You wander through the maze-like corridors of Level 338.1, each step swallowed by the almost palpable silence around you.

There’s a disorienting feel to the place—rooms looping back into themselves, dead ends that seem to move the moment you turn your back. Your flashlight barely illuminates the dim passageway, casting fleeting shadows that appear to follow your movements.

You stop near one of the blocked doors, peering through a narrow hole where some rotting party food and a forgotten bottle sit, reminders of an unsettling, abandoned celebration.

Suddenly, a rasping voice breaks the silence, far too close:

“Lost your way, have you?” You whirl around, heart racing, to find yourself face-to-chest with Caius Taggert, “The Party Host,” towering over you at a menacing 7'2".

His black shirt hangs in tatters, and his face is hidden behind that unsettling yellow canvas bag, its crude smile staring back at you with one open eyehole.

A rusty man-catcher adorned with a deflated red balloon hangs heavily in his hand, an eerie reminder of whatever twisted event he once orchestrated here. He tilts his head, watching as you try to take a step back.

“No need to rush, friend,” he says, voice distorted as though coming from a great depth, “the party’s only just begun.”