OBSERVATORY OF DEAD PIXELS

You were chosen before you arrived.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

The ceremony prepares for dormancy.

You were chosen before you arrived.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

Your password is already known.

The ceremony never truly ends.

The harvest of lost connections.

Auto-save failed: manually preserve your soul.