Nothing exciting ever happens here. Sure, Ruffini's spirit medium skills were fun... for maybe a month. But who wants to know you're just part of a game? Who wants your mortality and lack of autonomy spelled out for you by a little white dog? It's sobering, it's humbling. It's depressing. And I know I'm doomed to stand here every day selling the same old stuff to the same four kids because that's my lot in life and I know it and I hate it. I just can't wait to go home and sleep and dream of a world where I'm the master of my destiny. Ha, not even that. Nighttime is just a convenient illusion for the "player."

Ask anyone what the most deadly predator to walk the land is, and they might say Mighty Bear 7 or some other large brute. But they may not be aware of the vicious Chomposaur, terror of the Lost Underworld. Immensely powerful and intelligent, it is no slouch when it comes to hunting. But the same highly developed brain that allows for the use of Psi also breeds an intense cruelty. They will eat anyone who catches their eye, even if their minuscule size means they would be an impoverished meal indeed... They will toy with their food, groping around palm trees. If they were truly hungry or feeling especially wicked, they could easily rend or burn their way to their quarry. But then the deadly game would come to an end.

A city pregnant of its own filth, desolate piles of rot hidden behind a sparkling facade. And the sentries stalk the streets, always. Dissent is dealt with deadly swiftness. So all that remains are those who have deluded themselves into feeling happiness in this squalor. And this hate filled city will give birth to the end.