It's Up to You as Nondescript Teen Detective

You step into an old manor. The floors are creaky, the portraits are startlingly lifelike, and your name is not your name. You walk to the parlor where you were told you would meet Old Man Graham. Thomas Graham that is.

He sits in a wingback chair across from the fireplace, and you notice him toying with an old pocket watch. You clear your throat, and he turns to face you, the light from the flames shadowing half of his face.

"Ah, yes, you must be Taylor Talbot. Come have a seat."

You are in fact not Taylor Talbot. But that is precisely who you told him to expect. Becoming Taylor Talbot, custodial staff member, was the simplest way to infiltrate this fortress. And to figure out what exactly is occurring behind the old clapboard walls that act as a veneer outside.

You've arrived quite late. Everyone else besides the esteemed owner will likely be asleep, or at least retired to their rooms. This is by design. Sam told you to do it this way.

"Lucy was reliable, that's for sure." Thomas Graham sighs. "When she told me she was moving to Connecticut for her mother, I knew I'd need a good replacement for her." His eyes pin you down, glassy and bright blue. "Sam recommended you, and I trust Sam." Sam, your 'in' to this operation, is head chef of the manor's kitchen. And your long-term partner---both in crime and life. Crime being done by others, not the two of you, of course.

Graham gives you the rundown---make the beds and take the laundry each morning after each resident leaves their room for the day; serve breakfast in the morning, lunch at noon, dinner no later than five o'clock; clean the common spaces and restrooms as needed. You nod along, pleasant smile held perfectly in place.

He shows you to your bedroom, up the left staircase---which you note creaks on the first, forth, and eighth steps---and down the hall, third door on the left, right next to the oil painting of Maryanne Willingham-Graham, Thomas Graham's late mother. You think her eyes may track you as you pass her, but you're probably just imagining things.

Old Man Graham settles you in for the night, with a bone-chilling warning to, "Stay in your room until morning." He tells you there's no need to wander around the manor and accidentally frighten any of the residents who believe in the "haunting mumbo jumbo."

The printed checklist from Thomas Graham and debrief from Sam shows you the current folks residing in the manor. There's Franklin, the groundskeeper, bedroom right off the basement; Sam, of course, the head chef, bedroom right across the hall from yours, how interesting; Graham, the owner, third floor master bedchamber; and Landry, Graham's granddaughter, renovated attic bedroom.

Lucas and Darla, Landry's parents, would ordinarily be in the estate as well, you read in the dossier Sam gave you for this mission, but they are away, on the Italian Coast.

Many other people go in and out all day. You and the four others on the list, though, are the only ones permitted overnight.

You know better from all the cases before this one not to leave your room tonight. It's far too obvious a choice. So, you simply poke around your own sleeping quarter's.

An antique clock with a heavy swinging pendulum knocks loudly in your ears. It sounds and looks faster than one click every second. Perhaps not, though.

You thought the room would be scant, but you're delighted it's actually filled to the brim with furniture, knickknacks, and bric-a-brac alike. That must explain the vintage quality to the air, evident in the scent you breathe in through your nose.

Upon opening your wardrobe, prepared to begrudgingly put away your clothes, you instead see a painting on the back panel of wood. An identical portrait to the one just outside of your room. And now that you're thinking about it, the large cedar wardrobe is pretty well in line with that painting on the other side. While the wall with your door and the hall painting is east-facing, the wardrobe wall faces north. The two paintings nearly meet right at the corner of your room.

You let your fingers inch through the chilled air toward the back of the wardrobe, as hesitant as you are eager. So soon? you think. It, like the wandering through the halls after being forbade, feels too obvious. Too on the nose. You pull your hand back.

Then you plunge it forward again without another thought. You pull at the ornate edge of the gilded frame, one sharp tug, then another. On the fourth, it comes careening open. Inside is a slim space, in between walls. You have one last glance at your room behind you before hoisting yourself through makeshift doorway of the passage. Immediately on your right, precisely where you thought the hall portrait to be, is a small handle. You pull back on it to reveal two eye-shaped holes. You imagine they line up perfectly with the eyes of one Maryanne Willingham-Graham.

You've never believed in ghosts, but you aren't totally hard-headed. You're willing to understand that someone might think a ghost or ghosts are about a place, especially one as old and gothic as this one. The mission here was to find out if ghosts really are plaguing the manor (not likely, you think) or, if not, what else could be afoot!

These disturbing eye holes give immediate credibility to there being a deeper mystery here. But who would do this and why? Who has access? How long has the peephole been here and why was it originally created? Is there an intentional choice for it to be on Maryanne's portrait? Is she always watching? Even from beyond the grave?

You shake yourself from the thought-spiral you start sliding down, attempting to shrug off the goosebumps coating your arms. You pull the handle to put the peephole cover back in place. Steadying yourself, you turn to continue down the small passageway, but you're stopped in an instant.

A thin door fills out the hall from wall to wall, bronze doorknob weathered from touch. You grab it, instinct seeming to leave you when you need it most.

As soon as the door opens, before you can catch even a glimpse of what might be on the other side, a large, rounded stone catapults right at your head, catching you in the temple as you flinch.

You fall to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. You think you might be dying. You reach a hand out, but all you feel is the dust of the ground beneath you. Your vision begins to fade.

But no! It's too soon! You haven't uncovered the bulk of the mystery yet!

Your only hope is that this is only a game, and there's a second chance prompt waiting for you on the main menu. Better luck on your next try.

You choose it and reappear right in front of the door.

This time when you open it, you duck.