, the noise became louder.




They could only stand there, staring at the opening, griped by fear. Tristan gripped his knife tightly and prepared for the worste. Kats chanting lowerd to a slight murmer, and then ceased all together. She seemed to come out of her trance, paused for a moment in confussion, and then heard the sound.



Slowly, she turned around and looked to the others to get an answer, but all she saw was horror. Panic welled up inside her, but her throat closed up. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the strength.




Something came lunging out of the darkness of the tomb and slammed into the metal door. The door clanged. Kat screamed. BraheSilver wet himself. The troup looked towards the slumped figure barely standing in the door.

Elvis looked at the crowd assembled in front of him and wondered why they were all looking at him like that. A quick glance at himself clued him into his terrible state. His leather jacket was torn. His guitar had two broken strings. And he was covered in blood.

Slowly, he turned his head up to face them. With a twisted grin (hidding something?) he assurred them:

“Don’t worry…it’s not my blood.”

“Well, that’s even worse. Who’d you kill this time?” Kat asked. Everyone turned to look at her. “What? Why are you all looking at me?”

In the forest, Grelby’s heart beat a catchy, staccato rhythm inside his chest. “Ba-dump-WUMP” it went. “Ba-dump-a-wump-wump-ba-bump.”

“My God,” he whispered to himself as a cold sweat broke out on his chest. He drew his Trusty .38[sup]TM[/sup] as he spoke, unwilling to believe his own eyes. It took all of his willpower to not shake like a leaf or start swaying his hips to the catchy beat. “My God,” he said again, “It’s the KING!

“I see you found my dog,” said El Elvis Rojo as he began to move forward after a rather uncomfortable silence.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Derleth accusingly, tightening his grip on the knife concealed in his coat.

“Just keeping up with my namesake,” replied Elvis with a jovial smirk. He turned his attention to the dog. “Now then, where were we?” he asked casually, and then raised his guitar above his head. Before the puppy lover in everyone could jump forward to stop him though, a whiplike tentacle covered in moving shadow whipped out from the tomb and grabbed him by the leg. Forcefully, it began to drag him into it’s depths.


In an instant, Tristan lunged forward and began to cut at the thing with his knife as the others struggled to get ahold of their fellow wanderer. All but Derleth, who held back and calmly loosed his grip on the knife.
On the hill, Grelby jumped at the sudden burst of excitement, but was immediately attacked by an assailant hidding behind a tree. Two shots fired into the belly of his assailant, but the forceless moan, rubbery feel of the its flesh, and hungry maw cuedhim in that he was in a bit more trouble than he’d like to be in this early in the evening.

In the distance, BraheSilver watched on as three more “friends” slowly paced towards Grelby and his attacker. He looked down at the shovel in his hands and cursed his poor choice in preparation.

“Oh, Hell.” Kat grabbed the shovel out of BraheSilver’s loose grip and started whacking the tentacle-thing with it. She only got the chance to whack it twice before the dog ran over and bit her on the ankle. “Ouch.” She dropped the shovel and fell to the ground.

robertliguori’s body stood up at this point and wandered off without anyone noticing.