Control
Little Brother: Move: "W,A,S,D" Laser gun: "F" Hide: "S" Elder Brother: Move: "ARROW KEYS" Throw / Pick-up Box: "K" Throw Trap: "L" Hide: "Down Arrow Key"
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Two brothers operating a clandestine agency dedicated to investigating the unexplained receive an anonymous call one storm-lashed night. A distorted voice claims a decaying manor, long abandoned on the outskirts of town, is overrun by malevolent forces and demands purification. Skeptical but intrigued, they gather their gear—salt-lined satchels, weathered journals scrawled with arcane symbols, and modified equipment crackling with untested energy—and navigate rain-slicked roads to the estate’s iron-wrought gates. The house looms ahead, its jagged silhouette clawing at thunderclouds, windows flickering with unnatural light. Inside, the air hums with static tension. Walls bleed blackened ooze, floorboards creak with the weight of unseen footsteps, and whispers coil like smoke through frost-licked corridors. Each of the twenty rooms harbors its own nightmare: a nursery where porcelain dolls reassemble themselves with jagged grins, a library where books snap shut on skeletal fingers, a ballroom where ghostly waltzers drag intruders into their ceaseless dance. The brothers decipher riddles etched into rotting wood, dodge pendulum blades swinging from cobwebbed ceilings, and burn away manifestations with ultraviolet lanterns. But the house adapts—doors seal without warning, corridors twist into dead ends, and shadowy figures mirror their every move. Progress is measured in shattered curses and cleansed thresholds, each room demanding a price in focus and nerve. By dawn, bloodied but resolute, they confront the source: a sealed attic pulsing with a century of trapped anguish. One brother distracts the coalescing entity, roaring incantations to keep it corporeal, while the other scours the room for the final anchor—a child’s locket hidden beneath floorboards. As flames consume the relic, the house shrieks, walls collapsing into ash and memory. They emerge breathless, the first sunlight piercing the mist. Another case closed. For now.
