Madness Manors

We developed the game with the aid of the I-Ching. 

When I drew Hexagram 29 during the final stage of completion, I didn't take it seriously. Just another thing we did to make our work fun, like dressing up in medieval costumes and having play sword fights. I mean, we made Eldritch Dungeon last year with a freaking Ouija board. 

Little did I know that my 'flooding ravine' prediction was about to come true.

Madness Manors was a console game set in an old Gothic house. You play a cute little chick who runs around in a pinafore chasing after ghosts, Ghostbusters style, except you trap them with a futuristic camera. Along the way you've got to help a bounty hunter kill a space vampire, there's a head in a glass box, whose body body is outside killing people, you marry a wolf man cursed by a gypsy with a missing hand, help little hairy alien monsters get on Shark Tank...Let's just say there's a lot going on.

The renderings looked so realistic you'd swear we'd taken photographs: Drawing room with antique furniture and immense fireplace, gold framed picture of blonde witch Magda Chandler in her ball gown, blue eyes that followed you around the room, a séance room, bedrooms with detailed tapestries and overstuffed quilt adorned four posters...old candelabras, of course, could be found everywhere.

Anyway, it was midnight when I got done coding the finishing touches. In the morning there would be final beta tests, and someone would take over packaging and distribution, but at present, no one but me in this dark, candle lit computer room, surrounded by suitably spooky decorations, and, of course, the I-Ching. I was even dressed for the occasion, old timey suit just like the one my space vamp wears, sans greatcoat because it was too warm.

About two in the morning, I felt an icy chill run down my back. A cold breeze whipped through the room, puffing out the candles and scattering my I-Ching sticks all over the floor (Hexagram 29 again on top). Funny thing is, the room had zero ventilation. One time our art guy, Joe Tobias, burned a bag of popcorn in the microwave and the smell wouldn't leave for a week, even with a fan and the door propped open.

The second item that made me want to shit myself: My computer had apparently died, but the power light kept flickering in a Morse code pattern identical to the ghost lights I had programmed into the game.

I didn't need a decoder card to translate: Welcome to hell.

And then, on the darkened screen, I saw Magda in the velvet curtained séance room, giving me a nasty look as she uttered incantations over a Voodoo doll that looked like me.

I noticed now, in the dim light radiating from the monitor, that the fallen I-Ching sticks were moving, circling my chair, plowing through Doritos crumbs, bumping aside a discarded pizza box. The sticks rose into the air, increasing speed, whirling around me. I saw the faces of my digital ghosts.

I knew we shouldn't have played with that Ouija board on our last game.

At some point, my heart stopped, and I felt myself drifting, out of my body, an otherworldly force sucking me, vacuum cleaner-like into the screen. The woman let out a mad barking laugh, and I heard the sounds of that creepy music box that always plays in the background of the game's ghost battles.

I can guess what you're thinking, but I did not wake up on my computer lab's dirty soda stained carpet. Instead, I found myself laid out on the lawn of a sprawling new England Victorian...and I had breasts. 

I touched them to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Soft. Springy. Definitely not Joe Tobias's man boobs.

I looked down and pieces started fitting together. I wore a pinafore. The mansion. And in the distance: The Old House, the nearby treeline probably leading to the oceanside cliff where Angelica Chandler took her swan dive to the rocks below. Joe really enjoyed rendering that scene where she got her eyes picked out by seagulls.

"Oh my God," I groaned. "I'm Vickie Summers."

I covered my mouth in horror. Even my voice had changed, gaining that annoying chipmunk sound provided by our so-called 'actress' Roberta Wilson, soon to be Roberta Tobias. "Guess that's what I get for cutting back on the energy drinks."

I knew I hadn't fallen asleep, though, because I was cold and wet. Could it be a sunny day? Oh no. In true Gothic style, it always had to be monsoon season outside, lightning crashing every minute, tree branches so violent they should have broken all the dormer and casement windows, but I'd programmed it so even a bomb couldn't get you inside unless you solved all the puzzles.

My predicament would be a (no pun intended) wet dream for some people, but as a developer, you only see coding mistakes, parts that don't work because you rushed to meet a deadline. I guess I should have been thankful I didn't land in a game where things are trying to kill you every second, and I knew how to solve all the puzzles.

Well, I thought I did.

Step one: March past angel fountain on circle drive and steal package containing parts for Julia Whitaker's Spirit Camera, and associated uncanceled stamps.

A shipping container did lay on the white front steps past the inoperative fountain, as expected. The big solid oak doors were shut, but I saw nobody peering through the mullioned windows, so the coast was clear.

I never really thought about where Vickie put the things she picked up, but it turned out I had a large purse. The package would fit, not so sure about the shovel I'd have to use later to dig up Mephibosheth's vacant coffin. The interior of the purse did not extend to infinity like a cartoon, I hit a liner at the fifteen inch mark.

Feeling confident that I had it all figured out, I got a little cocky, using Roberta's voice to say all kinds of dirty things. "Oh Joe! Your huge fat belly is like a firm warm water bed! I just want to bounce on it while..." I had to stop myself because my new female body actually got turned on by all that. "Homie, you need to spend less time in front of the computer."

Step two: Fish front door key out of planter next to door. I knelt down, examined the dirt, but came up with nothing. Even when I dug around with my fingers and turned the pot upside down, I only uncovered a root system and bugs. I dumped out the matching one in the opposite side. Still nothing.

And then reality took another rotisserie-like spin as those massive doors with the decorative square panels swung open unexpectedly.

A bony, bird faced woman with hornrimmed glasses and a tight old style nurse's outfit marched out, jangling a set of keys. "Looking for this?"

I shivered. The damn video game appeared to be reading my mind. "My...German Shepherd got loose, and he knocked over your plants. I'm really sorry, Ms. Whitaker."

Her eyes narrowed. "Did he also stick my mail in your purse?" And then a hard predatory look appeared on her face. "How do you know my name." 

"It's - I saw it on the package." 

I tried to stand up, but the second I made the attempt, she stabbed me with a needle, and everything got all swimmy, my arms and legs refusing to function.

My hazy vision registered the Chandlers' extravagant front foyer, spiral staircase, stained glass windows on the second floor landing. Whitaker muttered something to a greatcoat wearing figure, then moved a gargoyle, opening a hidden door beneath the stairs.

I got dragged past the furnace, circuit breakers, the regulator for the secret nuclear power plant. Then she threw me into a shadowy brick dungeon.

"It's too bad you're a girl!" she said with a laugh. "We would have had some real fun!"

With that, she slammed the steel door, locking me in the dark with rats and a human skeleton.

Not supposed to happen. Not how I programmed it.

There was a loose brick ten feet from the door which could have potentially popped the lock, but I needed my hairy boyfriend to hold the brick down while I made my escape. In other words, I was screwed.

Tobias, Roberta, Steve, Mr. Nishikado, whoever's at the computer right now, please don't touch the power.

Do not restart it. Leave everything the way you saw it.

I'm still in here. I'm going to get out...somehow.

Please, by everything that is holy, do not touch the power.