Every good murder mystery needs a spooky house for a stage. That's the rules. The one in Impostor Factory is a secluded manor deep in the woods, a crumbling temple to cleanliness with self-cleaning floors and a literal golden toilet in the bathroom. You are the first to arrive, shoulders heavy with rain. You don't know much about the hosts, apart from the fact that they're old, eccentric, and eager to unveil the mysterious machine looming in the main hall. The other guests are as rich and quirky as the villa's owners, and you, an everyday man named Quincy, are starting to feel a bit awkward about the whole situation. And yet you stay because you're curious about the machine, the weird vision you had in the bathroom, and that other guest you keep bumping into - the lady in a red dress that looks familiar and sad and full of secrets.
The stage is set. The guests are gathered. The murders begin. And then they happen again, and again, and again. The real mystery is not discovering who committed the murders. The mystery is understanding why they keep happening.