The Rooten woods

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**THE ROOTEN WOODS**

*”Do not trust the trees…”*

You wake up in a cabin in the taiga, cold pine and old wood, a gun within reach you don’t remember choosing. On the table: a note, handwriting not quite steady. Four words. No signature.

You didn’t write it. Someone did, and they were here before you.

The forest outside looks normal enough — until it doesn’t. Trees stand a little too still when you’re not looking directly at them. Sounds carry from directions that don’t match anything visible. Something out there is tall enough to see over the canopy, and it knows exactly how far sound travels through pine.

Follow the quests scattered through the woods, piece together why the cabin exists and who left the warning — but don’t expect clean answers. The forest doesn’t owe you an explanation, and neither does whatever’s using it as home.

Built to bring back that raw VHS dread — grainy, distant, the kind of horror that used to spread through half-believed forum posts and footage nobody could fully explain. No polish, no comfort. Just static, distance, and trees that were never as empty as they looked.

The note was Right, Don’t trust the trees.