Rosenblum Hall Deadland

It’s time for the polterheist, ghouls.

On Monday ICly, Isabella will leave the door open to the Administration Building long enough for you to get in and get down to the basement. OOCly, we're not going to cram all this in on one day, especially not with such little prep time! Instead, we will have a section on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday dedicated to 1) getting in, 2) finding the kids, and 3) getting out and aftermath, respectively. We don't intend for these to be incredibly long or drawn out, particularly because you ghosts will still need to be mindful of how much energy you use (though this week you'll find you'll be able to do more!) and how long you're outside of the pool. Think of this like an extended investigation, and proceed like that. Each day will have an Investigation section and a Cooldown, which will serve as a signal that the action for the day is done and let you chatter amongst yourselves.

For Tuesday, we'll start noon EST, but the other days are flexible, based on your schedules! Please comment below to let us know if noon EST will work for you as a start-time on the other days, as well as in general if you'll be available so we have an idea of how many of you we're working with!

In terms of actually getting the kids out, this will be largely up to you! I will provide you with the necessary information as you move forward, but this is generally your show! Please make sure everyone has a chance to help out who wants to, and feel free to be creative!

Death is a drop into a blackness that swallows you. You feel the movement of not air but shadow across your face as you plummet, and there is no bottom. No crash.

If there is another side, you do not reach it.

It is neither the light of heaven or the fires of hell that greets you when you wake. And wake you do, to the buzz and flicker of old fluorescent lights.

You are laid out beside a full-size competitive swimming pool, half-filled with stagnant water. The doors out are blocked off by locked doors covered in caution tape. The locker rooms are long since emptied, paint peeling from the humidity. The only signs of habitation are a few pieces of scattered graffiti.

Welcome to your new home. There's no sunlight, no indication of time passing. Just you and each other and your thoughts. the stagnant water bubbles a little occasionally, but there's nothing in it.

Before long you'll realize that you no longer need to eat or drink. You might notice your hand go through something if you don't focus. You're a ghost now. What's that they say about unfinished business?