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MidReal Story
The Lost Ones
Scenario:一个现代的恐怖故事，生存冒险加侦探推理，主角是一个普通的上班族，爱好是桌游和电子游戏
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Mason Reid
He is an office worker in a large corporation,dealing with mundane tasks and struggling with the loss of his parents as a child. He is resourceful,determined,and practical. Mason enjoys playing video games and tabletop roles,where he often takes on the role of a leader or hero. When he wakes up in a mysterious room with no memory of how he got there,he must use his wits and past experiences to survive.
Dr. Sophia Harris
She is a psychologist specializing in trauma and survival skills. She is intelligent,compassionate,and approachable. Sophia is often called in to work with survivors of traumatic events,using her expertise to help them rebuild their lives. When Mason wakes up in a strange room,unsure of what is happening,he wishes for Sophia to be there to guide him through the ordeal. Her presence is what he longs for as he navigates his terrifying situation.
Ethan
He is Mason's best friend since childhood,sharing a bond of friendship strengthened by their common interests and past adventures together. He is reliable,supportive,and witty. Ethan works as an electrician and remains involved in Mason's life even as Mason's work becomes more demanding. When Mason sends him a distress signal during their camping trip,Ethan quickly responds,eager to help and support his friend,just as he has throughout their lives.
I am an office worker.
I do a job that is not particularly exciting or rewarding, but it pays the bills.
My life is pretty routine and ordinary.
I don't stand out in a crowd or make any waves.
I am just there.
Existing.
But I do have a couple of hobbies that bring me pleasure.
I enjoy playing video games.
I also play tabletop roles, where I can be the hero of the story.
In both of these, I like to take on the role of leader, guiding my friends through the adventure.
Sometimes I find myself thinking about my parents.
It's hard not to when you're constantly reminded of what you've lost, or in my case, who I've lost.
It's been years now, but it still feels like yesterday, even though the pain has lessened over time.
I wish I could go back and see them again, just to talk to them and ask for their advice or approval.
But that is never going to happen.
Ethan is my best friend.
We have been close since childhood and have remained so even though we have different careers now.
I sit at my desk, mindlessly scrolling through work emails when my phone buzzes.
It's Ethan.
I answer, hoping he's not calling to cancel our plans for tonight.
"Hey, what's up?"
I ask, trying to sound enthusiastic despite my exhaustion from a long day of overtime.
"Man, you won't believe what I just found," he says excitedly.
"I was browsing this vintage shop downtown, and I stumbled upon the coolest board game ever!"
I raise an eyebrow.
"A board game? You're excited about a board game?"
"Yeah, dude! It's like something out of a horror movie. The box art has this creepy Victorian mansion covered in fog. And get this - it's called 'The Haunting.'"
I chuckle.
"That does sound pretty awesome. What's the objective?"
"You have to explore the mansion and uncover its dark secrets before it's too late. There are these cards that give you clues and challenges, but there are also these creepy little figurines that move around on their own."
I laugh again.
"You're such a nerd. But seriously, that does sound fun. When do you want to play it?"
"How about tonight? I'm free after work. We can meet up at my place."
"Sounds good to me," I reply, glancing at the clock on my computer screen.
"It's already 5:30. I'll grab my stuff and head over now."
"Awesome! See you soon!" After hanging up with Ethan, I pack up my laptop and say goodbye to my coworkers as they leave for the day.
As I walk out of the office building, I can't help but feel a strange sense of unease.
It's as if something is watching me from the shadows.
The setting sun casts long shadows across the street, making it seem even more ominous.
I quicken my pace toward the parking garage, eager to get away from the feeling of being watched.
But as I approach my car, I notice something peculiar.
The windows are covered in a thick layer of fog, even though it's not cold outside.
I frown, wondering how that could have happened so quickly.
Shaking off the feeling of unease, I unlock my car and climb inside.
As I start the engine and pull out of the parking garage, I can't help but glance back at the office building one last time.
At a red light, I notice that the fog on my windows hasn't cleared, despite the ventilation running at full blast.
I frown, wondering if there's something wrong with my car's defroster.
But as I wait for the light to turn green, I realize that it's not just the fog on my windows that's strange.
The entire street seems to be covered in a thick layer of mist, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me.
I feel a chill run down my spine as I remember the night my parents died.
It had been a similar night - cold and foggy, with a thick layer of mist covering everything.
I shake off the feeling of unease and focus on driving.
As I approach the next intersection, I notice that the fog seems to be getting thicker.
I can barely see the traffic lights in front of me, and I'm starting to get worried. Suddenly, I hear a loud bang coming from behind me.
I jump in my seat and look back to see what happened, but all I can see is a cloud of fog.
I start to panic, wondering if someone has hit my car.
But as I look around, I realize that there's no one else on the road.
The fog seems to be closing in around me, making it difficult to breathe.
I try to roll down my window, but it won't budge.
Panic starts to set in as I realize that I'm trapped inside my car, surrounded by this strange fog.
I try to call for help, but my phone has no signal.
I'm completely alone, with no way to get out of this situation.
As the fog continues to close in around me, I start to feel like I'm going crazy. The light turns green, but I don't move.
I am frozen in place, staring at the fog that is slowly creeping into my car through the vents.
It is as if something is trying to get inside with me, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is.
Suddenly, I remember the tissue box in the glove compartment and reach for it without taking my eyes off the fog.
My hand brushes against something papery and I pull it out along with the tissue box.
It is an envelope, yellowed with age and its edges worn and corners softened with time.
The handwriting on it is elegant and cursive, but not familiar to me at all.