Lost Locale - Individuals
This is it. The land. You remember it all too fondly. Bathed in these red, pink, and light blue lines. The land of floating islands, pitch black foliage, and the land of forgotten opportunity. Blobs of cells float around, somehow all compact together. You roam aimlessly, hoping to find something. A reason. An objective. A purpose. And you get what you want. A call. It tells you to drop. Fall into the abyss. See what is down there.
And you listen.