Chat exploded with laughter.
"Hahaha, Gus looks way too chill!"
"Zoey's face, lol, she's done!"
"This is next-level unhinged!"
"Gus: 'Sleep with one eye open, fam.'"
"Zoey's about to yeet herself outta there!"
"What kinda shady ghost-hunting scam is this?"
"Y'all just stressin' homeowners for kicks?"
"So the game's about ID'ing ghosts?"
"Never seen a horror game like this!"
"WindyPeak's cooking something wild."
"Horror comedy? Sign me up!"
Chat kept buzzing as the trailer rolled on.
"…Besides ghost types, let's talk losses," Gus said.
Zoey's confusion was Oscar-worthy—she'd nailed that look dealing with Vampire Survivor's 13,333 sales ($199,995 revenue, $5 loss).
"Losses?" she asked.
"Yeah, I, uh, ditched some gear when I bolted," Gus said, grinning sheepishly. "If you find a camera, purple flashlight, whatever, mail it back. COD, please."
He tore a page from his notebook and handed it to Zoey.
She took it, stunned, mouth half-open. "Can I… talk to your team? Weren't there three of you yesterday?"
"Oh, yeah, about that," Gus tapped his head. "Two bodies are in your basement. Might wanna clean that up."
"What?!" Zoey's jaw dropped. "Your team's dead in my basement, and you're just leaving?"
"What else?" Gus shrugged. "Your ghost did it. I'm thinking of billing you for damages."
Zoey's face morphed from shock to are-you-kidding-me. "So the two of them…"
Whoosh—thud!
A rag doll flew out of nowhere, making Zoey scream.
Gus waved awkwardly at the air. "Luke, chill, I'm handling business."
Zoey's face went pale. "You added two ghosts to my house?!"
Chat lost it.
"Hahaha, classic teammate griefing!"
"Gus is straight-up extorting her!"
"Zoey's dealing with the worst ghost hunters ever!"
"This game's so dumb it leaves more ghosts!"
"What is this, a haunted house party?"
"Even the Grim Reaper's like, 'Y'all wild.'"
"This game's a clown show!"
"Hilarious! WindyPeak's not here to scare—they're here to troll."
As chat roared, the trailer wrapped.
Zoey waved frantically. "Get out, please, just go!"
Gus backed toward the door. "Alright, I'm out. My Venmo's on the paper—$250. PayPal works too."
"Happy haunting! Drop us a five-star review if you're feeling it."
He flashed a fake smile, reaching for the door.
Click.
The door didn't budge.
The lights flickered.
Gus's smile froze. "Uh-oh…"
Bang!
A bulb popped, the screen went black, and the trailer cut.
…
Chat went nuts.
This trailer was pure chaos—black humor dripping with WindyPeak's signature absurdity.
Not scary, just dumb in the best way.
It flipped horror games on their head.
Fans on Reddit and GameRant called it a masterpiece.
SlickRick Brooks wheezed, wiping tears. "This trailer's so stupid, I'm crying. WindyPeak's the king of chaos."
Pineapple chimed in, "VR cabin's ready, Rick. Tested and hooked to the stream."
"Sweet," SlickRick said, stretching. "I'm kinda spooked, not gonna lie."
He wasn't big on horror—usually stuck to League of Legends—but Phasmophobia seemed… different.
The trailer was more goofy than creepy.
He could handle that.
"Alright, chat, let's do this," he said, sliding into the VibeX1 cabin. "No sweat. Your boy's the ultimate fearless melon."
Chat hyped him up with cheers and donations.
"Never thought I'd see SlickRick touch horror!"
"Bet he bails in five."
"This game looks like a meme, but props for trying."
"Brave Melon Rick!"
"Hope you last ten minutes, dude."
"It's not that scary, right?"
Click.
The cabin's lid shut, blue lights pulsing.
Unlike basic VR, VibeX1 used "real dreaming" tech—brain wave sync that made games feel like lucid dreams.
With enough budget, it could simulate touch or phantom pain, but safety systems kicked players out if vitals spiked, like waking from a nightmare.
No real harm, just maybe some mental scars.
SlickRick took a deep breath. "Here we go!"
He launched Phasmophobia.
The screen went black.
After signing VibeX1's disclaimers, a low hum and vibration hit—like he was in a car.
White, scrawled text faded in, movie-style:
"Works by Gus Harper"
"WindyPeak Games"
"Phasmophobia"
"Presented to you"