Barclay, Oregon, is an idyllic little town tucked away in the rolling tree-covered foothills of the Cascades. Home to 42,568 happy people, enjoying a high per capita GDP, an excellent school district, and an active arts scene.
It began life as a logging camp in the late 1860s, chartered by New Yorker Thomas Barclay in response to the growing timber boom. Thomas Barclay's burgeoning timber company, sensibly named Barclay Timber, soon ran into financial difficulties, however, forcing Thomas into destitution as he struggled to keep his company afloat. His efforts ultimately cost him his health, and he died a poor and broken man in 1880, leaving the nearly valueless company to his son Walter.
Under Walter's management, the timber company prospered, and by association, the company town that bore his name. A true timber baron, Walter Barclay virtually ran the town. Sitting on the Chamber of Commerce, acting as lay preacher for the sole church, and serving as president of the bank, nothing happened in Barclay that Walter did not control. A labor dispute in 1903 quickly got out of hand and turned into violence as Walter hired mercenaries to protect scabs. No one truly mourned the man when he passed in 1912.
Barclay Timber continued to thrive and was passed down through the Barclay clan until 1968, when the company was dismantled and sold to an international conglomerate. By then the town had grown to a healthy size, and made the transition away from a company town rather well. Nowadays, the town continues to thrive and grow, and its picturesque location attracts a number of hikers, campers, and other visitors who ramble through the forests and explore the old abandoned logging buildings among the firs. Elias Barclay, the latest of the clan, lives off a trust fund in an enormous mansion on the edge of town.
However, there are rumors, always rumors, of what happens after dark. Among the towering firs, in the back alleys, inside the old sawmills, people have seen things, strange things. Strange smells run through the wind. People inexplicably wake up far from where they went to sleep. Hikers have come back from the woods unable to speak, or just not come back at all. Residents report strange and terrifying dreams. Once in a great while, hideously mauled corpses are found hanging in the top branches of trees. Beneath the idyllic, picturesque surface, there is something very, very strange.
I intend for this to be something like some of the better creepypasta or other surreal horror out there, such as Marble Hornets or perhaps even Twin Peaks. This isn't survival horror, playing as a Navy SEAL isn't going to help you much because this is intended to be more subtle and psychological. Not to say there'll never be action of any kind, for those of you who enjoy a good punch-up. I have a few ideas for long-running plots running through my head, so ideally I'm looking for patient and invested players.
This appeal to anyone?