Let the show

The contract you signed seemed straightforward enough - a reality game show, big prize money, 72 hours in a mansion. What they didn't emphasize was the nature of the house itself.

You stand outside an imposing Victorian structure, its gothic architecture seeming to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Gargoyles leer from the roofline. Stained glass windows depict scenes you can't quite make out, but which make you vaguely uncomfortable.

The producer, a woman in an expensive suit with an unsettling smile, hands you a key. "The rules are simple," she says. "Visit all eighteen locations in the house within 72 hours. Maintain your... original configuration. The first to accomplish both wins. The loser..." Her smile widens. "Well, we've never had a loser complain about the transformation afterward. They're always quite enthusiastic about their new lives."

Your opponent - a muscular man named Travis with a cocky grin - flexes and winks at you. "Hope you look good in a dress, buddy."

The mansion's front door swings open on its own, revealing a gaslit foyer with Victorian wallpaper and a guest book sitting on an ornate table. Two fountain pens rest beside it - one black, one red.

The game has begun.