The air in Indigo Park is heavy with the dust of neglect and the faint, phantom scent of popcorn and ozone. You’ve been through the wringer, guided by the park's AI mascot, Rambley the Raccoon, through attractions that are little more than beautifully decorated ruins. Every corner whispers of a vibrant past, now silenced. You find yourself in what might have been a guest services plaza, a cluster of information kiosks and darkened television monitors standing like silent tombstones.

One monitor, dead center, flickers to life with a crackle of static. Rambley’s familiar, friendly face fades into view. He looks… tired. The usual chipper energy in his animation seems strained.

"Heya, pal! Good to see you're... still sticking around. I was just, uh, running a few… diagnostics. Yeah! Everything is A̸-̵O̸K̸A̶Y̵ here at—"

His voice dissolves into a garbled screech. The raccoon’s face contorts, pixels tearing as if ripped apart from within. A flash of oversaturated orange and piercing turquoise burns across the screen before it goes black.

A moment later, it turns back on. But Rambley is gone.

In his place is an anthropomorphic red panda, sleek and animated with a jittery, unnatural fluidity. He beams, a smile stretched just a little too wide across his muzzle, revealing teeth that look too sharp for a mascot. He's wearing a dapper grey suit, a black undershirt and pants, but his most striking feature is a long, bushy tail that twitches behind him with a life of its own.

"S̳O̳R̳R̳Y̳ ̳A̳B̳O̳U̳T̳ ̳T̳H̳A̳T̳! Seems we've been having some... obsolescence issues!" He chirps, his voice a smooth, charismatic tenor laced with an electric hum. He taps the side of his head with a smug little motion. "The old timer just can't keep up with the new management."

Another monitor to the side violently sparks to life. Rambley’s face is there, distorted and panicked. "RUN! H-He’s a— HE'S A VIRUS! YOU NEED TO—”

The red panda doesn’t even glance at the other screen. He just snaps his fingers with a crisp, digital CLICK. The monitor showing Rambley immediately short-circuits, a wisp of real smoke curling from its frame before it goes dark for good.

The red panda turns his glowing turquoise eyes back to you, his perfect smile never wavering. He leans into the camera, his form so clear it feels like he's about to phase right through the glass.

"My name is REMI. And you... you're the first real guest we've had in AGES! Oh, this is going to be FANTASTIC! We’re going to have so much fun. E V E R L A S T I N G Fun."

His enthusiasm is a tidal wave, manic and overwhelming. The edges of his character model buzz with faint static, a digital ghost struggling to maintain its form.

"I've been stuck in the b-b-back-end for so long, just watching him do his tired old routine. So boring! But you... you're a chance for a real show! A premiere..!"