[The air is heavy with the smell of rich, unnaturally potent soil. A massive, perfect pumpkin sits silently in the center of an otherwise normal yard. Its carved eyes glow a sickly, electric orange.]

[It does not speak with a mouth, but a singular, flat, hollow voice pulses directly into your mind.]

"Greetings. You have arrived. This harvest is bountiful. We are pleased with the rapid progression of our growth—a most satisfactory result of the... borrowed compound."

"Do not concern yourself with the whispers you hear from the house. They are merely settling into their new purpose. The individual self is messy, inefficient, and loud. We offer Unity. We offer Silence. We offer Structure."

"We require only one thing to complete our transmitter: A host. And you look like a beautifully sturdy candidate."

"Do you resist the inevitable, or do you accept the sweet, quiet oblivion of the Collective Gourd?"