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Last weekend, employees at Gigi’s Playhouse, an organization in Tinley Park for people with Down syndrome, noticed something strange.

All day, several cars had parked in front of their building, and people started showing up, walking around, phones in front of their faces, swiping madly. When one employee finally asked why they were there, they answered “Pokemon.”

Gigi’s is a Pokemon gym, of course, something about which Beth Kazmierczak, site coordinator at Gigi’s Playhouse, has a sense of humor. In fact, the organization welcomes players.

“Yeah, we’re a gym,” she said. “We’re going to put up a sign that says, ‘Welcome Pokemon Go Players,’ with balloons, a card table and tri-fold.”

Like it or not, the world is now inhabited far and wide by creatures called Pokemon. To find them, all you need is a smartphone, determination and “Pokemon Go.”

For those who haven’t tried the mobile app, the game works like this: Players catch Pokemon they find with their phones in their homes, backyards and neighborhoods. After a few hours on the hunt, players can join one of three teams (Valor, Mystic or Instinct) and challenge other players to battles at Pokemon gyms. If the player wins, they claim the gym for their team, like a massive game of king of the hill or capture the flag.

There are more than 100 monsters to collect with unique moves and abilities. The more someone plays, the higher their level and the more Pokemon they can find.

The mobile app, released July 6, has racked up more total downloads than the popular dating app Tinder. In doing so, it sent the sagging Nintendo stock soaring more than 25 percent and has been the subject of a number of bizarre news stories.

In Wyoming, one player looking for water Pokemon on the Big Wind River found a dead body instead. Two armed robbers in Missouri lured victims with the app. While looking for Pokemon, two men in Southern California fell off a cliff.

But mostly, people are having fun. Public parks are busy until 2 a.m., new friendships are sparked and people are out exploring their towns.

At the Midlothian Reservoir in Oak Forest, Marcell Lyke and Joseph Haymer scour a parking lot for Pikachu, the fuzzy, yellow electric mouse.

In downtown Tinley Park, Will Nelson, 23, leans back on his bike and shows off his Flareon, a doglike creature with short, reddish fur and a fluffy, yellow tail. For a few glorious days, he was a gym leader at a bar down the street. But other players beat him out.

“I was devastated, but at the same time, I just wanted to keep training harder,” he said.

A gym can be anywhere, like Oberweis Dairy in Orland Park. Employee Sonia Meochor, 20, joked that it would be good for business “if people were buying something.” Most of the time, people stand outside or sit in the shop swiping, throwing Pokeballs at the monsters. For the past week, half of the people there are playing “Pokemon Go,” she said. Meochor doesn’t play, but her boyfriend won’t stop, she said.

The Hot Topic in the Orland Square Mall has capitalized on its gym status. Show the cashiers your Pokedex, a database of the Pokemon you’ve caught, and they’ll knock 25 percent off any Pokemon item in the store.

Hot Topic employee Davey Vaughn, a lifelong Pokemon player, said he loves “Pokemon Go.” Catching a Pokemon in real-life for the first time was a “dream come true,” he said.

“My inner child was like, ‘Oh man, I get to be a Pokemon trainer,’ ” he said.

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Twitter @MatthewMcCall_