WE ARE SO DEAD One player is already dead

Every game, one player becomes the ghost. You see everything: the demon stalking your friends, where it's safe, where the relics are, the way out. The catch is that nobody can hear you. You can't touch anything, and your whole vocabulary is flickering lights, doors that open on their own, and a seance board the living half-believe is even you. You drift through walls, pass through the living and feel them shudder, and if things get desperate, you can scream. If everyone else is quiet enough, they might actually hear it.

The seance board is the only stable way to get full words across. It is deliberately awkward: moving a physical object as the dead takes effort. Meanwhile your friends interrogate you, second-guess you, and occasionally read H-E-L-P as HELL and cheer. Groups end up inventing their own code words, spamming letters for "run" or "hide", because the board alone is too slow when the demon is closing in.

Each session deals in a new demon with hidden rules, and only the dead ever learn what they are: when it strikes, where, and what saves you. The ghosts spot the danger before it hits and have to get that across to people who can't see it coming. Death, in this house, is a promotion.

Winning takes two trips of the tongue. Picture your whole group frantically spelling ULALULA at two in the morning, praying they read the ghost right the first time. That's the win condition, and it's as ridiculous as it sounds.

The house is bigger underneath. Banish the demon on one floor and the next unlocks, each one further from dawn and holding something the floor above didn't. Deeper floors mean more entities, stranger hunts and halls that twist into a maze, so the ghost's job shifts from naming what to grab to guiding the living through rooms they can't navigate alone. A full run down to floor 9 takes a group a few hours, and the difficulty climbs the whole way.