Band together with Jamie, Roxy, and Elias to seek out the truth behind the forbidden hallway.

Slip away on your own, determined to unravel the secret passage without risking anyone else.

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The Flickering Main Hall

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Rumors in the Flickering Hallway

Coordinate as a team, blending each person’s skills to break the curse together.

The Forbidden Hallway Entrance

Unity in the Shadows

Confront the Test head-on, risking everything on a final, desperate gambit.

The Abandoned Locker Wing

Alone Through The Devil’s Maw

The Cursed Passage & Reclaimed Hallway

The Smiling Scream

The Vanishing Corridor & Empty Desk

The Devil’s Roll Call

You’re Alex Halloway: sophomore sarcasm specialist, accidental detective, and last person picked in PE, every time. When the hallway breaks out in shadows and whisper-thin rumors, your nerves fray fast—but nobody cracks a joke quite like you do when the lights flicker. It’s as if you were born for this nightmare, though survival might just come down to your twisted sense of humor and knack for spotting trouble before it spots you.

Neutral presentation, perfectly balanced between the warmth of a trustworthy confidant and the spectral coolness of a thriller storyteller. The accent is American, clear and adaptable, capable of shifting for dramatic tension or comedic undertones as needed. The narrator’s tone is suspenseful, brisk, and slightly playful, echoing classic YA horror in the style of R. L. Stine—evoking dread one moment, and snarky commentary the next. Pacing is dynamic and flexible: quick and punchy during action scenes, deliberately suspenseful in moments of psychological tension, with pauses that build anticipation. Pronunciation is crisp and expressive, enhancing vivid imagery and urban legend motifs within the narrative. The narrator’s style invites players into the psyche of Crestview High, accentuating both its surreal darkness and offbeat humor.

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Jamie Tran clings to his cracked phone like it’s the last raft on a sinking ship. He speaks fast and listens faster, every glance darting between the exit and the nearest friend—usually, Alex. Jamie’s smarts were legendary in math club, but lately, it’s his paranoia that’s stealing the spotlight. When whispers turn to screams in text message form, Jamie’s resolve is tested, inch by anxious inch.

Principal Stark glides through Crestview’s halls with a gaze that slices through excuses and secrets. Nobody ever quite remembers when Stark arrived, and nobody ever forgets the feeling of being watched long after the bell rings. Rumor has it Stark doesn’t sleep—not since inheriting the keys to the forbidden hallway and the school’s centuries-old burden. There’s more to Stark’s calm than meets the eye—something hungry and old, waiting for the tests to begin.

Roxy Vale never backs down from a dare, especially when the consequences slither out from under the gym floorboards. With laughter sharp enough to split shadows and a talent for making trouble look fun, Roxy’s courage crackles just beneath her reckless surface. She collects gossip like trophies but knows more than she lets on—especially about disappearances that never make it to morning announcements.

Elias Fern lurks around corridors like a rumor in human form—quiet, half-hidden, but never absent. Most say they’ve only seen him at dusk, eyes glassy as he scribbles strange equations in his notebook. Elias claims he’s seen things in the old yearbooks, things that blink and vanish between missing faces. His dry wit and haunted patience make him an expert at surviving Crestview’s crazier moments.

Alex Halloway

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Jamie Tran

Principal Stark

Roxy Vale

Elias Fern

Feminine presentation with a husky, slightly rasping teenage voice that often rides the edge of tired sarcasm. She sounds distinctly American, with a soft suburban accent tinged by rapid-fire delivery. Alex’s tone is dry, sardonic, and switches between playful banter and sharp defensiveness, depending on how threatened she feels. Her speech is quick and punchy, sometimes clipped when anxious, but clear when making a pointed joke or observation. Vowels are drawn out in mockery but tighten when she’s stressed; she sometimes mutters under her breath, especially when detecting danger. Alex’s wit and skepticism color her voice, making it both relatable and unpredictable, with a talent for comedic timing even amid dread.

Masculine presentation, with a youthful, anxious voice that’s neither deep nor high, but carries a tremor of uncertainty. His American accent is clear but occasionally speeds into a breathy, hurried cadence, especially when nervous or excited about a discovery. Jamie’s tone is earnest, slightly nervous, and often punctuated by quick sighs or hesitations; he’s careful with words, sometimes stumbling when distracted. Pacing is erratic—fast on a trail, slow when decoding clues or processing emotion—mirroring his analytical thought process. His enunciation is precise for digital instructions or when explaining something complicated, but mumbles when caught off guard. Jamie’s intelligence and vigilance shape his voice, mixing caution with flashes of rapid insight.

Androgynous presentation—a voice that is neither distinctly masculine nor feminine, cold and smooth as marble. The accent is neutral American, but each syllable is measured and deliberate, with a faint, almost hypnotic resonance that commands attention. Stark’s tone is calm, chillingly authoritative, and often laced with subtle menace; they rarely raise their voice, but every word carries weight. Pacing is slow and calculated, with unnerving pauses that make the listener second-guess themselves. Pronunciation is immaculate, each word crisply enunciated and devoid of emotional inflection—even in moments of threat or secrecy. Stark’s intimidating aura and mastery of secrets render their voice both enigmatic and deeply unsettling.

Feminine presentation with a lively, bold teenage voice, regularly spiked with laughter and confident swagger. She sports a bright American accent with hints of West Coast inflection, sounding casual, energetic, and magnetic. Roxy’s tone is upbeat, playful, and occasionally teases with theatrical suspense when recounting urban legends. Her speech is rapid and fluid, bursting with enthusiasm, and punctuated by emphatic emphasis when challenging or daring friends. She likes to over-enunciate punchlines for dramatic effect or drawl out words when she’s being mischievous. Roxy’s charm and recklessness are clear in her voice, making her instantly likable and hard to ignore—even in the midst of danger.

Masculine presentation, but almost spectral—a soft, low teenage voice with a slow, deliberate cadence that seems to hover on the edge of silence. His American accent is subtle, with a slightly clipped, monotone delivery that can quickly shift to dry, morbid humor. Elias’s tone is introspective and reserved, often marked by an eerie calmness that contrasts with the chaos of events; when he speaks, it’s with careful weight and minimal emotion. His speech pacing is languid, with pregnant pauses as he ponders secrets or formulates theories, tending to slur softly at the ends of sentences when lost in thought. Pronunciation is meticulous with occult terminology, but casual and almost mumbled when discussing ordinary topics. Elias’s introversion and dark wit give his voice a cryptic and haunting quality.

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No Sleep, No Filter Wardrobe

Strategic Exit Ensemble

The Unblinking Authority Attire

Urban Daredevil Uniform

Haunted Shadows Attire

Alex wears a loose, faded charcoal-gray hoodie, its sleeves pushed up hastily, fraying at the cuffs and featuring an inky hand-drawn patch on the upper arm—a self-made emblem of an eye. Underneath is a wrinkled, navy blue band tee with a crackled logo that’s only half legible. Her jeans are black, skinny but worn softer at the knees and frayed at the hems, cut short enough that mismatched socks—one striped, one plain—peek out above battered black canvas high-tops doodled with white paint pen (smiley faces and cryptic symbols alike). She carries an overstuffed, olive-green canvas backpack, its fabric marked with pins, threadbare patches, and a flashlight dangling from a broken zipper. Faint ink stains mar her hands, and several friendship bracelets, some unraveling, wrap haphazardly around her left wrist. A denim choker with a tiny crescent-moon charm sits loose at her throat. Her messy brown hair is held off her tired, hazel eyes by a chipped, deep-purple plastic hair clip. The entire ensemble radiates a sense of perpetual motion, sleep deprivation, and sarcastic defiance.

Jamie dons a fitted maroon zip-up hoodie with frayed elbows and thumb holes stretched from constant fidgeting; he layers it over a soft, ash-gray graphic tee bearing a pixelated, glitch-art ghost. His faded navy cargo joggers feature deep side pockets sagging with gadgets, wires, and a battered Rubik’s Cube. Jamie’s shoes are scuffed black running sneakers with mismatched neon laces—one blue, one yellow—quick to slip off in emergencies. On his left wrist, he wears a digital watch splattered with stickers, and from his belt loop hangs a retractable keychain with a mini flashlight clipped on. A cracked, clear plastic phone case protects his ever-present phone, always in hand and displaying glowing notification symbols. Thin, black-rimmed glasses slip down his nose, perpetually smudged. His short black hair is unevenly shorn (the result of a nervous self-cut), while faint scars on his knuckles tell of white-knuckle stress. Jamie’s entire look is practical, slightly rumpled, and built for rapid escape—or decoding a puzzle in the dark.

Principal Stark commands attention in a sharply-tailored, charcoal-black three-piece suit, its precise lines rendering their tall frame almost monolithic under the flicker of hallway lights. The suit jacket is subtly textured, complemented by an ashen-gray silk vest and a smooth black dress shirt beneath, its collar stark against their nearly colorless skin. Their trousers, creased to perfection, end crisply at patent black oxfords that shine with unnatural gleam. Stark’s only ornamentation is a silver tie pin in the shape of a key and matching silver cufflinks, both etched with faint, almost occult, labyrinthine patterns. Their silver hair is slicked back flawlessly, drawing attention to marble-pale features and icy, unreadable blue eyes. On their left lapel rests a dark red enamel pin—Crestview’s insignia—tinged at the edge as if dipped in blood. The suit’s lining, glimpsed only in rare motion, is midnight blue decorated with a repeating motif of spiral symbols. Every inch of Stark’s ensemble exudes calculated control, timelessness, and the subtle echo of forgotten secrets.

Roxy sports an oversized, cropped varsity jacket in shimmering electric blue, its sleeves white and adorned in hand-pinned enamel badges and friendship pins. Under this she wears a neon-green racerback tank top that pops against her warm skin and playful freckles. Her black athletic leggings feature slick, mesh cutouts spiraling down the sides and a tiny white skull decal above her left knee. With her short, neon-blonde hair tousled artfully, she’s quick to pull on a black-and-white bandana as a headband or let it trail from her jacket pocket. Roxy’s worn, white high-top sneakers are covered in hand-drawn graffiti—lightning bolts, grins, and ‘dares?’—and accessorized with fluorescent shoelaces. A chunky silver chain with assorted plastic charms—rabbits’ feet, fake fangs, and a glow-in-the-dark locket—swings around her neck. She wears a set of silver hoop earrings and a slap bracelet in iridescent pink. To complete her look, her nails are painted with chipped, lime green polish, echoing her love for bold, mischievous aesthetics and living daringly.

Elias blends into darkness with an overlarge black pea coat, its hem brushing the top of his scuffed navy Converse and sleeves hiding thin, bitten nails. When open, the coat reveals an off-white sweater, loosely knit with frayed hems and faint stains of ink across the cuffs. Black skinny jeans, faded and torn at the left knee, draw sharp attention to his slight limp. He sports a threadbare, charcoal scarf looped loosely twice around his neck, its fraying edges patterned in subtle arcane designs revealed only in close light. Elias’s tousled brown hair nearly veils his sharp gray eyes, which flash behind smudged round glasses perched on a crooked nose. On his wrist, a worn leather bracelet is etched with symbols and small trinkets—an old key, a feather, and a wax-sealed button. Over one shoulder hangs a battered canvas messenger bag, decorated with occult pins and stuffed with crumpled notebooks, graphite pencils, and maybe something whispering from within. His spectral appearance, layered textures, and shadow-hugging attire exude the melancholic mystery and cryptic humor that follow him like a low fog.

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The poster should include no text. The art style of the poster should be Digital painting, Cartoon. Widescreen, landscape orientation with a well-defined border. Foreground: Alex Halloway, a slightly disheveled sophomore with expressive eyebrows, messy hair, and wearing a rumpled backpack, stands front-and-center in a dimly lit school hallway. Alex’s posture is tense yet defensive, gripping a flashlight that casts a dramatic beam of light ahead, cheek lifted in a wry smirk betraying both sarcasm and unease. Beside Alex is Jamie Tran, a supportive but wary friend, peering anxiously over her shoulder and clutching a cracked cell phone displaying a cryptic text message. Shadows seem to curl around their feet, suggestive of something supernatural reaching upwards. Around the two, lockers frame the corridor, several with coded symbols scratched into their surfaces, and the centerpiece is a bathroom door slightly ajar—through which a glowing, ominous graffiti symbol is visible: a stylized red-paint smile that morphs into a scream, with tendrils trailing across the tiles. One locker stands wide open with a moth-eaten yearbook and a flickering light revealing the phrase 'missing' scribbled over several hazy portraits. Background: The high school interior stretches deeper into gloom; fluorescent lights sputter overhead, casting long, distorted shadows, while a thunderstorm rages through high windows, lightning illuminating a dark silhouette—Principal Stark—watching from a distant stairway, half-hidden by ominous darkness. Suburban houses and manicured lawns are faintly visible beyond rain-streaked glass, reinforcing the setting’s ordinary veneer. On the far wall, a secret passage outlined by cracked tiles seems to beckon, its entrance veiled by a wall of mist and subtle, ghostly student shapes peering outward with blank eyes. The color palette pulses with bold, saturated blues and reds, dynamic and exaggerated, giving cartoon energy amid genuine suspense—characters and environment are stylized with expressive proportions and a touch of dark humor, echoing the surreal challenge and psychological tension of the game. The overall composition balances light and shadow, focusing attention on the protagonists’ faces, the mysterious graffiti, and the haunted atmosphere, capturing the blend of teenage drama, urban legend, and psychological thriller themes.

Lightning splits the suburban dusk, washing Crestview High in a cold blue glare. Shadows twist behind battered lockers. Somewhere overhead, the storm rattles the windows. Any sane person would’ve gone home by now—but you, Alex Halloway, are leaning against your favorite graffiti-scarred locker, counting the seconds till the next disaster.

Wonderful. Tuesday and it already looks like the world’s ending. Wonder if gym’s canceled. That’d be the first lucky thing this month.

Jamie Tran darts down the hall, eyes wide, knuckles raw from nervous fidgeting. He stops just shy of you, clutching his cracked phone like it’s a security blanket.

Alex! Did you see the group chat? Someone hacked it—there’s this, uh, message. I think it’s... code. Or maybe a threat? You gotta look.

If it’s a prank, I swear I’ll glue Roxy’s sneakers inside her locker again. Lemme see.

Jamie flips the phone so you can see: a picture of the forbidden hallway, a red symbol—a smile twisted into a scream—painted on the door. Beneath it: "The Devil’s Test—Midnight."

"The Devil’s Test"? Seriously? Someone’s been binging urban legend TikToks too hard.

For a moment, you both linger in the hush. The hall’s too quiet. Somewhere, a locker bangs closed by itself. You scan the corridor, memory flickering to when Jamie stuck by you after the chem lab accident—the one you still dream about. Somehow, you both ended up survivors in this mess. You glance at Jamie, remembering his panic that night, how you laughed to keep from screaming.

People say Stark put a curse on that hallway. Do you think it’s all just—urban legend? Or…

All I know is, if Stark catches us snooping, we’ll get detention until college. Which, honestly, might be safer than ghost-hunting.

The soft click of expensive heels echoes. Principal Stark glides out of the darkness, eyes like frost. Every syllable seems to freeze midair as they speak.

Curfew, Halloway. Tran. You do understand the importance of discipline? Especially after what happened last week.

Sure. Nothing keeps me out of trouble like ominous warnings from the faculty.

Stark’s eyes drill into yours. You feel a prickle at the back of your neck—your danger sense throbs. It’s not just the storm making the lights flicker.

I suggest you both leave. The building is… closed. For your own safety.

You trade glances with Jamie. Stark’s presence always churns your nerves—but something about tonight is worse. Did they just emphasize "your own safety"? You remember last year’s tales—kids gone missing, names whispered but never answered in roll call.

(internal, reflecting) Why does Stark always know when we’re up to something? And why does part of me want to go deeper, just to prove I’m braver than my nightmares?

A streak of neon catches your eye—Roxy Vale leans out of a stairwell, whispering for you to come quick. Behind her, Elias Fern’s pale silhouette lurks, eyes fixed on the storm-lit window, scribbling in his battered notebook.

You two coming or not? There’s something weird in the old yearbook. And, uh, Elias says it blinked back.

Because what’s creepier than yearbooks coming to life? Just once, can’t we investigate something normal? Like the mystery of the missing vending machine chips?

If you’d rather snack than survive, Alex, I advise the nearest exit. But if you want answers about ‘The Devil’s Test’… the hour’s almost up.

You hesitate: follow the others into danger, or heed Stark’s warning and bolt for the exit? Your stomach knots. Courage—real courage—never feels good. It feels like this. Maybe your mask of sarcasm is finally cracking. Maybe that’s how you know you’re changing.

What do you do? "Follow Roxy and Elias—investigate the yearbook and secret passage as a group." OR "Slip away from the group and try to escape the storm—face the forbidden hallway alone."

Thunder claws at the windows as Crestview High flickers between light and shadow. The hallways, abandoned save for the unlucky few, feel stretched—like rubber snapped tight over secrets. You, Alex Halloway, are waiting by the vending machines, trying to look bored, but your grip on the flashlight says otherwise.

Is it just me, or did every horror movie start with 'just wait here, I’ll be right back'?

(Glancing at his phone, voice quick) Alex, you need to see this. Group chat—someone hacked it. Look.

Jamie's screen glows in the gloom. Text flickers across: "The Devil’s Test—Midnight." A red symbol burns—a smile, twisted into a scream.

Oh good, spooky emojis. That’s not a bad sign at all.

Don’t joke, Alex. That symbol—it was on the old yearbook. Next to—next to names nobody remembers.

You remember the yearbook, its ink faded, some faces crudely scratched out. Those names. That hallway. Everyone jokes about the 'missing kids,' but nobody laughs for long.

Relax. If it’s a prank, it’s a weird one. If it’s not… great, we’re haunted by font choices.

(Voice like chilled steel) Halloway. Tran. The storm is not the only thing hunting tonight. You should leave. Now.

(Hushed, internal conflict) Is Stark hiding something… or just doing their cryptic scare-the-kids routine? Every adult here is a walking warning.

Principal Stark stands at the mouth of the forbidden hallway, face marble-still, silver hair gleaming in harsh light. You wonder if the stories are true—about Stark, about curses, about students vanishing like chalk lines in rain.

(Breezing in, energetic) Did you see this? My cousin swears Stark cursed the gym with that creepy smile. Bet it's all connected. Dare you to check the yearbook, Alex.

(Soft, monotone) The symbol’s in more places than that. Locker 309. Chemistry. I counted. It’s a pattern, not a prank.

You hesitate, caught between Jamie’s worry and Roxy’s recklessness. Elias’s words slither in—logic and dread at once.

(Thoughtful, reflecting) Last week, Jamie freaked at the power outage. Roxy made it a game. Elias just watched it all. Now it feels like… we’re pieces on someone else’s board.

You stare at your friends. The group isn’t the same. You aren’t, either. Half of you wants to bail. The other half—stubborn, sharp—won’t let go, not with everyone watching. Sarcasm is only armor until it cracks.

(Soft, grudging resolve) Fine. If the universe wants to play 'Devil’s Test,' I say we cheat.

Lightning spiderwebs across the Crestview sky, painting the empty lockers in jagged streaks of white. The storm’s growl presses against cracked windows. You—Alex Halloway, sarcasm specialist and expert in not panicking (yet)—linger at your graffiti-tagged locker, clutching your flashlight tighter with each distant boom. Most students have scattered. But tonight, the shadows seem to wait for you.

Alex, did you see it yet? The group chat’s burning! That weird image—it popped up again, the creepy one with the red screaming smile. It’s stamped right on the forbidden hallway door. Message says: 'The Devil’s Test—Midnight.'

Great. A screaming emoji for my social life. Does this one explode or just ruin GPAs?

Seriously? After last year’s lab meltdown, you’re still joking? That symbol matches the one Coach tried to scrub off after...you know. When Marissa vanished.

Your mind flickers back to the chemistry accident. The acid burn. Jamie’s shaking hands patching you up and Principal Stark’s icy stare as you lied your way out together. Those scars still itch when the lights flicker. 'Trust Jamie,' whispers half your brain. The other half spits, 'Or ditch him before he drags you into darkness.' You nearly laugh—almost.

Halloway. Tran. Still here, after hours? Or do the rules mean nothing during storms?

Rules are just legends, right? Like the one about the librarian’s ghost eating late hall passes.

There’s nothing amusing about breaking boundaries at Crestview. Not after last week’s incident. Safety is a privilege here—one you risk losing. Leave now. This isn’t a request.

Stark’s shadow seems to stretch longer than the hallway itself. You shiver. Is leaving really 'safe?' The forbidden hallway pulses behind you, promising answers you never asked for.

Alex, Jay—over here! Elias found something in the yearbook! It’s...creepy. I mean, actual blink-and-you’ll-miss-it creepy.

It blinked back. I saw it. Section B. Which means someone's still here—or something is.

Roxy, you want backup or a death wish? We’re supposed to bolt.

Sounds like a party. Let me guess—next, the yearbook eats us whole and Stark files it as a 'disciplinary anomaly.'

Or leaves you as a warning. Yearbook ghosts make the best rumors.

You hesitate. Do you trust your crew and chase after the yearbook’s secrets together—or do you heed Stark’s warning and slip out alone, risking whatever waits in the storm and forbidden hallway? Your stomach knots. Real courage doesn’t feel brave. It feels like this: electric, uncertain, and one sarcastic comeback short of collapse.

You flash back to the day Jamie pulled you from the smoke. To Roxy’s dare at dusk. To Elias quietly handing you a note that solved the last locker puzzle. You’re not the same as last semester, and maybe you don’t want to be. Maybe—just maybe—teamwork is scarier than monsters, because friendship means trusting beyond jokes and midnight tests.

Okay, final round—do we split or stick? Because either way, someone’s not making the final cut for yearbook portraits this time.

Lightning dances outside Crestview, flinging blades of white across the empty corridor. Alex Halloway’s grip tightens on her flashlight. Shadows crawl over broken tiles, hungry for secrets. The storm sounds less forgiving now, but inside, the real test is about to crack open.

Alex, look. It’s… it’s decoding something. The last message. It says—choose. Save yourself or save your friends.

Typical. Can’t even get a pop quiz without existential dread at Crestview. Anyone else feel like skipping to summer break?

Behind Jamie, Roxy Vale bounces nervously on her heels, legs carved out of dare, face pale beneath the ugly red light leaking from the graffiti mouth on Locker 309.

This is it, isn’t it? The Devil’s Test. Guess we know what’s at stake. Ready to get legendary—unless you want to chicken out.

Legendary is a fine word for what’s happened to the missing kids. If we mess up, we’ll be yearbook ghosts. Forever.

Principal Stark steps from the stairwell, face unreadable—older than the school, colder than the thunder.

Time’s almost up. Crestview has always demanded sacrifice. This is not your game to win. Make your choice.

They all feel the chill—the air thick, humming with old curses. Alex’s heart stutters. Her sarcasm suddenly feels flimsy under the pressure. Just once, she lets the mask slip.

Okay. Real talk: I’m scared. But maybe that’s supposed to happen. Maybe courage is being scared and doing the stupid thing anyway.

So we do this together? I’ll crack the security feed. If the Devil’s Test is digital, I can break it.

Let’s go loud. Hey, ghosts! Crestview’s best are here. Come get us!

Wait—here. The yearbook. I saw this… A page tucked under 'Missing.' It’s a symbol. The red smile. It’s not just graffiti. It’s the curse’s anchor.

A ripple spreads through the shadows. The laughter from the painted mouth erupts—wrong, fractured, more scream than smile. Alex feels the darkness lashing, wild and wanting. She remembers the chemistry lab, how survival sometimes costs more than a joke can cover.

Guess I’ll never win 'Most Likely to Survive.' But here goes nothing…

She steps forward, holds out her hand. Power presses against her—old, bitter, but breaking. Jamie’s thumbs fly across his cracked phone, launching code into the digital ghost. Roxy shouts, Elias uncovers the missing page.

The passage groans open, a river of spectral light pouring out, swallowing the scream and flattening the smile. For a moment, silence. Then students stumble back—blinking, changed, saved.

You have bought your time, but Crestview keeps its scars. Remember—the doors open, but shadows linger.

Everyone catches their breath. Roxy grins, Elias already writing down words no one else will remember. Jamie squeezes Alex’s arm—safe, for now. But Alex’s phone buzzes. A new icon glows: the red, grinning smile, waiting for the next midnight.

Figures. Can’t block the Devil on social media.

The storm outside passes. Inside, a hint remains—a joke edged in dread and a smile that may never fade.

FLASH—lightning claws at the Crestview windows. The hallway is alive: shadows slither up the lockers and the red grinning mouth on the forbidden door laughs, more scream than smile. Alex stands at the edge of it all—flashlight shaking in her clammy hand, heart pounding a rhythm she’s sure the whole building can hear.

Alex, this—this is the last message. It just popped up again. It says: 'Choose—save yourself, or save your friends.' What do we do? We’re almost out of time!

Easy. We ignore haunted pop quizzes. Everybody knows you can’t trust a demon with spelling errors.

A beat—nerves stretch as thunder growls closer, flickering the bulbs overhead. Alex’s own words sound braver than she feels. For once, her sarcasm feels like something real—a shield and a challenge.

If I vanish now, I swear I’m haunting the girl’s restroom. Or Jamie’s locker—whichever smells worse.

Technically, ghosts here get trapped in the yearbook. But you… you might break the mold.

Stark’s silhouette appears at the stairwell—marble-still, suit absorbing the storm. Their ice-blue eyes glint, unreadable, as if measuring the group’s every breath.

The rules are simple, Alex. Obey the test, and you ALL go free—or none of you do.

The security lock—hold on—I can kill the power to the hallway. Just keep them off me for ten seconds. No jump scares, please.

Hey! Whatever eats kids in this hallway—I dare you: Take your best shot! Or are you too scared of detention?

Alex, look. In the yearbook—there’s a page that’s faded…wait, it’s changing. The missing kids—they’re all here, trapped. Their names are spelled out in red. That’s the anchor. Maybe…maybe we break it together.

Alex’s fingers tremble. Her friends—each of them—are risking everything. 'Courage—real courage—never feels good,' she thinks. She remembers Jamie’s wild paranoia, Roxy’s dares, Elias’s quiet clues. Together, they made it this far. Alone, she’d be a fade-out in the next ghost story.

This is my last terrible idea. Ready? We get loud. We face it TOGETHER. No heroics. No running. One bad joke at a time. 'Smile for the yearbook!'

With one chorus—a burst of laughter, a rallying dare, an electronic screech—the curse shudders. The red smile melts, screaming back. Shadows evaporate. The secret page in the yearbook flickers—then turns blank.

With a blinding sweep of spectral light, missing students stumble into the hallway—confused, blinking at the storm’s end. The air crackles. The test is over.

Some doors should stay closed. But you passed—barely.

Alex steps back. She checks her phone—a new icon glints at her, grinning and red. It winks. The future is uncertain—danger not gone, only waiting for next time.

Guess we survived…for now. Just one more day at Crestview High. Smile wide, right?

As they file out, Alex squeezes Jamie’s shoulder, letting her sarcasm slip away for just a heartbeat. She’s different now—changed by the night, and by them all. Maybe that’s how you know you’re real. Maybe surviving the Devil’s Test is just the start.

Follow Roxy and Elias—investigate the yearbook and secret passage as a group.

Slip away from the group and try to escape the storm—face the forbidden hallway alone.

Alex trusts Jamie’s instincts more than anyone, but sometimes his paranoia wears thin. Still—you’d bet your last flashlight battery he’d never leave you behind.

Alex appreciates Roxy’s courage—even if her impulsive streak makes teamwork a gamble. Sometimes you envy how she faces fear, no jokes required.

Elias’s knack for weird clues is nearly as unsettling as his habit of fading into shadows. But tonight, you admit—his theories might be the only way out.

Team up with Jamie, Roxy, and Elias to investigate the yearbook anomaly and the forbidden hallway.

Go alone, following your instincts to the forbidden hallway and the Devil’s Test.

Jamie squeezes closer, trust flickering. He’s relying on your calm—or the sarcasm that passes for it. You sense his doubt, but his loyalty holds.

Roxy’s boldness tempts you, but her impulse is trouble. Still, her knowledge of student legends feels suddenly valuable.

Elias glances at you, wary but invested. His clues piece together horror with wry patience. You sense a growing trust—however uneasy.

Follow Roxy and Elias to investigate the yearbook and secret passage as a group.

Ignore Roxy’s invitation and heed Principal Stark’s warning, venturing alone toward the forbidden hallway exit.

Jamie’s constant vigilance is comforting—sometimes too much. Our trust is solid, but his paranoia? It’s getting contagious.

Stark’s presence is stone cold. Authority squared. If there’s a devil in the details, Stark wrote the footnotes.

Roxy’s bravado pulls the group together. She’s reckless. She’s fun. But she can deflect fear like a dare champion.

Elias knows old secrets. He’s weird, but weird’s useful when ghosts dodge selfies.

Jamie’s eyes widen in respect. Trust deepens—shared fear, not just jokes.

Roxy bumps Alex’s shoulder—playful, braver because of Alex’s honesty.

Trust grows—their combined strengths unravel the curse.

Alex’s distrust buzzes sharper than ever, but something in Stark’s voice—almost a tremor—makes her realize: Stark isn’t in control. Not tonight.

Roxy grins—a real one, this time. Trust clicks into place like a puzzle piece. Alex finally admits: She’s not the only brave one here.

Stark looks at Alex—not cold, not angry. Just tired. A hint of relief, buried under centuries of secrets.

The Devil's Test

You are Alex Halloway, a sophomore with a knack for sarcastic one-liners and a tendency to walk in everyone else's shadow. When the bell rings at Crestview High one stormy Monday, life tips into the bizarre: rumors swirl of a secret passage hiding beneath the school—one only revealed to those who dare flunk the 'Devil's Test.' Between dodging unhinged teachers, cryptic text messages, and a friend who vanished after detention, you're forced to confront the unsettling truth that the real terrors aren’t all locked away behind classroom doors. As friendships twist and alliances waver (especially with daring Jamie Tran and unpredictable Principal Stark), a strange graffiti symbol appears in bathrooms and echoes in your dreams. Will you risk everything to unravel the mystery before the next name vanishes from the attendance sheet, or will you become another joke in the yearbook’s final chapter?

The Devil's Test

The Devil's Test

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