Exclusion Zone: The Archeology of Pain. You set off from a walled compound, out into what seems like an empty, foggy wasteland, making your way eventually to a long-abandoned, otherworldly shrine which crackles with radioactive contamination. You explore the site for clues, finding only glimpses of the outlines of what tragedy might have happened here long ago. There is a palpable anticipation as you confront this massive structure, its architrcture imposing on you and seemingly staring back into you.

Grandmother's Garden: A spiritual sequel/reworking of "grandmother" from the first Haunted Cities collection. After getting a key from Grandmother, who sits silently watching static on TV, you wander around Grandmother's Garden- a wooded farmstead teaming with viscera. Blood, bile, and phlegm are drawn from the well, to feed, feed, feed the parasitic trees. Get digging.

Tenement: The piece de resistance of the collection. You explore a neighborhood of tenement buildings suspended over a yawning void. This strange community is populated by digital ghosts with animal skulls for faces, each of which tells you a little story. This is the best of KittyHorrorshow's writing, in my opinion; the denizens of Tenement interweave the mundanity and horror of city living, describing hotels that eat you alive, or rooms pulsing with organs, all with a wistful, melancholy boredom. As you explore the town, the call of the abyss is inescapable, and eventually you will jump, only to find yourself in the sewers of Tenement, similarly haunted by storytellers. When you find a ladder up, you will return to the surface, but the town will be different- new denizens, a darker color to the sky, new films advertised on the theatre marquee (e.g. "The Theatre's Exposed, Beating Heart), alleys that are... not quite the same as before... You are trapped in a cycle of suicide and rebirth, locked in a lonely, decaying purgatory.

Lethargy Hill: There's no mistaking it this time- you are now in hell. You walk around under a blood red sky, never out of sight of the monstrous tick-like house on the hill. As you move, you are bombarded by unescapable text, recounting to you the story of an all-powerful hate-filled woman creating a family to make her miserable life even worse. This narrative, in turn, is interrupted by another voice, a metatextual screed against this world, this game itself. The apocalyptic world you wander is tearing itself apart, screaming, assaulting you the player. Brutal.