You know this place.
Don’t pretend you don’t.
It’s that gas station at the start of every bad decision ever made in horror movies. Flickering lights. Questionable hot dogs. A guy behind every counter that looks like he’s already seen how this ends—and decided not to get involved.
Everything about it says, turn around.
But you don’t.
Because if you did, there wouldn’t be a story. And for some reason, we’re all committed to seeing how bad this can get.
World of Soap [Teleport] feels like that moment.
That pause where you know better… and keep going anyway.
It pulls from the book Lost Souls by Poppy Z. Brite—which means it’s soaked in chaos, splatterpunk, bad decisions, and people who were never going to be okay to begin with. The difference is, here, you don’t just read about it.
You walk, you stumble into it and participate.
Somewhere in the mountains of North Carolina—because of course it’s the mountains , a treacherous landscape of beauty but —there’s a vortex. Nobody explains it the same way twice, which is convenient, because nobody actually understands it either.
They just live with it.
Or because of it.
Hard to tell.
And the people here?
Not people.
Not really.
Vampires exist, but not the dramatic, bite-your-neck-and-ruin-your-8am Starbucks coffee run. These are born, not made. No turning. No recruiting. No late-night “join us” speeches.
You either are… or you aren’t.
Which makes belonging here feel less like fate and more like a really weird character selection screen. Which is fun and exciting!
“You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake” — Tyler Durden
So you pick.
A witch. A wolf. A Zombie.
Human… if you’re feeling optimistic. Or reckless.
There’s a fog that never leaves. Not the cinematic kind—the annoying, clingy kind that makes everything feel slightly off, like the world forgot to fully load.
The grocery store looks almost normal until you’re inside it. Then it feels like something is about to happen and you showed up in the nick of time to see it go down.
You don’t need anything.
Yet, You still walk in.
Because that’s what this place does. It convinces you to peek behind the doors and curtains.
At the Soap Company, you pick up gestures. Learn how people talk. Try to sound like you belong, even though no one really does.
Fake it long enough, and eventually it becomes second nature or “the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it , but you cant” (Fight Club)
That’s usually when things go wrong.
There’s no combat system here. No HUD. No scoreboard quietly judging your performance.
Just stories.
Messy ones.
A fight outside Mile High School that starts as nothing and turns into a redemption arc. If you’re new here, You have to fight!
A shift at the police station where you pretend answers exist. Conversations that go nowhere but stretch into friendships that don’t feel temporary.
Nothing ends unless you decide it does.
And even then… it kind of doesn’t. If you survive the night in this jail, you might regret being released.
The streets look like they could give you tetanus just for thinking about them. Rust, splinters, buildings that lean like they’ve given up on pretending to stand.
You keep walking anyway.
Because somewhere between “this is a bad idea” and “just one more street,” you’ve already decided you’re staying longer than you planned.
The Clinic is where the illusion cracks.
At first, it looks normal—clean enough, functional enough.
Then you notice what’s missing.
Answers.
People ask questions, but they don’t get responses. Or worse—they get the wrong ones.
Something’s being managed here. Contained. Hidden.
Government cover-up? Aliens? Vortex side effects?
Pick one. It doesn’t matter.
They all feel equally believable.
Somewhere nearby, there’s a séance happening. A witch in the back room of a psychic ‘s building is speaking to the dead with the kind of confidence that suggests control.
She doesn’t have it.
But in a place like this, confidence is close enough.
The motel sign flickers like it’s lost its own fight and should be going to group therapy. Below it, a pool that should’ve been drained and bleached years ago just sits there pretending it’s not a problem.
The houses look like they were meant to be condemned years ago. Like someone signed the papers… and then just forgot to follow through. And now they sit there, rotting in place, stubborn as hell. Not abandoned. Not alive. Just… waiting.
Everything feels temporary.
Like it could fall apart at any second.
It doesn’t.
That’s the unsettling part.
Because eventually, you stop visiting.
And you start staying.
Rentals are available for the community of misfits! Welcome Home. Bring your IKEA furniture.
There are punk teenagers running around like they own the place. They don’t—but no one’s correcting them, which makes it worse.
There are infected. Zombies. Or something close enough that arguing about it feels unnecessary.
A mom who seems perfectly normal until she gives that weird smile for way too long? Yeah something is off here.
Which, honestly, feels like the most accurate description of this entire town.
Nothing here is normal once you peel the scab.
And that’s the allure of it all. What’s underneath, Who’s running things?
And just like it’s teenagers, It doesnt give a crap if you like it or not
But YOU DO!
So you Stay.
That was the PLAN all along.
And then—like some kind of joke you weren’t told you were part of—there’s a Waffle Hut.
Waffles. Pie. Coffee.
Comfort.
Actual, suspicious comfort. Like a late night Infomercial screaming that you need this.
Arcades. Laundromats. Bars. Spas. A theater that looks like it got stuck in the 90s and decided that was a personality.
And somehow… it works.
It jogs your memories to the front of your mind especially if you were a latchkey kid of the 90s.
“I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise!” – The narrator (Fight Club)
You start noticing the details. The care. The fact that this place didn’t just happen—it’s being maintained.
Built. Updated. Obsessed over.
Loch Newchurch didn’t just create a sim that’s been around since 2008 and became stagnant.
She created something that keeps pulling people back in.
And eventually…
You make a character.
Because who you are in World of Soap is not who you are on other grids.
Pick a character from the website, feel your way around, No need to hug Bob or Find Marla, Characters like that,they find you. Eventually.
https://worldofsoap.wixsite.com/wosrpg
Maybe you want to be a witch.
Not to control the world.
Just to keep the zombies and teenagers off your lawn.
You start picking locks. Finding keys. Opening doors you probably shouldn’t.
Time stretches.
Hours pass.
You don’t notice.
And when you finally do, you end up somewhere quieter.
Soap National Park in Peanut Grove- A different pace.
Teleport –
A beach. Less fog. Adirondack chairs lined up like everything is normal for five minutes but also teleported you back in time to the 1800s , Think Little House on the Prairie. MUST be the vortex again!?
You sit down.
Tell yourself this is just a break.
Just a visit.
Just something you’ll move on from.
“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may” –Tyler Durden
Yeah.
That’s what everyone says.
Teleport to World of Soap and create your own “Project Mayhem”
DIVE INTO WORLD OF SOAP SOCIALS
DISCORD https://discord.com/invite/NvPcTDq
PICK YOUR CHARACTERS HERE: https://worldofsoap.wixsite.com/wosrpg
See More PHOTOS by Bronwen
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