I inherited the Arcade. Some clown located me where I was sifting bacterial aromas and grading fighting mites and horned beetles for the summer circuit. Astonishing things have happened to me before, but what really got me here was that I'd inherited the Arcade from a teacher I once had. Lurr. Lurr couldn't teach me anything. We'd had nothing to do with each other for a long time.
I was immediately suspicious.

On the other hand, I thought, why not. Take a look. It's not every day you get an arcade dumped in front of you. Of course it could paralyze you, but being paralyzed is not always a bad thing.

It was known as Perfect Mad Blue. The Arcade was. I don't think that was its name, originally. But that's its name now that it's dysfunctional. I also don't think it was always an arcade. That's just another suspicion I have. I haven't explored all of it. There hasn't been time. Feel free to try. I encourage you to.

Perfect mad blue,
looney hue....
Those were words to a song, I think, but I don't know if the song was the Arcade's or the song was before, or after.

Take a look around. Your life's as young as you make it so if you're here there should be plenty of time. And there's no frontier but thinking makes it so.

You'll probably see me here and there, now and then, when I'm as welcome as a crash. I probably won't be found when you could use me, just like maintenance. But really I'm just another whatever. Whatever you are. Seeker, investigator, competitor, glutton, or gelatinous smear on the crust of time so bored you're but a dried film of your once was.

Oh, I suppose you're wondering what I'm like, and what I look like. We don't know each other well enough for that, but we might.

First things:

the layout, or:

spatial adaptations

denizens and artifacts