Sixteen-year-old Cameron Walsh dreads the haunted Victorian mansion across the street, where the ghost of the White Lady roams the halls. When he sees her through the bay window, his ghost-hunting friend Abby wants to investigate. But then the new owners pull up, and Cameron is captivated by the brooding, handsome boy moving in. He longs for a boyfriend, but years of bullying have shattered his self-esteem.

Enter the nostalgia-laced world of CAMP 1985, a bogus new summer program where parents send their social-media-addicted teens to unplug and make face-to-face connections without the help of a screen. Ander expects a fun weekend getaway with other influencers but instead finds himself trapped in a radical landscape without wifi. Just when Ander gives in to camp life and starts crushing on a cute gamer boy, a little fun with a spirit board unleashes a vengeful spirit of a bygone era.

CJ has survived the horror movie that is her life by following one rule: blend in and stay out of it. But that’s hard to do when your trauma gets turned into a bestselling book series. The Slasherville books are a true crime phenomenon, documenting the Wolf Man massacres that changed CJ’s life forever. CJ hates everything about the books and their fans, but at this point she’s just grateful there aren’t any more murders to write about. Until one day when an unpublished Slasherville book shows up on her doorstep predicting new Wolf Man killings.

Quinn Maybrook and her father have moved to tiny, boring Kettle Springs, to find a fresh start. But what they don’t know is that ever since the Baypen Corn Syrup Factory shut down, Kettle Springs has cracked in half. On one side are the adults, who are desperate to make Kettle Springs great again, and on the other are the kids, who want to have fun, make prank videos, and get out of Kettle Springs as quick as they can.

Max Maurey should be on top of the world. He's a famous horror director. Actors love him. Hollywood needs him. He's making money hand over fist. But it's the 80s, and he's directing cheap slashers for audiences who only crave more blood, not real art. Not real horror. And Max's slimy producer refuses to fund any of his new ideas. But when Max discovers an old camera that filmed a very real Hollywood horror, he knows that he has to use this camera for his next movie. The only problem is that it came with a cryptic warning and sometimes wails.