Grey, overcast skies. A touch of autumn rain. The smell of crisp apples and fallen leaves, and the crunch of grass underfoot. Pumpkins growing along the path and out of the walls of the buildings and on the rooves and wait what—

You’re not sure how you got here, but does it really matter? There’s something more urgent happening. As you stare at the pumpkin growing out of the wall by your head, something small and coin-shaped bonks you right on the noggin. As you look up, you’ll realise that the rain is gradually becoming less and less wet, and more and more… candy.

It’s raining candy. Wrapped candy, mind — the sky doesn’t want any food safety issues! No razor blades in the chocolate this year! — but candy nonetheless. Chocolate coins, taffy, sour candies, you name it, all coming down gradually before an absolute deluge of goodies pour down upon Aldric’s Grove. Some of them include wrapped bags of microwave popcorn and, yes, the occasional toothbrush. If you’re lucky, you might get clocked in the head with a mini pumpkin!

…don’t be lucky. Maybe get inside and wait for the trick-or-treat storm to pass, and make some friends while you’re at it. Surely the people who’ve been here for a bit can explain this one? Surely…?

At midnight the day after the candy storm ends, a distant rattlin’ sound can be heard. From the forest surrounding the Grove comes the clickety-clack of dry bones as what appears to be a small army of skeletons assembles. At the head of the phalanx is none other than everyone’s favourite friendly skeletal spirit, Mr. Bone-Jangles. If anyone happens to be up at this late hour, he’ll wave hello and greet you… by plucking one of those pumpkins off the wall or out of the ground, breaking it open by ramming his skull into it, and handing you one half.

It’s full of candy, just like the skies were. Has anyone cleaned up the candy sitting on the ground from last night’s storm…? This is too much! Just as someone tries to tell him that there’s too much sugar here, he breaks open a second pumpkin, which contains fully-baked pumpkin pie that uses the shell of the pumpkin as the crust. Sigh.

This will be your entire month. Mr. Bone-Jangles will hand you sugar-filled pumpkins if he thinks you’re getting too sad or uncomfortable at any point, and his skeletal entourage follow behind him, loudly playing off-key music like the worst marching band you’ve ever heard. You’re not entirely sure how skeletons can play the trumpet — they don’t have lungs! — but it doesn’t really matter. It’s happening. You must deal with it. He’s not taking “no” for an answer.

Cheer up! Stop being depressed! Try Not Thinking About It™!

Not everything can go smoothly, though. Not that one would call Mr. Bone-Jangles and his marching band of goobers smooth, but at least they aren’t an active threat to you. The same night he appears, so do others. Your “Other” — a doppelganger who looks just like you, thinks like you, acts like you, has powers like you do (or don’t). They know you. They want to be you.

The Others don’t make their appearance too obvious. They hide in the shadows, waiting for the opportune time to strike. Some might even wait until you’re talking to someone else to appear and cry out that’s not me! I’m right here! in an attempt to frame you. In almost every way, they’re the perfect “you” — especially should they get the drop on you and slash your throat, or gut you like a cod, or push you into the well where you’ll fall for an eternity before drowning all alone. Your Other will replace you seamlessly and, perhaps, they might turn their attention to your friends and loved ones next.

Yet, there’s always something “off” about them, no matter how perfect a replica. Perhaps your Other is more temperamental. Perhaps they don’t speak as well, or they speak far more intelligently than you ever did, or they’ve forgotten basic facts about their life. Perhaps your Other forgot that their dear friend’s birthday is coming up here soon. Or perhaps…

…the knife they brandish in broad daylight is a dead giveaway?

If you don’t kill your Other first, they will certainly kill you. The Others aren’t too concerned about any corpses hanging out in broad daylight, easily discovered by the masses where they can try to investigate if it’s “you” or “them”. Their job is to kill you; the method and clean-up really don’t matter, and since they’re the only ones left, they can claim easily that you were the doppelganger all along.

Where does your spirit go when you die to an Other? Deep within the forest lies a mansion made of creaky old wood and worn-down stone, one which no one outside can currently get into. The spirits of those who died are trapped here, left to haunt these halls. It is, ostensibly, a normal-if-decrepit home inside. There are living rooms, there’s a foyer, there are plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms, there’s a humungous kitchen — and as you float through the home, sometimes, a sense of mischief overtakes you. You really want to throw that table at someone. You really want to jump out at someone and frighten the daylights out of them. It’s dark in here, and there are plenty of places to hide.

Sadly for your prankster’s heart, the living — no matter how hard they try, and you sure can hear them trying — have been unable to break in, and they won’t be able to. Yet, standing just outside the iron-wrought fence, a stalwart figure of chaos and bad ideas, holding a greatsword with both skeletal hands… stands Mr. Bone-Jangles.

It seems like a way inside might unveil itself after all.