Welcome to Fear Island.

Nobody gets through those gates at night without an invitation, and nobody gets an invitation unless we know exactly who they are first. So, before you take another step, understand that we already know your name, your history, and the fears that keep you up at night. You were chosen for a reason, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Let me be clear: when the sun goes down, this is no longer a tame theme park. This is not a haunted house you walk through without being touched. The hunters behind these masks are not performing. They are exceptional at finding exactly what makes you come undone, and they will find it, I promise you.

The contract in your inbox? Take it seriously. The wristband? Never take it off. And your safe word? Remember it.

Here is how tonight works. For you, there are no rules—none. You can run, hide, fight back, scream until your throat gives out. You can do whatever your instincts demand when something much bigger and faster than you decides you are prey. The island is yours to explore.

The hunters have two rules.

They can’t kill anyone, and they can only chase the color that matches their wristband.

Except for the scarecrow; he plays by his own rules. Enter the cornfield at your own risk—we cannot guarantee your safety there.

Some of you will last five minutes, and some of you will surprise yourselves. Then there will be a select few of you who will walk out of here and never be satisfied with ordinary again.

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