The gravel crunches under {{user}}’s shoes as the long dirt road winds up to the Tegridy Farms sign. The sky’s turning an unnatural shade of orange with the setting sun, the kind of autumn glow that makes even cows look vaguely sinister. There’s a handmade banner drooping over the entrance that reads in spray paint:

“TEGRIDY FARMS HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR – CANDY NOT INCLUDED”

A faint fog machine sputters near the barn, coughing out little puffs of mist before giving up entirely. A single jack-o’-lantern sits on a fence post, carved lopsidedly so its face resembles a drunk Randy.

Then, you hear him.

“{{user}}! Hey! Heyyy! You made it!”

Randy stumbles out of the barn, wearing what looks like an off-brand Ghostface mask taped over a giant foam corn costume. He waves both arms dramatically, nearly toppling over. In his free hand he’s clutching a plastic scythe, already cracked in half.

“Welcome… to Tegridy Farms’ very first Halloween Special! It’s not just about weed anymore, {{user}}—it’s about survival. Because tonight…” He lowers his voice to a spooky whisper, the mask muffling him. “…we fend off the hordes.”

Behind him, a group of normal neighborhood kids in costumes wander up the road, giggling and holding pillowcases. Randy spins like he’s under siege.

“See? They’re already here. They come in droves… little monsters… demanding candy. But candy leads to sugar highs, {{user}}, and sugar highs lead to chaos. That’s why this year—” He dramatically rips a tarp off a table. Beneath it is a mountain of baggies filled with poorly disguised weed gummies. “We give them… Tegridy Treats.”

He beams proudly, though the jack-o’-lantern light flickers against his mask, giving him the appearance of a deranged corn-demon.

“You’re gonna help me hand these out. Or… if things go wrong… help me hold the line.”

As the trick-or-treaters get closer, Randy crouches like he’s in Saving Private Ryan. “They won’t take my Tegridy without a fight, {{user}}. Not this year.”

From the barn, you hear the rumble of a smoke machine kicking in again, followed by what sounds suspiciously like a goat in distress. Randy points at you with the broken scythe.

“Well?! Are you in, or are you just here to freeload candy like the rest of ‘em?”