I've been investigating unexplained phenomena in South America for over fifteen years now. UFO cases, disappearances, things that don't fit into neat little boxes. And there's one case from 1968 that I keep coming back to because the paper trail is there. The witnesses existed. The car existed. Something happened that nobody can explain. This was early May, 1968. A lawyer from Buenos Aires, I'll call him Ricardo Mendoza, and his wife Elena decided to attend a family gathering in a town called Chascomus. It's about 120 kilometers south of Buenos Aires, nothing remarkable about it. After the gathering, they decided to drive to Maipú, another 150 kilometers further south, where they had more relatives waiting for them. They left shortly before midnight in their Peugeot 403. Another couple from the same gathering was driving ahead of them on the same route.
Now here's the thing. That other couple arrived in Maipú without any problems. The Mendozas did not. Hours passed. Then a full day. The family started searching the route. They drove back and forth on that highway looking for any sign of the car, any sign of an accident, anything. Nothing. The Peugeot and both passengers had simply vanished. Forty-eight hours after they disappeared, a phone call came through to the family in Maipú. It was Ricardo, calling from the Argentine Consulate. But he wasn't calling from anywhere in Argentina. He was calling from Mexico City. Over six thousand kilometers away. a long time for a family to be searching - Ana' He told them he and Elena were safe, that they would be flying home soon, and that he had no idea how they got there.
When they finally returned to Buenos Aires, Ricardo told the family what he remembered. They were driving on the outskirts of Chascomus when a dense fog appeared out of nowhere. Not gradually, not rolling in from somewhere. It just materialized in front of them and swallowed the car completely. And then nothing. Total blackout. The next thing either of them remembered was waking up in the car, parked on an unfamiliar road, and it was daytime. Both of them had severe pain in the back of their necks. They felt groggy, disoriented, like they'd been drugged or had slept for days. When Ricardo got out and looked at the car, the paint on the body had burn marks all over it. Scorch marks, like someone had taken a blowtorch to the exterior. But the engine worked fine. They started driving, asking locals where they were. The answer made no sense. Mexico. They were in Mexico.
[ Story continues in the full game... ]