CRYPT OF NOCTURNAL MEMORIES

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.

The ceremony never truly ends.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

Auto-save failed: manually preserve your soul.

The screensaver is a window to other dimensions.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.