Scary Stories from Camp Roanoke

Scary Stories from Camp Roanoke frames the paranormal as a shared nighttime activity: eerie, funny, and intentionally a little ridiculous. Katie Wiggins and Morgan Campbell trade supposedly true scary stories, hauntings, folklore, paranormal television recaps, and listener submissions with the ease of people who enjoy being unsettled together. The show is spooky without becoming stiff. A preserved mansion can become a serious discussion of grief, children’s rooms, broken pianos, and investigators feeling pushed out of a space, then veer into Angela Lansbury, morning movement, and holiday merch. That balance is the point. The episodes show a series that likes unexplained moments but also likes the social ritual around them: nicknames, running bits, callbacks, tangents, and closing wishes for restless dreams. Listener stories bring a more intimate charge. One account about a shadow figure closing a door becomes a springboard into shadow people as a wider paranormal pattern, described with curiosity rather than tidy certainty. Regional folklore gives the show another lane. The Michigan episodes place Dog Man songs, local legends, and a loosely plotted road trip beside the hosts’ comic impatience with their own itinerary. Paranormal television is a major source text. Psychic Kids, Ghost Hunters, and Paranormal State all appear as shows worth revisiting, questioning, and enjoying for their strange emotional logic. Guest episodes widen the lens. Odin Carlston joins a listener-story installment with quick, offbeat banter, while Kimberly Redd discusses sensitivity, intuition, witchcraft, priestess identity, medium experiences, psychic experiences, spirits, fairies, deities, and a dinner with the dead. The result is not a debunking show. It is also not solemn occult theatre. It lives in the middle, where a creaking-floorboard ghost story, a haunted Sims backstory, and a discussion of psychic children can all belong to the same evening. The comedy is conversational and sometimes blunt, but the show’s underlying posture is generous. Scary material is treated as something to pass around, react to, and survive through laughter. It fits listeners who want paranormal storytelling with warmth, oddball references, and enough skepticism-by-joke to keep the room from getting too dark.