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Andrew Moss loved his anthropology job, until mysterious artifacts from a Mr. Havisham started arriving in brown paper bags. The artifacts are… Wrong.
Stories where some sort of recorder—tape, digital, wax cylinder—is the primary vehicle that tells the story.
Tales of the grind, making the bacon, office romance, and generally celebrating(?) capitalism, baby!
Dramatizations and complete fabrications from history.
Tales of cosmic, Eldritch, and Lovecraftian horror.