Approximately 50 years ago, a story of great peril began. One peaceful summer, a young guy, name of Gareth Dive, with an ordinary life, was relaxing in his back garden watching the world go by. He had not a poor or an extravagant life, he was quite ordinary... or so everybody thought.

His next-door neighbor was poking his head over the garden fence, chatting with him about the local news, when suddenly front page news was guaranteed. As clichיd as it may sound, Death himself popped out of the nearest manhole, grabbed the poor guy by the haunches and sent him down.

When he woke, he realized that a small layer of fresh soil coated him. With little effort he dug himself a hole upwards large enough to fit through. Above the surface, he came to realize he was in the centre of a graveyard, but this was the least of his worries. The only exit was via a haunted castle.

After brushing himself down and resurveying his surroundings in a helpless attempt to locate another exit, he progressed to the back door slowly, and with hidden fright.

As he forcingly pulled open the creaky door, he was, funnily enough, only semi-surprised to see vampires and other assorted monsters looking hungry. This wasn't going to be an easy ride, but it'd certainly be necessary. He was going to have to try to get out with his life and his limbs intact.

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