V/H/S/2

Within a darkened house looms a pillar of TVs littered with VHS tapes, a pagan shrine to abandoned creatures that are analog. The displays and pop up endlessly using monochrome vistas of white noise calms the mind and fogging concentration. However, you have to fight the temptation to curl up: that is no only picture nighttime. Those out-of-date spools feature more than magnetic tape. They’re imprinted with the soul of evil.