DEERINGTON | House Details (under construction)

[neverstudied]

Flatwood Point
642 Griggs Road

These houses are in sore need of loving. They are on the very outskirts of Deerington up north where no one really seems to want to go. They are mostly behind the abandoned fire house, but some are scattered out by the hotel. They all look abandoned, many of them with overgrown yards and vines crawling over their sides. The insides are functional, but the electricity is shoddy and a lot of the pipes leak. Talk about some serious fixer-uppers. They're the lowest grade living in the entire town, and they are also some of the most unsettling. People have said that they have seen faces staring at them from the corner of the room out of the corner of their eye, but when they look, no one is there. Sometimes footsteps can even be heard throughout the homes. They could probably look like something beautiful if someone ever bothered with them, but well...That's a lot of work. A lot. Because of their state, most Townspeople and others stay away from these homes. This leaves the place a bit of a safe haven for the Wastes. Sometimes the Wastes have been known to squat in some of the empty homes, but they never break into character homes. Even if they can sometimes be found in their yards digging through their trash...


[Src: Bryan Sansivero]

The first time Venkman explored this place- once he realized it's not some abandoned haunted shithole and he was not waking up after getting knocked in the head a few too many times in a bust- he had horrible flashbacks of the day they bought the firehouse. Of course, the firehouse eventually wound up looking pretty good... After months of hard labor and a lot of money... And of course, no matter what, Ray thinks it's wonderful, so moving's out of the picture.

Goddamnit, Ray.

The house is just as dilapidated and sad looking on the inside as it is on the outside. Every step creaks the rotting floorboards ominously, every door-hinge shrieks and begs to be oiled. In cold weather, the radiators hiss and tremble violently throughout the night as they work to desperately keep the house at least lukewarm. If you listen closely, the hiss of the radiator can almost sound like whispers- snippets of almost-words drowned out by the groan of the house settling.

Many of the rooms seem to have little haunts attached to them- bizarre, unexplained events that don't do much more than mildly inconvenience someone. For example, cobwebs and dust will occasionally appear on regularly used objects, such as a bed that was just slept in or a mug of fresh coffee, as if they haven't been touched in years. This will invariably lead to Venkman nearly swallowing a spider that appeared, web and all, in his coffee. The dust-and-cobwebs effect will never extend to the Blessings Baskets or their contents.

Reports of faces and footsteps and the like are not an exaggeration, though neither really freak the Ghostbusters out, if they even attribute them to not-Slimer ghosts in the first place. At worst, they're annoyed. Like, "bang the handle of a broom on the ceiling while yelling at the attic ghosts to keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep, as if you're an old man in an apartment and a college party is in full swing in the apartment above you" annoyed.

At the moment, the house is full of empty space, beyond initial furnishings. The Ghostbusters haven't been here for long, after all. That means there's a lot of empty rooms and rooms that neither of them have any reason to go into. Inevitably, those are the rooms where most of the thumping and footsteps and other such things are concentrated. On the rare occasion someone does enter a room that's usually closed or otherwise left alone, a chill will go up the person's spine and they'll shiver violently for a minute or two.

At some point, the rotting wood on the second floor will finally give out and there'll be a massive, gaping hole in the first floor ceiling. Ray will insist on installing a firepole. Venkman will adamantly refuse to get a firepole. Within a week, there'll be a firepole in the house. It will be the most structurally sound and well maintained object in the entire place.

Number of Bedrooms: 3
Number of Bathrooms: 3
Number of Floors: Two floors with a basement and attic.
Utilities/Other included in home: Character beds, washer and dryer, kitchen utilities, 1 car garage, and large yards both front and back.
Residents: Dr. Raymond Stantz, Dr. Peter Venkman, and Slimer.



[Src: Wes Janz]

[Photos used throughout this post aren't necessarily 100% accurate to the appearance of the home, just give off the right Aesthetic[tm] OR visually elaborate on something conveyed in the text.]

Comments

EXTERIOR

[neverstudied]

In a word: dilapidated. The house was beautiful once, that's true- and it would take an absurd amount of TLC to even approach beauty again. While the inside could potentially be salvageable, the exterior is a bit of a lost cause. The siding is falling apart from years of weather damage and lack of upkeep, with vines crawling up- choking the building.

The front porch is rather ugly. Two windows flank the creaky front door- one window (left from the interior, right from the exterior) is permanently adorned with a spiderweb crack. Any attempts to replace this window pane will end in failure, as the new window will display the same cracks within a day of re-installment. But there's an old wooden porch swing that still works! The chains are rusty and it creaks miserably if more than one person tries to swing on it, but it can still hold a considerable amount of weight. The porch roof does its job tolerably, and the supports for the roof have thus far withstood the tests of time.

A single, lonely tree stands in the front yard- half-dead but refusing to go down without a fight. Its branches rarely bare leaves, and the tips of its longest branches scrape against the side of the house on windy and rainy nights.

There's a sign on the back of the house, by the back door: "HUMAN SACRIFICES NEEDED". Any attempts to remove or paint over the sign would end in the sign returning to its previous condition. Ray likes it too much to get rid of it, anyway.

There's a garbage pile in the backyard- trash left behind by previous residents, and dumping grounds when the house was unoccupied. Ray's taken to digging through it for spare parts, but the chances of finding anything useful in it is next to zero. Old children's toys appear there sometimes that Ray swears weren't there the last time he checked.

The house has 20 windows total: 4 in the front, 8 on either side, 4 in the back. Aside from the aforementioned cracked window, the only noteworthy attribute of the windows is that the windowsills desperately need some attention- most are rotting and heavily weathered by the elements. The windowscreens on several windows have mild to moderate tearing and ripping.

One front door, one back door. Part of the wood on the front door is splintered- it appears it was kicked at some point, likely by a potential intruder. It held firm, luckily; and the locks on it are strong. However, the back door only properly locks approximately 1/4th of the time. If anyone really wanted to break into the Ghostbusters' house, they really wouldn't have to try too hard... But honestly, why would you? What kind of valuables are you expecting to find in this place?

There is a garage in the front, large enough to fit a single car. Currently, it fits a great deal of garbage left behind by previous owners/squatters. The garage door is loud enough to metaphorically wake the dead. Inner door leads into the living room.



Abandoned But Not Forgotten

INTERIOR - GENERAL

[neverstudied]

The first thing anyone sees upon entering through the front door is the foyer/living room- specifically, the grafitti on the opposite wall, reading "This place needs more decorations". There's a bit more grafitti scattered throughout the house, some of which is kept up intentionally- some by force. The living room is covered in a visible, palpable layer of dust and grime. This is despite many, many attempts on Venkman's part to clean it. The floor is carpeted(grayish-beige), and the carpet has several... odd stains. This room contains the staircase to second floor, the entryway to the first floor hallway, and doors to the inner garage and the front porch(AKA the front door).

The first floor hallway is claustrophobic, with barely enough space for a full grown man to comfortably walk; it feels like the walls are closing in on you. The hallway connects the living room to the kitchen, with doors leading to the first floor bathroom and guest bedroom.

The staircase to the basement is, inexplicably, located inside the first floor bathroom. It's accessible via trapdoor. No one enjoys this.

There's a weird alcove(?) on the second floor by the staircase, inaccessible without clambering on the banisters. The second floor hallway splinters on either side of from staircase.

Left side leads to master bedroom, connected bathroom, and currently unused spare room (speculated to have been a nursery); right side leads to remaining bedroom and bathroom(not connected), and currently unused spare room (speculated to have previously been an office).

Attic accessible via pull-down ladder and door; ladder is wobbly and placed dangerously close to the main staircase. It would be very easy to fall while climbing up and down from the attic, and you would probably land on the first floor. Try not to think about it.

INTERIOR - SPECIFICS

[neverstudied]

MASTER BEDROOM

[neverstudied]

Probably for the best that the Ghostbusters don't have many friends yet (let alone any who would want to pay a visit to this place), because neither of them want to risk the possibility of someone questioning why they share a bed and bedroom, and neither of them have bothered to make one of the spare rooms appear lived-in.

Double bed, modest furnishings. The majority of their combined inventories can be found in here, in the closet, nightstand, etc. Walk in closet with a door; the door never shuts properly. Both of them have woken up in the middle of the night and thought they've seen something staring at them from inside the closet.

SPARE BEDROOMS

[neverstudied]

Upstairs: The first thing most people will notice in this room is the odd burn mark on wall- almost human shaped. Single bed with a mattress, no sheets. Walk in closet with a missing door, contains old clothes that don't belong to either Ghosbuster.

Room feels cold and a chill tends to go up people's spines the longer they stay inside. The process is expedited if they stare at the burn mark. Nothing will actually happen if they refuse to leave, aside from extended discomfort and some shivers. Bed is relatively comfortable, so long as you can stand the cold.

Banging, rattling, and thumping can be heard emanating from this room, particularly throughout the night, but not if anyone is sleeping in the room.

Downstairs: The bed is made. The bed is always made. If you lie down on this bed without going to sleep, rumple the sheets, throw the pillows on the floor, or just do anything to disrupt the bed's appearance without actually sleeping in it- then leave the room and come back- the bed will have returned to its normal appearance, and you will feel as though eyes are on you no matter where you are in the house. Judging you.

This feeling will not go away until you either leave the room for several hours or go to sleep in the bed. Upon waking up, you will realize you have been tucked in securely by... someone, or something. The feeling of being watched will no longer be present.

If you make the bed yourself at any time, then you will still feel as though you are being watched, but the presence is a kind one. Gentler.

There is no walk in closet.

BATHROOMS

[neverstudied]

First Floor Bathroom: Undoubtably, the most cursed of the three. First of all, there's carpet flooring. You just don't fucking do that for a bathroom. Less important, there's a not-so-secret trapdoor on the floor (also covered with a thick layer of stained beige carpet), which leads down to the basement. The trapdoor, it should be noted, does not lock. Using this bathroom means that you recognize the risks of having someone(or something) pop up from the basement at some point while you're in there.

No shower, but a very old clawfoot bathtub; the inside of the tub has a thick layer of dark red rust. This is least used room in the entire house.




Abandoned But Not Forgotten



Second Floor Bathroom- Separate: Mediocre. Combined shower/bath. Water temperature for both the sink and shower/bath is always either blisteringly hot or ice cold, with no middle ground; and you rarely get to chose which you get. Still, the floor is not carpet, nor are there any secret doors, so it's automatically better than the one downstairs. However, it's worth noting that the door sounds like this if it bangs against something.

Second Floor Bathroom- Connected: The nicest, but it's not like there's much competition. Separate bath and shower. Takes about 10 minutes for the sink to get any hot water, but the bath and shower are fine.

KITCHEN

[neverstudied]

Connects to main hallway and the back door.

Combination kitchen and dining room, with a table and chairs. Basic furnishings. Gas stove. Fridge is regularly packed with frozen meals and takeout, up until Slimer gets hungry enough to consume the entire contents of the fridge.

Much like the guest bedroom, there's an inexplicable presence in this room that appears to judge behavior it deems as incorrect- to put it simply, if you're a shitty cook, you will feel judged whenever you walk into the room, and the feeling intensifies if you try to cook anything, eat shitty takeout, make frozen meals, etc.

So basically, this is one of the least inviting rooms in the entire house for the Ghostbusters. No one wants to be in the kitchen for longer than a few minutes. The table and chairs, as a result, usually go unused.

Interestingly, there seems to be no way to appease the odd feeling in the kitchen. Even if one of them managed to make something good from scratch, or a friend who was actually good at cooking or baking happened to use the kitchen, they would still feel judged for any small mistakes. The feeling would be greatly lessened, however.

Additionally, there is a can of alphabet soup in the back of one of the cabinets. It is several years passed its expiration date. Any attempts so far to throw it out have failed. If they ever happened to open the can, they would find insulting messages spelled out in the letters; but why the hell would they open a can of expired soup?


Abandoned But Not Forgotten

Abandoned But Not Forgotten

FOYER/LIVING ROOM

[neverstudied]

As mentioned previously, most of the living room is covered in a thick layer of dust, excluding the furnishings... usually. The carpet is also filthy with stains of undetermined origins.

No matter how hard they try- adding lamps, changing bulbs, etc- much of the room is always cast in deep shadow, with the well-lit areas cast in far harsher lighting than normal. It's the noir room, basically. At night, the room is nearly pitch black, and the sound of things scrabbling and scratching in the corners can sometimes be heard.

But the chairs are comfy, so who cares.

SPARE ROOMS

[neverstudied]

Room One: The Nursery.

The first time Venkman opened the door to this room, he found a baby doll sitting on the floor, facing the door. Staring at him. He closed the door and has never opened it since.

Room Two: The Office.

Contains, at the moment, a desk, a chair, and a very dead potted plant.

ATTIC

[neverstudied]

Contains even more useless garbage that has weathered the tests of time. The loudest room of the house at approximately 3 in the morning every night.

BASEMENT

[neverstudied]

The cursed entryway leads to a just-as-cursed area, featuring a washing machine, dryer, and a single folding chair in the middle of the room. Otherwise, completely empty.