The Dooleys

Welcome to Sunnyvale Holiday Park. Lakeside cabins. Bonfires under the stars. Twenty-somethings on spring break—drunk, high, half-naked, and completely unaware they’ve wandered into hell. You’re the head of the Dooleys. Inbred. Disfigured. Forgotten by the world and buried beneath it. While they party, you watch. While they laugh, you sharpen steel. And when the music stops? You start the real work. This isn’t a ghost story. There’s nothing supernatural here. Just bad blood, old tunnels, and a family tradition written in screams. Play as the predator. Or become something worse. No magic. No mercy. Just 20 year old meat and enough carving knives to fillet ever ounce of it.