The Laboratory Opens

01 — From the Madman's Desk

A letter from the Chief Instigator

Hello, and welcome! This is our very first issue here at Evil Lab Studios, where the experiments are... volatile at best.

Before we begin, a few words of caution. Please keep your hands and feet inside the laboratory at all times. Do not feed anything that speaks to you from the ventilation shafts, and should you encounter a door that wasn't there a moment ago, kindly inform the staff.

We haven't hired any staff yet, but I'm sure we'll get around to it.

Now then, where was I? Ah, yes. Introductions!

I'm The Philosopher Castor, the resident madman behind Evil Lab Studios. Writer, worldbuilder, occasional philosopher, and a man with far too many ideas and nowhere near enough hours in the day to bring them all to life.

I've been building worlds since I was twelve years old. Back then, they were little more than strange stories scribbled down by a kid with an overactive imagination. But those stories grew. Characters wandered from one tale into another. Places began to connect. Strange things started happening in the spaces between them.

And somewhere along the way, a city called Grimmstone began to take shape.

Thirty years later, I'm still discovering things about that city.

But Evil Lab Studios is about more than Grimmstone. It's a place for stories, games, music, art, strange experiments, and whatever other questionable ideas manage to crawl out of my imagination.

Some experiments will succeed. Others will explode spectacularly. A few may develop personalities and demand vacation time.

That's simply the nature of the work.

Through this little publication, which I have rather optimistically named the Evil Lab Dispatch, I'll be opening the laboratory doors every couple of months to share what we're working on, introduce you to some of the strange inhabitants of our worlds, and perhaps tell a story or two along the way.

Most importantly, I hope to make this a place where imagination is celebrated, where being a little strange is perfectly acceptable, and where even the lost might find somewhere they belong.

After all, that's what Grimmstone has always been to me. A place for the lost.

So pull up a chair, pour yourself something warm, and make yourself comfortable. Just... check the chair first. The last one bit somebody.

Welcome to Evil Lab Studios.

The Philosopher Castor — Founder, Creator, and Chief Instigator of Questionable Experiments

P.S. If you hear screaming from Laboratory Three, don't worry. That's just the coffee machine. We're working on it.

02 — Through the Grimmstone Looking Glass

Welcome to the City That Never Sees Morning

There's a city out there. You won't find it on any map. Your GPS will insist you've taken a wrong turn, and the road signs are notoriously unreliable. But it's there.

Somewhere between midnight and 5:25 in the morning, beneath a sky that has forgotten how to welcome the sun, sits a city called Grimmstone.

And what a wonderfully strange place it is.

The rain falls more often than it should. Neon signs buzz above cobblestone streets, and old gas lamps illuminate alleyways that occasionally lead somewhere they didn't yesterday. A horse-drawn carriage might pass a modern automobile, while a vampire in a tailored suit argues with a goblin over the price of cigarettes.

Nobody finds this particularly unusual. Well, except the tourists.

Grimmstone is a city where the supernatural is simply part of everyday life. Werekin work the night shift. Witches run neighborhood shops. Ghosts have opinions about property values, and somewhere in the Gaslight District, a private investigator is having what may very well be the worst night of his life.

His name is James Hazzard. We'll get to him eventually.

Grimmstone is divided into eight districts, each with its own personality, history, dangers, and secrets. From the rain-soaked streets of Gaslight to the fashionable excesses of the Velvet Quarter, from the wealthy estates of Black Briar to the industrial heart of the Ironworks, there's always something happening.

And beyond the city waits the Dark Forest. We generally recommend not wandering into the Dark Forest without a very good reason. Or a very large gun. Preferably both.

But Grimmstone isn't simply a place of monsters and mysteries. People live here. They work, fall in love, argue with their neighbors, celebrate holidays, open businesses, and worry about making rent.

A goblin baker might spend his evening perfecting a cinnamon roll recipe. A vampire musician might be preparing for her first performance. Somewhere, a mother is telling her child to come inside before the rain gets worse.

Life goes on, even when the clocks disagree about what time it is.

The city doesn't exist solely for heroes to save it or villains to threaten it. It has a life of its own. Stories unfold in every apartment, every tavern, and every forgotten alleyway, whether anyone is watching or not.

Some are terrifying. Some are heartbreaking. And some are just wonderfully ridiculous.

Over the coming issues of the Evil Lab Dispatch, we'll explore this strange city together. We'll visit its neighborhoods, meet its residents, uncover its legends, and occasionally poke our noses into places where they absolutely don't belong.

But for tonight, let's start somewhere simple. There's a little establishment called The Rusted Halo. Its lights are warm, its regulars are questionable, and there's usually a story waiting at the bottom of somebody's glass.

Tell them you're new. They'll probably stare. Order something anyway.

And if somebody asks how you found Grimmstone, don't worry too much about answering. Most people here can't remember how they arrived, either.

Welcome to Grimmstone. The city has been expecting you.

03 — What's Brewing in the Laboratory?

A report from the workbench

Well, well, well... It seems you've survived the introductory tour of the laboratory. Excellent! We were beginning to worry about our visitor retention numbers.

Now, you might be wondering what exactly we do here at Evil Lab Studios. That's an excellent question. One we've been asking ourselves rather frequently, actually.

Experiment 001 — Grimmstone: The Tabletop Roleplaying Game | Preparing for Playtesting

Our largest experiment is a tabletop roleplaying game set in Grimmstone. The Player's Handbook, Game Master's Guide, and Monster Manual have reached playtest editions. We're preparing to put them into the hands of readers and players who can tell us which rules work and which ones accidentally summon something unpleasant.

Experiment 002 — A Hazzard to Remember | In Development

James Hazzard is a private investigator and professional magnet for trouble. A Hazzard to Remember is an approximately 25,000-word gothic-noir adventure, still being written with particular attention to making Grimmstone feel alive beyond James's own misadventures.

Experiment 003 — The Grimmstone Character Creator | Preparing for Public Release

We've been developing an online creator to help players choose character details, organize information, and save, load, export, and print their characters. Character creation should be exciting, not an exercise in deciphering ancient tax documents.

Experiment 004 — Evil Lab Studios Online | Website in Development

The laboratory is getting a website: a home for projects, the Laboratory Journal, Grimmstone, the Character Creator, and this Dispatch. Ideally with fewer electrical fires.

Experiment 005 — The Seven Deadly Sins | Spring 2027 Planned

Our first official sticker collection is planned for spring 2027. Seven sins, seven wicked personalities, and a budget the accounting department is pretending not to notice.

And What About Grimmstone Radio?

Major radio production is on hold while we focus on the tabletop game, writing, and the first merchandise release. The music and its strange personalities remain part of Grimmstone.

Some experiments will take longer than expected. Some will change direction. And occasionally, something unexpected will crawl out of the imagination and demand its own project folder.

Until next time, please refrain from touching anything labeled DO NOT TOUCH. Especially the red button.

04 — Tales from the Dark

The Last Stop Before Morning · A story by The Philosopher Castor

The bus arrived seventeen minutes late, which was impressive considering it wasn't supposed to exist.

It wheezed up to the curb beneath a dead streetlight, all rust and rattling windows. Its destination sign read LAST STOP. Beneath that, in smaller letters, someone had scratched DON'T ASK.

Mabel Finch was nine years old, wore two different socks, and carried a stuffed rabbit named Mr. Buttons. Mr. Buttons had one glass eye, a crooked bow tie, and teeth that were definitely not part of the original design.

“That's our bus,” he said.

Mabel tightened her grip. “You said the last one was our bus.”

“That one had a priest driving. Never trust public transportation with a priest at the wheel.”

The doors folded open with the sound of a coffin being dragged down stairs.

Behind the wheel sat an elderly driver in a cap so old it had developed its own weather. He regarded Mabel, then the rabbit, then the empty road behind them.

“Fare?”

Mabel produced three pennies, a blue marble, and a peppermint stuck to a receipt.

The driver considered the collection. “Close enough. Rabbit rides free, provided he doesn't bite anyone.”

“No promises,” said Mr. Buttons.

The driver nodded as though this were a reasonable contractual amendment.

Inside, the bus smelled of wet wool, old cigarettes, and something that had died politely. A woman with black feathers growing through her hair occupied the front seat. A gentleman farther back polished his spectacles while his reflection in the window picked its nose.

Mabel chose a seat near the middle. She'd learned that the middle was safest. Not too close to trouble, not too far from the exit. It was the sort of lesson children shouldn't have to learn, but the world was generous with the wrong education.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Somewhere,” said Mr. Buttons.

“That's not an answer.”

“It's a destination with excellent possibilities.”

The bus lurched forward. The city she'd known slipped away behind the rain. Mabel watched the familiar streets dissolve into dark fields, then into a road lined with trees that leaned toward the windows as though trying to read the passengers' thoughts.

At 3:17, every clock on the bus struck a different hour.

The feathered woman sneezed. Three black feathers drifted into the aisle. The gentleman's reflection waved at Mabel while its owner slept.

Mr. Buttons waved back.

“You shouldn't encourage him,” Mabel muttered.

“He looks lonely.”

A sign appeared through the fog: WELCOME TO GRIMMSTONE. Underneath, in cheerful red paint: WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.

The bus rolled past shops with gas lamps and neon signs, past a goblin arguing with a parking meter, past a woman in a wedding dress threatening a vending machine with a shovel. A taxi drove by with no driver and two passengers screaming at each other about directions.

Mabel pressed her nose to the glass.

“Is this a bad place?”

Mr. Buttons thought about it. His little teeth clicked together.

“It's a place,” he said. “Those tend to be complicated.”

At the next corner, the driver stopped beside a crooked streetlamp.

“Last stop, miss.”

Mabel stared at him. “I don't know anybody here.”

“That's all right. Half the city doesn't know anybody here. The other half owes them money.”

She stepped down into the rain. The bus pulled away before she could ask whether it ever went back. For a moment, its taillights glowed red in the mist. Then there was only the street, the rain, and a small girl holding a rabbit that occasionally threatened murder.

Her stomach growled.

“Traitor,” she told it.

Mr. Buttons sniffed the air. “Coffee. Toast. Bad decisions. That way.”

They followed the smell to a bar called THE RUSTED HALO. The sign flickered between its name and RUSTED HAL, which made Mabel wonder whether Hal was all right.

Inside, warmth rolled over her like a blanket somebody had forgotten to wash. A jukebox played a sad song. Two men argued over whether one of them had died on Tuesday. A woman behind the bar polished a glass with the weary concentration of someone who'd seen every kind of foolishness and was waiting for a new species.

She looked down at Mabel.

“Lost?”

Mabel considered lying. She'd gotten good at that, too.

“Yes.”

The woman set down the glass. “I'm Corinne. You hungry?”

Mabel nodded.

“Got money?”

Mabel displayed her remaining marble and the peppermint.

Corinne examined the offering. “Well, the marble's no good to me. The peppermint might be evidence.”

“Of what?”

“Don't know yet. That's the trouble with evidence.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with toast, eggs, and a mug of cocoa. Mr. Buttons received a saucer of milk, which he regarded with deep personal offense.

“I prefer blood,” he announced.

“Kitchen's closed for blood,” Corinne replied without blinking.

Mabel ate slowly. Nobody asked where her parents were. Nobody told her she was being difficult. Nobody said she'd have to explain herself before she could stay warm.

Outside, a clock chimed five times. Another chimed twice. Somewhere in the distance, a siren screamed, paused, and then screamed something that sounded suspiciously like an apology.

“Does morning come here?” Mabel asked.

Corinne leaned against the bar. “Not the way you're used to.”

Mabel looked into her cocoa. “Then how do people start over?”

Corinne considered that for a moment. “Usually badly. Sometimes with breakfast.”

She slid another piece of toast onto the plate.

Mabel smiled. It was a small smile, uncertain and missing a front tooth, but it was hers.

Mr. Buttons climbed into the empty chair beside her and bared his dreadful little teeth at a man who had been staring too long. The man promptly remembered an urgent appointment elsewhere.

For the first time that night, Mabel wasn't afraid of what waited around the next corner.

Grimmstone had no sunrise to promise her a better tomorrow. It had rain, bad coffee, questionable company, and a bartender who didn't ask for payment up front.

For now, that was enough.

And somewhere behind the bar, the peppermint began to scream.

05 — Signals from the Static

You're Not Supposed to Hear This

[TRANSMISSION DETECTED — 103.3 GM]

[A low hiss of static. Three soft clicks. Somewhere in the distance, a piano plays a song nobody remembers requesting.]

“Well, well, well... Look what wandered into the frequency.”

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and those of you whose paperwork remains wonderfully inconclusive. This is Silas Grey, your host, your guide, and occasionally the last voice you'll hear before something truly regrettable happens.”

“You're listening to Grimmstone Radio, 103.3 GM.”

[A record scratches.]

“Or perhaps you're reading this in a newsletter. Now, that's interesting.”

“You see, this particular transmission wasn't scheduled to leave the city. We've had words with the engineering department about that. Unfortunately, the engineering department disappeared sometime last Thursday. Or next Tuesday. Time is rather difficult to pin down around here.”

[A distant crash. Someone shouts. Silas pauses.]

“Ah. There they are.”

“Now, for those of you unfamiliar with our lovely little city, allow me to offer a few friendly reminders.”

“Keep your doors locked, your umbrellas close, and your promises closer.”

“If the streetlights begin blinking in sequence, please refrain from blinking back.”

“And should you hear someone calling your name from an empty radio, do have the courtesy to answer.”

[The static grows louder.]

“Well, my dear listeners, it appears our time together is coming to an end. But don't worry. We'll be seeing quite a bit more of each other.”

“After all...”

[The music stops.]

“You weren't supposed to find this station.”

[SIGNAL LOST]

06 — Notes from the Specimen Closet

The New Arrival Examination

NOTICE TO ALL NEW ARRIVALS

Congratulations! By opening this newsletter, you have officially become part of an ongoing Evil Lab Studios experiment. Please don't be alarmed. The screaming is perfectly normal.

Before we can issue your official laboratory classification, the Department of Questionable Research requires you to answer one very important question.

You wake up in Grimmstone at 3:17 a.m. It's raining, your wallet is missing, and something with far too many teeth is following you down the street. What do you do?

A — The Sensible Specimen: Find the nearest open business, order a coffee, and pretend absolutely nothing unusual is happening.

B — The Curious Specimen: Turn around and ask the creature what it wants. Perhaps it's friendly. Perhaps it has coupons.

C — The Chaotic Specimen: Start following the creature instead. Two can play at this game, and you're determined to be the more unsettling participant.

D — The Philosophical Specimen: Sit down in the rain and contemplate whether the creature is truly pursuing you or if you're both simply trapped in the absurdity of existence.

There are no wrong answers. Well, there are. But we'll need a larger sample size before we can determine which ones are fatal.

Reply to this email with A, B, C, or D, and tell us why you chose it! We'll reveal the laboratory's highly questionable findings in our next issue.

DISCLAIMER: Evil Lab Studios accepts no responsibility for spontaneous transformations, existential crises, or the sudden appearance of additional teeth.

— Department of Questionable Research

P.S. Specimens who choose option C are requested to remain at least fifteen feet away from the laboratory's emergency equipment.

07 — Classified Experiments

Project: Seven Deadly Sins · File ELS-007

EVIL LAB STUDIOS — DEPARTMENT OF QUESTIONABLE INVENTIONS

CLASSIFIED EXPERIMENT FILE: ELS-007

PROJECT: Seven Deadly Sins | STATUS: In Development | PROJECTED RELEASE: Spring 2027 | THREAT LEVEL: Delightfully Questionable

Well, this is awkward.

You weren't supposed to find this file.

Then again, someone left it sitting on the laboratory's reception desk beneath a sign reading "TOP SECRET — PLEASE DON'T READ."

Frankly, we should have anticipated the results.

Deep within the merchandise department, seven particularly troublesome creations are beginning to take shape.

Pride. Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Wrath. Sloth.

Seven familiar sins. Seven wonderfully wicked personalities. And seven opportunities for our art department to demonstrate why it probably shouldn't be left unsupervised.

We're developing our very first Official Evil Lab Studios Sticker Collection, inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins and brought to life through our distinctive Hungry Whimsy art style.

The first sticker release is planned for spring 2027.

Naturally, we're keeping the final designs under wraps for now. Partly to preserve the surprise. Mostly because Greed has apparently stolen the key to the filing cabinet.

A Little Something for Our Fellow Experiments

As development continues, we'll be sharing glimpses of the collection, introducing the individual designs, and inviting our readers to help us decide which sin deserves a little extra attention.

After all, what good is a laboratory full of questionable creations if we can't involve the public in the consequences?

Keep an eye on future issues of the Evil Lab Dispatch and our official Evil Lab Studios channels for previews, announcements, and opportunities to participate.

And remember: A little sin never hurt anybody.

The legal department has requested that we clarify this is not a scientifically verified statement.

END OF CLASSIFIED FILE ELS-007

This document will self-destruct in five seconds.

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The self-destruct mechanism is currently out of order.

Please dispose of this document responsibly.

— Department of Questionable Inventions · Evil Lab Studios