22nd Officially We Need a New Temporary Unofficial Event Name... Event!!

❄️👾 BOARD GAME NIGHT XXII – SILENCE AT THE GATES, SCREAMS IN THE VENTS 👾❄️
When winter swallows the colony… and something else answers back

The storm had been growing for days — a low, hungry howl dragging its claws across the walls of the colony. Snow hammered the floodlights in sheets, turning the world beyond the fence into a blank, white grave waiting to be written on. Shadows moved where shadows shouldn’t, and every creak of the metal gate felt like a warning the frost itself was trying to give.

But far above that frozen wasteland, another storm was brewing.

Somewhere in the void, past the reach of static-choked radios and dying generator hum, a derelict ship drifted through blackness — lights flickering, corridors trembling, steel bending under something that prowled just out of sight. A place where the cold didn’t freeze bodies…it preserved them. Where the air tasted like fear and leaking coolant, and every echo in the vents sounded like teeth.

Two worlds.
One drowning in snow.
One choking on silence.

And in the darkness between them, something waits — something that hears every choice the survivors make in the winter below and hungers for the consequences.

Tonight, the colony’s regrets and the ship’s nightmares are closer than they appear.
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❄️🧟 THE NIGHT THE COLONY SAVED ITSELF… AND THE SQUAD DIDN’T 👾🔥

Winter has a way of humbling survivors, but on this night, four stubborn souls refused to bend. Jason, Nathan, Kelly, and Rowland stood against the cold, the hunger, the swarming dead, and—most dangerously—the collective weight of their own terrible decision-making. The colony was hanging by a thread, morale barely flickering like a dying lantern… and then came the Crossroads.

A runner burst through the barricade, screaming one word through chattering teeth: “CINDY!”

The child had wandered into the storm alone. The frost gnawed at the windows. The zombies moaned against the walls. The colony gathered around the card like monks around a sacred text, and the question loomed:

Would they search for the missing girl?

Kelly closed her eyes. Nathan studied the supplies. Rowland shrugged the shrug of a man preparing his defense for future therapy. Jason looked toward the snow and whispered, “Kids bounce, right?”

The vote was swift, silent, and morally catastrophic.

The gates did not open.

And somewhere out in the storm, little Cindy Lou “Who?” pressed her mitten against the frosted fence and watched the warm glow of the colony hearth flicker like a Christmas special gone wrong. But Dead of Winter is a cruel world—the kind that rewards cold logic and punishes heart. And in the end, the colony survived. Barely. They limped across the finish line battered, frostbitten, shame-heavy… but victorious. A win is a win, even when Cindy is now canonically a long-term wilderness NPC.

But while the survivors triumphed below, another story unfolded far above the snow—one that would not end in victory.......

High in orbit, aboard the drifting hauler Eidolon-7, five overconfident marines awoke from cryosleep with the swagger of action-movie protagonists who hadn’t yet read the script. Richard led the charge, grinning like a man who believed he could punch aliens. Richard’s friend followed, absolutely certain the tutorial would last longer than their lifespan. Jeff stretched like he owned the ship. Cody claimed he “knew how this game works.” And Tim, tattoos glowing faintly in the emergency lights, muttered something about “bad vibes” and “vent pressure anomalies.”

The ship disagreed.

The first alarm shrieked before anyone finished their inspirational speech. Doors slammed. Lights flickered. Steam hissed across the floor like something alive. Richard’s friend insisted it was “just atmospheric leakage” seconds before the bulkhead behind him buckled inward like a soda can.

Something moved in the vents.
Something fast.
Something wet.
Something that did not care about player confidence.

The marines advanced anyway.

Jeff kicked open a door, expecting glory. He found a nest. A living, breathing, pulsating nest dripping with resin and regret. Cody stepped inside, triggering every noise token within three sectors. The ship answered by birthing a nightmare: an Intruder the size of a small car, all claws, teeth, and industrial-strength attitude. The squad fired wildly in every direction except toward the creature. Richard’s friend screamed something about “this wasn’t in the rules!” as the beast tore through their formation like wrapping paper.

Tim tried to reroute the ship’s power grid—only to discover the power grid was busy rerouting him. Sparks flew. Lights died. Something dragged itself across the ceiling directly above him, dripping acid and anticipation.

The marines attempted to regroup.
The marines failed.

Richard charged heroically down the corridor, firing into the dark. A second creature emerged behind him. And then a third. Cody tripped over a coolant pipe and declared the floor was “lava,” which was technically correct because it immediately exploded. Jeff attempted to lock a door for safety, accidentally sealing Richard inside with a screaming alien. Tim yelled for everyone to fall back, but the ship had already decided “forward, toward death” was the only valid route.

When the final klaxon blared, only one truth echoed through the burning halls of Eidolon-7:

Confidence is not a survival strategy.

The colony on Earth endured.
The marines in space did not.
And somewhere beyond the stars, the vents are still echoing with the distant, metallic sound of five men learning the hard way that swagger has a very short lifespan in deep space.
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🛸🚨 THE STORM ISN’T OVER… AND THE SCREAMS CARRY 🚨🛸

The colony may have survived the winter’s edge, but even victory leaves footprints in the snow — and some tracks never fade. The choice they made in the blizzard still echoes through the cold, whispering along the fences, rattling the barricades, haunting the colony like a shadow shaped like a child in pink mittens.

And far above, the wreckage of Eidolon-7 drifts silently, its burned metal hull cracking as if something inside is still trying to get out. The marines’ last screams bleed across static-filled channels, bouncing between satellites like warnings no one is supposed to hear.

Now the storm below and the darkness above begin to converge — a collision of guilt, frost, fear, and whatever crawls through the vents of ships that should no longer be moving.

Something is coming.

And it remembers both the cold
…and the screaming.
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🎲 WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW 🎲

🎉 New Players Welcome – Whether you survived the colony’s moral math or the marines’ overconfidence, first-timers are always welcome. Rules will be taught… assuming anyone returns from orbit.
🎯 Game Selection – Decided at the table, by group vote, instinct, or whichever crisis card or emergency siren starts screaming first.
🎮 Got a Favorite Game? – Bring it and pitch it like a last transmission from a failing space station. Clear, calm, and preferably not covered in frostbite or acid burns.
🎭 Dress Code – Winter survivor chic meets sci-fi corridor panic. Bonus points for frostbitten aesthetics, utility belts, or anything that looks like it would not survive re-entry.
🍇 Etiquette – Share the dice, share the snacks, share the oxygen if needed. But if you hear skittering in the vents, sharing becomes optional.
⚠️ Warning – The colony gates freeze without notice, the ship doors seal without permission, and Cindy’s ghost has begun haunting the rulebook. Proceed accordingly.
📜 Fun Fact – Studies show overconfident marines survive an average of 2.7 turns. Zombies, however, remain impressively committed employees.
🧂 Table Talk – Panic is allowed. Screaming is encouraged. Accusing someone of sabotaging the power grid is practically mandatory.

— Your Frostbitten Chronicler of Colony Regrets and Vent-Crawling Nightmares

📜 SINCE OUR LAST MEETUP… 📜

🎄 The red-coated figure has been spotted again, this time leaving mitten-shaped prints near Wizard’s Loft before vanishing into the alley. Experts now agree he’s closing in for a “major holiday appearance,” consistent with previous sightings. Theories range from Santa to a rogue meeple in disguise.
🔧 Cody has officially denied responsibility for the coolant detonation aboard Eidolon-7, citing “gravity, stress, and thematic accuracy.”
🧬 The Jeffening has now spread to space. A crater shaped like a negative victory point was found on the moon.
⚡ Power levels across Red Deer have begun fluctuating, and analysts confirm the epicenter appears to be Jon P’s garage. Locals are calling it the Power Crisis, though board gamers suspect this is just foreshadowing for an upcoming Power Grid event.
🧁 Kelly has started a fundraiser to “get Cindy a Christmas,” despite Cindy being fictional, missing, feral, or possibly leading a child-sized snow-cult outside the colony gates.
🕵️ Rumor has it Paty has been placed in Board Game Witness Protection after seeing “too many camel-related crimes.” Her new identity may include a fake mustache and a legally distinct llama.