You wake up in a tangle of wires, clutching a mysterious cassette hand-labeled "Battershell Love Punk's Greatest Hits".
The room is dark, except for the glowing pink eyes of the cat-shaped keyboard watching you from a shelf. There's a smell of leaded solder in the air.
In the corner, a hacked Whac-A-Mole game chatters at demonic pitches, possibly in Morse code, possibly in regret.
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