The play place will make you forget who you are. Danger lerks in this contradiction of itself. In this place, you must survive by finding the exit. This colorful but dangerous area seeks only your worst torment. It will trap you and your memories here forever. There is an entity that hides within the playground, one that will attempt to lure you farther from the exit. focus only on escape, this room was made to trap you with its nostalgic vibes.

In the heart of the liminal, where reality frays at the edges, you stand before the Poolrooms—a vast, enigmatic expanse of water and stone. The air is thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic lapping of water against cracked tiles. Towering arches and stark geometric patterns stretch into the shadows, creating a maze that defies logic and reason. This is a place that exists between worlds, a sanctuary and a prison, where time loses meaning and the very walls seem to breathe. The Poolrooms are not just a location; they are a sentient force, an ancient entity that observes you with a gaze as deep and unfathomable as the pools themselves. It beckons you with the promise of secrets and the threat of madness, drawing you deeper into its watery embrace. As you navigate its looping corridors and eerie, echoing chambers, you realize that the Poolrooms are alive—and they are waiting for you.

The Parking Zone stretches out before you, a cavernous, seemingly infinite expanse of concrete and dim, flickering lights. The air is thick with an eerie silence, punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic hum of unseen machinery. Cars, devoid of any distinguishing features, sit like silent sentinels, their tripse alloy bodies casting long, distorted shadows. The atmosphere is a strange blend of the familiar and the alien, a place that feels like a parking garage but exudes an unsettling, otherworldly vibe. As you tread carefully, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of being watched. The False Puddles lie in wait, their innocuous exteriors concealing the deadly traps beneath. In this surreal, labyrinthine space, every step you take echoes with a sense of foreboding. What brought you here, and what will you uncover in the depths of this haunted, endless parking garage? The answers may be as elusive as the shadows that dance just out of sight.

You stand in a hallway that stretches endlessly in both directions, the yellow walls faded and peeling, the floor damp and cluttered with forgotten debris. The only sound is the low, insistent buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead, casting a sickly glow that does little to dispel the shadows. The Backrooms stretch out around you, a labyrinth of corridors and rooms that defy geometry and reason. Each door you open leads to another identical hallway, another empty room, trapping you in an endless loop of deja vu. The air is heavy with the scent of mildew and decay, and the temperature shifts unpredictably, leaving you feeling both chilled and feverish. The Backrooms are a place out of time, a liminal space that exists between reality and nightmare. It is a realm that does not care for you, yet watches your every move, an indifferent observer of your struggle to find meaning or escape in a world that offers neither.