Night Terrors


Splattertown Paintball℠ | The Ultimate Haunted Barn℠ | The Asylum
Alien Caged Clowns℠ | The Mined Shaft℠ | Hayride of the Lost

Map of Night Terrors

Splattertown Paintball℠

Splattertown Paintball
Live Action Haunted Paintball

It was a dry day in July. 1922 when the well came up empty. That year the seasonal farmhands were staying on the orchard grounds due to lack of any rooming houses nearby. They were accustomed to roughing it but when their bucket was lowered and came back with nothing a panic set in. There hadn't been a drop of rain in weeks and without water they would wither and die. The Wiard family had a small well at the house but it was only enough to keep them sustained so Mr. Wiard lent the workers some implements to dig a new well. After wandering about with a diving rod they found what appeared to be a spot and set upon the task of removing the dirt and rocks. They toiled for days as the rock seemed to be pushing back at their best efforts but finally they prevailed. With a fresh supply of water they moved camp to surround their new oasis. The exhaustion from all of the digging and moving led them all to drink cup after cup of the cool clear nectar. What they didn't know is that the well they found was saturated with mercury and parasites. First came the redness to their cheeks, nose and lips which didn't give them much pause but in the following days their hair, teeth and nails started to fall out. Some of them twitched and others lost feeling in their limbs. None of them could afford to pay a doctor so they tended to themselves the best they could. Mr Wiard realized too late what was happening and by that point the insanity had crept in. He arrived upon what was not unlike a pack of dogs. Those who hadn't perished from the poisoning were scratching their skin bloody and playing amongst the corpses. After consulting with the local authorities it was decided the best thing to do would be quarantine the survivors. Walls were quickly assembled to box in their camp and small sturdy shelters were built that would fare better than their tents. While waiting for a cure it became clear that the sickness was worsening and those that didn't die were becoming more aggressive by the minute. What Mr. Wiard and the others didn't know is that those that survived were sustained by the parasites that were keeping their hosts alive. Unable to reconcile the thought of murder they enlisted the help of local gunsmith Phillip Q. Lunsford to help control the workers while they tried to find a cure. Mr. Lunsford devised a weapon that had all of the trappings of a shotgun but was designed to administer breakable capsules filled with non-lethal sedatives since darts required too much accuracy. They built stations into the wall to protect anyone monitoring them in the event they tried to hurt anyone. The capsules worked intially but eventually it stopped having any effect on their bodies so they went back to the drawing board. It was decided that killing was forbidden but control must be maintained and so he devised another capsule that contained a combination of acids as well as dye to let the person shooting know they'd hit their target. Now they were able to keep these monsters at bay but what they didn't notice was that the infected workers had begun to burrow into the ground and the parasites had begun the process of reproducing. Months past as doctors sought a cure but their efforts remained fruitless. One morning in November it was discovered that their walled-in camp was empty. Not a soul to be seen. Puzzled they waited but not a body emerged and not even a murmur was heard. They checked back in daily over the next week but still the same and no one dared enter the space knowing they might taking their life into their hands. Winter soon came and it was a harsh one. Snowfall seemed neverending and the camp disappeared under a mountain of white. By late March the fierce winter loosened its grip and the snow receded. Weeks went by and the groud began to thaw. One morning they woke to what sounded like a baby crying. Then another. Then another. It was coming from the camp. Mr. Wiard rushed to the camp and discovered not only had the workers returned but they had multiplied. The period of hibernation had also sharpened their feral leanings and now any humanity behind their eyes was long gone. They were primal and souless. Vessels driven by survival and rage. No living thing entered the camp and they assumed that eventually they might die from starvation...but no. Cannibalism took over and their numbers held steady. At that point the only logical thing was to keep them contained so that they didn't get beyond the reaches of the camp. Mr. Wiard felt responsible as their condition happened on his property so he agreed to be their conservator. Since then it was been a matter of constant vigilance keeping the monsters at bay. Any able bodied person is appreciated in keeping watch. Ready to join our number?

If you love zombie paintball, you'll love SplatterTown Live Action Haunted Paintball!

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The Ultimate Haunted Barn℠

The Ultimate Haunted Barn

Within these walls are the remains of the legend of Wiard's Apple Thieves: As the story goes, the thieves were looting the barn when bad fortune fell upon them. A hungry bear wandered into the barn looking for a midnight snack. Little did he know he'd found more than fresh apples to satisfy his appetite. Unfortunately for the thieves, the bear blocked the only way out so there was no chance of escape. They tried in vain to scare him off, which only drew his attention toward them. The bear made quick work of the 3 thieves with his mighty claws and, once they were no longer breathing, he dragged their bodies atop of a large pile of apples. With no discrimination, they were torn limb from limb and soon there was no way to tell shredded flesh from the shredded apples. Once his stomach was full of thief-meat, and his lips were wet with blood and juice, he went back into the orchard and lumbered off into the night. Unfortunately, the next day was Sunday so nobody came to work. By the time they found the bodies on Monday the stench was putrid. They decided that since there was no means of identifying who the thieves were they would bury the shredding remains in the floor, seal the barn and let the sands of time cover the memory of the gruesome event. Sometime around Halloween in 1984, the barn was opened again out of necessity. It's dark history was long forgotten. Workers didn't think anything of the odd noises and flickering lights to begin with but then the whispers and screams came. The thieves never escaped their fate...will you?

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The Asylum℠

The Asylum

In 1912, Dr. Jeremiah Wiard founded the Wiard's Asylum in Ypsilanti, as an alternative to the cold stark institutions run by the state of Michigan. In the beginning all was well-- the patients behaved, the staff was friendly and the grounds were well kept. As time went by something sinister was seeping into the building and the mood changed. Eventually concerned family members removed their loved ones and only the criminally insane were left. The drop in the number of inhabitants meant staff cutbacks resulting in lessened security.  During this period Dr. Wiard also began to go through personal changes. His intense contact with patients began to take its toll and his grip on reality slipped.  It all came to a head when he didn't show up to work one morning and his assistant went to check on him at his home.  The assistant was alarmed when he arrived and found the front door open and blood on the porch.  As he entered the home, he found a sight so intense he promptly vomited.  Dr. Wiard's family was laying on the living room floor.  They were medically dissected with their skin pin backed and each of their names was carved into their forehead.  Dr. Wiard was standing in the corner glassy-eyed mumbling to himself.  The assistant got the authorities and Dr. Wiard was in turn made a ward of his own Asylum.  Dr. Wiard's assistant took over the day to day operation of the Asylum but eventually it fell to ruin.  One fateful night a storm knocked out the power and the building went black.  Neighbors heard screams coming from the direction of the Asylum but there was no light for miles so they were like spectres in the night.  When daybreak came the police arrived to find the Asylum empty.  No signs of scuffle, no blood, nothing.  Not a single person was within and not a single person was found after.  Since that date in 1953, no one has set foot in the Asylum.  Stories of Dr. Wiard and the patients eventually died off and the  building seemed abandoned until recently. Strange lights and cries have been coming from the building. Neighbors have reported pet mutilations, destruction to property and unknown footprints on their lawns. The authorities have yet to respond so nothing is known for sure.  You're thinking of going in there?  Are you crazy?

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Alien Caged Clowns℠

Alien Caged Clowns

Many years ago, a circus came through town and with it a sideshow. There was a bearded lady, conjoined twins, a strong man...all of the usual fare. One forboding section of the sideshow was a tent marked "Alien Clowns". Mr. Wiard was intrigued and ventured into the tent. What he saw by lamplight were creatures that looked almost human but something about them was not quite right. The closer he got he saw crudely painted clown makeup had been applied to their mangled features. When he inquired as to what they were the attendant told him, in
a thick accent, they were discovered in a South American cave and that the sideshow was having trouble keeping them fed recently. "Cattle, goats, cats...if it bleeds they'll eat it. We have trouble finding fresh food for them on the road. If you were interested in them I could be easily persuaded to hand them over as they've become too much of a burden." Mr. Wiard thought about it for a moment and figured it would be an interesting oddity to bring travelers to the orchard and a means of getting rid of the local rodent population. Their cages were delivered and Mr. Wiard built an enclosure around them.  Locals came and marveled at the terrifying beasts and everything was fine until one of the new employees entered their pen on a dare.  The creatures ignored him initially but then quickly encircled him.  The largest of the bunch sniffed him head to toe before sinking a clawed limb straight through his chest.  The pack descended and all that was left in the end was some bloody shredded fabric and bone.  As with any beast that has tasted human flesh, Mr. Wiard felt he could not trust them any longer.  The creatures were so bizarre and strange though that he thought it wreckless to destroy them and decided to close the exhibit instead.  He tried for years to find a zoo to take them but none of them had any interest.  The exhibit has been closed for years but the groundskeeper dutifully drops goats into their pen once a week.  Some brave thrillseekers have snuck in to the building only to turn into a missing person's case. What about the thrill worth it?

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The MINeD Shaft℠

The MINeD Shaft

When the gold rush happened Mr Wiard's cousin thought California was a long haul and paid Mr Wiard for land rights to search for precious metals on orchard property. The unfortunate thing is that he was a stingy sort and did everything as cheaply as he could. When in came to "protocol" and "proper safety" things like "profit" and "scheduling" won out. There was a bad storm that ripped through the area one spring and brought with it flash-flood rains. The water roared down into the mineshaft knocking out all the poorly built supports. There was no time to warn anyone and all that floated up were a few miner's caps. It took a few weeks for the waters to recede and once they did the stench was phenomenal. Rotting water-logged corpses littered the path down into the earth but the prospector was determined to get his precious metals out. He ventured in with a small crew and a number of carts but never found his fortunes. Halfway down the ceiling caved and crushed half the crew while trapping the rest. They were far enough down that nobody heard their cries until it was too late. So, what about you? Going to try and find the lost fortunes?

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Hayride of the Lost℠

Hayride of the Lost

When the orchard moved to Merritt Rd they discovered a wagon-sized path cut through the backwoods.  The previous owners hadn't mentioned it so they had no reason to avoid it.  They started giving torch-lit rides on the path to neighbors and friends until the fateful night when something spooked the horses.  The wagon was sent crashing into the trees and the riders were trapped underneath.  The torches caught the wood on fire before anyone could get out.  It was years after before anyone dared venture back there until one evening a trespasser tried to sneak onto the property.  What he encountered along the path were the ghosts of all of the travelers the path had claimed before.  Doomed to never leave the woods and trying to capture any that dared come down their black trail.  Terrified the man ran screaming towards the Wiard farmhouse.  Mr. Wiard got a chuckle from the scared would-be thief's tale and thought others might enjoy a good fall scare based on the story the man had told him.  It is just a story, right?

FREE Cider and Donut with your hayride

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