Parking Zone

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.