Alone in the elevator, you leaned against the railing, already sickened by the near-death experience you went through. How could a floor with a dancing game have a meat grinder way below that kills those who fail at follow the leader? The lights cut as you're left alarmed. A cloud of black mist appears in the corner in front of you. "I can feel the seams of the void slip between each floor. Interesting..." 'Who's speaking in a Russian accent here, now?' you ask yourself–in your head–as a hand with fingertips that fade from black to red pokes out of the smoke. The pointlessness of this type of clichéd debut is shown to dissatisfy the figure as the hand goes limp, the smoke dissipating to reveal the very thing you saw in your dreams. The thing that you saw killed the poor anthropomorphic rabbit with a TV for a head in your dream. Corporeal, and staring you down. "Do my searing eyes disturb you? Hmhmmhm.. haha..."