Blacksite

There is a terror, below the surface. A horrid sight to which the sleeping world pays no mind. Content are they to meander though their wretched lives comatose, blissfully unaware of the creeping dread beyond the dreamscape they are induced within. To them, it's all the same. They go to work, they pay their taxes, they explain away the howling wails in the witching hour.

But for those who are awake, knee deep in the darkness and iniquity that would take hold, their eyes are pried open to witness the gospel. The verity nestled within ghost stories and fairy tales, where magic and monsters lurk just below the beds of the sleeping masses. Everywhere you go there's a new bloodbath hidden in the murky depths of the nightmare. Where black budget agencies, secret societies, and megacorps rip each other to shreds in anomalous Blacksites.

The legends you heard as a child are very, very real. The vampires will guzzle your putrid blood, the werewolves will devour your rotting flesh. Now you're awake with no way back other than a quiet pill to the head. You can try to fight back the gloaming, but there ain't no light strong enough. Perhaps you should have wasted away in your sleep, because now you'll see it, now you'll feel it: The Horror.