Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Lakefront

A tranquil moonlit night by the lakeshore can be quite relaxing. Even here, after all, those bodies floating in the water aren't noisy.  They need not disturb your thoughts. Save that energy for the sociopaths and psychopaths who will lunge at you in this setting.

A dock traverses the lake edge, seemingly spanning the disquietingly unseen depths. In reality, the water itself is never more than four inches deep and this reservoir is lined with matte black sealant. And just as the water is not actually deep, the set is not actually that wide: a forced perspective view across the lake can be enhanced by a localized ground fog unit that obscures the artificial horizon.

The Blueprint presentation here is just an affectation of mine, hearkening back to the Age of Ammonia Papercuts. Oh, you kids today with your sterile AutoCADs, the blueprint of old smelled of life! And burning mucous membranes! It was a heartier, beardier time, back then, where the flinty-eyed souls behind the counter would take your sets of vellum with hands so callused they could carve granite with their fingerprints, pair it with innocent plain sheets of potential, and offer it in supplication into the glowing, retina-chewing slot of The Beast. Those sheets would never be pure again, but branded with Strange Magicks and the soul of your drafting. Did I mention the long-term effects of chemical exposure? Something involving delusions.

Scare Opportunities come from the door to the cabin, its window, or from around the rack of boats.  Either a Counselor or the Lurker can make use of these entry points to pounce upon guests.

A mechanical arm semisubmerged in the water can be triggered to violently reach out of the water, especially if a guest leans closer to inspect it from the dock.

An industrial lamp mounted by the cabin can be rigged to add another jump-scare, or rather, the opportunity to set one up. As a guest passes beneath the lamp lighting the dock entry, a switch triggered by an unseen ScareActor (ready to launch an attack from the adjacent cabin door or window) would activate a three-part program that would kill the illumination, pop a single burst of a strobe, and play the tlink of a shattering lightbulb, all within the metal lampshade. A reflexive halt will freeze the visitor in place and a full second can pass before a ScareActor attacks to break the sudden tension. Ideally, an electronic flint would accompany the popping sound with a burst of sparks, but the Fire Department who can either approve or shut down your venue? Never happy with open flame. Stick with the strobe, noise, and autosuggestion.

Tomorrow: The Mess Hall

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