(no subject)

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

You find yourself in a place.

This place, in fact, is somehow, inexplicably, a reflection of your own mind.

There are a few doors scattered around. They don't belong—they are styled to belong to other places. Stepping through the doors lets you visit the places like this that belong to the people you know.

What do you do?

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[venominsilicon.livejournal.com]

Gauron's mindscape consists of jungles, bleeding out through vast swaths that look like they were napalmed, hit by Agent Orange, and barbecued by flamethrowers, into vast, rocky deserts. In the occasional ravine, there's a swatch of city (most of them are late 20th/early 21st century Hong Kong, for anyone who recognizes it) - a pastiche of all the places where he feels so comfortable that he's almost invisible, cut together in a way that makes little sense to anybody except him. Come on in, if you dare, but there are booby traps everywhere - step wrong, and you'll find yourself trapped in his memories of being tortured, beaten, stabbed, shot, or blown up, except without any of the perverse enjoyment he felt at the time.

Ladies and gents, welcome to hell - for the mind is its own place, and can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.