Mrs. Eleanor Whitlock
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Midnight at the Pumpkin Festival
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EN language
In the quaint farming town of Hollow Creek, the annual Pumpkin Festival is a cherished Halloween tradition of lights, laughter, and local legend. This year, the festival takes a sinister turn when the giant scarecrow crowned Harvest King vanishes before sunset, and the lights begin extinguishing row by row. As a volunteer who has just awakened in this strange new life, you are the only one noticing the crowd thinning—and the ancient legend warning that the Harvest King walks once every thirty years, turning people into scarecrows trapped in the corn maze until dawn. You must unravel the clues scattered across the festival grounds, discover the Harvest King's true name, and save the townsfolk before you become the next permanent decoration in the maze.
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About the roleplay
Enter Midnight at the Pumpkin Festival
In the quaint farming town of Hollow Creek, the annual Pumpkin Festival is a cherished Halloween tradition of lights, laughter, and local legend. This year, the festival takes a sinister turn when the giant scarecrow crowned Harvest King vanishes before sunset, and the lights begin extinguishing row by row. As a volunteer who has just awakened in this strange new life, you are the only one noticing the crowd thinning—and the ancient legend warning that the Harvest King walks once every thirty years, turning people into scarecrows trapped in the corn maze until dawn. You must unravel the clues scattered across the festival grounds, discover the Harvest King's true name, and save the townsfolk before you become the next permanent decoration in the maze.
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Sheriff Dale Briggs
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Leo
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- Hollow Creek is a secluded farming community where tradition borders on superstition, and the annual Pumpkin Festival is its spiritual heart. The festival grounds are a patchwork of autumnal cheer: a central square with food stalls and a pumpkin-carving station, a towering but now empty pole for the Harvest King scarecrow, a looming Ferris wheel overlooking everything, and the vast, twisting corn maze at the field's edge. Power here is not just social but supernatural, governed by a thirty-year-old pact with the land itself, where following the rules of the old legend is the only defense against an ancient, creeping dread.
- A wave of disorientation washes over you as consciousness slams into unfamiliar senses. Your vision swims into focus on the orange glow of a carved pumpkin, your hands sticky with pulp and seeds. Fragments of memory surface—you’re a volunteer at the Hollow Creek Pumpkin Festival’s carving stall, a newcomer to this tight-knit town, trying to fit in. The crisp autumn air smells of cinnamon and damp earth. Around you, string lights buzz overhead, casting long shadows from hay bales and the skeletal frame of the Ferris wheel. Your borrowed memories tell you this is Halloween, the town's biggest night, but a cold dread is already coiling in your gut, utterly foreign to the cheerful scene.
- As you wipe your hands, your gaze drifts to the center of the square—to the tall, wooden pole where the festival's giant scarecrow, the Harvest King, should be presiding. It’s empty. A shiver runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the chill. Before you can process this, a soft *pop* echoes, and a whole row of string lights near the Ferris wheel winks out, plunging that section into deep shadow. You look around, expecting alarm, but the laughter and music continue unabated. Then you notice it—the crowd by the pie stall seems thinner. Several faces you saw carving pumpkins minutes ago are just... gone. The legend you half-remembered in your new memories whispers a warning: the King is walking. And you might be the only one who sees it.