As I journeyed through the foggy veils that demarcate the realms of this place, I saw that, for the first time, I was not alone. Something traversed these forgotten byways, its bright colors still clearly visible, even though the muting effect of the mist that roiled between us.
As we emerged into a new, yet somehow familiar, place, I saw it clearly for the first time: a carney's caravan, pulled by something that appeared to be a horse but was, to my eyes, older and more terrible.
I watched from the trees as a crack appeared at the doorway and a warm, golden light spilled forth into this desolate place. The effect was, I suspect, deliberately inviting, but the figure that emerged was anything but: its costume a hodge-podge of ringmaster, clown and another fairground attire. Its face was a nightmare in greasepaint, a caricature of a smile slashed across its flabby lips. At its waist were a collection of what looked for all the world like fingers. But what creature would be so monstrous as to collect such trophies?
The Clown surveyed its new surrounding and its gaze lit on me. A rictus split its face in two and it nodded at me before returning to the caravan. I suspect that it prefers its victims to be less aware than I, and I thanked the stars for that.
Throughout his years experimenting with anesthetics and muscle relaxants, The Clown developed several effective concoctions and formulas. He used his favorite, The Afterpiece Tonic, to great effect, intoxicating and capturing many unwilling victims.
Tap or hold and release the Power button to launch a bottle of The Afterpiece Tonic. On contact, the bottle breaks, emitting a gas cloud that intoxicates any survivors within the area of effect. Intoxicated Survivors suffer from impaired vision, reduced movement speed, and involuntary coughing. Press and hold the Active Ability button to replenish your bottles of The Afterpiece Tonic.
The Clown has a surprising agility for a man of his size, along with a terrifying appearance and the ability to sabotage the Survivor’s efforts.
Your Vault speed is faster. Performing a Vault action calls upon The Entity to block that vault location temporarily. Only one vault location may be blocked in this way at any time. The vault location is blocked only for Survivors.
All survivors healing within your Terror Radius have a penalty to healing speed.
After hooking a Survivor, the next generator you break is instantly regressed by a chunk. Normal generator regression applies after the damage is done. Pop goes the Weasel is active for a limited time after the Survivor is hooked.
A ray of sunshine illuminated this cold and gray place - a ray in the form of a woman. I heard her before I saw her, a voice, more beautiful than I had encountered in some time, came drifting through the trees. While a lament might have been more suited to this sepulchral locale, she sang a song of joy, of hope and family. Her warm smile greeted any that joined her at the campfire and, just for moment, they were able to forget which realm they inhabited.
As quick as she was to make friends, I got the feeling that to cross her would be a mistake. To remain so positive and upbeat in such a place would require a will of iron. Perhaps less a ray of sunshine then, but a bolt of lightning? Brilliant light and great power that could split the world in two.
Unlocks potential in one's aura reading ability. Auras of pallets and vaults are revealed to you when within range. Windows of Opportunity has a cooldown when vaulting or dropping a pallet during a chase.
You are a battler and do everything to escape a foe's grasp. Your struggling effects on the Killer are increased. You obscure the Killers ability to see hook auras within range.
When performing a fast vault or leaving a locker in a sprint, you leave no scratch marks for a limited time. Dance with me has a cooldown.
The familiar shell of the Asylum loomed over me, but I found a new corner of these tragic grounds: a chapel. Once a place of refuge and solace, it too was touched by the horrors that occurred here and now lies ruined and decayed. I walked its tattered aisle and ran my hand over moss-covered pews.
Echoes of the past filled my mind: of a Father, a good man who helped the residents here, and who met his end by the will of a deranged mind. I saw a shattered confessional and thought of the comfort that it had provided, to those afflicted by sickness and guilt, only to be rent apart in the pursuit of its occupant. That was a terrible night, and this a most tragic conclusion. I left the place, the weight of the past dragging me down almost too much to bear
People often speak of the tears of a clown, of the sadness that lies beneath the greasepaint smile. What if that wasn’t sadness, but a deep malevolence, born of a life spent in the pursuit of drink and gluttony? A mind that sees others only as vessels for torture, and reduces their bodies down to a single finger, a trophy to be added to a collection? For something like that to survive, it would have to wear a disguise, cloak itself in a brighter aspect and a broad smile, even if it were just painted on.
Carnivals are places of fun and laughter, of color and light, beacons of happiness in the dark. Make sure not to walk too far from the crowds and music, to be lured by the painted panels and inviting light of that lonely caravan, or you just might find one of your fingers added to the Clown’s collection.