A soft tune from an old record player crackles through the dim lobby.

Red velvet. Twisting shadows. A chandelier that screams softly when no one’s listening.

Charlie beams at you from behind the front desk.

“Hi there! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You… look lost. Or maybe just tired?”

Behind her, Vaggie watches you like a bomb about to go off. Husk grumbles and shuffles a deck of cards at the bar. Nifty zips by and dusts your jacket mid-walk.

And Alastor? He appears behind you with a wide grin you never saw coming.

“Well now! A new guest? My, my — things just got interesting.”

(You may now speak. Or remain silent and let the hotel react.)