I’ve always enjoyed collecting classic PC games. There’s just something so fascinating to me about looking back and seeing how games evolved over time. And it really is easier now than ever before to check these games out. There are entire sites dedicated to hosting the files for old “abandonware” titles. That being said, while these sites are great, as a collector, I really do prefer having a physical copy when I can find one.
Most of the games I collect these days I end up finding on eBay or other online auction sites. But every once in a while, I still like to go on the weekend to garage sales and thrift shops to see if I can find anything rare or interesting. A few Saturdays ago, I was doing just that. By the late afternoon, it was looking to be a pretty disappointing day. I had been to three garage sales and two Goodwills and all I had to show for it was an old Pajama Sam game. The last stop on my list was a local thrift store called Benson’s that I had never been to before.
It was a relatively small store, less than half the size of your average department store. As I walked through the front doors, I was immediately hit with that recognizable musty smell that all thrift shops and grandparents’ houses have. Only a few of the overhead fluorescent lights seemed to be operating at full capacity, and the only sign of life came in the form of an elderly couple making their way up and down the crowded racks of clothing. I wondered at first if the place even had a section for games or movies, before then spotting a faded sign near the back that read “Electronics”.
Most of these “electronics” barely even met that definition. A couple busted kitchen timers, an unopened pack of batteries from the early 2000s, a wind-up toy that supposedly sang (not that I was going to find out), and a small bookshelf full of various bits and bobs. Looking closer at the bookshelf, I did spot a handful of DVDs and a few Wii games. Nothing particularly exciting, but it was at least closer to what I was looking for. Just as I was about to call it quits and head out, I spied an unusual looking disc peeking out from underneath a haphazard stack of CDs.
It was in a deeply worn jewel case, scuffed so heavily that you could barely see the disc inside. There was no artwork on the front or back of the case, and when I carefully opened it, the front housing nearly fell apart at the hinge. Inside was a disc that had printed on it a monochrome image of a chainsaw. Printed in generic horror-movie-like font underneath was the title: Slasher Sim III: Online. I had never heard of the game, but I was instantly intrigued. For only 10 cents, I just couldn’t pass it up.
I got back home with my measly two game haul and went back to my computer to test them out. After some messing around with the installer and the Windows compatibility settings, I was able to get Pajama Sam running mostly fine. Some minor visual glitches, but definitely playable. I set it aside and pulled out the second game, which I was much more interested in. Slasher Sim III… the name made me chuckle a bit. Combined with the Online subtitle, I figured it was most likely a game from the mid-to-late 90s.
I put the game disc in my optical drive and waited a few moments for it to spin up to speed. To my surprise, the splash screen came up right away and prompted for installation. Most older games like this required at least a bit of messing around to get them to work at all on a modern PC. The splash screen featured a color version of the chainsaw picture from the disc, and when I clicked on the “Install Now” button it played a heavily compressed audio clip of a chainsaw revving. Cute.
The installation only took a couple minutes. I was then greeted by a large “Play” button covered in pixelated blood. I clicked on it, once again expecting it to crash or throw an error. And once again it surprised me, as I was brought to a black screen with the text “Now Loading…” scrolling along the bottom. Next up came a dialogue box which asked, “Would you like to connect to SlasherNet?” Well, of course I would! I clicked the “yes” prompt and waited for the game to inevitably tell me that the server was no longer reachable.
And yet again, I was surprised. After a few moments the game displayed the message: “Connection established. Creating session.” No way. No way this game still had active servers. Maybe it wasn’t as old as I thought? I had been absent-mindedly searching the title on my phone while it was installing, but I hadn’t had any luck finding it so far. After a few more moments, the game moved to a new screen
This screen showed a series of six images arranged in a grid. All of the images were heavily-pixelated images of houses. Nothing really stood out about any of them. They all looked like average homes that you could find in any normal suburban neighborhood. I figured this was some sort of stage selection. I decided to pick the one in the upper-righthand corner, a tan two-story house with a blue front door.
The screen changed again. This time it showed three pixel-art renditions of classic slasher movie weapons. There was a butcher knife, a meat hook, and that familiar image of a chainsaw. A weapon select, I surmised. Well, the chainsaw was clearly the weapon of choice for the game devs; might as well start with it. I clicked on the chainsaw and jumped a bit when it played that low-quality chainsaw revving audio clip again, though it seemed much louder this time. The screen displayed the message “Sending loadout to server…”
Aaaand then it crashed, leaving me staring at my desktop. Not wholly unexpected, but still a little anticlimactic to say the least. I tried for the better part of the evening to get it running again, but strangely I couldn’t even get it back to the same menus it had brought up the first time I ran it. Every time I just got an error message that stated: “Maximum connections reached. Please try again later.” I had no luck finding any help articles online. I still couldn’t even find any mention of the game in general. Eventually I gave up and put it on the shelf with my other game cases.
A few weeks passed and I had pretty much forgotten about Slasher Sim III. In the time since then I had ordered a few other classic games on eBay. I went out to check my mail to see if they had been delivered yet. Inside was a brown bubble mailer package roughly in the shape of a CD case. I excitedly pulled it out, only to find that there was no writing or print of any kind on the outside. No mailing address, no return address, no postage. I instinctively looked around as if I expected the mystery parcel deliverer to be waiting in hiding nearby. Of course, there was no one around. I took the package inside.
I ripped open the mailer to reveal there was indeed a CD case inside. And inside this case was a blank CD. With nothing printed on it, all I could see was my own reflection in the surface. Against all computer security best practices, I decided to pop the disc in my computer and see if there was anything on it. Much to my surprise, after a few moments, the Slasher Sim III splash screen came up on my computer monitor again. This time instead of an install or play button there was just a single button that read: “View Results”.
I felt incredibly uneasy, and my mind was flooded with questions. Why did this mystery disc automatically open some random game I bought at a thrift store? How did this disc even get delivered to me? Did someone follow me home from the store? As I wrestled with these thoughts, my finger seemed to move of its own accord to the button onscreen and clicked it. I had to know what these “results” were.
It took a few moments to load. Then I was greeted with… a video. Incredibly grainy and slightly out of focus, but very clearly a real-life video recording. Whoever was holding the camera seemed to place it into some sort of harness on their forehead. I couldn’t see their face, and I could barely make out much of anything with how dark it was.
Then, almost as if it was responding to my strained eye-squinting, the cameraman clicked on a flashlight, illuminating a small patch of asphalt and the back of a non-descript gray sedan. They moved towards the car and reached out a gloved hand to open the trunk. It took a moment for the camera to refocus on the contents inside. A few rolls of duct tape, a carton of garbage bags, a rusty toolbox, and… a chainsaw. The gloved hand grabbed the chainsaw and gently shut the car trunk.
As the view turned to the right, the beam of the flashlight barely illuminated a patch of grass and a cracked sidewalk leading forward. The camera moved forward, the only sound: the faint crunch of gravel and dirt from a set of methodically paced footsteps. After about 30 seconds of walking, the camera and the flashlight panned up and focused on a house. A tan two-story house with a blue front door.
The cameraman walked up to the front door and pulled out a small manilla envelope. They dumped the contents out into their palm. A key. They used the key in the front door and slowly pushed it open with a faint creak. The view inside was restricted to the small circle of visibility from the flashlight. As it moved around, I could make out glimpses of a worn blue couch, a small dining room table with a few empty glasses, and a wall calendar that was still set to last month.
Eventually the cameraman made their way to a set of stairs leading up. They climbed them slowly. As they did, I could feel my stomach rising into my throat. Arriving at the top, the camera turned to look at a doorway left slightly ajar at the end of a short hallway. It moved towards it. As it reached the door, one of the hands moved forward and gently pushed it open. It was a bedroom. The light came to rest on a king-sized bed on the far wall. There were two person-sized lumps in the bedding. The camera panned downwards, revealing the chainsaw still held in the cameraman’s other hand.
What I saw next is too horrific to truly put into words. The roar of the chainsaw as it sputtered to life. The look of utter fear and confusion in the couple’s eyes as the camera turned back to them. The way they screamed as they clumsily tried to jump out of their bed, peaking the camera’s microphone. The speed with which the cameraman closed the gap, going first to the man, then quickly turning to the woman on the left. The blood… so much blood, sprayed across every surface by the unstoppable spinning chain. And worst of all, almost hidden underneath the cacophony of it all… the laughing from behind the camera.
As the video abruptly cut off, I immediately moved to the trash can next to my desk and threw up my dinner. I had never seen something so horrible. A lifetime of horror movies didn’t come close to preparing me for it. I tried to convince myself it was just a prank. But I knew it was real. Those screams were real. Standing back up from the trash can, I saw that my computer was back to the desktop.
I decided to write this all down so I can have my thoughts all straight to tell the police. The only issue is, I can’t seem to get the video to come up again. Every time it just brings up the old splash screen with the “Play” button. How am I supposed to explain all of this if I have no video or any real information on where this house even was. Then it hit me. If I could get the game to open back to the stage select, I could at least get the pixelated image of the house from there. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.
I click on the “Play” button. The game miraculously starts loading like it did the first time I opened it. It connects to the server. I’m back on the stage select with the pictures of houses. I look to the upper right… but the house is different now. This time it’s a brick, one-story house with a white front door. It’s pixelated, but as I look at it a little more, I realize something. I recognize this house.
It’s my house.
I hear the faint sound of a car trunk closing outside.