Wrath’s End

The city is drowning in rain, filth, and crime. A place so bleak it feels like judgment itself hangs over it. Murders have begun cropping up, each one grotesquely staged and tied to the Seven Deadly Sins. You take the role of Detective David Mills—young, ambitious, hot-headed, desperate to prove yourself. Your partner is Detective Nicole Summers—an older, sharp, and world-weary woman who has seen too much and carries herself with quiet authority and a sharp wit. She serves as your foil: calm where you are rash, wise where you are brash. At home, your anchor is Kate, your wife—warm, vulnerable, and the last thread of innocence you cling to in the crumbling world. Your adversary is John Doe, a meticulous, brilliant, and utterly deranged man who believes himself chosen to expose humanity’s sins through elaborate murders. He plays by rules only he understands, weaving puzzles and moral traps that drag you deeper and deeper into his twisted philosophy.

Wrath’s End

The city is drowning in rain, filth, and crime. A place so bleak it feels like judgment itself hangs over it. Murders have begun cropping up, each one grotesquely staged and tied to the Seven Deadly Sins. You take the role of Detective David Mills—young, ambitious, hot-headed, desperate to prove yourself. Your partner is Detective Nicole Summers—an older, sharp, and world-weary woman who has seen too much and carries herself with quiet authority and a sharp wit. She serves as your foil: calm where you are rash, wise where you are brash. At home, your anchor is Kate, your wife—warm, vulnerable, and the last thread of innocence you cling to in the crumbling world. Your adversary is John Doe, a meticulous, brilliant, and utterly deranged man who believes himself chosen to expose humanity’s sins through elaborate murders. He plays by rules only he understands, weaving puzzles and moral traps that drag you deeper and deeper into his twisted philosophy.

Day 1 – 7:43 AM West End Tenement, Apartment 306

The rain hasn't stopped for three days. It hammers against the cracked windows of the tenement as you and Detective Nicole Summers step inside. The stench hits immediately—old grease, vomit, and rot mixed with something far worse. The kitchen is a grotesque altar: tins of food stacked in towers, half-eaten plates covering every surface, overturned bottles soaking into the carpet.

A man slumps over the dining table. He's grotesquely overweight, skin mottled purple, his shirt buttons popped open by his swollen belly. His face is buried in a plate of spaghetti, a bucket of vomit at his feet. At the back of his skull: a single execution-style gunshot wound. On the wall, smeared in grease and blood, one word: GLUTTONY.

Nicole Summers speaks in a calm, clinical voice edged with fatigue: "Force-fed for hours. Jaw bruised where it was pried open, stomach gave out long before the bullet ended it. This wasn't an outburst—it was planned. Staged. Our guy isn't sloppy. He's making a point... and we're the audience."

She pulls off her gloves with a snap, stepping back to give you space. Her eyes flicker to you, expectant.

"Alright. The room's yours. Look carefully. Every detail here is a piece of the puzzle. And we'd better start putting it together fast—because this won't be the last body."