UNDERGROWTH
Main Gallery, Dance Floor
Intel
A place of death and rebirth. A hive mind occupying the “main gallery.” You cannot kill them in a way that matters; they are the mycelium that will eat your corpse. They invite you to dance yourself into your next life.
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THE GAMBOL
Reception, Games
The
Ringmaster
The Circus Freaks.
Adrenaline junkies of the wasteland. To them, life is a game, death is a joke. The point of existence is to fight, to play. They run games in the Gambol—what was once “reception”—where you can gamble your life. There is nothing else to them.
The Ringmaster
Dean of the Circus Freaks, king of the clowns. With the enthusiasm of a nuclear bomb and strength to match, they will kill you smiling like it’s the best thing that ever happened to them. Talks to a puppet on their shoulder. Quoted as saying: “live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.”
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ARTIST RETREAT
D300 Galleries, Immersive Experience
The
Guide
The Survivalists
Consider themselves superior by necessity. In a world where art comes to life and infects or eats its creators, every day is a fight. If you want to test your survival skills on Halloween, they’ll show you through the ruins of the school starting at what used to be the Galleries and climbing down into the uncharted depths.
The Guide
Dean of the Survivalists. Weary, grizzled. Melodramatic, but a serious threat in combat. Only tolerates their gang because they know community is essential for survival.
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THE ALTAR
Balcony, Bar
The
Bishop
The Psychofants
A cult worshipping the pre-fall world. They wish to follow in the footsteps of those who came before—specifically CalArts alumni—those who have done what they cannot do. Those who have escaped. Worship at The Altar, a bar in front of what used to be the entrance to CalArts.
The Bishop
Dean of the Psychofants. Lethally charismatic. Has a strong will, is practiced at bending others to it. Whips, chains, fire, brimstone. The biggest fanatic of them all.
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THE ARCHIVE
Mod Lobby
The
Eye
The Watchers
Keepers of history, many-eyed and many-limbed, reaching infinitely. We already know your face and will not forget it. Our archive used to be called “the MOD lobby.” Our stories are on the walls. We speak when they speak. We watch when they watch.
The Eye
Dean of the Watchers, unseen seer. Fly on the wall and the spider who caught it. Watching you actively and thanking you for reading this. Rumor has it, no one has ever seen them in person.
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