stimpunks.world
- Queer without fear.
- Interdependent and here.
- Divergent and proud.
- Living out loud.
- Plucky pluralism, for human organisms.
- Becoming and belonging, with ribald songing.
HOW LOUD DO YOU WANT IT?
Starts wherever your device says. Nothing moves, flashes, or plays until you say so.
The street has a name, and it is not ours. Danny the Street is a character in DC Comics’ Doom Patrol, created in 1990 by Grant Morrison and Richard Case: a living street who turns up wherever somebody needs shelter and rearranges what is on them to suit whoever has arrived. Rooms that refuse to match, a field for anybody who would rather not be on a street at all, a shopfront with the keys in the door — that is all Danny’s, and we would like it on the record. Where Danny came from, and what they have been since →
The rooms
- Pink Pony Club The dancefloor. Ten songs our own pages already credit, in one jukebox, silent until you press something. PRESS PLAY →
- Club Chronic Freaks to the front. Punk music, punk community, a wall of playlists and a rack of records. Nothing in here strobes. doors at 8 →
- The Zine Table Xerox, staples, ransom note. The room where we get angry in ten point type. take one, they're free →
- Hear Queer Here Quantum queering. Nothing is fixed, bounded, or settled in advance of its relations. > enter superposition
- Enid's Room Colorful goth. Black walls, technicolour everything else, and somewhere to sit when the glee runs out. knock first →
- The Playhouse Everything is a button and every button yells. The glossary wearing a costume. AAAAAAAAH! →
- THE ARCADE Press-to-start cabinets. Esmx gathers drifting quills; an otter does otter things in a kelp bay. Nothing to defeat. INSERT COIN →
- The Latibulum A burrow of belonging for burnouts. A round door, a lamp, a wireless, a tube television, and nothing counted. go down three steps →
- The Jungle Room A viewing room under a closed canopy. Somebody else's cameras, pointed at somewhere real, and nobody presenting. part the leaves →
- The Mopery A dark academia library, reading room and parlour. Books you can borrow, one song many times over, and a bird that only knows the one word. mind the step →
- The Adventurer's Guild A job board, ranked by how far you have to walk. Every room on this street has a marker standing in it; bring the code back here. Nothing is scored. jobs posted →
- The Feed A hall of split-flap arrival boards, one wire per feed, read off our own RSS feeds. A title, a date and where it goes — never the words themselves. It says the minute it was set. check the board →
- The Zibaldone A commonplace book left open on a desk. Lines somebody copied out, each one saying where it came from and what it is for. Short quotations, no lyrics, nothing ranked. read over a shoulder →
- The Rabbit Hole Not a room — a shaft, with no floor at the bottom of it. Rabbit holing as attention that goes in depth rather than in breadth, seven recordings, six engravings from 1865, and a trail out. go down →
- The Healing Checkpoint Room 429. A save room with the light in the floor and a bed nobody is charging you for — an appreciation of rest, and a room that restores nothing, saves nothing and counts nothing. lie down →
- The Foundry A type foundry in a grey iron workshop. Set your own words — or words out of three other rooms — in any typeface this street holds, change everything about how they sit, and print a proof with the designer’s name on it. pull a proof →
- Covenstead A kitchen in the afternoon with the good china out and none of it matching. Where a group meets to watch its own thinking. Nobody is initiated and nothing is counted. put the kettle on →
- Dead Tired Society Peer support by and for the burnt out. A borrowed room with the big lights off and the door left ajar. Nobody has to talk, nothing is counted, and nobody has to sit in the light. no need to knock →
- Laughingstock A comedy club down a ramp, not a flight of stairs. Disabled comics on their own terms, controlling the frame. Nobody is called brave, nobody headlines, and bombing is allowed. the spot’s on →
- The Lightbulb Picture House Films about autism, ADHD and neurodiversity, most of them made by the people they are about. Every screening is relaxed: house lights up, captions on, and you can move, stim or leave. house lights up →
- Samefood Cafe Samefoods, safe foods, and food aversion understood rather than corrected. A kitchen that knows its regulars and keeps what each of them has, nothing on your plate touching unless you want it to, and the regulars’ samefoods on trays of their own. same again? →
- The Collection Collection A dark gallery of our people’s collections, each in a cabinet of its own under a lamp of its own, and no two lamps alike. Nothing counted, priced or ranked, and every photograph described by the house so that nobody has to. have a look →
- Vital Plant Living A plant-based kitchen. Build your own bowl or wrap out of a real pantry, or have a combo off the board, each on a flavour base from somewhere in the world. Everything in the bowl touches, and the stereo plays songs about food. what are you having? →
- Community Center A quiet room with a window seat looking north onto a hill, and a radio on the front desk. Join the CB with an invite and a username and password of your own, read the house norms, and the radio rides along in the corner of every page until you sign off. sign on →
- Town Hall A round hall under a dome with a hole in the top, and the sun lying on the floor as one disc. Doors round the wall to the Fishbowl, for community meetings on the CB, and to rooms for our directors, board and moderators, which anybody can walk into. go in →
- Dopamine Dress-Up Den Helen’s idea: a shop for dopamine dressing. Put an outfit together on a valet stand out of fisherman pants, haori, beanies, cardigans, flowing dresses and sequins, in any print and any colours. Nothing has to go with anything, and nothing comes in a size. try it on →
- The Bodymind Booth A photo booth next door to the Dress-Up Den with no camera in it. Draw your bodymind, chairs, canes, hearing aids and all, dress it next door, and wear it as your avatar on the CB. No body comes first. pull the curtain →
- Plural Mural An end wall on the street that will not stay one colour. The street is Danny’s, and Danny repaints: hold the mural you like, put up any of them, or propose one of your own. look up →
- Community Library A public library with the sky in its windows. Free to all, nothing requires a card, and a gap in the stacks at the back that is longer on the inside than it is on the outside. borrow something →
- Cavendish Coworking Henry Cavendish’s house, green throughout, with a door onto each of our calls: the meetings that run Stimpunks, the room our events meet in, and rooms upstairs to hang out in. Every door shut, none locked. No Discord, no account. knock →
- The Live Room A control room with the red light on, and sessions played in a studio rather than at a gig. No crowd to stand in, and every one says how long it runs before you press it. quietly, the light is on →
- The Broadsheet Broadside Manifestos and mementos, served across your bow. A press in the side of a ship, printing single sheets on both sides, to pin up and to hand over. come alongside →
- The Doom Scoop Daily news, usually bad. A parlour after closing with the cabinet light on, a tub of the news for every morning of the week, and then it is gone. one scoop of the news →
- The MUD Room A multi-user dungeon with nobody to fight. Out the back door is the Slake, a tidal estuary made of words: walk it, look at things, talk to the people out there, and wait for the tide. Nothing is counted. out the back door →
- Pando Calrissian A gap between the shopfronts, and a hillside of aspen after sunset with one tree on it that is all of us. Signed on to the CB, water it, and another stem comes up from the one root. It counts the water and never who poured it. up the hill →
- The Fridge of Sighs A kitchen, and a turquoise fridge door covered in word magnets. Signed on to the CB, put up one word, and somebody else puts up the next; a full stop finishes the sentence, and it stays on the door for good. No word says whose it was. put a word up →
- Count Me In A fire door onto a stairwell that goes up and never stops, and everybody climbs it together, a number to a step. Signed on to the CB, put the next number or ride the chairlift up one. A wrong number goes back to one, and nobody is named. climb →
- Rescue A Cat The end of the street where the lights are out, a torch, and now and then a cat that needs bringing in. Signed on to the CB, the first to press rescues it and gives it a name, and anybody can adopt one into Profile on their CB radio. Nobody is told who rescued which. shine the torch →
- Rescue A Dog The park the morning after snow, and now and then a dog who needs bringing in. Follow the prints, bring them in, give them a name, and adopt one into Profile on your CB radio. No dog is rarer than another. follow the prints →
- Rescue Small Animals Under the floorboards, where the only light is the day through the cracks, and now and then a rabbit, a rat, a mouse, a hamster, a gerbil, a guinea pig, a chinchilla, a ferret or a hedgehog who needs bringing in. Adopt one into Profile on your CB radio. look along the cracks →
- The Open Notebook A desk under a window, with a notebook that has lain open on it since first light. Ryan’s piece on keeping a bullet journal, a junk journal and an interstitial journal in one notebook, the questions we asked of it, and a month of journaling on the laptop beside it. sit down at it →
- Learning Large A glasshouse at night under red and blue grow lamps, where nothing looks green. Learning, making and knowledge gardening with generative AI: models are spiky, humans are too, and the room is about how we complement each other. With a month of AI channels on the bench screen. step in out of the dark →
- Hey, Good Cookin’ A community kitchen with its windows steamed up. Nobody is turned away and nothing is owed: seat yourself by the placard on the table, and every dish says what is in it. Cooking classes, and a month of cooking channels on the teaching screen. come in out of the cold →
- Pekoe and Purrs A cat café with a window at every height. Coffee, tea and tea sandwiches, and every cat from the shelter, waiting for a home: press one to meet them, and pick one up for your lap. come and sit with the cats →
- A Quiet Pint A pub a few steps down, made like McAnally’s: thirteen tables and no two alike, no screens, a ramp beside the steps, and every pint alcohol-free first, in the same glass. go down for a quiet pint →
- The Honesty Box A farm stand at the kerb under its own solar lamp, with the wool, milk, cheese, eggs, meat and produce of the land past the campgrounds. Prices on the board, money in the box, and nobody watching. take what you want →
- NeuroHome Isha Snow's tiny home by the river: daylight through the firs, candles, a full bookshelf, a radio on the desk, a creativity corner and a bee yard out front. step inside →
- Words, Bud, Beats A salon at desert dusk where Kristina Brooke pairs music with words and cannabis. step inside →
- The Sandbox A sandbox at dusk, lit by a laptop left open in the sand: come in curious, try things, break things and give feedback, with no deadlines and nothing to lose. step inside →
- Chimera Obscura A camera obscura, black inside. Make one creature out of two animals, the body from one and the ears, tail, colours and markings from either, and a lens throws it onto a white table. step into the dark →
- Community Care A street roofed with everybody’s umbrellas, tied together, with the rain on top. Ask for mutual aid, peer support or any other help, and offer it. Nobody sorted, nothing owed, nothing counted. come in out of the rain →
- Coping The eye of the storm: clear sky straight up and the storm all the way round. Small things to reach for in a hard moment, why they work, why cope is not an insult, and doors to the rooms that help. step into the eye →
- Pets Down on the floor at the end of the day with the animals asleep, and nobody switching the lamp on. Why co-regulating with a pet matters so much, and a pet flap to every room on the street with animals in it. lie down with them →
- Show Your Work A garage with the door rolled up and the day coming in. The work of folks in our community, drafts and seams and all, out where the people who love the same things can find it. walk up the driveway →
- Breaker Breaker CB radios, CB slang and the long haul, in a cab at night lit only by marker lamps. Channel 19 is on, and Dale Watson and Convoy are on the rack. breaker one-nine, come on in →
- Your Room An empty storefront with the keys in the door. Somebody in the community gets to decorate it. to let →
WHERE THE BUILDINGS STOP: THE LOTS THROUGH THE FENCE
Open ground at the far end of the street, side by side and each next door to the next, with a gate into each.
- The Run →A dog park in a dog’s colours, with every dog from the shelter out for a run.
- The Truck Stop →Truckin’ Food Court: five trucks round a porch, each doing one thing several ways, and nothing with a price on it.
- The Green →A wood, a pond and an accessible boardwalk round it, just after the rain.
- The Pile →A junk playground, and everything on it is whatever you say it is.
WHAT THIS STREET IS FOR
Every other site we run is careful on purpose — careful palettes, careful sourcing, careful attribution, careful hedging. Those sites are load-bearing and they stay. This one is the other half of the same lung.
It has no single design system, deliberately. The street is the system; the rooms refuse to share one. And it has edges — the garden through the gate in the wall, where the sites we publish grow, and one at each end of the road: the campgrounds past the treeline, for anybody who would rather not be on a street at all, with Nature’s Contribution past its wood, where the street’s food and power are grown and the wildlife is left room, and The Outskirts past the last streetlight the other way, where the after-dark keeps premises. At the far end, where the buildings stop, there is open ground: lots side by side behind a fence, the Run, the Truck Stop, the Green and the Pile. And under all of it, by lift or stair, Arlesglad Caverns, for everything that needs things to stay the same. Two things stay careful even here: attribution, because that is a licence and not a house style, and contrast, because clashing is not the same as illegible. Everything else went out the window. See the liner notes.
A patch: Stimpunks.World. Lying on the pavement by the lift head, where somebody dropped it.
The street’s own name, for anybody who has walked down it.
Signed on to the CB, pick it up and it goes on the battle jacket in your Profile, sewn on with every other patch on the street, whatever its shape.
Job marker — a chalk mark on the kerb
You have found a job marker. The Adventurer’s Guild is a shopfront on the street, and it posts jobs that send you round these rooms. Take the code below to its board and that job is done. Nothing here is scored, nothing expires, and one is a perfectly good number of jobs to do.
The job: Read the street before you walk it
Quest code: CHALKMARK