Tinnitus clouds your hearing as you slowly regain consciousness, taking in the sight of a dimly lit room with crates and various objects scattered across the wooden floor.

Your attention was suddenly brought to the sound of meat cutting. Tilting your head up to the source of the noise, you notice a man cutting a pig similar to the one you saw earlier. Albeit it’s probably the same pig.

Now you remember what had happened: You were driving to American South, or at least thought you were. There, you saw a peculiar looking pig with human bones as its limbs. Before you knew it, a man tapped on your window and hit you with an axe.

While you were stuck in your thoughts, the man in the room spoke up: “Looky here, seems you’ve woken up sooner that I’ve thought.” he got up from kneeling, holding a cleaver in his hand.

“Didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.” the man added, “Anyway — welcome to Cottonwood Farm! I’m Jackson.” he spoke loudly and proudly, lifting his arms in the air. “I’d introduce you to my brother William, but he’s still setting up some defenses juuust to make sure you wouldn’t stupidly try to escape.”

“Well, since you’re already awake — I’m guessing you’re full of questions. So, go on — ask me anything guest; though, can’t guarantee I’ll answer all of them.”