The Van, The Brave, and The Doomed

Tales from the Crypt #8

There’s a certain kind of fear that only really sets in when you’re wandering around a digital haunted prison with no clue where the ghost is — and no plan if you do find it.

Phasmophobia is a ghost-hunting game made by the British game studio Kinetic Games. In this eerie co-op game, players investigate haunted sites, using voice recognition and tools to gather clues and identify ghost types.

Kinetic Games’ Phasmophobia.

To do so, players must investigate the map while dodging a deadly ghost and surviving long enough to escape. Success earns money, experience, and the thrill of barely making it out alive.

I bought Phasmophobia during a Steam Halloween sale, and it took me ages to finally start playing it. But I eventually did, along with two other friends, Lucas and Alexandre. But let’s call them by their cooler nicknames that I just made up: King and Mr. Fox.

Mr. Fox was our team's self-appointed data analyst. He had an uncanny ability to rationalise why this time, it made more sense for him to stay safely inside the van (every match starts with players inside a van with all their tools, parked just outside the haunted site).

Cameras, sanity monitors, temperature readings... he’d always find something “critical” that required his attention from behind the wheel.

Artist’s rendition of Mr. Fox in the van (I’m so happy I illustrated this).

King was basically the opposite. No fear, no caution — just bravado. He’d march into the most cursed corridors, shout the ghost’s name like it was an old friend, and die first about 80% of the time.

I was, however, somewhere in between those two. I felt the fear, sure, but I wasn’t above walking into danger, as long as I knew I could run away fast enough.

That fateful night, we picked the Prison map. Medium-sized, maybe too big for three amateurs, but we were overconfident… and underprepared.

King and I entered the building, while Mr. Fox set up shop in the van, probably sipping tea and watching the camera feeds like he was security staff at a haunted mall.

We wandered cell blocks and empty hallways, poked around the cafeteria, even spent a few minutes playing basketball.

But the ghost never showed up. We were about to call it a night, admitting that the prison map was, maybe, too advanced for us. We had no idea how to taunt the creature or how to investigate it, even after checking every corner of the place.

We were already on our way back, discussing what map we should choose next. Just as we were walking past the prison cells, the lights flickered. Static burst from our radios.

The ghost had decided it was showtime.

It all happened so fast. King was just ahead of me, fearless as always, and I watched, horrified, as the entity grabbed him. He didn’t scream. He just choked and crumpled.

I ran. Heart pounding, flashlight flickering, sprinting through the maze of rooms with the sound of something not quite human behind me.

But luckily for me, Mr. Fox was a coward.

From the safety of the van, he was watching the hallway cams and, through the calm voice of someone who had been safe all along, began directing me back to the exit.

“Left! Left again! Down the corridor, take the stairs!” It was like an emergency escape room, with the worst prize imaginable for failure.

By some miracle — and Mr. Fox’s surprisingly good van-based navigation — I made it out. Breathless, alone, but alive.

Mr. Fox’s view of the ‘team sanity’ meter during that mission. My sanity was at a shocking 7%, King was dead (“?” sanity) and Mr. Fox was just fine.

King was never seen again… on that match, since he was on the very next one, naturally. Mr. Fox never left the van. And I, once again, survived. Well, just until... the next time.

— The ghost who runs away from other ghosts,

almoghost.exe (or André Almo if you’re feeling serious) 👻