A room that always seems to grow ever tighter, ever closer

into the writhing mass of worms

a room that is utterly pitch black. somethings moving. the lights don’t work.

a burning building, smoke hiding in your lungs. you can’t die. it hurts

meat room. you’re not sure what the meat is made of.

a forest. you have to track someone down. you can’t be caught.

a dimension all it’s own, filled with fog. there is nobody else. nothing works.

a death arena. you have what you need to kill. so do they

a twisting maze that curls in on itself and makes no sense. doors lead nowhere.

a circus. the people are not people. you cannot know them.

the unending sky. there is no ground. you are simply always falling.