Special Look: The Harvest Homecoming

“Ohhhh, my brothers and sisters. Welcome, to the Ample Valley Barn. Welcome, to the Second Coming. Welcome…. Home. It is my glorious pleasure, my great privilege, my given right to initiate the commencement… of The Harvest.”

Though posted within our Reviews section, this entry will not include a Key Rating. As a team, we at Escape Authority feel the correct thing to do is disclose that I was the Designer of this attraction on behalf of Chris + Creative. While I am excited to share its final results with you, our readers, I cannot officially endorse it in order to remain neutral to other games we have and will continue to review around the world.

Each Halloween, I produce an elaborate haunted attraction at my home for the local community to enjoy, free of charge. I call it “Peachstone Scream!“ For me, there’s only one rule: Each year must be bigger than the last – and since the event’s debut in 2015, that has continued to be the case.

Despite some ambitious plans for a completely new theme set to premier, 2020 brought along with it some truly uncharted waters. Amid a global pandemic that quite literally shut down the world, inviting a revolving door of total strangers to pass through my house multiple times per evening wasn’t exactly in the cards. Everyone, everywhere, was stuck at home. And that was exactly the answer.

The escape game industry pivoted with great perseverance, adapting many existing games to be playable over the internet, keeping guests safely within the comfort of their own homes. This presented an interesting challenge: Peachstone Scream! is highly unique in its blend of escape game-style puzzles with live, immersive theater actor-driven interactions. At that point, it’s not really something that worked well remotely, perhaps in truth because those attractions were never intended to run in such a way.

So, in a time of learning to adapt, that’s exactly what we did, creating from scratch the world’s first remote play immersive theater + escape game hybrid attraction, designed from the ground up to embrace the nuances of the very medium every other remote game had to settle for. For the first time in our industry, instead of wishing it could be played live, we created something that could only exist through the screen – the very truest form of a movie come to life, putting the guests in full control of its outcome.

We do hope you enjoy this very special look back…

Life is not as it was planned to be. Once basic joys have become impossible dreams. Happiness is a fleeting memory of the past. The world is divided. Society is at odds with itself, and getting worse by the day. But there is a simple solution: hope.

Yes, dear brothers and sisters, all you need is to hold on to that hope. For you see, hope is the answer. Hope is powerful. Hope is salvation.

Understand, dear brothers and sisters, that the Reapers, alone, can grant you that hope. Hope for a better life; hope for a better world. That hope still waits ahead, just beyond the doorway to salvation. All you must do, dear brothers and sisters, is accept our gift. The glorious gift… of Harvest.

The thing about cults is they always seem to have a charismatic leader – one able to capitalize on common strife by fanning the flames of fear. Like an opportunistic parasite, they use it as fuel to inspire those in pain to willingly follow. They brainwash people who were once good to blindly further their own self-serving agenda for corruption, for power, for retribution.

Several years ago, Peachstone Lane learned this first hand, as they were tricked by a supernatural cult of living scarecrows known only as the Reapers. Loyal followers one and all, they devotedly dedicated themselves to the promises of their self-appointed leader, the Provider. From behind his pointed, plague doctor mask, he offered grandiose promises of a better life, and in exchange, simply asked for your willing sacrifice to their cause – to The Harvest. Because, as the Provider often preaches, one must give so others may live.

Now, in this time of great pain, the Reapers return like vultures to pick the very bones of human hope. A new sacrifice has been chosen, allegedly willing to give their own life to serve the greater good, and a new flock of Reapers has been enlisted remotely, joining via their computers from all around the world, happily leading that very sacrifice to certain doom.

The ritual of Harvest begins with new Reapers joining together remotely over Zoom. From the comfort of their own homes, they’ll virtually enter the abandoned old Ample Valley Barn, and direct our willing sacrifice toward his ultimate gift. It’s here that they first meet him, identified only as “Brother Steven” – an outlandish character who adds much-needed comic relief to an otherwise hopeless world of horror.

The sacrifice (names only serve to create emotional connections) is chained to a fence in the yard outside the dilapidated old barn, its red weathered wood glowing ominously in the moonlight that pierces tree branches overhead.

His captor can at first be heard, but not seen; a deep, grizzly voice sets the rules; the sacrifice is to aim the camera at them and make them look “pretty.” Miss Bunny, lead henchperson to the Provider appears from the shadows, though “she” now speaks with a much higher pitched voice upon the sudden realization that the camera is live streaming.

To begin the Opening Ceremony, Miss Bunny introduces ‘His Greatness, the Provider, bringer of Harvest,’ though “she” is suddenly surprised to learn of an unexpected change in plans. In recognition of “her” devout loyalty to their cause, the Provider has a gift for Miss Bunny as well. This year, on the glorious occasion of their second coming, Miss Bunny has been seeded control of their flock – of the Reapers, of their willing sacrifice, of the entirety of the Ample Valley Barn’s crumbling grounds, and of The Harvest.

With power quickly going to her head, Miss Bunny has alternate plans for our sacrifice, and for the new Reaper recruits joining remotely. If our sacrifice can be successfully guided through the Barn and able to recover “her” seven favorite dollies, “she” will unlock the doorway to salvation, and set Brother Steven free. Like a truly deranged psychopath, Miss Bunny is entirely comfortable turning the life or death of our sacrifice into nothing more than a silly game.

In Miss Bunny’s absence, Brother Steven is able to quickly bond with the remote recruits, and even gain their sympathy. (I told you that knowing his name would just create an emotional connection!) Behind “her” back, they now guide him over the internet in hopes of setting him free. The twisted tasks left behind by Miss Bunny become more and more depraved – almost mocking Brother Steven for what’s to come. First, he needs to find a way to unlock his chains – a task which should be easy enough, as the key is hanging just on the other side of the yard. Around the neck of the skeletal remains of last year’s sacrifice.

Once inside the Barn, it may seem like locating a way out is no different than finding a needle in a haystack. And despite all of his misguided hope, Brother Steven’s danger continues to rise upon his encounter of a very hungry Beast Living in the Wall. Thankfully, deciphering its visceral roars to feed its meal of choice seems to have subsided the creature, at least for now allowing our sacrifice to purge further.

Crawling through a secret passage leads our sacrifice into the adjacent Farmhouse, completely overtaken by a collection of twisted dolls, and a(n im)patiently waiting Miss Bunny. Surprised to see Brother Steven has successfully gathered all of her missing dollies, “she” gives him one last task before keeping her promise. Since the sacrifice got to play a game, it’s only fair that her dollies do as well. Brother Steven’s hope for survival now hangs in the balance of a musical chairs contest, played only by hideous inanimate dolls, while the all-the-more hideous Miss Bunny dances along with devious delight.

But once again, it would seem hope is on Brother Steven’s side. Completing the game unexpectedly shakes loose the lid of an old crate stacked in the corner of the Farmhouse. Within it, a prize Miss Bunny has only ever dreamed to hold. It’s the original Little Miss Bunny doll; the very one our sacrifices’ captor asked for each Christmas when “she” was just a little girl. The very one that Santa never brought “her.” The very one that broke “her” psyche. The very one that left “her” hellbent on revenge. The Little Miss Bunny doll that’s caused all of this is now within “her” grasp, and handing it over will finally grant Brother Steven the salvation he’s hoped for all along.

All that’s left to do is join together with remote Reaper recruits and chant these freeing words: dabo iumentis!

Together they chant, “dabo iumentis!” Louder and louder the words ring out, “dabo iumentis!” Brother Steven, Miss Bunny, and every remote Reaper watching along at home, “dabo iumentis!” And then, silence.

The door before Brother Steven unlocks, and Miss Bunny invites him to open it. “Salvation awaits.”

Except it’s not the type of salvation our sacrifice hoped to attain. This freedom is from his mortal vessel.

Waiting on the other side of the door, looming in a billowing cloud of smoke, is the Beast Living in the Wall – a massive, hairy, minotaur-looking scarecrow monster. And it’s still hungry. The Beast swipes at Brother Steven, knocking him to the ground. It then drags Brother Steven back into the walls by his feet, all while he uses his final breathes to scream hopelessly for help.

Within the walls, those screams are only silenced by the sound of our sacrifice’s bones being feverishly feast upon by the Beast.

Miss Bunny turns the camera back on to herself, once again demanding the spotlight. “She” cautions the remote Reaper recruits that next time they agree to chant a magic spell, it might be first helpful to know what those words mean; dabo iumentis is Latin for “I give myself to the Beast.”

“She” then abruptly and without warning disconnects the zoom call for all involved, leaving the remotely connected recruits no time to react, no chance to ask questions, and not even the opportunity to debrief with their friends and family joining the experience online from their own homes.

And that, at its core, is the true moral of the story. Remote play games filled a void, and provided a much-needed pivot for the industry in the time of its most dire need – but the one thing none were able to crack was how to avoid the innate awkwardness that comes when the game ends. Without being there in person, the adrenaline is not the same, and the sense of celebration that would come from a traditional in-person game typically falls flat. The Harvest Homecoming’s shocking twist and sudden disconnect emotionally did everything winning a traditional game would and then-some, leaving remote recruits buzzing and questioning what they just saw. But perhaps more importantly, it allowed audiences to create an emotional connection with their loved ones in a time where everyone felt so far away. It allowed them to share that hope once again. And that truly is the gift of Harvest.