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 site, 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? →
- Your Room An empty storefront with the keys in the door. Somebody in the community gets to decorate it. to let →
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, and The Outskirts past the last streetlight the other way, where the after-dark keeps premises. 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.
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