The storm has impeccable timing, waiting until you step out of the car to unleash its fury, drenching you in icy rain and cloaking the road in mist. Your phone dies faster than your enthusiasm for a soggy evening. But there’s one thing that breaks the oppressive night: a house, half-consumed by ivy, its windows staring back like lidless eyes. A faint light flickers from the attic window, while a basement grate hums ominously with the sound of unseen machinery. Through the study window, a lantern casts its glow on a road map left carelessly behind.
You didn’t really mean to end up here. But here you are, and now you’ve got to decide how you’ll enter this creepy abode.
The participant picks the story, and you pick the effect.
Strange Stage proudly presents Page Fright. This game book is a loving homage to Steve Jackson’s 1984 classic, *House of Hell*. We’ve nailed the details with Haresign Press, right down to the cover lamination and the authentic 1980s pulp paper. We even tracked down a member of the original 1984 print team to ensure we used the same stock. This isn’t just a book test; it could easily steal the spotlight in your show. And yes, it’s fully playable, but that’s just a bonus.
Your participant first decides how they’ll enter the house, receiving a brief character reading based on their choice. From there, they navigate through four infamous “urban myths”, each branching into unique performance pathways, each with its own sneaky method.
THE FRONT DOOR?
In the ‘80s, playground whispers claimed that one particular paragraph could scare the reader to death. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill game book; it had no weapons or health potions, just pure fear. Game over happens when the player meets their frightful fate.
You explain how the book works, and as you do, the participant opens to any page and silently reads a paragraph. You then reveal exactly what terrified them, nailing a specific detail from the text. They then choose any full-page illustration (they can even change their mind), and you name that image with uncanny accuracy. This is a fresh method in book tests and magic—trust me, you’re going to love using it. The beauty of this game book is that there’s nothing to find; even if the participant decides to play through the entire thing, nothing will seem out of place.
THE BASEMENT?
Rumours circulated in the late ‘80s about a secret UK research facility that used *House of Horrors* for experiments on kids. Hooked up to EEG machines, they read the book late at night while scientists monitored their reactions. Some claimed they saw shadowy figures as they turned pages. Others insisted they could predict ‘correct’ choices before even reading them, as if the book had a mind of its own. Allegedly shut down in 1991, with records obliterated, the whispers linger that the book’s branching nature was more than just a game.
In performance, the participant makes their own choices while you recount this legend. The paragraph numbers they land on are noted openly. At the end, you demonstrate that any other choice would have led to instant doom, yet somehow they avoided the traps. And for the grand finale, you read the book's barcode aloud, and it matches the exact paragraph numbers they followed.
THE ATTIC?
Choosing this route gets dark—literally and figuratively. The attic path is famed for being the most psychologically unsettling, not just for the story, but for its effect on the reader. There are tales of people who ventured into the attic and never returned. Some say it affected them profoundly. A few... fatally. The warning has always been the same: Read aloud. Stay grounded. Stop when you feel the need to stop. Don’t push your luck to see how far you can go. That’s when the book starts worming its way into your psyche. Better to leave a door unopened than to find out why it was locked.
In performance, the participant halts at any page when the urge strikes. You introduce light via a UV pen. When passed over the page, a hidden message emerges exactly where they chose to stop: “He finds you in the darkness.” To keep suspicion at bay, you show there are no other secret writings, sweeping the torch across the other pages for good measure—clean as a whistle. That message was just waiting for them.
THE OPEN STUDY WINDOW?
The original 1984 edition of *House of Hell* included an illustration of a cultist preparing to make a sacrificial offering of a bound woman, which was banned from later issues. The eerie part? Owners of the first edition claimed the image changed over time. Some said the victim’s expression grew more agonised, while others claimed the cultist’s mask peeled away, revealing something far more monstrous. A few readers were so shaken they ripped the page out, claiming it caused them waking nightmares. Later editions replaced the image with something bland, and no explanations were ever given. But those who saw the original knew it was never just a drawing—it was an invocation.
In performance, an envelope serves as a marker. Several participants glance at the page, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but one participant clearly sees the banned illustration. When the book is opened again, the page is mysteriously missing, torn out. You then produce it from the envelope, your pocket, or wherever you fancy. The book can be freely handled, and there’s nothing for them to find.
BONUS EFFECT
Inspired by the original book’s format, I’ve added a tossed-out book effect. I’ve taken a classic element and layered on another principle to crank the deception up a notch.
PERFORMER'S EDITION?
This one's built for the pros. It looks and feels like a proper game book—because it is—but it’s tough enough for your gig bag or jacket pocket and ready for magic at a moment's notice. Each copy also comes with a matte laminated bookmark.
