The Ambrosias Farm was previously under the care of the eponymous Ambrosias family, which singlehandedly funded the small farm-town of Hominy, North Carolina. When the last Ambrosias died in 1952, the farm fell into the town's custody. But without the family's money, which had been squandered on personal debts by the last few generations, Hominy quickly dried up and fell off the map. Several moneymaking ventures were launched in hopes of saving the town's economy, including a textile factory, a lumber mill, and a hunting preserve. But each of these only lost the town revenue. Today, Hominy exists at a fraction of its former size, and scrapes by each year with its meager harvest. Much of the town is derelict and crumbling, but Ambrosias Farm—though quite deserted—remains in pristine condition. While this is likely through the labor of a few dedicated local historians, legends persist that—-"

"I can't read past here," said the producer, sliding the proposal across his desk. On the other side, Chris McLean leaned forward with a brow quirked.

"Oh that," he replied, waving his hand absently. "Yeah, my printer isn't the best, smears ink all the time, you know how it is. But you get the gist, right?"

The producer, Gregor, shrugged down at the proposal. "I guess I've seen enough. But I'm afraid I don't see the appeal," he said. "A rotting old farm town as the setting for a new Total Drama season? I dunno, it seems more depressing than anything. And the promotional shots you got are… kind of creepy, to be honest."

Gregor slid the photographs Chris had given him across the desk as well. They depicted scenes from around Hominy which only made it harder to visualize it as a potential setting: there were old grain pits, gone to seed; rusting farm equipment silhouetted against muggy mists; and the Blue Ridge Mountains rising like ghosts amid a small, overgrown, and empty town. "The farm looks sound at least," Gregor went on, motioning at the last photo, which depicted a simple, but stately farmhouse overtop a manicured lawn, "but… yeah, it's creepy. I mean, you get that, right?"

The truth was that Gregor was trying to let the Host down gently; it wasn't always a good idea to say 'no' to Chris. People who made the mistake sometimes found their careers in the toilet the next day, or worse. But Chris only looked more encouraged.

"It is creepy," he agreed. "But what you've gotten realize, man, is that kids these days love creepy. They can't get enough of it. It's like slasher films when we were kids."

"I'm like fifteen years younger than you-"

Chris was on a roll—there was no stopping his tangent with reason. He went on, as though Gregor hadn't said anything, "But nowadays, kids are fuckin' weird. I mean, the horror their into is all liminal and subtle and like… distorted kids stuff, y'know? Haunted dolls, abandoned houses, little girls in wells… And that's what we capitalize on here. I get that you think it's creepy, because that's what we want! You'd be a fool to pass this place up, because it's creepy!"

The Host looked somewhat manic now, and knowing he wouldn't be heard, Gregor feebly persisted, "I just don't see—"

"Then check this out," Chris cut him off, pushing another book of photos towards him. The Host pointed at the first in the pile. "You see a muddy old cemetery. I see a cast of terrified teenagers fighting off zombies with chainsaws, a bloody-red moon hanging over their heads."

Chris moved his finger to another photo of a basement kitchen with moss crawling up its stone walls. "And here's a cannibal's banquet hall, where they carve up their victims like livestock. The teams'd have to rescue one of their own… we could pick one at random to be the victim, I suppose. Oh, and here—"

Over Gregor's protest, Chris drew a final photo from the pile. This one depicted the rusted interior of a factory: bare and empty, like a mechanical graveyard. For some reason, it made the hair on the back of Gregor's neck stand up. "Here, I see a demonic foreman stalking the kids, dragging them one by one to the furnace in the back…"

"Alright, alright, that's enough…" Gregor cut across the table. He could no longer deny that he felt unsettled, both by the grisly details and the excited glint in Chris' eye.

"Look, suppose I agreed," he began slowly. "Where would we even find the money for a zombie army, or a…cast of cannibals?"

Chris beamed and clapped his hands together as though he'd been waiting for this exact question. "That's the beauty of it, my man! This Hominy town is so desperate for the promotion, they're offering us full run of the place for free!"

Chris' words cut straight through Gregor Manx like a hot knife through butter. The Host could see the apprehension in his face melt away—there was no sweeter word to a rich capitalist than 'free'. And Gregor repeated it, looking momentarily dumbstruck, "Completely free?"

"Completely," Chris retorted, his smile deepening. "And I thought, 'okay, maybe that's a red flag', but the local sheriffs department scoped the place out, and they say it's all legit. They even offered us a full security detail if we want it."

The mood in the office was quite different now. The producer was smiling over the grimy, haunting photographs of Hominy, North Carolina.

"We could produce a full Total Drama season for a fraction of its average cost," said Gregor, who looked like he was quite enjoying the conversation now. "No royalties to pay, no damage costs… But, it seems too good to be true, doesn't it?"

The Host waved aside his meager misgiving. "My lawyer drew up the paperwork for you to look over, if you really need to. But after all the years we've worked together, I think you can trust I'll do right by you folks. I'd trust me, anyway."

Gregor looked at the smug, confident man on the other side of his desk. It was a dangerous thing to trust Chris McLean. Sometimes, that trust would be met with chaos, destruction, and lawsuits. But there were other times as well. If nothing else, even after all these years, Chris never failed to bring them an audience.

"I'll tell you what," said Gregor finally, "I'll back you on this if, and only if, you can bring me a new cast. Have you thought about what type of teen you'd bring on to-"

"Weirdos," Chris cut him off again, now pulling another document from the stack. "I want the goths, the punks, the horror enthusiasts… the weirdos. The kind of kid that the cool kids are scared of. Eighteen of them, for three teams of six. I had Chef draw me up an application last night. Take a look."

Chris tossed the document onto the pile, and Gregor peered down at it.

-General-

Code Word:

Full Name: (include middle initial)

Nickname, if applicable:

Gender:

Pronouns:

Sexuality:

Stereotype:

Single-Word Summary: (choose ONE word to describe who they are; tell me why you choose that word for bonus points.)

-Character-

Personality:

Backstory:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Talents:

Quirks:

Greatest Fear:

Greatest Regret: (what are they most ashamed of?)

Greatest Ambition: (what do they want to do with their life?)

Strategy:

-Other-

Physical Appearance:

Distinctive Markings:

Additional Information: