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The town's hats are coming to life and causing havoc.

You are the only judge left on an island that has forgotten what the law was for.

In a vast, subterranean necropolis, echoes haunt your every move, speaking in whispered gibberish.

Forty-one ships woke up on schedule. Yours woke up eleven years early.

You hear whispers from the nebula's tendrils, pulsating with unknown energy.

A house plagued by a giant, spectral stiltwalker.

A throne made of giant mushrooms speaks to you in a guttural voice.

As the comet whisperes overhead, the ice creaks and groans threateningly.

The bar is eerily still, despite the jukebox playing a lively tune.

You're trapped in the attic of a house that isn't yours.

In the quaint town of Clockford, jellyсмотрите is turning locals to stone.

You can't find the source of a rhythmical tapping sound in this office.