Wynter gazed out at the desolate wasteland before her, the wind whipping her long hair into a frenzy as she scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. She had heard the whispers, the rumors of a place where the mad and the broken dwelled. Scatgold was its name, a city born of chaos and anarchy.

Legend had it that anyone who ventured into Scatgold would be forever changed, their minds shattered by the madness that permeated every street and alleyway. But Wynter was no ordinary soul. A sociologist, she had spent years studying those who dwelled within the city’s crumbling walls, convinced that they held the key to understanding humanity’s darkest corners.

As she walked, the streets seemed to grow wilder, the buildings twisting into impossible shapes that defied the laws of physics. The air reeked of decay and desperation. Wynter felt a thrill of excitement, her heart pounding with anticipation. This was it, the environments she had longed to study – and to collapse into, perhaps, when she got too near.

She spotted a figure huddled in an alleyway, its back to her as it wept uncontrollably. It was then that Wynter realized she had entered Scatgold; there was no going back now.