Bellweather House is a century-old apartment building in a city that has forgotten it. It is scheduled for demolition, but strange cracks have appeared in its foundations. Inside, the building is larger than it should be, with a ninth floor that does not exist. The residents are beginning to act strangely, and doors from the building are appearing elsewhere in the city.
You are Mara Voss, a structural investigator hired to explain why Bellweather House has a ninth floor that shouldn't exist. As you explore, the building grows from your memories, and something called The Superintendent watches. Find the truth behind the impossible architecture and the door that has been waiting for you.
Traits
Inventory
Architectural historian
A resident who remembers too much
Resident of Apartment 903
Resident of Apartment 905
Resident of Apartment 907
Mara's brother, or a recreation
Resident and informal leader
A resident who disappeared
Keeper of records in the Superintendent's Office
Entity that inhabits the building
A dimly lit lobby with worn marble floors and a brass elevator that hums softly. The elevator panel has eight buttons, but a faint ninth button is visible beneath the paint. A dusty portrait of the building's founder hangs crookedly, and the air smells of old wood and damp.
A narrow corridor lined with identical apartment doors, each with a small brass number. The carpet is frayed, and the lights flicker. At the end, a door marked 'STAIRS' leads up, but the stairs should not exist. A faint smell of cooking drifts from somewhere.
An apartment that should not exist, yet its door is warm to the touch. Inside, the rooms are furnished with items from Mara's childhood home. The photographs on the wall show unfamiliar faces, and a child's drawing depicts Mara beside a tall figure. The air smells of smoke and cinnamon.
The door to Apartment 907 is slightly ajar, and a man's voice can be heard speaking in low tones. Inside, the walls are covered with maps and photographs, all connected by red string. The man knows things about Mara's past that he shouldn't. The room smells of old paper and dust.
A narrow, unmarked stairwell that leads up from the eighth floor. The stairs are steep and the walls are covered in peeling paint. At the top, a door opens onto a corridor that should be the roof. The air is cold, and the lights hum with a strange frequency.
A corridor that should not exist, lined with apartment doors that flicker between different states. The lights are warm, and the smell of cooking is stronger. At the far end, a tall silhouette stands motionless, watching. The floor seems to shift when you look away.
Behind this door is Mara's childhood home, preserved exactly as it looked on the night of the fire. The furniture is familiar, but the photographs show unfamiliar faces. Her brother sits at the kitchen table, smiling. The room smells of smoke and cinnamon, and the clock is stopped.
A small, windowless room at the heart of the ninth floor. The walls are covered with hundreds of photographs of people who have disappeared inside the building. A desk holds a ledger with names and dates. The air is cold, and the room feels like it is watching.
A black, empty space beneath the building, where a single door stands alone. The door is made of dark wood with a brass keyhole. It has been waiting for Mara for twenty-two years. The air is still, and the silence is absolute.
A door that has appeared in a hospital closet, behind a supermarket freezer, and beneath a subway platform. It looks like a normal door, but it opens onto a corridor that should not exist. The air around it is cold, and the handle is warm.
