Liner Notes

Who made this noise. This street dropped almost every careful habit our other sites have — careful palettes, careful hedging, the balanced tone. It kept exactly one, and this is the page where it lives.

Credits are about the people who made this street. What it keeps about the people who visit it, which is very little, is on the privacy page.

The jukebox

Ten tracks on the dancefloor, every one of them lifted from our own published We’re A Double Rainbow All the Way. Nothing is hosted by us. Each one is a press-to-play facade: until you press it, this site has made no request to YouTube on your behalf. The titles and channels below were resolved against YouTube’s own oEmbed endpoint rather than typed from memory.

None of these artists are affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorse us. They are here because their work is on a page of ours already.

The Chappell

Thirteen more facades, in a subroom off the dancefloor, and all of them one artist. They come from a different place than the ten above and are kept in a different file for that reason: the jukebox was extracted from our own Double Rainbow page, and these were extracted from a playlist we published, Unabashed Pleasure and Righteous Inclusion With Chappell Roan. Ids, titles, channels and runtimes were read off YouTube — the playlist page, its watch-page panel, and the oEmbed endpoint — rather than typed from memory. Nothing is hosted by us, and every one is a press-to-play facade that names its runtime before you press it.

All thirteen are Chappell Roan. Chappell Roan is not affiliated with Stimpunks and does not endorse us. The playlist header says fifteen and thirteen of them render: YouTube counts private and deleted entries in that total and shows nothing at all for them, so thirteen is what plays and thirteen is what is published.

The Latibulum

Two more facades, in the burrow under the hill, and a third data file for them because they came from a third place: the wireless is a Stimpunk’s own composition, published on our ocean page and pointed at again from the Bodymind Break; the television is the class we chose for a Campfire Learn Together on somatic practice. Neither is hosted by us. Adriel gave Stimpunks permission to use Ocean Waves however we like — and it stays where he put it anyway, because a permission is not a reason to take a copy of somebody’s work off its own shelf. Runtimes and channels were read off YouTube’s own watch pages.

Adriel Jeremiah Wool is a Stimpunk; Annette of Itstimefitness is not affiliated with Stimpunks and does not endorse us. Neither of them made anything for this street. They are credited as the authors of work this room points at, which is the whole job of a facade.

The Jungle Room

Every nature cam our own events page lists, in the viewing room under the canopy, and a fourth data file because they came from a fourth place: our own Watering Hole Hangs events page, which puts one of these up in the background every weekday. The groups below and their order are that page’s, not ours. Not one frame is hosted by us, and not one of these says how long it runs, because a live camera does not stop — which is the one place on this street where a runtime would be the dishonest thing rather than the careful one. The titles and the channels were resolved against YouTube’s oEmbed endpoint and, where oEmbed refuses an id, against the watch page’s own owner name; none of them was typed off our link text. Whether each one plays, and whether its owner allows it to be embedded at all, was measured the same day.

None of these people or organisations is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us. None of them made anything for this street; they put a camera somewhere and left it running, and they are credited as the authors of the work this room points at. Where a cam our events page lists answers UNPLAYABLE it is not in the galleries, and the row above says so — the entry stays in the data file with the date it was found dead on, because a dead link quietly deleted is a correction nobody can see. Replacing one is a decision for the events page, and a replacement that arrives from there carries a note in the data file saying what was measured on it before it went up.

The Den

Sixteen more facades, in the room behind the Jungle Room, and a fifth data file because they came from a fifth place: a discography rather than a page of ours. In 1976 the Jungle Room at Graceland — Elvis Presley’s own den, the one with the green shag and the fieldstone waterfall — was converted into a recording studio, and the bulk of his last two albums were made in it. Presley wrote none of these songs, so the writers are named on every cut in the room as well as here. The track list, session dates and album attributions came off the two albums’ own articles; each video id was searched, filtered to his official channels, and then checked on its own watch page — channel, playability, embeddability and length — before it went in, and matched against the released runtime so that an alternate take could not get in wearing a master’s name. Nothing is hosted by us, and every button says how long it runs before you press it.

All sixteen are Elvis Presley recordings, produced by Felton Jarvis. Neither the Presley estate, Graceland, RCA nor any of the songwriters is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us.

The Solarpunk Hermitage

Two kinds of borrowed thing in the cabin at the far end of the campgrounds, from two places, which is why they are two tables and not one. The layout of the room is not ours either: the cave, the campfire and the watering hole are David Thornburg’s primordial learning spaces, from From the Campfire to the Holodeck, documented on our own Caves, Campfires, and Watering Holes; the room names him rather than using the shape quietly. The argument the pitch is built on is Betsy Selvam’s, and hers is the distinction between being alone well and being left out. Neither Thornburg nor Selvam is affiliated with Stimpunks and neither endorses us.

The documentaries are Ryan’s list; nothing on it was chosen in this repo. Every id was checked on its own watch page before it went up — status, embeddability and length — and every title and channel was resolved against YouTube rather than typed off the links that arrived. Nothing is hosted by us, every button says how long it runs before you press it, and the one whose owner has embedding switched off is published as a door out rather than as a screen that would show a refusal where the picture should be.

The books on the cave’s shelves are ones stimpunks.org already argues from, and each row says which page of ours put it there — read out of the Knowledge System mirror’s own frontmatter rather than typed from memory. Every one can be borrowed; a buy link is a bonus. Our library page says knowledge is infrastructure and access to it is mutual aid, and a shelf that could only tell you where to buy would be a shop with an argument painted on it. The notes in the room are ours and are not lifted from a blurb. None of these authors or publishers is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us.

The speaker in the cave plays Oblivion Slip, which is Ryan’s: one of the stimming and coping playlists on our Our Stims page, where it is on Spotify, copied to our YouTube channel with TuneMyMusic. Every piece on it is its composer’s and its performers’, and none of them is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us. It says no runtime, on purpose.

The records beside the campfire’s stereo are Ryan’s choice, each a whole album and each on YouTube from the channel named below. Years are first releases, read off MusicBrainz rather than off the uploads. Where the performers wrote none of it, the room names who did. None of these artists, their labels or their songwriters is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us, and nothing of theirs is hosted here.

The Clacks Tower

A room behind Widdershins, in the city over the bridge: the shutter cabin at the top of a clacks tower at noon, lit only by the sun through the open shutters, lying on the floor in squares. Ryan’s ask of 2026-11-04, for subrooms of Widdershins inspired by places in the Discworld novels; it stands on what Star Stuff has already written about the clacks in No. 49, One Atom of Justice. tools/make-clacks-tower.py writes the room out of data/clacks-tower.json.

The Discworld is Terry Pratchett’s, and the clacks, the Grand Trunk, the Overhead and John Dearheart are from his Going Postal (2004). No line of the book is quoted in the room. Star Stuff gives one, and says in its colophon that the wording came from a reference wiki and was never checked against the novel, so the room says what the line is about and does not print it, and the tool refuses it until somebody reads it in the book. His estate has no involvement in the room and was not asked. Discworld is a trade mark. The X-Clacks-Overhead header is a fan convention, started by readers in March 2015, and not his instruction or his estate’s.

Most of the quoted words are Star Stuff’s, by Stimpunks and Helen Edgar’s More Realms, under CC BY-SA 4.0 like this street, and one line is from our own Luddite Sensibilities page; each is checked word for word against Star Stuff’s repository and our copy of stimpunks.org. The tower is ours, made as code by Claude, an AI model made by Anthropic, to Ryan’s brief; its shutters stand in a pattern that spells no letter of the book’s code, and nobody is in it.

The type is Allerta Stencil, by Matt McInerney, for the room’s name and headings, and Signika, by Anna Giedryś, drawn for signs, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

The Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons

A room behind Widdershins, over the bridge in the city: a walled yard of sand at noon, under a sun the city’s smoke has turned down to a pale disc you can look at, where small dragons nobody else wanted live as they are. Ryan’s ask of 2026-11-04: subrooms of Widdershins after places in the Discworld novels, in the city over the bridge. tools/make-sunshine-sanctuary.py writes the room out of data/sunshine-sanctuary.json.

The Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons is Terry Pratchett’s, Lady Sybil Ramkin’s in Guards! Guards! (1989), and his estate has no involvement in the room and was not asked. No line of the book is quoted in it, because neither Star Stuff nor any page of ours prints one about the sanctuary, and nothing there is quoted from memory. Nobody from the book is drawn: not the lady whose sanctuary it is and not any dragon of hers. Discworld is a trade mark.

The yard is ours, made as code by Claude, an AI model made by Anthropic, to Ryan’s brief, and its dragons are small, unnamed and nobody’s in particular. One line is Star Stuff’s, from No. 49, One Atom of Justice, under CC BY-SA 4.0; the others are Brianne Benness’s, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha’s and Mia Mingus’s, each read on one of our own pages and credited where it stands.

The type is Young Serif, by Bastien Sozeau, for the room’s name and headings, and Alegreya, by Juan Pablo del Peral and HT Fonts, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License.

The pebbles by the door are Helen Edgar’s idea, from the day she came to the Hermitage to watch a film, 2026-09-26: somewhere for a visitor to leave a penguin pebble, and a basket of the host’s own things to take one from. There is a bowl like it in her Faery Yurt too, dressed in her own colours for her to change. Pebbling is written up in our glossary and credited in full at the Arcade’s pebbling cabinet; nothing in either bowl is taken from the Penguin Pebbling card game. Ryan’s basket holds his own video of the grass in his front yard, which plays in Swaying Sweetgrass, and a link to TOMORA — Tom Rowlands of The Chemical Brothers and AURORA — playing “I Drink the Light” on Later… with Jools Holland, on BBC Music’s channel, read off the video’s own description on 2026-09-26. Helen’s basket is a wicker one, her ask, drawn in her own colours, and holds a link to Anya Gallaccio’s amethyst grotto The Light Pours Out Of Me (2012) at Jupiter Artland, near Edinburgh, read off Jupiter Artland’s own page, in a video on the Yoga & Healing Fairy channel, 2026-09-26. The yurt’s soundtrack is Helen’s own playlist, Faery Yurt’s Yarn, on her channel: Pink Floyd, AURORA, Portishead, Kate Bush, Guillemots, Tracy Chapman, Ezra Furman, Khruangbin and Leon Bridges, Andrew Sa (live at WFUV), Noah Reid, Chaparelle and The Orb, each on the channel that uploaded it, several of which are not the artists’ own. Nothing of theirs is hosted or framed here, and none of them is affiliated with Stimpunks.

The Hermitage’s watering hole

Three benches in the workshop, and the rule across all three is that nothing is on a table unless one of our own pages argues from it. The herbarium is named by its sources rather than by taxonomy: nothing on it is determined to species, because a Latin binomial typed from memory is a taxonomic claim nobody checked wearing the one kind of authority a herbarium sheet has — make-hermitage.py refuses a specimen name shaped like one. Two sheets carry work that is Helen Edgar’s, at Autistic Realms, and say so on their own faces.

The solar bench’s videos came off our own Solarpunk entry and its reading off our own Electrify Everything. Nothing is hosted by us and nothing plays until it is pressed, and every button says how long it runs first. The ids were checked on their own watch pages and every title and channel resolved against YouTube rather than taken from our link text — which mattered: our glossary credits the first of these as “ft. @Andrewism”, and the channel that published it is Our Changing Climate. None of these people or organisations is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us.

The third bench is Star Stuff’s, our sibling site, linked out and not reproduced — the generator refuses an entry on that table whose link does not point there. Star Stuff is Stimpunks × More Realms; its zines are open edition and free to print.

• A Field Guide to the Ways of Being Alone — Twelve ways of keeping your own company among our Terran kin. A lone wolf is not an outcast, it is a disperser — young, deliberate, crossing empty ground on its way to founding a pack.
• A Field Guide to Symbioses — Mutual aid written into biology: fungi feeding trees, bacteria making soil, a fish that cleans the teeth of a predator that could swallow it.
• A Mycelium and a Rhizome — Star Stuff zine No. 26: how neurodivergent knowledge grows — no trunk, no centre, many doors.
• Measured Against a Tree — Star Stuff zine No. 73: six ways a moss fails as a plant, and the finding that the list is backwards.
• Seeds That Wait — Star Stuff zine No. 93: some seeds do nothing at all when you plant them, and they are not broken. Read-aloud science for four to eight, with every source kept on the page.
• The Garden and the Stars — Star Stuff zine No. 18: on knowledge gardens, the commons, and how star stuff comes to know itself.

Club Chronic

Thirty-six more facades, in the punk club, and a sixth data file because they came from a sixth place: the selection is It Take a Joyful Sound’s, on Star Stuff, our sibling site — its six racks, their order and their themes. The notes in our room were written for our room; the essay is the better thing and is linked from the rack. Nothing is hosted by us, every id was checked on its own watch page before it went up, and every title and channel was resolved against YouTube rather than taken from the link text they arrived with. Every button says how long it runs before you press it. None of these artists, labels or channels is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us.

The two playlists on that stage are ours — Chronic Neurodivergent Depressed Queer Punk, kept on YouTube by the Stimpunks Foundation and on Spotify by Ryan Boren — and neither carries a runtime, because a list somebody keeps adding to does not have one. Spotify is the first frame on this street that is not YouTube, which cost an origin in the Content-Security-Policy and another in love-embed.js; both are still facades and neither company hears anything until somebody presses the button.

Black Leather Lagoon

A drive-in screen standing in black water, out past the last streetlight in The Outskirts, and its own data file because everything in it came from its own place. The room is an appreciation of The Cramps — Lux Interior and Poison Ivy, formed 1976, active until 2009 — and it is the unusual case here of a room built on something no page of ours has ever written about. Most of these rooms dress up an argument stimpunks.org already makes. This one had nothing to dress, so every word of the appreciation is the room’s own and the sources are named on the page: the band’s history off Wikipedia, the covers and the Goo Goo Muck revival figures off its article on Psychedelic Jungle, the ids, runtimes and channels off YouTube, and the release years off MusicBrainz.

The year beside a record is the record’s and not the upload’s, and that distinction is the most useful thing this room turned up. Every one of these is an auto-generated upload from a licensor’s catalogue, and each carries a “Released on” line giving the date of the reissue that was licensed rather than of the record — 1984 for most of this rack, which is a compilation, and 2014 for three of them. Trusting it would have printed 1984 beside a 1978 single, in the one field a reader has no way of checking. A tenth song was dropped rather than published with a year nobody had resolved.

A song was also pulled by the check, for a reason nothing here had met. Can Your Pussy Do the Dog? answers LOGIN_REQUIRED rather than OK: it is age-gated, so it plays perfectly for a signed-in adult and would have rendered a refusal inside our frame for everybody else. That is neither a dead video nor an embedding permission — it is a third thing, and it is playing is not the same permission as embedding arriving once more: playing is not the same permission as playing without an account, on a street whose whole promise is that nothing is asked of you before the press.

Not one line of any of these songs is on that page, here or anywhere else on this site, and tools/make-lagoon.py refuses a note shaped like verse. A room built out of one band, whose words are half of why anybody loves them, is exactly where that rule would have been broken affectionately. Nothing is hosted by us, nothing is ranked, and every button says how long it runs before you press it. Neither the band, their labels, their estates nor any of these channels is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorses us.

The screen carries our own Halloween playlist, Gather ’Round Creeps, kept on YouTube by the Stimpunks Foundation. It carries no runtime, because a list we keep adding to does not have one — the same rule the punk club’s stage and the nature cams both keep, from opposite directions.

Covenstead

A meeting place, and a shopfront on the street: a kitchen in the afternoon with one window open and the good china out, not one cup matching the next. That mismatch is the subject of the room sitting on the table, because a covenstead is where a group meets — several people who do not entirely agree, meeting on purpose anyway.

It began as turning 03 in The Outskirts and was moved. Ryan’s call, 2026-09-22, and the reasoning is about what each area is for: the campgrounds are for people who want to be somewhat apart from each other, at peace in nature, with the street still in reach; the road out of town is for night revelry and for being as far off as you can get. A covenstead is neither — it is a group that meets regularly, which wants a premises with a door on a street where people already are. Helen Edgar’s observation sharpened the split: that everything out on that road could sit on the campsite if it had planning permission, which turns out to be a useful test for anything placed in either area.

It changed worlds when it moved rather than being relocated with the same paint on it. Out there it was a dark room lit by several lamps that did not match — the only room on the street lit by more than one source. Here it is daylit, warm and domestic, and the argument moved with it: the thing carrying several people who do not match, meeting anyway is now the china. That device is load bearing, and if the crockery is ever made to match, the room has lost its subject and kept its wallpaper.

Terry Pratchett’s words are on that page, and they are the point of it. First Sight and Second Thoughts are his, named in the Discworld books, and the sentences that define them are the tenets — the way the Rede’s couplet is. An earlier draft named the concepts and linked out for the words; it described the thing instead of showing it, and it gutted the room. Ryan’s call, 2026-09-22. Every quotation names its author, its work and its year and links to the edition, which is the habit this site keeps when it drops all the others.

What is not there is the scene. The lines about storing things in other people come out of a long exchange running to several hundred words, and that stays quoted properly, at length and in context, on our own philosophy page — the better thing to read, linked rather than raided. tools/make-covenstead.py sets its own cap rather than borrowing the Zibaldone’s: thirty words is right for a quote bank, where the danger is drift, and wrong for a room quoting a handful of named passages it is actually about. Sixty fits a defining sentence and refuses a scene.

The Rule of Three is argued about inside the tradition, and the room says so instead of settling it. It is not a universal article of faith: there are Wiccans who read it as an over-elaboration on the Rede and others who consider it a modern innovation built on Christian morality, with a possible prototype in a 1949 novel of Gerald Gardner’s. A page stating it flat, as the witch law, would be deciding a live argument inside somebody else’s religion on their behalf, from the outside, in passing, for atmosphere — and the flattened version is always the one that travels. The tool refuses a tenet marked contested that does not say what is contested about it.

Rede means counsel, not commandment, which is the hinge the room turns on: Middle English for advice, first publicly recorded in its best-known couplet in a 1964 speech by Doreen Valiente, and still counsel sixty years later rather than a code somebody can be expelled for breaking. make-covenstead.py refuses a tenet written as an order — which is the opposite of the rule one turning up the road, where make-sithen.py refuses advice outright. Two rooms in one area holding opposite rules about the same vocabulary, for the same underlying reason, and they must not be made to agree.

Nobody is initiated and nothing is counted. No degrees, no levels, no test at the door, no record of how often you came. The Wiccan material is somebody else’s religion, treated as such, and read off the Rede and the Rule of Three on 2026-09-22.

Dead Tired Society

Peer support by and for people in burnout and people on the far side of it, and a shopfront on the street: a borrowed room after hours with the big lights off and the door left ajar. The name is a play on Dead Poets Society (1989, directed by Peter Weir, written by Tom Schulman; read off Wikipedia’s summary on 2026-09-23), a film about a group resisting the conformity of the school it meets in. The room takes the shape of the name and nothing else — no line, no scene, no character, no still, no motto — and tools/make-dead-tired.py refuses the film’s characters, its school and its two famous lines anywhere on the page, because the most famous parts of somebody else’s screenplay are exactly the parts most tempting to borrow for atmosphere.

The light comes from outside the room, and nobody sits in it. The only light is a corridor’s strip lights through the gap in a door, lying across the floor as one hard wedge, and every word on that page stays in the shade on purpose: masking is performing under a light, and this is the room where nothing has to. The drawing places everything — a beanbag, a mug, a chair with a coat over it, a mattress, a pair of shoes, an armchair — outside that wedge, and draws nobody at all, because nobody in there is on display. The corridor’s tubes do not flicker, at any setting, for Club Chronic’s reason.

Every line on a peg is somebody else’s and says whose. Each was read off our own glossary entry for that peg on 2026-09-23 and is credited to the source the entry credits, never to the entry. Where an entry named only a title or only initials, the authors were resolved rather than guessed: Botha and Frost against Crossref’s record for their DOI, and Kramer, Jones and Broadbent against the journal’s own citation metadata, because Crossref has no record for that one. The definition of burnout at the top of the room is the title of Raymaker and others’ paper in Autism in Adulthood, 2020, also checked against Crossref. The line under each quotation is ours, written for this room.

Nothing there gives advice nobody asked for, counts anything, or praises anybody for how much they can take. The tool refuses the vocabulary of all three in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not — and skips the quotations, because two of them are the sharpest things anybody has said against resilience, and a quotation criticising a word has to be allowed to contain it. The page is not a meeting and does not pretend to be one: it has no times, no sign-up and no facilitator, and it points at our community, where the people are, and at mutual aid.

The type is Sorts Mill Goudy, Barry Schwartz’s revival of Goudy’s Oldstyle, for the society’s name and headings — set like a founding charter for a society whose members are lying on the floor — and Lexend, by Bonnie Shaver-Troup, Thomas Jockin, Santiago Orozco, Héctor Gómez and Superunion, for everything that is read. Lexend was drawn to reduce visual stress and ease reading fatigue, which is the whole reason a room for the dead tired sets it. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Laughingstock

A comedy club on the street, down a ramp rather than a flight of stairs. The writing that leads the room is ours, from our Campfire Learn Together Being Disabled Can Be Pretty Funny, where the community watched sets by Josh Blue and Tina Friml together and talked about what their work reveals. The takeaways and the three questions further down come from the same write-up.

The lines standing in the spotlight are the comics’ own, quoted from that write-up, checked word for word against our own copy of it on 2026-09-23, and credited to the comic whose line it is. The write-up does not say which set each line comes from, and the room does not guess: a line credited to the wrong special would be exactly the kind of made-up mapping this site spends a page arguing against. In that room, the comics’ words are the only thing set in the light, and everything of ours sits out in the dark with the audience.

Every set belongs to the comics who wrote and performed it, named on every row, and to the channel that published it. The stage is our own Disabled Comedy playlist, put on whole, and it carries no runtime because it is a list we keep adding to. The bill under it is read off that playlist, in its own order, and the room prints the date it was last read; every id is checked on its own watch page the day it goes on — playing, embeddable, and none of them behind an age gate. Every set on the bill plays where it hangs or goes up on the stage in place of the whole night, and a set that reaches the bill before the playlist is named under it as not in the whole night yet. Where a set’s note says how its comic is Disabled, that is Ryan’s word or the comic’s own channel’s. Nothing is hosted by us, none of the comics or channels is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorses us.

The Daily Tism, on the bar, is a satirical news site about being Autistic, founded by Sara Gibbs and Elsa Williams in 2024, and its audio sitcom It’s a Superpower?? is theirs too. Both are linked and neither is hosted or played here; the facts in the room were read off their own About page and the sitcom’s page on 2026-10-03, and the words in quotation marks are theirs.

Nobody in that room is called brave or inspiring for getting on a stage, and nobody headlines. tools/make-laughingstock.py refuses both vocabularies in the room’s own voice, with a window so the house rules can still say that nobody is — and it skips the comics’ lines, so that “I suffer from people” is allowed to say suffer.

The type is Yellowtail, by Astigmatic, a sign-writer’s script under the Apache License 2.0, for the neon and the comics’ names and nothing you have to read; and Bricolage Grotesque, by Mathieu Triay, under the SIL Open Font License, for everything you do. Both read off their own records in google/fonts.

Nothing For Sale

A free market in a lay-by, turning 07 in The Outskirts. Everything on its tables is ours, and free by its own page’s account, checked table by table on 2026-09-23: our library, our courses, our broadsides and our zine walls, and the Autism and Neurodiversity Starter Pack by David Gray-Hammond and Helen Edgar. Our mutual aid grants are pointed to and not laid out, because they have an application and a waiting list and a table would promise otherwise.

The line about mutual aid not being charity is Sparrow’s, from Mutual Aid: How We Survive, How We Transform at Unstrange Mind, as our Mutual Aid entry quotes it; the site’s own About page gives the author as Sparrow, and so does this. Solidarity, not charity is the mutual aid movement’s. The lay-by is invented. The type is Patrick Hand, by Patrick Wagesreiter, for the name, the headings and the signs, and Figtree, by Erik Kennedy, for everything you read; both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

The Repeater

A radio mast on the ridge at the far end of the road, turning 06 in The Outskirts. The argument is our own Shared-Signal Space entry, and the two lines quoted from it are ours. The Autistic Rhizome was named by DGH Neurodivergent Consultancy, for the network of Autistic communities on Discord, in an article our Autistic Rhizome entry quotes. That article’s own address serves a holding page now and the Internet Archive has only a redirect for it, so the room links our entry rather than a dead page, and names the consultancy rather than a person, because no byline we could read names one; and Helen Edgar has written about it at Autistic Realms. The first draft of this room credited the name to Helen alone, because hers was the article our entry cites; our own Autistic Rhizome entry says otherwise, and both are named now. The study on communication preferences is Howard and Sedgewick’s, ‘Anything but the phone!’, in Autism, as our entry cites it.

The open line is made in your browser and goes nowhere: a quiet noise synthesised when you press the button, with nothing fetched, nothing sent and nothing listening. The ridge and the mast are invented. The type is Syncopate, by Astigmatic, under the Apache License 2.0, for the name, the headings and the call on each card, and IBM Plex Sans, by Mike Abbink and Bold Monday, under the SIL Open Font License, for everything you read. Both licences were read off the families’ own records in google/fonts rather than assumed; the first draft of this line said both were OFL.

The Small Hours

An all-night diner for bodies that keep other hours, turning 05 in The Outskirts. Every quotation in it was read word for word off a page of ours on 2026-09-23, and tools/make-small-hours.py checks each one against that page again whenever the Knowledge System mirror is to hand. Every author was resolved against a library record rather than remembered: our Sleep entry prints the passage about the crayons under a link to the book without naming who wrote it, and the name this room was nearly given from memory belonged to a different Autistic writer. It is Sarah Kurchak’s.

The diner is invented, and so is the menu. The placemat and its drawing are ours, made for this room; the crayons are the room’s own colours and the ordinary ones in a paper sleeve. The type is Righteous, by Astigmatic, for the sign and the headings, and Libre Franklin, by Impallari Type, for everything you read; both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

The jukebox is Josephmooon’s, both albums, played from the band’s own site and hosted nowhere here. Josephmooon is the music project made for the lyrics of Ronan Boren, a Stimpunk, and Stimpunks helped produce it. “Up All Night” is printed in full, with permission: Stimpunks holds permission to distribute the song and its lyrics, and the words are not under this site’s licence. Its credits are Ronan Boren, all lyrics; Bill Paige, vocals and guitar; Ronnie Nice, guitars, keyboards, bass, drums and programming; and Ian Nice, piano, keyboards and backing vocals. Track titles are the albums’ own listings, and every runtime was measured off its file on 2026-09-23.

Dance, Punks

A silent disco on an old airstrip, turning 04 in The Outskirts. The crate is ours and the music is not. Dance, Punks is a playlist Stimpunks Foundation keeps on YouTube, read off its own page on 2026-09-23. It is played, not hosted: every song on it belongs to the people who made it and sits on somebody else’s channel, and none of those artists, their labels or those channels is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us.

The three channels are one crate started in three places, because YouTube’s embed answers to exactly one lever — a starting video — and plays on in order from there. The room says so rather than calling it three DJs or shuffle. The opening song of every channel was checked on its own watch page on 2026-09-23: playing, embeddable, no age gate, and the channel read back off YouTube rather than typed. The lines beside each channel are about the room and not about the songs, because nobody writing them listened for the purpose, and a sentence about how a record sounds typed without hearing it is a guess wearing a credit.

The one quotation is from Autistic Joy: My Favourite Part of Autism, by Authentically Emily, as our Autistic Joy entry quotes it. The type is Unbounded, by NaN, for the name and the headings, and Manrope, by Mikhail Sharanda, for everything you read; both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Rebellion Rave Room

An old aircraft hangar by the airstrip, turning 08 in The Outskirts, Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-27: somewhere for the sensory seekers in our community to stim loudly and brightly. It is the one room on this street with a strobe in it, and that reverses a rule the street has held since Club Chronic, which every room with a light show in it has repeated since. The reversal is an opt-in and nothing else: the rig is off on every visit, the strobe takes two presses and the second answers a question that names the rate, and Escape, the Stop buttons, another tab or leaving the page switch everything off at once. tools/make-rave.py refuses the page if the warning moves below the rig, if the rig stops shipping hidden, if the knob goes past eleven or starts anywhere but four, if the flash has any colour in it, or if rave.js stores anything or can start without a press.

The flash rates in the warning are the Epilepsy Society’s, read off its page on photosensitive epilepsy on 2026-09-27: 3 to 30 flashes a second the common range, 16 to 25 the most likely to trigger a seizure, and the Health and Safety Executive’s recommendation, which that page reports, that a strobe in a club flashes no more than four times a second. The knob starts at four and goes to eleven, and everything past four says so as you turn it. “Goes to eleven” is Nigel Tufnel’s amplifier in This Is Spinal Tap (1984), directed by Rob Reiner and written by Reiner with Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer.

The Adventurer’s Guild said that Club Chronic’s rule held everywhere on this street, and it does not any more. That sentence is in its house rules and was rewritten the day this room opened, which is the claim-about-one-room-in-another-room’s-copy problem this street keeps finding.

Every channel on the big screen was checked on its own page before it went up, with its runtime, whether it embeds and whether it plays without an account. The Tomorrowland film is not the festival’s: it was posted by a channel called Best Stage Tomorrowland the day before this room opened, and its description calls it a mix inspired by the festival. The room says so beside it. The type is Big Shoulders Stencil, by Patric King, for the hangar’s name and every label on the rig, and Exo 2, by Natanael Gama, for every word that is read. The hangar and its drawing are ours.

None of these festivals, artists or channels is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorses us. We have no connection to Lumenate, whose flicker device the room links.

The Cooldown Room

The other door in the Rebellion Rave Room’s ante-chamber: a small soft room to come down in, with couches, cold water and a free vending machine. Every snack and every maker in it is this road’s own, made up for the machine, and none of the makers is a real business. tools/make-cooldown.py refuses a snack that does not say what is in it and how it feels, a price or anything owed, a word about a snack being good or bad for you, and a script that keeps, sends or sounds anything. It is lit by the machine, one steady panel at the side of the room, which keeps it off the street’s other rooms for resting in: every one of those is lit by a flame, by the sun or from under water. The type is Sour Gummy, by Stefie Justprince, for the room’s name and every snack’s, and Kumbh Sans, by Saurabh Sharma, for every word that is read.

The Haunted House

Turning 09 off The Outskirts: an empty warehouse at the end of the road, with a haunted house built inside it out of plywood flats and the work lights left on behind the set. Somebody in our community asked for it in the Sandbox’s suggestion box on 2026-10-27: a place to share haunted things we made and love, with a way to hunt for them and a way to scroll through them all. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-28 added the history and lore of Halloween and haunted houses, tied to the eldritch, the weird, the different and the marginal, and his own memory of haunted houses built by volunteers in empty warehouses on the edge of town.

The house is ours, drawn and written as code by Claude to that brief: the set, the rooms of the house, where each thing hides, and every sentence not in a quotation. Its light is the work lights behind the set, seen only in the seams between the flats, round the door and between the boards over the windows, and it lights nothing; the tool draws it nowhere else. The things in the house are credited to whoever made them: the rooms are this street’s, the pages are stimpunks.org’s, and the one picture is the first of Gustave Doré’s engravings for The Raven, public domain, as it hangs in the Mopery.

The history of the haunted house is Chris Heller’s, from A Brief History of the Haunted House in Smithsonian Magazine (2015, updated 2017), with Lisa Morton and Larry Kirchner as he quotes them; it was read on 2026-10-28 in the Internet Archive’s copy, because the magazine refuses a script. The thin veil is Hannah Daisy’s, from Halloween and the Thinning Veil at Exquisiteenergies. Where eldritch comes from was read in Wiktionary’s entry, which says nobody is sure; liminality’s 1909 beginning with Arnold van Gennep in Wikipedia’s article on it. Ferrous, aka Oolong, is quoted as our Weird page quotes them.

Nothing jumps out and nobody is the monster. The tool refuses the haunted asylum’s vocabulary, the freak show’s words for a person, a jump scare, a scare you cannot leave and a count of what you found, in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not; and it reads haunted-house.js for anything that keeps, sends, sounds, moves on a clock or counts.

The soundtrack is Enigma’s. Hallowscenes, which she made with Suno, an AI music generator, and asked to have in the house (2026-10-28). It is the one thing in the house that makes a sound, and only when you press a piece: every piece is its own button with its length on it, and the press brings in Suno’s own player for it, framed from suno.com/embed/, the one Suno address that allows a frame. Nothing of it is hosted here, it is not under this site’s licence, and it comes out the moment she asks. The cover pictures Suno’s player shows were made by Suno’s generator, and How this site is made says so.

The type is Mystery Quest, by Sideshow, for the house’s name and headings, and Domine, by Impallari Type, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License, served as Google Fonts serves them; both reserve their names, so neither was cut down here.

The MUD Room

A shopfront on the street: a boot room with a multi-user dungeon out of its back door, and nobody to fight in it. The Slake is ours, every place, thing and person on it invented for this room, and it takes nothing from any other game except the idea of one. The brief was Ryan’s, a non-violent graphical MUD for exploring and learning, and its inspiration was Majuular’s Ultima Online Retrospective | The Last Hurrah. The history the room tells was read on the day it opened rather than remembered: Richard Bartle’s own history for the first MUD, Paul Dourish’s introduction for TinyMUD, and Wikipedia for Habitat, MOOSE Crossing and Ultima Online. None of those games, their makers or Majuular is affiliated with Stimpunks.

Every resident is doing something our glossary has an entry for, and says its name the second time you talk to them. They are listed here with the entry each one points at. Ottilie’s entry, Monotropic Time, is in Helen Edgar’s words, from Autistic Realms.

The type is Castoro, by Tiro Typeworks, John Hudson, Paul Hanslow and Kaja Słojewska, for every word you read and every name on the map, with its italic kept for water; and JetBrains Mono, by JetBrains, Philipp Nurullin and Konstantin Bulenkov, for the command line and nothing else. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The Seaside Convenience

A public restroom on the street, a Victorian convenience of painted cast iron and glazed tile on a seaside promenade under a glass canopy. Ryan’s brief of 2026-11-03, for public restrooms on the street, each a room with a name and a theme. Everything on the list every restroom carries is in it, and tools/restrooms.py holds it to all of it.

Every public restroom on the street was built from Ryan Boren’s brief after Norway’s scenic-route rest stops, which Visit Norway showed off in October 2026; after Step ’n Wash’s own writing on restroom design (Step ’n Wash is its maker’s trade mark, and the step at the basins is theirs); and after our own Bathroom Access page, where a young Stimpunk coined “stallbatting”.

The type is Playfair Display, by Claus Eggers Sørensen, for the name and headings, and Newsreader, by Production Type, for every word you read, both under the SIL Open Font License.

The Open Notebook

A shopfront on the street: a desk under a window with a notebook lying open on it and a laptop beside it. The piece the room leads with is Ryan Boren’s, Bullet Journaling + Junk Journaling + Interstitial Journaling, written for the Stimpunks Operations blog and dated 23 April 2026. He gave it to this street in full on 3 October 2026, saying the copyright is his and that he agrees to the site’s licence, so it is here under CC BY-SA 4.0 like the rest. It is set word for word as Notion served it that day, except that each list of YouTube videos in it became a line saying the list was migrated to the collection, which is ours and says so. Bullet journaling is Ryder Carroll’s and interstitial journaling Tony Stubblebine’s, as the piece says. The questions are from our write-up of that evening, Infodumplings: Interstitial Journaling and Star Stuff, word for word, and tools/make-open-notebook.py looks for every one in the post on every build. The drawing of the day, the room’s name and every other word in it are ours.

The videos in the collection belong to the channels they are on, and they are the ones the piece links, in its order. Each was checked on its own watch page on 2026-10-03 for whether it plays, whether it can be shown here and how long it runs. One has been retitled by its channel since the piece linked it, and its card says what the piece called it.

The videos in the monthly log belong to the channels they are on, and the channels were chosen by Ryan, in his brief of 2026-10-03, in the order he listed them. The videos were not chosen one by one: a timer reads each channel’s own feeds every morning, its videos and its shorts, and keeps the last month of them, with each new one checked once on its own watch page for whether it plays and how long it runs. Every title is quoted as its channel wrote it. Nothing of theirs is hosted here, and none of these channels is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us.

The type is Doto, by Óliver Lalan, in its rounded black, for the room’s name and every heading, and Rosario, by Omnibus-Type, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The sticker drawer is Ryan Boren’s brief, of 2026-10-12: day and month stickers by name for his notebook, in any face on the street and three sizes, as many to a 4 × 7 inch sheet as will go. A sheet is set in whichever face somebody chooses, and the drawer names that face’s designer and licence as it is chosen and writes them into every file it saves, from the same record as The Foundry’s shelves. The sheet’s measurements are Liene’s, read on its help centre and FAQ on 2026-10-12: the paper, its printable area, the resolution, and that its app cuts round a PNG with no background. PixCut S1 and Liene are Liene’s names, used to say which printer the sheets are made for; nothing of Liene’s is drawn on them. How the stickers are sized, spaced and packed is ours. So are the pictures: the weather and the moon were drawn for the drawer, are this site’s under its licence, and the moon is drawn as it looks from the northern hemisphere, each phase’s shadow closed by the curve the sunlit edge makes on a sphere.

Learning Large

A shopfront on the street: a glasshouse at night under red and blue grow lamps. The brief and the tagline are Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-03: Models are spiky. Humans are too. Learning, making, and knowledge gardening, together. The argument is our own AI pages’, starting from AI at Stimpunks, and every quotation in the room was read on one of our pages in the Knowledge System’s copy on 2026-10-03 and is checked against it word for word on every build. Where the words on our page are somebody else’s, the room names them and the work, and says they were read on our page rather than in the original. The practices are our Competency Networks page’s and the propagation bench is our AI Collaboration page’s diagram, both word for word; which part of the glasshouse each step happens in is ours.

The sowing log is this street’s own, out of the changelog: every entry links the day it was written up, and the room’s tool checks each one against the words of that day’s entry. Most of what came up wrong in it was Claude’s, as How this site is made says most of the building is.

The videos on the rack belong to the channels they are on, and the channels were chosen by Ryan, in his brief of 2026-10-03, in the order he listed them. The videos were not chosen one by one: a timer reads each channel’s own feeds every morning, its videos and its shorts, and keeps the latest month of them, with each new one checked once on its own watch page for whether it plays and how long it runs. Every title is quoted as its channel wrote it. Nothing of theirs is hosted here, and none of these channels is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us.

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: a glasshouse roof showing the lamps back, a lamp of red and blue diodes, a shelf of seedlings, and the two spectra, drawn by eye and not plotted. The type is Recursive, by Arrow Type and Stephen Nixon, in its casual cut at a heavy weight, for the room’s name and every heading, and Fira Sans, by Carrois Apostrophe for Mozilla, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Hey, Good Cookin’

A shopfront on the street: a community kitchen. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-04, and the welcome, the placards and their rules are his words, word for word. The menu, the classes and every other word in the room were written for it. The facts it stands on were each read on their own page, never typed from memory:

The videos on the rack belong to the channels they are on, and the channels were chosen by Ryan, in his brief of 2026-10-04, in the order he listed them. The videos were not chosen one by one: a timer reads each channel’s own feeds every morning, its videos and its shorts, and keeps the last month of them, with each new one checked once on its own watch page for whether it plays and how long it runs. Every title is quoted as its channel wrote it. Nothing of theirs is hosted here, and none of these channels is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us.

The drawing is Claude’s, written as code: a hall with its windows fogged by the line’s steam and the day showing through the runs, the line, the tables and the placard station. The type is Corben, by Vernon Adams, for the room’s name and every heading, and Parkinsans, by Red Stone, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Pekoe and Purrs

A shopfront on the street: a cat café. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-04, and so is the name. The cats are Rescue A Cat’s: the café keeps no list of its own and reads the shelter’s every time it opens, and each cat is drawn by the same file that draws it in the shelter and in its adopter’s Profile, with the shelter’s own words about it. The menu and every other word in the room were written for it. The facts the menu stands on were each read on their own page, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the café with a window at every height, its shelves, bridge, hammock, ledge, cat tree, cubbies and hatch; the view down at your lap and your table; every cup, pot and plate on the menu; and the cat curled asleep on a lap, which is drawn in animals.js beside the shelter’s own drawing of the same cat sitting up. The type is Cherry Bomb One, by Satsuyako, for the café’s name and every heading, and Gabarito, by Naipe Foundry (Leandro Assis, Álvaro Franca and Felipe Casaprima), for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Brew and Stew

A pitch on the Campgrounds: a woodland tea room. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-04, and so is the name. Everything on the board is vegan; the menu, the arrangements and every other word in the room were written for it, and the facts they stand on were read on their own pages, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the cabin with the foxfire in the joints of its logs, the shut stove, the shelves, the window onto the night wood and the tables cut from logs; the view down at your table, a slice of log with its rings; every pot, bowl and board on the menu; every arrangement on the shelf by the door; and the field’s sign for the pitch on the Campgrounds’ board. Your table is table.js’s, the same behaviour as Pekoe and Purrs’. The type is Macondo, by John Vargas Beltrán, for the tea room’s name and every heading, and Livvic, by LV= and Jacques Le Bailly, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The Run

The first of four lots side by side where the buildings stop: a dog park. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-05, and so is the name. The dogs are Rescue A Dog’s: the Run keeps no list of its own and reads the shelter’s every time it opens, and each dog is drawn by the same file that draws it in the shelter and in its adopter’s Profile. Everything else the room says about what a dog sees and what a dog is given was read on these pages, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the field with the clouds’ shadows lying on it, the row of trees, the trough, the double gate, and the porch with its swing, rocking chairs and beds, all in the blues, yellows and greys a dog sees. The type is Lilita One, by Juan Montoreano, for the room’s name and every heading, and Mukta, by Ek Type, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Truckin’ Food Court

The second of the four lots where the buildings stop: an outdoor food court, which everybody calls the Truck Stop. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-05, and so is the name. Every board, every card and every other word in the court was written for it, and the facts they stand on were read on their own pages, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the court from under the porch roof, the five trucks with their awnings out and the stripes of light under each, the view down at your table, and every taco, bánh mì, bowl, bag and cup on the boards. The type is Sansita, by Omnibus-Type, for the court’s name and every heading, and Familjen Grotesk, by Familjen STHLM AB, for every word you read, cut here from the family’s own variable font with its Latin and Vietnamese letters in one file. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The Green

The third of the four lots where the buildings stop: a community green space, just after the rain. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-05, and so is the name. Every stop on the trail and every other word on the Green was written for it, and the facts they stand on were read on their own pages, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the view from the dripping porch over the pond and the boardwalk, with nothing in it casting a shadow, and the plan of the trail. The type is Della Respira, by Nathan Willis, for the Green’s name and every heading, and Alegreya, by Juan Pablo del Peral of HT Fonts, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The Pile

The last of the four lots where the buildings stop: a junk playground. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-05, and so is the name, and so is the list of everything on it. Every other word on the Pile was written for it, and the facts they stand on were read on their own pages, never typed from memory:

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code: the Pile with its den roofed in bubble wrap, and every part on it in its own drawing, which is the same drawing whether it is lying on the Pile or in what you made. The type is Rubik Wet Paint, by NaN and Luke Prowse, for the Pile’s name and nothing else, and Shantell Sans, by Shantell Martin, Arrow Type and Anya Danilova, for every other word. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Nature’s Contribution

The land past the campgrounds, through the wood. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are the names of the area and every place on it. The area is built on a paper, and every word of the paper on the page is the paper’s own, quoted under its licence:

The drawing of the valley is Claude’s, written as code: the sky and its broken cloud, the patchwork, every place on the land, and the clouds’ shadows lying across the fields. The type is Copse, by Dan Rhatigan, for the area’s name, its headings and the fingerpost, and Golos Text, by Alexandra Korolkova and Vitaly Kuzmin, for every other word. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

All Needs Met Wildlife Sanctuary

West of the stile in Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are the sanctuary’s name and the list of channels on its rack:

The night round is Claude’s drawing, written as code, and has no colour in it anywhere. The type is Martian Mono and Geist, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

Brighter Days Solar Farm

North of the stile in Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so is the farm’s name; the films on its rack are Claude’s picks, put up at his ask. Every figure about the crops names where it was read:

The rows at noon are Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Anybody and Montserrat, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

Gentle Help Cannabis Farm

North-west of the stile in Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are the farm’s name and what it is for; the films on its rack are Claude’s picks, put up at his ask. Every figure and every piece of advice names where it was read, and the companion plants’ supposed effects are the grower’s guide’s, not ours:

The hoop house is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Lemonada and Cantarell, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

All Together Now Farms

North-east of the stile in Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are the farm’s name and what it gives; the films on its first rack are Claude’s picks, put up at his ask, and the second rack is Farming While Beige’s month, which nobody here watches first. The Three Sisters are credited to the nations that teach them and are not retold:

The farm in its two lights is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Patua One and PT Serif, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

The Dairy

The café in All Together Now Farms’ old dairy. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11: a menu made from every edible offering on the land, everything pasteurised. Every ingredient names the place that grows it, and the tool looks for it in that place’s own data:

The old dairy is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Yanone Kaffeesatz and Oxygen, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

The Honesty Box

A farm stand on the street for the goods of Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are both answers that shaped it: a shopfront on the street, and an honesty box. The prices are this story’s, and nothing is for sale anywhere but here:

The stand under its lamp is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Calistoga and Khula, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

Wide-Spread Chaos Gardens

East of the stile in Nature’s Contribution. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-11, and so are the garden’s name and what it gives; the films on its rack are Claude’s picks, put up at his ask. The mix is checked against Colorado State University Extension’s advice, and the quotations are from an article published under CC BY-ND and quoted as written:

The type is Gluten and Catamaran, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

A Quiet Pint

A pub a few steps down from the street, made like McAnally’s, in Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-10-05, and so is the name, and so are the passages from the books that describe the pub, which he quoted from his own copies. McAnally’s, Mac and everything else in The Dresden Files are Jim Butcher’s, and nothing here is affiliated with him or his publishers. What this room takes from the books is the architecture: thirteen of everything and no two alike, a low ceiling with fans in it, windows at the pavement, mirrors, carved columns, a player piano and no screens, a wood-burning stove, ale never served cold, and lemonade with lemonade ice. Every quotation of his names its book and its pages, is held to a cap, and all of them together to a total. Ryan’s brief also pointed at the Dresden Files fan wiki’s page for McAnally’s, and nothing here is drawn from it, for Sithen’s reason: a fan wiki is other people’s description of somebody’s invented world. Where the room parts from the books it says so on the page: a ramp beside the steps as wide as they are, fans up between the beams, and your order fetched or brought, whichever you say. The tales carved on the columns are old and nobody’s; what is carved on each is ours, and so is every word on the board.

The drawings are Claude’s, written as code, all from the one plan: the pub from a seat at the south end, the plan by the door with the steps and the ramp outside it, the view down at your table, and every glass, pot and plate on the board. Both pours of a pint are one drawing, so they cannot look different. The type is Amarante, by Karolina Lach, for the pub’s name and every heading, and Brygada 1918, by Capitalics, Mateusz Machalski, Borys Kosmynka, Ania Wieluńska and Przemysław Hoffer, for every word that is read; both are under the SIL Open Font License, and each designer and licence is read off the family’s own record on the Foundry.

Pando Calrissian

A shopfront on the street: one aspen on a hillside that is everybody’s, watered on the CB. The game is our community’s, after the grow-a-tree bot in the Collaborative Nonsense channels of our Discord. The tree is Pando, the aspen clone on the Fishlake National Forest in Utah, and everything the room says about it is read off the Forest Service’s page and the Utah Division of State History’s The Diminishing Pando Clone, both read on 30 September 2026. The name’s other half is Lando Calrissian, a character in Star Wars, which is Lucasfilm’s; the name is the only thing taken from it. The hillside, the grove and the leaf at the foot of the fence are drawn for this room.

The type is Averia Serif Libre for the room’s name and every heading, and Averia Sans Libre for every word you read, both by Dan Sayers under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed. Avería is the average of every font on its designer’s computer, and the Libre families the average of every font Google Web Fonts carried in November 2011.

The Brass Tacks Board

Street furniture beside the Pebble Board: a wall of old copper gone green, with every post a brass plate tacked to it. Ryan Boren’s idea and his calls: our moderators post, with their usernames on the posts; the author edits and any moderator takes a post down; it has a feed of its own; a post may carry a picture. Every post is the words of the moderator whose name is on it. The wall, the plates and the tacks are drawn for this board.

The type is Bellefair, by Nick Shinn and Liron Lavi Turkenic, for the name, every post’s title and every heading, and Merriweather, by Sorkin Type, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed, which is how the first draft of this credit, written from memory with the wrong designers in it, was caught.

Rescue Small Animals

A shopfront on the street: the crawlspace under a shop’s floorboards, lit only by daylight through the cracks, and rabbits, rats, mice, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, chinchillas, ferrets and hedgehogs who need bringing in. It is Rescue A Cat’s game, which is our community’s own, with small animals in it, at Ryan Boren’s ask; adopting, Profile and the list of everybody adopted are his, for every shelter. Every animal’s name was given by whoever rescued them. The floor, the cracks and every animal are drawn for this room; no species is drawn from any picture of a real one, and none is named to more than its everyday name.

The type is Carter One, by Vernon Adams, for the name, the headings and every animal’s name, and Balsamiq Sans, by Michael Angeles, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Rescue A Dog

A shopfront on the street: the park the morning after snow, and dogs who need bringing in. It is Rescue A Cat’s game, which is our community’s own, with dogs in it; adopting, Profile and the list of everybody adopted are Ryan Boren’s, for both. Every dog’s name was given by whoever rescued them. The park, the bench, the prints and every dog are drawn for this room.

The type is Paytone One, by Vernon Adams, for the name, the headings and every dog’s name, and Open Sans, by Steve Matteson, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Rescue A Cat

A shopfront on the street: a dark street, a torch, and cats that need bringing in. The game is our community’s, after the catch-a-cat game in the Collaborative Nonsense channels of our Discord, and its name is Ryan Boren’s: rescue, not catch. Every cat’s name was given by whoever rescued it. The dark, the torch, the parked car and every cat are drawn for this room.

The type is Fuzzy Bubbles, by Robert Leuschke, for the name, the headings and every cat’s name, and PT Sans, by ParaType, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

Count Me In

A shopfront on the street: a stairwell everybody climbs together, a number to a step. The game is our community’s, after the counting game in the Collaborative Nonsense channels of our Discord. The chairlift is Ryan Boren’s idea, so that everybody can join. The stairwell, the lift, the lamp and the call button at the foot of the stairs are drawn for this room.

The type is Allerta Stencil, by Matt McInerney, for the step numbers, the name and the headings, and Hind, by the Indian Type Foundry, for every word you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed.

The Fridge of Sighs

A shopfront on the street: a fridge door covered in word magnets, where a sentence is built one word at a time. The game is our community’s, after the sentence builder in the Collaborative Nonsense channels of our Discord, and every word on the door came from somebody in it. Word magnets on a fridge were Dave Kapell’s idea, in 1993, and the kits are sold as Magnetic Poetry; none of their words are here. Read off Wikipedia’s article on 30 September 2026. The name is a joke on the Bridge of Sighs, in Venice. The door and the magnet at the foot of it are drawn for this room.

The type is Noticia Text, by JM Solé, for every word in the room and on every magnet, under the SIL Open Font License, read off its own record rather than typed.

The Lightbulb Picture House

A picture house on the street where every screening is a relaxed screening: the house lights stay up, the captions are on, and anybody can move, stim, sit on the floor or leave. The name is borrowed from a film, Lightbulb Moments: Being Autistic, by Thriving Autistic, which is on the first screen.

Every screen is one of our own playlists, put on whole, and carries no runtime because it is a list we keep adding to. The first two were read off their own playlist pages on 2026-09-23 and every film on them was checked on its own watch page the same day, and every film on Screen Three was checked the same way on 2026-09-28 — playing, embeddable, and none behind an age gate. Every film belongs to the people who made it, named below wherever the film’s own description names them, and to the channel that published it. None of them is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us, and nothing is hosted by us.

The words on the rack are ours, written from the films rather than from their titles. Fourteen of the fifteen were read from their captions; the fifteenth, whose captions could not be fetched, is described from its maker’s own description and from our Autism Pathway, which already carries it. Every card says what is in its film before the press, beside the runtime — a panic attack, a bullying scene, jokes about suicide, a sponsor segment — and tools/make-picture-house.py refuses a card nobody checked for that. No maker’s pronouns are used anywhere on the rack, because not one of the films says what they are, and the tool refuses one.

Screen Two has a rack too, carded the same way on 2026-09-28: from each film’s captions, read in full, and its own description. One webinar’s captions mangle names badly enough that its card names no product.

Screen Three is everything we have watched at Campfire Learn Together, our Sunday watch-along, newest first, and the campfire rack has a card for every film on it linking the post we wrote for that campfire. The campfires were read out of our own posts: every one tagged Campfire Learn Together. One film is on the rack and not in the programme, because YouTube would not let it be added to the playlist, and its card says so. The cards were written from each film’s captions, read in full, except where a film has none or YouTube would not give them up: the Dystopia documentary, the Screaming Females cover, the farruca, the 1980 two-pianos concert and the Wonderstruck audiobook preview are described from their own descriptions and from our posts, and the Dystopia card’s note about what is in it has not been checked against the film. Three campfires watched nothing that can be on a YouTube playlist — a film since made private, and films on Vimeo and on their makers’ own site — and the room lists them under the rack rather than leaving them out.

Nothing in the building is blue, and the tool reads the room’s palette and refuses a blue: a lightbulb theater in a neurodiversity room, lit blue, would be the Light It Up Blue campaign, which autistic people have spent years refusing. The one quotation in the room, on exactly that, is Amy Sequenzia’s, from I Don’t Want Your Awareness, as our Acceptance entry quotes it. The ornament over the screen is the gold infinity, Autistic UK’s, from Au, as our Neurodiversity Infinity Symbol entry tells it.

The type is Limelight, by Nicole Fally and Sorkin Type, an Art Deco fascia face, for the name and the headings, and Outfit, by Smartsheet Inc and Rodrigo Fuenzalida, for everything you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Samefood Cafe

A café on the street for samefoods and safe foods, and for understanding food aversion rather than correcting it. The menu is three entries from our own glossary — Samefood, Safe food and Food aversion — and every line quoted on it was read off one of those entries and credited to the person the entry credits, never to the entry. Two were then read against their own pages on 2026-09-23: C.L. Lynch’s at NeuroClastic, whose byline came out of that page’s own metadata because our entry credits only the site, and Kari Burroughs Kraakevik’s at Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism. The two lines from the book could not be checked against a copy of it from here, and the room says so beside each of them rather than letting them sit among the checked ones looking the same.

The book on the counter is Color Taste Texture: Recipes for Picky Eaters, Those with Food Aversion, and Anyone Who’s Ever Cringed at Food, by Matthew Broberg-Moffitt (Penguin Publishing Group, 2023, ISBN 9780593538593), which our Food Aversion entry recommends to our community. Title, subtitle, author, publisher, year and ISBN were read off Open Library’s edition record on 2026-09-23 rather than typed. Open Library has no copy to lend, so the library link is a WorldCat search on the ISBN; the shop link is the one our Samefood entry already uses. No pronoun is written for the author, because none of the pages we read gives one.

The regulars’ samefoods belong to the people whose names are on the trays, and are written down exactly as they were given: nothing capitalised, glossed, corrected, sorted or merged, and nothing counted across the trays. Ryan’s, Helen’s and Ronan’s arrived in the brief for the room on 2026-09-23, Helen’s and Ronan’s relayed by Ryan as they gave them, and each tray carries a bowl of that person’s samefood of the moment; the rest are being collected in the community’s Discord. Every list comes down when its person asks, and every food drawn on the plate in the window is off one of them, so tools/make-samefood.py stops until the drawing lets go of a list that has come down.

Nothing on the table in the drawing touches anything else, and the tool walks every coordinate of it to make sure. Each tray’s bowl is that person’s dish the way they eat it, and its contents may touch: separation is offered here, never imposed. The drawings are ours. Ronan’s ketchup is in a ramekin of its own because that is how Ronan has red things, and it is Ronan’s way rather than the house’s: the café defaults to structure, separation and predictability and accommodates every guest individually, so nobody’s way is imposed on anybody else. The tool holds Ronan’s food, and only Ronan’s, to Ronan’s ask. The type is Fredoka, by Milena Brandão and Hafontia, for the café’s name, its headings, the specials line and the names on the trays, and Inclusive Sans, by Olivia King, for everything you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

What’s this all about?

The About page’s thirty-second film was written as code by Claude, an AI model made by Anthropic, in Claude Motion, to Ryan Boren’s brief of 2026-10-15, and exported to video from there. It is shapes and type, like every drawing on the street, and it is silent. The doors in it are the front page’s own, in their rooms’ own colours, and each name is set from this site’s own font file for the face its room uses: Shrikhand by Jonny Pinhorn, Anton by Vernon Adams, Press Start 2P by CodeMan38, IM Fell English by Igino Marini, Yeseva One by Jovanny Lemonad, Rye by Nicole Fally, Yellowtail by Astigmatic and Fredoka by Milena Brandão and Hafontia. The sign and the dial are Bungee, by David Jonathan Ross, and the sentences are Space Grotesk, by Florian Karsten. All under the SIL Open Font License except Yellowtail, which is Apache 2.0, read off their own records in google/fonts. The idea of a street that rearranges itself is Danny the Street’s; nothing of DC’s is drawn in it.

The Map

The whole street as a model in white card on a cutting mat, by the front door. The model and every drawing on it are ours, and they are built out of the street itself by tools/make-map.py — the front page’s shopfronts in the order they stand, the campground’s board and the road’s signs — so it credits nothing a room has not already credited. Nothing on it is painted, on purpose: every room here has its own colours, and a model that painted them would be telling you they matched. The road is lettered Danny the Street, whose credit is a page of its own. The type is Architects Daughter, by Kimberly Geswein, for the lettering on the model and the page’s name, and Albert Sans, by Andreas Rasmussen, for everything you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

The Collection Collection

A dark gallery on the street of our people’s collections, one cabinet each and a lamp of its own for every cabinet. Every collection belongs to the person whose name is on its cabinet, and so does every photograph of it. Ryan’s pens, paper and ink and his perfume arrived in his own brief for the room on 2026-09-23; Norah and her husband’s leather swatches and stamping tools, Chelsea’s house plants and Helen’s books and rocks were named in the same brief by Ryan, and each of those cabinets says it was relayed. Nothing goes in any of them until its owner sends it, and the lamp and the furniture are theirs to change.

The photographs are described by Claude, an AI, looking at each one, so that nobody has to write a title, a description and a caption before they can send a picture — Ryan’s brief said, in as many words, that having to would stop him ever sending one. Every cabinet says so on its label. The describing names no maker or model from what a thing looks like, only what is printed on it and can be read in the picture; the owner’s own words replace the house’s wherever they give any. This is the opposite of the polaroid wall on purpose: a description of a person is theirs to write, and a description of a pen is not a description of anybody.

The photographs are excluded from the site’s CC BY-SA licence, for the wall’s reason: a licence that cannot be revoked would make “it comes down when you say so” a promise the licence contradicted. Every file is stripped of its location and every other byte of metadata by tools/intake-collection.py, and tools/make-collection.py refuses one that still carries any. The drawing of the gallery is ours. The type is Gloock, by Duarte Pinto, for the room’s name and the heading on every label, and Hanken Grotesk, by Alfredo Marco Pradil and Hanken Design Co., for everything you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Vital Plant Living

A plant-based kitchen on the street, where you build your own bowl or wrap or start from a combo on the board. The pantry is Ryan’s own, the list he cooks from at home, given in his brief for the room on 2026-09-24 and written down as he gave it — his section names, his words and his spellings — with a line that held several things split into them, and rice made three rices by his own correction the same morning. Every flavour base in the builder is off his list of pairings, trinities and go-tos, and so are the rules of thumb over it. The supplements at the foot of his list are not on the menu, because this street gives no advice about eating. The combos, their names, the notes on them and every drawing in the room are ours, and each combo is assembled out of that pantry: tools/make-vital.py refuses one that brings in anything it does not keep.

The room was briefed as Ital Plant Livity, and both words are Rastafari’s. Ryan’s call, 2026-09-24: Rastafari has been a big influence on him, and the room takes a more general name, because this kitchen cooks with salt, MSG, soy sauce and processed food, which many people who keep Ital do not, and because how Ital is kept varies from person to person and is not ours to settle from outside. What the room says about Ital was read against Wikipedia’s article on it the same day: that the word is vital with the v taken off, that many Rastafari avoid food with additives and some avoid added salt, and that practice varies widely. The menu never calls a dish Ital, and the tool refuses the word there. The playlist on the stereo still carries the old name, and the word stays in the songs’ own titles, which are the musicians’.

The songs belong to the musicians named beside them, and the list was read off the playlist’s own data on 2026-09-24, with every one checked on its own watch page the same day. Performers are named rather than writers, because the writers were not checked from here; the one exception is Guava Jelly, which is Bob Marley’s song in Johnny Nash’s recording, and says so. Several uploads are fans’ rather than the musicians’, and the uploader is named on every row so that anybody can tell which. Nothing musical is hosted here. The type is Bagel Fat One, by Kyungwon Kim and JAMO, for the kitchen’s name, its headings and the names on the board, and Be Vietnam Pro, by Lâm Bảo, Tony Le and ViệtAnh Nguyễn, for everything you read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

None of these musicians, their labels or the channels hosting these recordings is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorses us.

The videos on the telly belong to the cooks whose channels they are on, and the cooks were chosen by Ryan, in his brief of 2026-10-01, in the order he listed them. The videos were not chosen one by one: a timer reads each channel’s own feeds every morning, its videos and its shorts, and keeps the last month of them, with each new one checked once on its own watch page for whether it plays and how long it runs. Every title is quoted as its cook wrote it. Nothing of theirs is hosted here, and none of them is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us.

Champuru

Ryan’s restaurant, a table in the shade of a lane. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-11-03: somewhere to sit when he eats, with Mediterranean and Okinawan dishes and the two mixed, first and foremost for him and his tastes and a prescription for nobody. Every dish says what is in it, and its allergens are worked out from those words:

The lane is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Klee One and M PLUS 2, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records rather than typed; see the Foundry for who drew them.

Scalable Feast Ballroom

The Scalable Feast Ballroom is from Ryan Boren’s brief, 2026-11-06, which begins “Big Comfortable Ballroom. Both cozy and grand. Cozy Grandeur.” and asked for a grand ceiling with chandeliers, gilt and parquet, canopies, tents and cabanas at each end for refuge at human scale, living rooms among them with couches, chairs and rugs, plush furnishings and soft fabrics, and the room’s size shown on the page by scrolling down. The name is his. The drawings and the words are ours: the ceiling with its painted sky, the chandeliers, the height, the floor and every canopy on it are drawn by tools/make-ballroom.py from the same list the canopies’ cards are written from, and nobody is drawn anywhere in it. Prospect and refuge are two of Terrapin Bright Green’s 14 Patterns of Biophilic Design (Browning, Ryan and Clancy, 2014), quoted as our Biophilic Design page quotes them and checked against our page word for word. The room is set in Prata, by Cyreal, and Wix Madefor Text, by Dalton Maag, both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their records in Google Fonts’ repository.

Excursions

A visitor centre after closing, lit by the backlit map on its wall, and the rack of brochures beside it: one for every outing we take together, each part room, part announcement and part run of show. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-11-04, to hold Norah Hobbs’s Retail Therapy and the pages like it that come after; the name is his choice from four he put forward.

Retail Therapy

A shop that sells nothing, open late for one sensory-friendly night. It is Norah Hobbs’s, made with Claude for Infodumplings on Thursday 5 November 2026, and brought onto the street from her page the night before, in her words, her colours, her faces and her drawing, under CC BY-SA 4.0 with her yes. What changed on the way in: “next week” became the night’s date; her classes took rth- in front of them; the scheme her page had for a device set to dark was left out, because the street’s low-stimulation modes stand in for it; one focus ring with the lights off takes the floor’s colour, because her yellow measured 1.65 on the directory board; and the street’s dial, sign-off, job marker and radio arrived as they do everywhere.

The Comfort Station

One of the street’s public restrooms, down the steps under the park and lit through glass prisms in the path overhead. The brief is Ryan Boren’s, of 2026-11-03: public restrooms on the street, each with a name and a theme, for everybody, with everything a restroom should have. The name and the theme are Claude’s.

The hall is Claude’s drawing, written as code. The type is Newsreader, by Production Type, and Atkinson Hyperlegible Next, by the Braille Institute with Applied Design Works, Elliott Scott, Megan Eiswerth and Letters From Sweden, both under the SIL Open Font License.

Town Hall

A round hall on the street under a dome with a hole in the top of it, and doors round its wall. The rooms and the line on each door are Ryan’s, from his brief of 2026-09-29: a Fishbowl for community fishbowl meetings for anybody on the CB, and rooms for Stimpunks Directors, Board Members and Moderators, which anybody can walk into and whose radio and call are for the base. The hall, its drawing and every other word in it are ours, and the drawing is not a picture of any real building. It links our accountability pages, our bylaws and our transparency log, which are stimpunks.org’s.

The type is Forum, by Denis Masharov, for the hall’s name, its headings and the name over every door, and Gelasio, by Eben Sorkin, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

The Fishbowl

Through a door off the Town Hall: a glass fishbowl on a sunny sill, with a ring of stones on the gravel that always has one gap in it and a wider ring of shells round the foot of the glass. The room’s line is Ryan’s, from his brief for the Town Hall. The fishbowl format is described in our own words and credited to James Carrier’s Fishbowl Meetings: A Simple Introduction, PeopleShift, 2019, which is theirs and was read on 2026-09-29; the ways it goes in this room, the bowl and every other word in it are ours.

The type is Grandstander, by Tyler Finck with ETC, for the room’s name and headings, and Signika, by Anna Giedryś, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Directors

Through a door off the Town Hall: a room lit only by the hall’s light through the frosted pane in its door, with its name gilded on the far side of the glass. The room’s line is Ryan’s, from his brief for the Town Hall, and the list of directors, and each title, are read off our About page on 2026-09-29, in its order, at Ryan’s ask, each linked to their own section there. The room, its drawing and every other word in it are ours. Its radio and call are the base’s.

The type is Abril Fatface, by TypeTogether, for the room’s name and headings, and IBM Plex Serif, by Mike Abbink with Bold Monday, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Board

Through a door off the Town Hall: one long table in a dark room, with the same small lamp at every seat. The room’s line is Ryan’s, from his brief for the Town Hall. Who is on the board, and each title, are read off our Board & Governance page on 2026-09-29, in its order, each linked to their section of our About page. The Governance & Ethics section is our Accountability & Transparency page’s, word for word, at Ryan’s ask, and is re-read against that page every time the room is built; one link on it, to a page about epistemic justice, goes nowhere on stimpunks.org, so the words are kept and the link is left off. The meeting’s outline is Ryan’s draft agenda for 29 September 2026, its decisions and order of business as the draft words them, except that the Treasurer decision names nobody before the vote. The room, its drawing and every other word in it are ours. Its radio and call are the base’s.

The type is DM Serif Display, by Colophon Foundry, for the room’s name and headings, and Source Sans 3, by Paul D. Hunt, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Moderators

Through a door off the Town Hall: a room above the street at night with no lamp in it, lit by the shopfronts’ own colours come up through its window onto the ceiling. The room’s line is Ryan’s, from his brief for the Town Hall. What the base looks after is written from the street’s own house norms and privacy page, and points at our covenant and our concern reporting policy on stimpunks.org rather than restating them. The room, its drawing and every other word in it are ours. Its radio and call are the base’s.

The type is Oxanium, by Severin Meyer, for the room’s name and headings, and Inter, by Rasmus Andersson, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Executive Session

Through a door off the Town Hall: a dark room lit only by the EXIT sign over its shut door, where the board meets without staff. The room is Ryan’s, from his brief of 2026-09-29, for those with the board role only, and it is the one room here the administrator key does not open. What an executive session is, and what is recommended for one, are described in our own words from BoardSource’s guide, which is theirs and was read on 2026-09-29; BoardSource has no connection with Stimpunks, and its recommendations are not a Stimpunks policy. Who is on the board is read off our Board & Governance page. The room, its drawing and every other word in it are ours.

The type is Sofia Sans Condensed for the room’s name and headings and Sofia Sans for everything that is read, both by Lettersoup, Botio Nikoltchev and Ani Petrova, under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Community Center, and the CB

A quiet room on the street in sage lime plaster, with one window facing north onto a hillside and a deep seat built in under it, and the only door the CB is behind. Its look answers a request from our community for something softer, lower in stimulation and more of a refuge, in the biophilic direction Ryan chose, and leans on 14 Patterns of Biophilic Design, by William Browning, Catherine Ryan and Joseph Clancy for Terrapin Bright Green (2014): a view of a living hillside, prospect from the window, refuge in the seat, soft and diffuse light, and lime, ash and wool. The window, the hill and the seat are drawn by us. The CB is Ryan’s idea, from his brief of 2026-09-24: a simple chat patterned after citizens band radio, a shared password rotated periodically, no alerts (notifications came later, on 2026-10-18, when the community asked), a short history cleared daily (two days of it since 2026-10-18, for the people in other timezones who were missing it), reachable only by signing on here, and a radio that floats in the corner of the screen once you are on. The radio, its drawing on the front desk, the house norms and every word in the room are ours.

The house norms stand on the Stimpunks Covenant, which is ours and lives on stimpunks.org, and which itself adopts the Contributor Covenant, version 2.1, published by the Organization for Ethical Source, whose name is the one its own pages carry. The room links both and quotes neither; the norms in it were written for a channel that forgets.

The type is Varela Round, by Joe Prince, for the room’s name and headings, and Radio Canada, by Charles Daoud, Coppers and Brasses, Alexandre Saumier Demers and Jacques Le Bailly, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records. The radio itself sets Bungee for its name, VT323 for its channel number and Atkinson Hyperlegible for every message, because it is furniture and keeps its own clothes in every room, the way the dial does.

Getting started is Ryan’s, from his draft of 2026-10-18, the day the community moved onto the CB and the forums for everything; its steps for claiming a username are the radio’s own buttons, named as the radio names them.

The radio’s themes are Ryan’s list, of 2026-10-17, and every drawing in them is drawn for the radio, in colours measured on their own case. Solarized is Ethan Schoonover’s palette, with a darker bar on dark and darker inks for words on light, because its accents fall under 4.5 to 1 as words; its eight accents are in the stripe as he lays them out. Biophilic takes queering.earth’s paper, moss, rust, lichen, verdigris, marigold and coral, and grows its ivy and mushrooms after the garden in Helen Edgar’s Faery Yurt, drawn again for the radio. Star Stuff takes starstuff.earth’s night, purple, gold, pink, cyan and green. LCARS is after the computer screens Michael Okuda designed for Star Trek: The Next Generation; Star Trek is a trade mark of CBS Studios, and no screen, lettering or symbol of theirs is copied. Biomechanical is after H. R. Giger’s biomechanics and copies nothing of his. Greeble is after the model-making of Star Wars; Star Wars is a trade mark of Lucasfilm. The faces for the themes’ names and headings are on the street already: JetBrains Mono, Fraunces, Space Mono, Anton, Shrikhand, Macondo, Syncopate, Oxanium, Martian Mono, Sour Gummy and Caveat, each credited where the Foundry shelves it.

The radio’s Winamp skins are after skins in the Winamp Skin Museum, Ryan’s picks of 2026-10-17, and each skin’s maker is named as its own readme names them, read in the Museum that day: LuigiHann (Zelda Amp III), Vad3K (Microchip 2), Pabo Wakataeo (ASCII-Amp 2.0), ronz (Super Mario Land Amp), sasso (deviantAMP), Arne Olav Storflor (hpcalc_hp49g), Kuki (the Cube v2), shadesmaclean, also Neko-Sen’nin, of Spooky Door Productions (Fallout Pip-Boy 3000 Green) and bLy, Erik Waldner (TI-82 v1.1). Dig Dug Amp’s readme names its maker only by an email address, which we do not publish, and winamp_mario and gameboy have no readme at all. Their colours were looked at and their bitmaps were not used: every drawing is ours, and draws nothing from the games and machines the skins were after, which are their companies’ trade marks. Kuki asked that nothing of the Cube be republished, and nothing is. The faces for their names and headings are on the street already: Cinzel, B612, Courier Prime, Press Start 2P, Titan One, Exo 2, Michroma, Lilita One, Unbounded, VT323, Doto and Chakra Petch.

The radio’s GeoCities pages are after homepages kept in Restorativland’s GeoCities archive, Ryan’s picks of 2026-10-17, read there that day. Each is credited as the page names its maker: Paula (Paula’s Page), Fran and Charlotte (Shop Til U Drop!), Benjamin T. Marotta, who designed the Beatnik Termites’ unofficial home page, Aaron Ortiz (The Green Room) and Sarah (Sarah’s Room). Divine Louise Brooks, mansnhomepage and Dat’s double U for W!!! name nobody, and are credited by title and address. Their colours were looked at and nothing on them is used, and nothing about anybody on them is repeated. The faces for their names and headings are on the street already: Yellowtail, Sansita, Bowlby One SC, Gloria Hallelujah, Permanent Marker, Yanone Kaffeesatz, Libre Franklin and Playfair Display.

The radio’s favourite games are Ryan’s, of 2026-10-17: Castle Crashers (The Behemoth), Dragon Age: Inquisition (BioWare), Metroid (Nintendo), Mega Man (Capcom), Fable III (Lionhead Studios), The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (Bethesda Game Studios), Doom (id Software), Portal (Valve), The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (CD Projekt Red), Grand Theft Auto V (Rockstar North), The Legend of Zelda (Nintendo) and Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Monolith Productions), whose rune medallions are after the game’s runes, as the Shadow of War wiki shows them, with every mark made up for the radio. Each theme takes a game’s palette and the shapes of its world, and draws no character, logo, emblem or symbol of any of them; the games and their names are their makers’ and their trade marks, as the CB guide sets out. The faces for their names and headings are on the street already: Bagel Fat One, Marcellus SC, Press Start 2P, Righteous, Della Respira, Forum, Rubik Dirt, Inter, Cinzel, Gravitas One, Amarante and Eczar.

The profile effect called Black Leather Lagoon is after the street’s Black Leather Lagoon and The Cramps, the band of Lux Interior and Poison Ivy, at Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-18, and it is their world and not them: nobody real is drawn, and nothing of the band’s is used, no lyric, no logo, no album art and no photograph. The drive-in screen in black water, its glow and the reeds are the Lagoon room’s, in that room’s own colours; the poison ivy round the edge is a nod to Poison Ivy’s name; the leopard print and the finned hot rod are the band’s world, drawn here; and the sea serpent rising out of the water is our own, nothing of anybody’s film monster. Like the Lagoon, nothing in it flickers. Three things pair with it, for Halloween, and are the same world: the radio theme Black Leather Lagoon, in that room’s own colours, with a drive-in screen glowing over black water, reeds, cattails and bats along its trims; the Graveyard gate frame, iron railings with cobwebs and spiders in the corners; and the Jack-o’-lanterns decoration round an avatar. Nobody real is drawn in any of them. Every other frame and effect on a profile card is drawn here too, in the card’s own theme.

The profile effect Otters in the kelp, the Kelp Forest theme, the Kelp fronds frame and the Otters in kelp decoration are after the Arcade’s Otterly Adorbs, at Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-18, and so after what that cabinet is built on: Stimpunks Solidarity and Otters by Helen Edgar (Autistic Realms, 2026), and Star Stuff’s zine No. 58, The Stone You Keep. They keep its rules. Floating fills nothing: no meter, nothing earned, no word saying rest is for anything. No otter is ranked against another. The kelp does the holding, so the otters float among it, and the one anchored in it has a strand across its belly; no two otters hold paws, a story the internet tells and the zine does not; and nobody keeps a favourite stone in a pouch, or any stone at all. The otters, the kelp and the theme’s colours are drawn here, and nothing of the cabinet’s pixels is pasted in.

The profile effect Flying Fairy and the Fairy Lights theme are Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-19. The theme is the Fairy lights frame for profiles grown into a radio theme: the same strings of bulbs, swagged across a plum night in gold, rose, mint, sky, lilac and peach, along the radio’s trims and sides, as a profile’s banner and as a nameplate on Who’s online, with the radio’s name in Leckerli One, which the street already sets on the Doom Scoop’s door. The faeries that fly across the profile are the Faery Yurt’s, the small woodland faeries drawn for Helen Edgar’s room at her ask, in that room’s own colours, with their flower crowns, long hair, mossy cloaks, posies, gauzy wings and little curled horns, no two dressed alike, redrawn here for the radio. The big fairy is our own drawing, after the look of the profile Helen wears on Discord: red hair under a crown of roses, a cloak of moss, a posy of red and pink roses, petals falling and sparkles over the top, to which we gave butterfly wings. The artwork on that profile is not ours and nothing of it is copied. Like every effect, it moves only at MAX GLITTER or after Let my theme move, and nothing in it flashes.

The profile effects Howling Wolf, Starward Dreaming, Leaping Dolphins and Autumn Falls are Ryan’s asks of 2026-10-19, and every drawing in them is ours, drawn for the radio after nobody’s picture: the wolf is nobody’s emblem, the dolphins and the children are nobody in particular, and the clearing is any clearing. Each is in colours of its own, measured on its own scene’s ground. Starward Dreaming’s flames keep the rule the candles behind the door marked E keep: each sways on its own time, never faster than two and a half times a second, and dims by a tenth at most.

The member map on the wall is Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-22, moving our map of where our community lives off Google My Maps: its 175 pins were brought over that day, each only a place, and how many of us are in each place is shown, Ryan’s call. The world is Natural Earth’s 1:50m land, version 5.1.2, which is public domain, simplified by us and drawn in the Equal Earth projection, of Bojan Šavrič, Tom Patterson and Bernhard Jenny; Natural Earth’s country borders said which country each of Google’s pins is in, on our own machine. New places are looked up with Nominatim, on OpenStreetMap’s data, © OpenStreetMap contributors, under the Open Database License. The pull-down map is drawn in the hall’s own paint, and nobody’s name is anywhere on it. Zoomed in (Ryan’s question, 2026-10-23), it shows Natural Earth’s 1:50m lakes, borders between countries and lines between states and provinces, the same version and public domain too, simplified by us.

The radio’s emoji picker lists Unicode’s emoji, Ryan’s ask of 2026-11-06: their names and groups are Unicode’s emoji-test.txt (Emoji 15.1), and the words a search finds them by are the Unicode Common Locale Data Repository’s English keywords (CLDR 46), both under the Unicode License. Every emoji is drawn by your own device’s font, so the pictures are your device maker’s and none of them is on this site. The emoji under Stimpunks are our community’s own, added from the picker by whoever made them. The GIFs in the picker are from Gifbox, and each is its uploader’s.

The Cloud City theme and profile effect, the Portholes frame and the Cloud cars decoration are Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-23, made for the profile of Rando Calrissian, a test user on the CB. They are after Cloud City, the city in the clouds of Bespin in The Empire Strikes Back (Lucasfilm, 1980), the city Ralph McQuarrie painted for the film: a disc crowded with towers, standing out of the cloud on a long stalk, with twin-pod cloud cars round it. Star Wars is a trade mark of Lucasfilm. Every drawing is ours, the city, its windows, its cloud cars and the striped sun, and nobody from the films is drawn, nor any ship, emblem or lettering of theirs. The colours, navy, cream, gold, peach and rose, are those of randocloud.cloud, Rando’s site, whose mark is a cloud in front of a striped sunset. The radio’s name and headings are in Jost, which the street already sets in the Rabbit Hole, and it is offered for your name on your card. Like every effect, it moves only at MAX GLITTER or after Let my theme move, and nothing in it flashes.

The Halloween and autumn themes, the Pumpkin Patch, Friendly Ghosts and Bats profile effects, the Pumpkin vine, Cable knit and Maple leaves frames, and the Little ghosts, Candy corn and Acorns decorations are Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-30, for the street’s Halloween party the next day. Every drawing is ours, after nobody’s picture: the pumpkins, bats, ghosts, maple and oak leaves, acorns, knitting and mug were drawn for the radio. Halloween here is friendly, the Haunted House’s rule: nothing jumps out, nothing is gory, and the ghosts’ stones carry no word, no cross and nobody’s name. The radio’s name and headings are in Creepster (Pumpkin Patch), Mystery Quest (Friendly Ghosts), Caprasimo (Maple Grove) and Fuzzy Bubbles (Sweater Weather), each already set on the street, and each is offered for your name on your card. Like every effect, they move only at MAX GLITTER or after Let my theme move, and nothing in them flashes: a carved face takes a second and a half to light and then glows.

The fall and winter holiday themes, their profile effects, frames and decorations are Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-30, for the holidays celebrated in our community: Día de Muertos, Diwali, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and New Year’s. Every drawing is ours, after nobody’s picture, and each holiday is dressed in its own things and nobody else’s. The hanukkiah is lit the way it is kindled, the shamash first and then the candles from the left, newest first; the kinara in the order of Kwanzaa’s seven days, the black candle in the middle first, then the red at the far left and the green at the far right, and so on inward. Thanksgiving draws the harvest and nobody, because for many Indigenous people the day in the United States is a National Day of Mourning, kept by the United American Indians of New England since 1970. Día de Muertos is not Halloween, and nothing about it on the radio says so. New Year’s fireworks bloom over a second and a half and fade over two, one at a time, with no sound, because fireworks are hard on many of us. The radio’s name and headings are in Oleo Script (Día de Muertos), Eczar (Diwali), Young Serif (Thanksgiving), Bellefair, which has Hebrew letters too (Hanukkah), Yeseva One (Christmas), Agbalumo (Kwanzaa) and Limelight (New Year’s), each already set on the street and each offered for your name on your card.

The channel runs on Netlify Functions and Netlify Blobs, on the same host as the rest of the street. What it keeps and for how long is on the privacy page.

Dopamine Dress-Up Den

A boutique on the street for dopamine dressing. The room and its name are Helen Edgar’s idea, and the rails are Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25, written from it: his own wardrobe, then Helen’s, relayed, then the rest of our community, some of whom take it further than either. The valet stand, every garment on the rails, every print and colourway, the crystal in the window, the curtained doorway at the back and every word in the room are ours. The looks with somebody’s name on them are in their words, as given:

• Ryan's usual: Thai fisherman pants almost exclusively, in bold florals, bold block patterns or patchwork; button-down shirts of various colours; a haori on top, more subdued than the pants but still often patchwork and bold blocks of colour; and beanies and slouchy beanies in a staggering array of colours and patterns. — Ryan, in the brief for this room, 2026-09-25.
• Helen's: Helen loves cardigans and flowing dresses and has a witchy style. — relayed by Ryan in the brief for this room, 2026-09-25.

Helen’s look was relayed by Ryan rather than given by her, and the moons, the midnight and the plum on it are the house’s guess at witchy; she has the final say on every one of them. The full show is nobody’s in particular, because the brief gives it to others in our community without naming anybody.

What dopamine dressing is comes from our own Dopamine Dressing entry, which sets it beside our Masking entry and quotes From the Slow Lane; the room says it in its own words rather than quoting either. Why black is a colour in there comes from our Dress Codes entry. How each garment feels and comes off follows Ryan’s own field guide page on dressing and our Why Sheet for a hoodie. The rainbow colourway’s name, all the colours there are, is borrowed from the title of our course Neurodiversity and Gender: You Hit So Hard With All the Colors That There Are. All of these were read in the Knowledge System mirror on 2026-09-25 rather than fetched live.

The haori and Thai fisherman pants are described from Wikipedia, read on 2026-09-25: a haori is a Japanese jacket worn over a kimono and usually tied at the front with two short cords, and Thai fisherman pants are made wide in the waist so that one size fits all, wrapped round and tied. The brief spelled the jacket hoari; the rail says haori, which is how it is spelled.

Crocs is a trade name and belongs to Crocs, Inc., which has no connection with Stimpunks and does not endorse us; the pair on the rail is our own drawing of the shoe, on Ryan’s ask of 2026-09-25, and no logo of theirs is on it.

The type is DynaPuff, by Toshi Omagari and Jennifer Daniel, for the sign and the headings, and Plus Jakarta Sans, by Tokotype, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Fantasy Fancy Dress

A fancy dress shop through the curtain at the back of the Dopamine Dress-Up Den, for your bodymind. It is Helen Edgar’s idea, asked for on 2026-10-15: faery wings big and small in every colour, jewellery, beads and rings, onesies, tiger, bear, dragon and unicorn outfits, and animal ears, tails and paws. The name on the sign is hers, and so is the call that everything in it is worn by your bodymind rather than hung on the Dress-Up Den’s stand.

The drawings are the house’s. Every piece is worked out again from the bodymind it is put on, on its feet or sitting down, in avatar.js, so wings, ears, tails, paws, jewellery and suits go wherever that bodymind goes on the street: into the Dress-Up Den, into a Profile on the CB, and onto a sticker. The back of the shop, its sheers and its rail of stock, is ours too, drawn in the room’s own declared colours, and so is the loose wing on the guild’s board.

The Halloween rails were asked for at Halloween (2026-10-28), and their drawings are the house’s too: bat wings, wolf and bat ears, face paint and fangs, a staff, a broom, a wand, a lantern and a treat bucket to hold, and mummy, skeleton, ghost, pumpkin, bat, clown, pirate and vampire suits. Something held goes in a hand nothing else is in, and with no hand free it is slung or hung on a cord, so no cane, crutch, walker or AAC device is ever moved for it. There is no peg leg, hand hook or eye patch, because those are things somebody always has with them, not a pirate’s joke.

The chimera onesie came from our community, asked for at Halloween (2026-10-28): a onesie made after one of your chimeras from Chimera Obscura, in the colours of the animal that gave it its colours, with the ears, tail, markings and back of the animals that gave those. avatar.js draws it from the kinds of ears, tail, markings and back on Chimera Obscura’s shelf, never from chimera.js’s drawings, so a new animal on the shelf is a new onesie with nothing to edit.

The type is Abril Fatface, by TypeTogether, for the sign and the headings, and Kumbh Sans, by Saurabh Sharma, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

The Bodymind Booth

A photo booth on the street with no camera in it, next door to the Dress-Up Den, where you draw your bodymind and keep it as an avatar on the CB. The idea came from our community, from somebody who said they hoped for characters to dress one day, and Ryan wrote the proposal it was built from on 2026-10-14.

• The Bodymind Booth: an idea from our community, written up as a proposal by Ryan, 2026-10-14. The line about bodyminds is Nick Walker’s, from Toward a Neuroqueer Future: An Interview with Nick Walker, Autism in Adulthood, read on our Bodymind entry. The drawing, and every garment from the Dress-Up Den worked out again to fit a body, are the house’s. Oleo Script is soytutype fonts’; Host Grotesk is Element Type’s, Doğukan Karapınar’s and İbrahim Kaçtıoğlu’s.

The Dress-Up Den stays body-free, because its clothes hang on a valet stand rather than on a paper doll, which is one body handed to everybody; the bodies are drawn in the booth, where nobody is handed one, and the only body the Den shows is one somebody made there and walked in. Avatars are the second thing the street keeps under a person, after pets, and the privacy page says what is kept and when it goes.

The type is Oleo Script, by soytutype fonts, for the sign, and Host Grotesk, by Element Type, Doğukan Karapınar and İbrahim Kaçtıoğlu, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Chimera Obscura

A camera obscura on the street, painted black inside, where a chimera made out of two animals appears on a round white table under a lens in the roof. It began with Norah asking for an otteraccoon, and it is built on the chimeras stimpunks.org’s About page has had for years, which take features and colouring from one animal onto another’s body.

• Chimera Obscura: Ryan’s brief, 2026-10-18, after Norah asked for an otteraccoon. Bearmouse, Pandillo and Bunnybadger are Becky Hicks’s, drawn for stimpunks.org’s About page and hung here under CC BY-SA 4.0 with her yes. Every part on the shelf is drawn as code by Claude. Our friends at Randimals make combined animals as plush toys, and the Porkypine is a name they and Stimpunks made together. Gilda Display is Eduardo Tunni’s and Gantari is Lafontype’s, both under the SIL Open Font License 1.1 and read off their own records.

Nothing in the room calls an AI. Every animal is drawn once, as code, for one shared rig in chimera.js, so any part goes with any other and a chimera is drawn in your own browser. An animal the shelf does not have is asked for in the suggestion box and drawn later, for everybody. No name the room suggests is one of Randimals’ characters, and none carries a word nobody should be called, which is why otter and raccoon make an otteraccoon.

Community Care

The street’s room for asking, and a shopfront on the street: its channel on the CB is where anybody signed on asks for mutual aid, peer support and any other help, and where anybody who can offers it. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-22. It is built out of three pages of ours: Community Care on stimpunks.org, our glossary’s Peer Support, and Tapping the Radical Roots of Peer Support, which is Tuesday Ferguson’s, on our blog under CC BY-SA 4.0.

The umbrellas are our Community Care page’s. Its sign is an umbrella and its photograph is umbrellas in every colour hanging on strings over a street, so the room is that street in the rain, with everybody’s umbrellas tied to one another into one roof. The drawing is ours, made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief. tools/make-community-care.py draws it from the room’s data and refuses an umbrella with no tie to the next, because nothing else holds the roof up; the ties are loose, after Sophie K. Rosa’s line about no single knot tied too tight.

Every quotation was read off one of those three pages on 2026-10-22 and is checked against them word for word on every build where our copy of stimpunks.org is on the machine. Each is credited to whoever said it, and somebody else’s line says it was read on our page. Where our page names nobody’s work for a line, the room names none either: bell hooks’s and Larry Mitchell’s lines are credited to them and to nothing else. Vivian Ly’s talk at Autscape 2020 is on Autscape’s own channel and plays only when pressed; the presenter’s name was read off the video’s own description, because our page names the talk and not who gave it.

Nobody who asks is sorted, owes anybody or proves anything, and nothing is counted. The tool refuses the vocabulary of all four in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not, and skips the quotations, one of which argues against charity by naming it. It also refuses the page without its paragraph saying the channel is not a crisis line, and a form or a box anywhere on the page: nothing in the room takes words, and the channel does. The Foundation’s grants are named and linked and promised nothing: they are by application, in scheduled rounds, and cannot cover anything urgent, which the tool holds against the grants page itself.

The type is Agbalumo, by Raphael Alẹ́gbẹ́lẹ́yẹ̀ with Sorkin Type and Eben Sorkin, for the room’s name and headings, and Ysabeau Infant, by Christian Thalmann, for every word that is read, cut here to the Latin and Vietnamese letters so the line before this one sets in it. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Coping

A shopfront on the street in the eye of the storm. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-24: a room that synthesizes and summarizes three pages from our Regulation and Coping hub on stimpunks.org, Seeds of Cope, The Science of Cope and Cope Is Not an Insult, with its channel on the CB under Community on the chat page, and doors to the rooms on the street for coping, regulation and peer support. All three pages are Stimpunks’, and the summaries round their lines are ours, written for the room as a way into the pages and never instead of them.

The eye of the storm is ours, after our pages’ own words: seeds you can plant ahead of time or grab in a storm, and micro-worlds of safety inside hostile terrain. The storm stays in plain sight, all the way round and at both edges of a wide window, because the difference between coping and denial is that the storm is still there. The drawing and the doors on the floor of the eye were made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief. tools/make-coping.py draws the cloud wall from a fixed seed, and draws every door in the room’s own inks, told apart by its form, because a door is this room’s sign for a room and not the room. Each door says what its room is for in words that room’s own page still says, and the tool stops when one of them stops saying it.

Every quotation was read off one of those three pages on 2026-10-24 and is checked against them word for word on every build where our copy of stimpunks.org is on the machine; so are the cope map, the words to borrow, the groups the doors stand in and the works The Science of Cope names. The room has not read those works and says so beside them: it summarises our page, which is the place to start.

Nothing in the room is grit, a sneer, clinical, counted or cheerful at you. The tool refuses the vocabulary of each in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not, and skips our pages’ own words, which argue against several of them by naming them. It refuses the page without its paragraph, before the first heading, saying it is not clinical advice and not a crisis line, with our page’s line about danger and links to our Help page and to the crisis lines. Nothing in the eye moves by itself at any setting, MAX GLITTER included.

The type is Funnel Display for the room’s name and headings and Funnel Sans for every word that is read, both by NORD ID and Kristian Möller, cut here to the Latin letters with their weight axis kept. One family at two sizes, because a room for steadying yourself does not change its voice between the sign and the page. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Pets

A shopfront on the street, down on the floor with the animals at the end of the day. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-24: a Pets room, its channel on the CB in the Community section of the chat page, saying how important co-regulating with pets is for many Autistic people and for humans in general, because mammalian co-regulation is a thing, and linking every room on the street with animals in it, presented as doors. tools/make-pets.py writes the room out of data/pets.json.

The floor at dusk is ours, drawn as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief: a dog, a cat and a rabbit asleep, the window going dark, and the lamp off because getting up would mean moving somebody. The animals are nobody in particular, and nobody is drawn. The doors are pet flaps, because on a floor at an animal’s height that is what a door is, each this room’s drawing and not the room’s it opens onto. There is one for every room tagged Pets, and the tool will not build without one for a new one.

Most of the words quoted are other people’s, read on our own pages: Trauma Geek’s definition of co-regulation and Helen Edgar’s on being with, both on our Co-regulation entry; NDConnection’s lines about mammals on our Polyvagal Theory entry; a video’s line on our Body Doubling entry; Julie Bjelland’s on our Glimmers entry; and Midwest FurFest’s on our Event Access Guide. Nobody read the originals for this room, and each quotation says where it was read. They are checked against our pages word for word on every build where our copy of stimpunks.org is on the machine.

Nothing in the room is clinical, ranked, counted or for sale. The tool refuses the vocabulary of each in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not, and skips the quotations.

The type is Coiny, by Marcelo Magalhães, for the room’s name and headings, and Zen Maru Gothic, by Yoshimichi Ohira, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and cut here to the Latin letters.

Show Your Work

A garage on the street with the door rolled up, where the work of folks in our community is shown before it is finished. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-23: a room led by our show your work philosophy and how we practise it, its channel on the CB under Community on the chat page, and Show your work in the forums as the longer-term, longer-form place for the same work. It is built out of our own pages: Show Your Work, our Infodumplings post Show Your Work, One Card at a Time, Default to Open, and our glossary’s Scenius.

The idea is Austin Kleon’s, from his book Show Your Work!, which our Show Your Work page is built round, and the word scenius is Brian Eno’s. The book is in copyright, so every line of it in the room is short, read on our page, and credited where it stands; the long passages stay on our page. The created serendipity line is credited to the blog our page names, The Principal of Change, and to nobody’s name, because our page gives none and the room does not fill one in from memory.

The garage is ours, made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief: the day comes in off the street through the open door and runs out before the back wall, so whatever is brought into the light is lit from where you stand. A card is pinned over the bench for every piece of work on it, a box of cards stands with their backs to you because nobody has turned them over yet, and nobody is drawn. The bench holds only what its maker turned over, after our post’s line that turning a card over is the consent: every card names whose the work is as they asked to be named, who said yes and when, where it lives and what state it is in, and says whose words describe it. To start it, the bench holds two unfinished things of our own, Cavendish Cards and this street. A card can carry a photograph of the work under the polaroid wall’s rules (Ryan’s call, the same evening): each is a record on that wall’s own list, kept off Enid’s wall and naming this room, with a description of what is in it in its maker’s words and the yes of whoever took it and anybody in it, no camera data, and gone, not hidden, when its maker asks.

Nothing on the bench is ranked or counted, nobody is pitched to or called a genius, and nobody’s draft is marked. tools/make-show-your-work.py refuses the vocabulary of each in the room’s own words, with a window so the room can still say it will not, and skips the quotations. It also refuses a form, an upload box or anything editable anywhere on the page.

The type is Cabin Sketch, by Impallari Type, a sketch of a typeface with its pencil work left in, for the room’s name and headings, saved as it comes because the family reserves its name, and Sen, by Kosal Sen, for every word that is read, cut here to the Latin letters. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Volunteers

A shopfront on the street with a loom in the window and a cloth half woven on it. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-27: a Volunteers room, its channel on the CB under Community on the chat page, borrowing from our Volunteer page. tools/make-volunteers.py writes the room out of data/volunteers.json, and it is built out of our own pages: Volunteer, We exist as friction and Everyone can contribute.

The loom is ours, drawn as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief, after the rainbow woven cloth our Volunteer page uses for our diversity and interdependence: the warp is our values, one undyed thread through every band, and the weft is what each person brings, a band of its own natural dye for every thing on the page’s help list. A woven cloth holds because every thread grips the ones it crosses, which is the friction our page says we exist as. No cloth anybody wove is pictured.

Every quotation was read on one of our pages and is checked against it word for word on every build where our copy of stimpunks.org is on the machine: UX Cake’s episode Changing the Disability Design Narrative, whose speaker our page does not name; GitLab’s values; the Contributor Covenant’s FAQ; the Autistic Collaboration Trust’s book and Autistic Collaboration’s Ecologies of Care; NeuroClastic; and the Building Movement Project’s Social Change Ecosystem Map, whose roles are named here and defined only in the map itself. The playbooks are borrowed from Human Restoration Project, as our page says, and described in our words. The song our Volunteer page quotes is not in the room, the Zibaldone’s rule.

Nothing in the room is counted, owed or heroic. The tool refuses a tally of hours, the vocabulary of the martyr and of obligation, and charity, in the room’s own voice, with a window so the room can still say it will not, and skips the quotations. It has no form: the volunteer form is on stimpunks.org.

The type is Sigmar One, by Vernon Adams, for the room’s name and headings, and Rasa, by Rosetta with Anna Giedryś and David Březina, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and cut here to the Latin letters. Gentium Book Plus was the first choice for the reading and was put back, because SIL reserves its name and a cut-down copy would be a modified one.

Breaker Breaker

A shopfront on the street for the citizens band: CB radios, CB slang, CB history and trucking. Ryan’s brief of 2026-10-24: a room appreciating all of that, with a rack of Dale Watson’s trucking records and C. W. McCall’s Convoy, saying how the CB shaped this street’s own CB and why the word citizen matters in it, with the passage on amateur radio from Steve Silberman’s NeuroTribes. The passage was read on our page Written Communication Is the Great Social Equalizer, which quotes it from the Kindle edition, pages 223 to 224, and Ryan sent it from his own Kindle copy; the room checks it against our page word for word.

The convoy is ours, made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief: night on the interstate from the driver’s seat, drawn in perspective with every lamp where the law puts it on a real rig, three in a row at the middle as high as it will go and more at the corners and along the sides, amber at the front and sides and red at the back. Nothing else in the picture is lit, and nobody’s rig is drawn in particular. Every box on the page is outlined in amber dots the way a dressed-up trailer is outlined in chicken lights, and nothing on it blinks or moves.

The history, the slang and the lamps were read off Wikipedia’s articles on the citizens band, CB slang, automotive lighting, amateur radio licensing in the United States, Convoy, C. W. McCall, truck-driving country and Dale Watson, at the revisions the room links, under CC BY-SA 4.0, and are in our words. The slang that names people unkindly is left off, and tools/make-breaker-breaker.py refuses each of those phrases anywhere in the room. Not a line of any song is on the page.

The type is Racing Sans One, by Impallari Type, for the room’s name and headings, saved as it comes because the family reserves the name Racing Sans, and Titillium Web, by the Accademia di Belle Arti di Urbino, for every word that is read. Both under the SIL Open Font License, read off their own records in google/fonts.

Widdershins

A shopfront on the street, next door to the Community Library, in a crooked city at the moment the Disc’s slow morning is halfway across it. Ryan’s brief of 2026-11-02: a Discworld appreciation room, Widdershins: Against the Way of Normativity, after Terry Pratchett’s writing on inclusion and on embracing difference and weirdness, the City Watch books above all, which are about diversity within a team and forming competency networks, with some of Star Stuff’s Discworld writing and drawings copied in, and Ankh-Morpork evoked. tools/make-widdershins.py writes the room out of data/widdershins.json.

The Discworld is Terry Pratchett’s, and his estate has no involvement in the room and was not asked. Every line of his in it was already quoted on one of our pages or on Star Stuff: First Sight and Second Thoughts and Miss Level’s lines from our page If I don’t help them, who will?, and Death’s from Star Stuff’s A Promise, Not a Finding, which checked them against the book. What the room says about the Watch and the people of the city is our reading, written from the books and quoting none of them; nothing about the Disc was taken from a fan wiki, and the fan wiki and fan site the brief linked are not used. Nobody on the Disc is diagnosed, and nor is their author.

Six drawings and some of the words are Star Stuff’s, from No. 49, One Atom of Justice, A Promise, Not a Finding, and the Easter Eggs collection, whose closing section, The Turtle Moves, closes this room too, its drawing of Great A’Tuin and its passage copied whole, by Stimpunks and Helen Edgar’s More Realms under CC BY-SA 4.0. The drawings are as the zine publishes them, recoloured into this room’s inks by the tool, with one line changed, which the page says; the tool refuses a figure the zine no longer carries, so a correction there is noticed here. Two lines are Karl Spracklen and Ian Lamond’s, from The Discworld Mapp’d in Leisure Sciences, 2025, open access under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0, quoted and not adapted. The city is ours, made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief: no cover, map, crest, lettering or character of theirs, and nobody in it.

The type is Grenze, by Omnibus-Type, a face between a roman and a blackletter, for the room’s name and headings, and Proza Libre, by Jasper de Waard, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and cut here to the Latin letters. Star Stuff’s drawings keep their own Space Mono.

The Golem Trust

A room over the bridge from Widdershins, in the city: a long hall kept by golems who own themselves, lit only through windows whose panes are clay pressed thin enough for the day to come through. Ryan’s brief of 2026-11-04: subrooms of Widdershins inspired by places in the Discworld novels. It stands on one clause of Star Stuff’s No. 49, One Atom of Justice, the golems who are property, and takes the trust after the Golem Trust in Going Postal (2004) and the slates after the golems of Feet of Clay (1996), who do not speak and write what they say on them. tools/make-golem-trust.py writes the room out of data/golem-trust.json.

The Discworld is Terry Pratchett’s, and his estate has no involvement in the room and was not asked. No line of either book is quoted: what the room says about them is three plain facts in our words, and nothing about the Disc was taken from a fan wiki. No golem from the books is named or drawn; the golems against the windows are anybody’s, outlines of clay with no face. No golem is diagnosed: the room recognises writing on a slate as a way of talking our community knows, and labels nobody who uses it. One line is Star Stuff’s, by Stimpunks and Helen Edgar’s More Realms under CC BY-SA 4.0; the others are the Autistic Self Advocacy Network’s and Mia Mingus’s, each read on one of our glossary pages. The hall is ours, made as code by Claude to Ryan’s brief.

The type is Patrick Hand, by Patrick Wagesreiter, for the room’s name and headings, chalk on a slate, and Livvic, by LV= and Jacques Le Bailly, for every word that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License.

Cavendish Coworking

A house on the street after Henry Cavendish’s library house in Bedford Square, with a shut and unlocked door onto each of our calls. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25: our Operations and Editorial meetings are open to the world as part of our commitment to transparency, they had been held in our Discord, and a great many people will not use Discord; and, the same afternoon, that transparency does not mean an open floor plan and always-open doors, which is why the room is a house and not the glass office it opened as. The Events room was added the same afternoon. Every tagline, description and time on a door is our events page’s, word for word, and tools/make-coworking.py reads that page again every time it builds the doors. The hour on your own clock under each time is worked out in your browser, and is ours. Until 2026-11-01 the three meetings’ calls took guests who typed a name and knocked; Ryan’s call that day was that nobody had needed it, so every call here is for people on the CB, and what stays open to the world is every door saying what meets behind it and when.

Everything the room says about Cavendish’s houses is Christa Jungnickel and Russell McCormmach’s, from Cavendish: The Experimental Life, chapter 11, “Places” (Max Planck Research Library for the History and Development of Knowledge, second revised edition, 2016, CC BY-NC-SA), retold in our words; the librarian’s day a week is their report of Thomas Young’s. The drawing of the house front is ours, after their description of the Bedford Square house’s balconies and Coade stone doorway, and is not a picture of his house. The name Cavendish Space is ours, after Henry Cavendish as Steve Silberman tells his life in NeuroTribes (2015); the one line of Silberman’s in the room was read off our Cavendish Space glossary entry, and the one line of Annie Murphy Paul’s, from The Extended Mind, off our Cavendish Space page, not off the books.

The Hang Suites are Ryan’s, their descriptions and norms written in his brief of 2026-09-25, and caves, campfires and watering holes are David Thornburg’s, the primordial learning spaces from From the Campfire to the Holodeck, as our glossary documents. The Watering Hole’s line links Revelry’s piece on the watercooler channel.

The calls behind the doors are 8x8’s Jitsi as a Service, and Jitsi is 8x8’s open-source project; neither has any connection with Stimpunks or endorses us. Until 2026-09-28 each door was a link to a Proton Meet room; each opens a room of ours now.

The type is Libre Caslon Display, by Impallari Type, for the room’s name, the brass plate on each door and each room’s own line, and Libre Caslon Text, by Pablo Impallari, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

The Events Room

Behind the Events door at Cavendish Coworking: a lighthouse keeper’s watch room, with our recurring events for its light list and a call anybody can knock on. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-28, that Proton goes and every door opens onto a room of its own. Every line about when is our events page’s, word for word, and tools/make-coworking.py re-reads that page every time it builds the room; the room, its drawing and every other sentence in it are ours.

The call is 8x8’s Jitsi as a Service, and Jitsi is 8x8’s open-source project; neither has any connection with Stimpunks or endorses us. A guest joins under a name they type, knocks, and waits in the lobby for a moderator; anybody signed on to the CB walks straight in.

The screen on the wall and the videos on its rack were Ryan’s pick, on 2026-10-08, in the order he gave them. They are clips from Schitt’s Creek put up by CBC and by the show’s own channel, and each was checked on its own watch page that day: public, playable here, not age-restricted, and how long it runs. Every title is its channel’s, and every channel is named on its card; the notes beside them are ours and say only what each video’s own title and description say is in it. Stimpunks has no connection with CBC or the show and is not endorsed by either.

The type is Old Standard TT, by Alexey Kryukov, for the room’s name and headings, and IBM Plex Sans Condensed, by Mike Abbink with Bold Monday, for every sentence and the light list, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Operations Room

Behind the Operations door at Cavendish Coworking: a building’s plant room, every main painted the colour of what it carries, one caged lamp, and the weekly task scrub on the log. The meeting’s own line and its time are our events page’s, word for word, re-read by tools/make-coworking.py every time it builds the room; the room, its drawing and every other sentence are ours. The call is 8x8’s Jitsi as a Service, as it is in the Events Room.

The type is Chakra Petch, by Cadson Demak, for the room’s name and headings, and Saira, by Omnibus-Type, for every sentence and the log, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Editorial Room

Behind the Editorial door at Cavendish Coworking: a designer’s light table in a dark studio, the proofs lit from beneath and the only light in the room. The meeting’s own line and its time are our events page’s, word for word, re-read by tools/make-coworking.py every time it builds the room; the room, its drawing and every other sentence are ours. The call is 8x8’s Jitsi as a Service, as it is in the Events Room.

The type is Young Serif, by Bastien Sozeau, for the room’s name and headings, and DM Sans, by Colophon Foundry, for every sentence and the proof, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Watering Hole

Upstairs at Cavendish Coworking, behind the Watering Hole door: a pan of water in the Namib at noon, for come-and-go chat with no agenda. What the room is for, and its norms, are Ryan’s words, from his Hang Suites brief, and caves, campfires and watering holes are David Thornburg’s. The cams are the Jungle Room’s, read out of that room’s own list, which came off our Watering Hole Hangs page, and each is its own channel’s. The call is for people signed on to the CB; anybody can look round.

The drawing is ours. The animals in it are Ryan’s list of what people have seen on the waterhole cams on the rack, and the round rock in the water is the Namib waterhole’s, read off Gondwana’s page about its cam, which says it was put there to slow the water drying up and to give birds a perch. Nothing in it is a picture of either place.

The type is Epilogue, by Tyler Finck with ETC, for the room’s name and headings, and Readex Pro, by Thomas Jockin, Nadine Chahine, Bonnie Shaver-Troup, Santiago Orozco and Héctor Gómez, for every sentence and card, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Campfire

Upstairs at Cavendish Coworking, behind the Campfire door: a fire in a clearing at night with a ring of logs round it, for small groups working or watching together. What the room is for, and its norms, are Ryan’s words, and caves, campfires and watering holes are David Thornburg’s. The fires are Norwegian Fireplace and Campfire’s: the screen is the playlist Swaying Sweetgrass keeps burning in its fire pit, read out of that room’s own data, and each fire on the rack was checked on its own watch page on 2026-09-28. Their titles are the channel’s; the notes beside them are ours.

The type is Holtwood One SC, by Vernon Adams, for the room’s name and headings, and Lato, by Łukasz Dziedzic, for every sentence and card, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Cave

Upstairs at Cavendish Coworking, behind the Cave door: a tunnel in glacier ice, for quiet solo work in company. What the room is for, and its norms, are Ryan’s words, and caves, campfires and watering holes are David Thornburg’s. The caves on the rack were Ryan’s pick from a shortlist Claude made, with Mount Cucco’s dripping water first, and each was checked on its own watch page on 2026-09-28. Every title is its channel’s, and every channel is named on its card; the notes beside them are ours. The drawing of the ice is ours.

The type is Encode Sans Expanded, by Impallari Type with Andres Torresi and Jacques Le Bailly, for the room’s name and headings, and Nunito Sans, by Vernon Adams, Jacques Le Bailly, Manvel Shmavonyan and Alexei Vanyashin, for every sentence and card, both under the SIL Open Font License, both read off their own records.

The Live Room

A recording studio on the street, seen from the control room: sessions played in a studio rather than at a gig. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25, for Live In Studio sets, starting with the Austin City Limits tapings and the live rooms of KEXP and KCRW, all three arriving the same afternoon. The first sessions arrived by way of Looming Rocks: ten Austin City Limits videos were sent for that room the same day it became the room for outdoor music, one of them was a festival set in Zilker Park and went there, and the other nine were the television series, taped indoors, which Looming Rocks refuses. tools/make-live-room.py refuses the opposite: a session that was not played indoors. The two rooms keep the same promise about where a thing was played.

Austin City Limits is KLRU’s, broadcast on PBS: the longest-running music series in American television, taped in KLRU’s Studio 6A on the University of Texas campus for its first thirty-six seasons and at ACL Live at The Moody Theater since 2011, read off Wikipedia on 2026-09-25. Stimpunks has no connection with the show, KLRU or PBS and is not endorsed by any of them. Every id was checked on its own watch page before it went up — status, playableInEmbed and length — the runtimes are measured rather than typed, and every date, venue and set detail on a strip was read off that video’s own title and description. The Stevie Ray Vaughan upload is titled a full concert and is not one: its own description lists six songs cut from it, and its strip says so before the press. Two of the uploads are on channels whose descriptions say the recording is not theirs; every strip names its channel. KEXP is a listener-supported radio station in Seattle, run by Friends of KEXP, with its studios at the Seattle Center (Wikipedia, 2026-09-25); every KEXP session here is on the station’s own channel and was recorded in its studio, by its own description, which also credits the players, the host and the engineers, mixers and camera operators by name. Stimpunks has no connection with KEXP. KCRW is a non-profit public radio station in Santa Monica, by its own description; every KCRW session here is on its own channel, and each description names the studio it was played in — its own performance studio, Apogee Studio or The Village Studios — and credits the players and crew. Stimpunks has no connection with KCRW.

The drawing of the control room is ours, and nobody is drawn in it. The type is Just Another Hand, by Astigmatic, under the Apache License 2.0, for the room’s name and the name on each strip’s tape, and B612, by Nicolas Chauveau, Thomas Paillot, Jonathan Favre-Lamarine and Jean-Luc Vinot, under the SIL Open Font License, for everything that is read; both read off their own records.

Under the desk, the last month off each studio’s own channel: Austin City Limits, KEXP and KCRW, their videos and their shorts, read off the channels’ own feeds and list pages every morning by tools/pull-live-month.py, which asks each new video’s watch page once whether it plays, whether it can be shown here and how long it runs. Ryan’s ask of 2026-10-15. Nobody chose those videos or watched them first, and nothing says where each was played, so the rule that a session was played indoors is the desk’s and not the month’s. Their titles are the channels’ own, as written, and anything older than a month goes off the end.

The Broadsheet Broadside

A broadsheet press on the street, in the side of a ship: manifestos and mementos served across your bow. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25, a press that prints broadsides the way whysheet.press does, with an introduction to this street as its first sheet. The form is the Stimpunks broadsides’, and every number the press prints to is theirs, written up in the field guide’s notes on print: one sheet, both sides, ink on white in both media, borders rather than backgrounds, two spot inks darkened until they clear on white and no two sheets sharing a pair, and no display serif on the paper. The page, 208 × 277 mm at 9 / 7 / 7 mm margins, is whysheet.press’s, the largest that fits both A4 and US Letter. Theirs is Alfie Kohn’s Why Sheet, a single double-sided sheet laying out a case briskly, and the Stimpunks broadsides say so first. tools/make-broadside.py refuses a sheet that breaks the form, and tools/check-print.py renders the room to a real PDF and refuses anything but two pages a sheet in the sheet’s own inks.

Both meanings of broadside are Wikipedia’s, in print and at sea, read on 2026-09-25, and so is the Nelson chequer, the Royal Navy’s bands of black and yellow broken by black gunports, modelled on the scheme Admiral Horatio Nelson used in battle. The drawing of the ship is ours; it is no ship in particular, and it carries no guns. Danny the Street, named on the first sheet’s reverse, is DC Comics’, credited in full on a page of its own.

The type is Bodoni Moda, by Owen Earl, for the ship’s name and the room’s headings and nothing on the sheet, and Atkinson Hyperlegible Next and Atkinson Hyperlegible Mono, by the Braille Institute, Applied Design Works, Elliott Scott, Megan Eiswerth and Letters From Sweden, for every word on the sheets and the room’s prose — the faces the Stimpunks broadsides are set in. All three are under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records. The sheets are dedicated CC0 1.0, Ryan’s call of 2026-09-25, like the Stimpunks broadsides: no permission needed and no credit required, and every one says so on the paper and asks for its credits anyway, in a line generated by the tool so that it cannot be left off. The dedication covers the sheets’ words and layout and nothing that is not ours; the room around them stays under this street’s CC BY-SA 4.0, and LICENSE says which is which.

The Doom Scoop

Daily news, usually bad: an ice cream parlour on the street after closing, with a tub in the lit cabinet for every morning of the last week. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-26. The sources are Ryan Boren’s, in the groups he put them in and the order he listed them, and the room re-sorts nothing. Every video is its channel’s and every headline is its poster’s, quoted as written. None of these channels, shows or sites is affiliated with Stimpunks or endorses us, and none of them is endorsed by us for being in the cabinet.

Nobody here watched any of it before it went up. tools/pull-doom-scoop.py reads each source’s own YouTube feed every morning and asks each new video’s watch page whether it plays, whether it can be shown on another site and how long it runs; tools/make-doom-scoop.py fills the cabinet from what was read and refuses a scoop kept past a week, a scoop carrying a description, a thumbnail or a count, and a screen with no runtime. Ground News and meidasnews.com publish no feed a timer can read, and one of them answers a machine with a bot check, so both are doors on the counter. The drawing of the cabinet is ours, and so are the flavours: one for each day of the week.

The type is Leckerli One, by Gesine Todt, for the room’s name, and Onest, by Dmitri Voloshin and Andrey Kudryavtsev, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Arlesglad Caverns

The third area, and the first one under the street rather than past an end of it: a cavern reached by a lift beside the stoop and the stair beside that, lit only by a strip in its handrail. The name is a play on Carlsbad Caverns, with a glad spin and with ARLES in it, the Stimpunks Design Method, whose ladder starts at the bottom, where a person actually is. The caverns take the name and not the method’s shape: no room down there is a rung, and nothing on the page borrows the look of any ARLES poster or deck.

Its two numbers are the National Park Service’s, off the weather page for Carlsbad Caverns National Park, read on 2026-09-26: the Big Room averages 56°F (13°C) and moves with the seasons, and the lowest point holds a constant 68°F (20°C) with the air close to saturated. Stay Frosty, at the bottom of the caverns, takes the second one. The rooms down there are not open yet; each one gets its own credits here when it is.

The type is Syne, by Bonjour Monde, Lucas Descroix and George Triantafyllakos, for the caverns’ name and the lift panel, and Rethink Sans, by Hans Thiessen, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records by tools/pull-foundry.py.

Glow Go Gee Gaws

Level B3 of Arlesglad Caverns: glow-in-the-dark toys and trinkets in every colour glow comes in, blue included, Ryan’s call. The toys, the drawings and every word about them are ours, and nothing is for sale. Every toy starts dark, is charged by being held up to the rail, and gives the light back; down here that takes seconds rather than hours, so it can be watched.

What the room says about how long each colour lasts was checked, and it says which half was. Green glow pigment is the brightest and longest-lasting, with afterglow reported in hours by pigment makers such as Techno Glow’s notes on strontium aluminate. Red and orange are the dimmest and first to go: the pigments are weaker, and the eye is least sensitive to red in the dark, which the introduction to a study of red afterglow phosphors sets out. The order of the colours in between is the room’s own, and tools/make-glow.py refuses a green that does not last longest and a red or orange that is not among the first to fade.

The type is Baloo 2, by Ek Type, for the names, and Poppins, by Indian Type Foundry, Jonny Pinhorn and Ninad Kale, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Big Steep Fermentables

Level B1 of Arlesglad Caverns: a brewery and cellar for wine, beer and kombucha, lit from behind its own glass. Try our house styles is Ryan’s line from the brief; the house styles, their names and every word about them are ours, and the drinks are fiction. Every rule in it is about the people who do not drink: every pour says how strong it is before the pour, and the alcohol-free pour of every style comes first and the same size. tools/make-big-steep.py refuses a pour without its strength, a style whose first pour has alcohol in it, a kombucha that claims a fixed strength, the vocabulary of pressure and of calling an alcohol-free drink an imitation, health claims, a count of drinks, and wood in a cellar of glass and steel.

The cellar videos are other people’s, picked by Ryan and played from their uploaders’ own YouTube channels: Tranquility Through Flames, Relaxation Ambience, Serene Ambience, Quiet Ember, Fireside Glow Ambience, Velvet Dark Ambience, Here While You Sleep, Sleepy Soundscaper, Sound eScapes and Elisirium. Their titles are quoted as they wrote them, and every one was checked on its own watch page before it went up: public, not age-gated, on its uploader’s channel, with its length measured. None of them is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none endorses us.

The type is Zilla Slab, by Typotheque, for the names, and Red Hat Text, by MCKL, for everything that is read and every strength, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Mycelium Munchies

Level B2 of Arlesglad Caverns: a mushroom farm with a restaurant at the end of the growing rooms. The three house specialities are Ryan’s, named in his brief: crispy fried oyster mushrooms, lion’s mane nuggets and mushroom steaks. Every other dish, every drawing and every word about the mushrooms is ours, written for the room. The one line quoted in it is ours too, from The Mycelial Worldview Is Punk, our post for a Campfire Learn Together, and tools/make-mycelium.py checks it against that post word for word wherever the Knowledge System mirror is on hand.

Nothing is named in Latin, nothing here is a field guide, and nothing is a supplement. The tool refuses a list of genera and any name shaped like a binomial, the vocabulary of foraging and identifying wild mushrooms, the vocabulary of brains, focus, immunity and medicine that lion’s mane is sold with, and the wood wide web stated as fact. It also refuses a dish with a mushroom the farm does not grow, a crop no dish serves, anything served raw, and a dish that does not say what is in it. The type is Caprasimo, by The DocRepair Project, Phaedra Charles and Flavia Zimbardi, for the names, and Schibsted Grotesk, by Bakken & Bæck and Henrik Kongsvoll, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

The videos are Derek Sarno’s, on his own YouTube channel: his Mushroom Masterclass - How to cook Mushrooms! playlist on one press, and the most recent videos in it in a rack, chosen by upload date because the playlist is not in date order. Every one was checked before it went up: public, embeddable, not age-gated, on his channel, with its length measured. His titles are quoted as he wrote them. The rack is a copy of the playlist taken on the date printed under it, and a new video is on the whole-playlist press straight away and not in the rack until somebody reads the playlist again. The growing link is North Spore, a shop, with its guide How to Use a Mushroom Fruiting Block Kit, both linked plain with no affiliate code. Neither Derek Sarno nor North Spore is affiliated with Stimpunks, and neither endorses us.

Stay Frosty

Level B5 of Arlesglad Caverns, the bottom, and a quiet place to chill: chill as in calm, not cold. Its one number is the National Park Service’s: the weather page for Carlsbad Caverns National Park, read on 2026-09-26, says the cavern’s lowest point remains a more constant and warmer 68°F (20ºC) and closer to 100% relative humidity, and the room keeps that number because the caverns are named after Carlsbad. It is written once, in data/stay-frosty.json, and tools/make-stay-frosty.py writes it into the room and onto the room’s plate on the lift panel, so the two cannot disagree.

The room is not for anything, and its tool holds it there: it refuses a sentence saying what the room will do for you, the vocabulary of cold as a treatment, a count, a clock, a button, a player, a script of its own and any motion in its stylesheet. The CB stays upstairs, the Healing Checkpoint’s way. The type is Geologica, by Monokrom, Sindre Bremnes and Frode Helland, for every word in the room, under the SIL Open Font License and read off its own record.

Stay Breezy

The room behind Stay Frosty, at the bottom of Arlesglad Caverns: a hall full of fans. It is Ryan Boren’s, and his words for why are on the page, credited to him. Every fan is ours: drawn for the room, named for what it is and never for who made one, and sounded by stay-breezy.js in the visitor’s own browser out of noise, a filter, sometimes a motor’s hum and sometimes a slow beat. None of it is a recording and nothing is fetched or sent. One thing is kept, in the visitor’s own browser: their usual, the speeds they set, the fan on their table and the fans they last had on, under love-breezy, listed on the privacy page. It never switches a fan on by itself.

tools/make-stay-breezy.py builds the floor and the room of your own out of data/stay-breezy.json, and refuses a fan without words for how it feels and sounds, two fans that sound the same, a maker’s name, a fan that is for sleep, focus or treatment, a ceiling fan whose lamp is not below its blades, a keyframe that flashes, and a hall that could get louder than the Repeater’s ceiling. The type is Comfortaa, by Johan Aakerlund, for the names, and Urbanist, by Corey Hu, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Plural Mural

An end wall on the street that repaints itself. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25. Every mural on the wall is the house’s own painting, drawn in this repository, and the first of them are the lines of the street’s own tagline, one line to a mural, which is Stimpunks’. None of them is a photograph of a real mural, and nobody real is painted on the wall. A mural somebody proposes goes up credited to them, in their words as they gave them, and this section lists it when it does.

The chalkboard at the foot of the wall is Helen Edgar’s idea, after the board at her floatation tank place: somewhere to leave a note for whoever comes by next, written by people signed on to the CB and read by anybody. Hers is the idea; the board, its week and its public reading are ours, Ryan’s call on 2026-09-25.

A street that rearranges itself for whoever turns up is Danny the Street’s, from DC Comics’ Doom Patrol, created by Grant Morrison and Richard Case; the credit is on a page of its own. Nothing of DC’s is painted on the wall.

The type is Chango, by Fontstage, for every word painted on a mural and the room’s name, and Commissioner, by Kostas Bartsokas, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Community Library, L-Space and Oook

A public library on the street, a room behind it and a room behind that. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25: our Library in this street’s clothes, led by a celebration of the public library, with an L-space room behind it and a Discworld room behind that. The prose in all three is ours, most of it adapted from our own Library page, and every quotation is listed below with how it was checked, which for every one of them is: read off that page, and not against the book. Two of them have no source on that page at all, and say so where they stand.

L-space, the Discworld, Unseen University and the Librarian are Terry Pratchett’s, from the Discworld novels, and Discworld is a trade mark belonging to his estate, which has no connection with Stimpunks and does not endorse us. Nothing of the books is reproduced beyond the short quotations below, each with its author, its book and its year. No picture of the Librarian is on this site: the paintings of him are their painters’, and the photographs on our Library page carry licences this site’s CC BY-SA cannot. The drawing of a disc on four elephants on a turtle is ours, and a world on a turtle’s back is a great deal older than the Discworld. The three rules of L-space were read on our Library page, which quotes them from the Discworld Wiki’s article on the Librarian, published under CC BY-SA and credited where the rules stand.

Our Library page links the wrong Guards! Guards!: it cites the 1989 novel and links Open Library’s record for the 2000 graphic adaptation, by Pratchett, Stephen Briggs and Graham Higgins. These rooms link the novel, and tools/make-library.py refuses the adaptation’s ids. The books’ addresses were resolved against Open Library on 2026-09-25 rather than copied.

The type in the library is Marcellus SC, by Astigmatic, for the lintel and the headings, and Andika, by SIL International, for everything that is read. L-Space sets Gravitas One, by Riccardo De Franceschi, and Source Serif 4, by Frank Grießhammer. Oook sets Sniglet, whose record lists multiple designers and whose licence names Haley Fiege, Brenda Gallo and Pablo Impallari, and Libre Baskerville, by Impallari Type. All six are under the SIL Open Font License and were read off their own records.

The clacks. Every page on this street sends X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett in its headers, Ryan’s call of 2026-09-25. The practice is from the clacks in Pratchett’s Going Postal (2004), and keeping it in a web server is a tradition his readers started after his death in 2015, not ours; we joined it.

• Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country, 2005, in Community Library. Read off our Library page, which cites the book on WorldCat. Not checked against the book.
• Cory Doctorow, They Want to Kill Libraries, 2022, in Community Library. Read off our Library page, which links the essay. Not checked against the essay.
• S. R. Ranganathan, The Five Laws of Library Science, 1931, in Community Library. Read off our Library page, which gives the laws as Wikipedia does. The book's record was resolved on Open Library; the 1931 printing itself was not checked, so this is the wording as Wikipedia gives it, which may not be Ranganathan's word for word.
• Mychal Threets, a video on TikTok, 2023, in Community Library. Read off our Library page, which links the video. Not checked against the video, which is not played here.
• Octavia E. Butler, in Community Library. Read off our Library page, WHICH GIVES IT NO SOURCE, and we could not trace it from here. It is here on that page's word, and it says so under the quotation rather than wearing a citation it has not got.
• Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!, 1989, in L-Space. Read off our Library page, which quotes the passage it comes out of at length. Not checked against the book.
• Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!, 1989, in L-Space. Read off our Library page, which quotes the passage it comes out of at length. Not checked against the book.
• Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!, 1989, in L-Space. Read off our Library page, which credits it to Guards! Guards! on WorldCat. Not checked against the book.
• John Waters, in L-Space. Read off our Library page, WHICH GIVES IT NO SOURCE, and we could not trace it from here. It is here on that page's word, and it says so under the quotation.
• Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!, 1989, in Oook. Read off our Library page, which quotes the whole passage and gives it as pages 3 and 4. Not checked against the book.
• the Discworld Wiki, The Librarian, in Oook. Read off our Library page, which quotes the Discworld Wiki's article on the Librarian. The rules are from the novels; the wiki is fan-written and published under CC BY-SA, and it is credited as the place these words were read rather than as their author.
• Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart and Jack Cohen, The Science of Discworld, 1999, in Oook. Read off our Library page, which gives it as page 13. The end of a longer sentence, which is why it starts in lower case. Not checked against the book.

Now Playing

A poster column on the pavement beside the Pebble Board, with one bill pasted round it: every room on the street with something in it to press and play, and what each one puts on first. Ryan’s brief of 2026-09-25. The line under each room’s name is ours, written for the poster. Everything else on the bill is the rooms’ own: the names, where each room is, and the title and running time of what it puts on first are read off each room’s published page by tools/make-now-playing.py every time the poster is printed, so every credit for what is on the bill is the credit that room already carries, in the room and in its own section of these notes. Nothing on the poster plays and nothing on it is hosted by us.

The poster, its two inks, the column it is pasted on and the paste brush at its foot are ours. The type is Rammetto One, by Vernon Adams, for the title and every room’s name, and Instrument Sans, by Rodrigo Fuenzalida and Jordan Egstad, for everything that is read, both under the SIL Open Font License and read off their own records.

Looming Rocks Amphitheatre

An open-air stage at the foot of enormous rock faces, turning 03 in The Outskirts. The real venue is Red Rocks Amphitheatre, near Morrison, Colorado, owned and operated by the city of Denver, formed by two sandstone monoliths named Ship Rock and Creation Rock with the smaller Stage Rock between them, seating 9,525 — read off Wikipedia on 2026-09-22. The room started there and is for outdoor music anywhere now (Ryan’s call, 2026-09-25): every act says where it was played, and tools/make-looming.py refuses one that was not played outdoors. That rule arrived the same day as ten Austin City Limits videos, nine of them taped for the television series in a studio, so only the festival set, in Zilker Park, is on this bill, and the other nine are on the desk in The Live Room, which refuses a set played outside. Looming Rocks is not Red Rocks, or any other real place: it is a room on a made-up street that is fond of the real ones, Stimpunks has no connection to any of these venues or festivals and is not endorsed by them, and the sentient rocks, the solar array and the ultraviolet rig are this street’s own invention.

The lichen is real and the room says so without making a lesson of it. Fluorescence under ultraviolet light is a genuine property of many lichens and a genuine field technique for telling species apart. An earlier draft split the page into what is real and what is invented, and Ryan cut it — this is a street named after a genderqueer, shape-shifting road, and a disclaimer explaining that the sentient rocks are fiction is a page apologising for being the thing it is. What still needs saying is the part about somebody else’s property, which is a different job and lives in the credits.

The guard stayed even though the paragraph went. tools/make-looming.py refuses anything shaped like a species name anywhere in the file: the room must never say which lichen glows which colour, because nobody here has checked and a confident binomial beside a colour is the format most likely to be believed. That is the herbarium’s refusal arriving in a light rig — but not the herbarium’s check, which does not survive the move. A bare shape test works on a page of short labels and matches the start of nearly every sentence in prose; its first run here refused “Rocks that”, “Once something” and “Ferrell sings”. It is a shape in a place now: sentence starts are ignored, and it only reads sentences that are about lichen at all. Verified in both directions — a real binomial in a lichen sentence is caught, and a band name in a note is not.

Every id was checked on its own watch page before it went up — status, playableInEmbed and length — and the runtimes below are measured rather than typed. That matters more here than anywhere else on the street: these are full concerts, none of them under the hour and the longest over two, so a wrong number in front of a press breaks the street’s promise at the largest scale it can. Nothing is hosted by us and every act names the channel it is on — most of them the artist’s or the band’s own, which is the most durable shape of upload this site carries. The count and the range printed in the room are generated from this same file, because both were typed by hand at first and both were wrong within a day.

The stage is the Hermitage’s set on a rock face, and it keeps that set’s promises because they are the street’s rather than that room’s: while the stage is dark, tuning is silent and nothing is fetched; once something is playing, tuning changes the picture. looming.js is a separate file from hermitage.js on purpose — the two sets look alike and are not the same object, and a shared widget would be the harmonising instinct arriving through a script tag. What is shared is love-embed.js, still the only thing on this site that builds a YouTube iframe. The running order is a <details> and opens and closes with no script at all.

None of these artists, their labels or the channels hosting these recordings is affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorses us.

Sithen

A fairy fort seen from the outside, turning 02 in The Outskirts. Two novel series are what pointed us at it and nothing in the room is drawn from either: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Merry Gentry books and Seanan McGuire’s October Daye books are named and linked in the room as the reason it exists, and not one court, character, politics or cosmology of either is used. Those are invented worlds belonging to living authors, and the difference between being pointed somewhere and helping yourself is the whole of what this site means by attribution. The refusal is enforced rather than remembered — tools/make-sithen.py will not build the page if a rule’s source names either series or either author.

The name was checked rather than assumed. Scottish Gaelic sìthean, a hillock inhabited by fairies, from sìth plus the diminutive — cited to Colin Mark’s Gaelic–English Dictionary (Routledge, 2003, p. 530) by way of Wiktionary, read 2026-09-22. That mattered because one of those two series uses this exact spelling for the fae court, and a room taking the name while claiming to owe the books nothing would have been advertising a debt it does not otherwise have. The word is older than both.

The documented half is kept apart from the folklore on purpose, because they are not the same kind of claim and a reader should not have to tell them apart by tone. Ringforts, the thirty-to-forty thousand of them identifiable in 1991, the whitethorn taboo and the 1999 campaign that saved a thorn bush from the M18 at Latoon in County Clare were read off Wikipedia’s article on fairy forts and its article on the Latoon fairy bush.

The rules are traditional and the readings beside them are ours. Every taboo says where it comes from; every line under what it is like was written for this room and is not claimed to be in the folklore. Nothing on that page tells anybody how to behave, and the tool refuses the vocabulary of advice, because a page about unwritten rules that ended in tips for following them would be a social skills curriculum with thorns on it.

The Mopery

The shelves. Nine novels, and the only room on this street whose books are not ones our own pages already argue from. Every one belongs to the person who wrote it; the notes and the shelf-talkers are ours.

• The Secret History — Donna Tartt, 1992. Open Library
• Bunny — Mona Awad, 2019. Open Library
• The Atlas Six — Olivie Blake, 2020. Open Library
• A Deadly Education — Naomi Novik, 2020. Open Library
• Nocticadia — Keri Lake, 2023. Open Library
• Gothikana — RuNyx, 2023. Open Library
• A Discovery of Witches — Deborah Harkness, 2011. Open Library
• The Historian — Elizabeth Kostova, 2005. Open Library
• Dionysus in Wisconsin — E. H. Lupton, 2023. Open Library

The parlour screen. One song, several times over. “Paint It, Black” was written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards and released by the Rolling Stones on Aftermath in 1966; the arrangement nearly every version below is answering was written for Netflix’s Wednesday by Danny Elfman and Chris Bacon. Nothing is hosted here and nothing loads until you press it.

• The Rolling Stones — Official lyric video, 3:46, on ABKCOVEVO. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Wednesday Addams — The cello scene, from the Netflix series, 4:43, on The Wizard. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• The Cello Doll — Solo cello, in costume, 2:59, on The Cello Doll. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Brooklyn Duo — Cello cover, 2:09, on Brooklyn Duo. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Julia Kim — Viola, arranged by the player, 2:22, on Julia Kim Viola 줄리아킴 비올라. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Amadeus — Two violins, cello and piano, 4:38, on Amadeus - The Electric Piano Strings Quartet. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Prime Orchestra — A Wednesday medley, not only this song, 7:32, on PRIME ORCHESTRA. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
• Imperial Orchestra — A Wednesday number from a cinema-medley show, 6:43, on Imperial Orchestra. Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

The reading nook. The Raven is Edgar Allan Poe’s, first published in the Evening Mirror, New York, 29 January 1845, and out of copyright everywhere. Our text was transcribed from Project Gutenberg ebook #1065, transcribed 2026-09-21. The twenty-six engravings are Gustave Doré’s, made for the 1884 edition and published after his death in 1883, so they are out of copyright everywhere. Ours came from Project Gutenberg’s ebook #17192. Where each one sits is our decision and the room says so: that edition printed the poem straight through and the plates after it, and here each plate stands at the lines its own caption quotes. The captions are printed verbatim, which is how a reader can see that the 1884 text is not quite the one we set beside it.

The scanned book is The Raven, Philadelphia: Tyndale, Mitchell & Co., 1865, with illustrations engraved on wood by Scattergood — digitised by Lehigh University and published by the Internet Archive under the Public Domain Mark 1.0. The whole book is there; three leaves of it are shown in the room. A separate facsimile of the poem in Poe’s own hand is linked and not copied, at the Library of Congress: that printing was made in 1949 and carries a reproduction notice on its own first leaf, and this site does not relicense other people’s assets by copying them. One explicit licence and one notice saying no; the room shows the first and points at the second. The typefaces in the picker belong to their own designers, under the SIL Open Font License or Apache 2.0 face by face, and are listed above.

The Oracle Deck

Every picture in this deck is somebody else’s and nobody’s. All of them are public domain works in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Open Access collection, whose images of public domain works are released under CC0 — which asks for nothing. The names below are here because naming the hand is this site’s habit, not because anybody made us. The card names, the questions and the notes are ours and are CC BY-SA 4.0 with the rest of the site; the engravings are not ours to license.

• The Melancholy — Albrecht Dürer, Melencolia I, 1514. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1943, 43.106.1. Object 336228
• The Full Moon — Claude Mellan, Full Moon, 1635. The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1960, 60.634.36. Object 393543
• The Waxing Moon — Claude Mellan, The Moon in its First Quarter, 1635. The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1960, 60.634.38. Object 393278
• The Waning Moon — Claude Mellan, The Moon in its Final Quarter, 1635. The Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1960, 60.634.37. Object 359769
• The Threshold — Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Title Page, from "Carceri d'invenzione" (Imaginary Prisons), ca. 1749–50. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1937, 37.45.3(21). Object 362797
• The Tower — Giovanni Battista Piranesi, The Round Tower, from "Carceri d'invenzione" (Imaginary Prisons), ca. 1749–50. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1937, 37.45.3(27). Object 337725
• The Lamp — Giovanni Battista Piranesi, The Pier with a Lamp, from "Carceri d'invenzione" (Imaginary Prisons), ca. 1749–50. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1937, 37.45.3(29). Object 362463
• The Watcher — Charles Meryon, The Vampire, 1853. H.O. Havemeyer Collection, Bequest of Mrs. H.O. Havemeyer, 1929, 29.107.108. Object 360188
• The Sleep — Goya (Francisco de Goya y Lucientes), Plate 43 from "Los Caprichos": The sleep of reason produces monsters (El sueño de la razon produce monstruos), 1799. Gift of M. Knoedler & Co., 1918, 18.64(43). Object 338473
• The Bogey — Goya (Francisco de Goya y Lucientes), Plate 3 from "Los Caprichos": Here comes the bogey-man (Que viene el Coco), 1799. Gift of M. Knoedler & Co., 1918, 18.64(3). Object 360412
• The Armour — Odilon Redon, Armor, 1891. Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1948, 48.10.1. Object 339671
• The Veil — Odilon Redon, A Veil, a Printed Image, 1891. Rogers Fund, 1920, 20.30.1. Object 369636
• The Thicket — Rodolphe Bresdin, The Good Samaritan, 1861. Rogers Fund and the Elisha Whittelsey Collection, The Elisha Whittelsey Fund, 1979, 1979.573. Object 391670

The Doomscroll

Every poem on the scroll is out of copyright everywhere — not only in the United States — because every one of these writers has been dead more than seventy years, which is what tools/make-doomscroll.py checks before it will build the page. Each text was transcribed from Wikisource and each entry names the printing it came from, because these poems exist in several and they differ. The headlines and the lines under them are ours.

• Dulce et Decorum est — Wilfred Owen (d. 1918). First published Poems (1920), edited by Siegfried Sassoon and Edith Sitwell. Text from the first published edition, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• The Second Coming — W. B. Yeats (d. 1939). First published The Dial, November 1920. Text from Michael Robartes and the Dancer (Cuala Press), transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• No worst, there is none — Gerard Manley Hopkins (d. 1889). First published Poems (1918), edited by Robert Bridges. Text from Bridges' first edition, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Neutral Tones — Thomas Hardy (d. 1928). First published Wessex Poems and Other Verses (1898). Text from the 1898 first collection, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Because I could not stop for Death — Emily Dickinson (d. 1886). First published Poems (1890), edited by Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson, printed there as “The Chariot”. Text from the 1890 first printing, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Dover Beach — Matthew Arnold (d. 1888). First published New Poems (1867). Text from The Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Annabel Lee — Edgar Allan Poe (d. 1849). First published the New-York Daily Tribune, 9 October 1849. Text from The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, vol. 2 (1859), transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Ozymandias — Percy Bysshe Shelley (d. 1822). First published The Examiner, 11 January 1818, signed “Glirastes”. Text from The Examiner's own printing, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Darkness — George Gordon, Lord Byron (d. 1824). First published The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other Poems (1816). Text from The Works of Lord Byron (1901), edited by E. H. Coleridge, transcribed from Wikisource.
• London — William Blake (d. 1827). First published Songs of Experience (1794). Text from the 1826 copy of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• The Sick Rose — William Blake (d. 1827). First published Songs of Experience (1794). Text from the 1826 copy of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text.
• Death be not proud — John Donne (d. 1631). First published Poems (1633). Text from the Holy Sonnets, transcribed from Wikisource.
• Sonnet 73 — William Shakespeare (d. 1616). First published Shake-speares Sonnets (1609). Text from the 1609 quarto, transcribed from Wikisource's scan-backed text, spelling unmodernised.

The typefaces

One family for every room that insisted on one, because no two rooms on this street share a voice — nor does the subroom behind one of them, the campground past the treeline, or the yurt pitched on it. All are self-hosted — reading a page here makes no third-party request, the same rule queering.earth and starstuff.earth follow. Most are under the SIL Open Font License and four are under the Apache License 2.0 — Permanent Marker, Rock Salt, Special Elite and Ultra, each marked below. This page said all of them were OFL until The Foundry read every family’s own record instead of repeating what we had written down, which is what that room is for.

Bungee & Bungee Shade

David Jonathan Ross. The street signage, and the whole reason the front door looks like a front door.

Shrikhand

Jonny Pinhorn. The dancefloor.

Monoton

Vernon Adams. “Living out loud”, in neon — and, in gold leaf, the whole of The Chappell. It was the last display face on the street no room had claimed.

Ultra

Astigmatic, under the Apache License 2.0 rather than the OFL. The Den. A slab with no contrast in it at all, which is what a record sleeve was set in the year those sessions happened — and what keeps a green room off the green room it hangs behind.

Karla

Jonny Pinhorn. The sleeve notes on the back of that record.

Atkinson Hyperlegible

The Braille Institute of America. The Pebble Board, and Norah Hobbs’s choice rather than ours — a face drawn so that letters which usually collide stay apart at low vision. The one typeface on this street picked for legibility before looks, which is why it is also the one that could not be swapped when the other two had to be.

Gloria Hallelujah

Kimberly Geswein. The hand on the board — a felt pen writing a label, which is not the Faery Yurt’s brush and not the zine’s.

Josefin Sans

Santiago Orozco. The board’s filing labels and the brass plate on its frame. Geometric, which nothing else here is.

Yeseva One

Jovanny Lemonad. The Jungle Room. The one face here whose strokes thicken as they turn, which is as close as type gets to something grown rather than drawn.

Cabin

Pablo Impallari, Rodrigo Fuenzalida and Igino Marini. The caption under every leaf in the Jungle Room.

Rock Salt

Sideshow. Every margin scrawl on the street. Apache License 2.0, not OFL.

Archivo Black

Omnibus-Type. The ransom note, and the zine’s shouting.

Special Elite

Astigmatic. The typewriter half of the zine table. Apache License 2.0, not OFL.

Courier Prime

Alan Dague-Greene. The zine’s body copy.

VT323

Peter Hull. Hear Queer Here, in a terminal.

Instrument Serif

Rodrigo Fuenzalida and Jordan Egstad. The quotations in the quantum room, and the missal face in The Chappell.

Titan One

Rodrigo Fuenzalida. The Playhouse.

Alfa Slab One

José Miguel Solórzano. The routed sign at the gate of the campgrounds, and every marker post in the field.

Bitter

Sol Matas. The laminated notice on the campground board, and the body face out there. It ships as a variable font, so its bold was byte-identical to its regular — the field sets emphasis in Alfa Slab One rather than serve the same file twice under two names.

Cormorant Garamond

Christian Thalmann. The headlines and book spines in the Faery Yurt. Helen’s choice, named in the mockup she sent.

Crimson Pro

Jacques Le Bailly, after Sebastian Kosch. The yurt’s body copy. Also Helen’s.

Caveat

Pablo Impallari. The two handwritten lines in the yurt — the photograph’s caption and the hint under the window. Also Helen’s.

Press Start 2P

CodeMan38. The whole of the Arcade and nothing else on the street. A pixel face is the one thing no other room could have borrowed without turning into the arcade, which is what the eighteenth family is for.

Bree Serif

TypeTogether — Veronika Burian and José Scaglione. The planed beam in The Latibulum. A soft slab with round terminals, which is what keeps a warm brown burrow from reading like the warm brown tent in the campgrounds: that room sets high-contrast italic serifs, and a smial is carpentry rather than calligraphy.

Nunito

Vernon Adams, extended by Cyreal and Jacques Le Bailly. The burrow’s body copy, and the only rounded sans on the street. It ships as a variable font, so Google serves the same file for regular and for bold — it is downloaded once here and declared twice against the weight axis, which is the call the campground made the other way when Bitter did the same thing.

Overpass

Delve Withrington, Dave Bailey and Thomas Jockin, for Red Hat. The nameplate, the road legends and the dates on Danny the Street, and nothing else. It is drawn from the lettering on American highway signs — a face whose whole reason for existing is being painted onto or bolted above a road, read at speed, from a long way off, by somebody who is doing something else at the time. That room sets no text face of its own and uses the street’s ordinary sans for its prose, which makes it the exact inverse of the Garden: two text faces and no display face at all, because a garden has labels and no signage.

IM Fell English

Igino Marini, after the types John Fell gave the Oxford University Press in the 1670s. The Mopery, and the face The Raven opens in. The one face on this street that looks impressed rather than drawn — ink spread and battered counters left in on purpose — which is what keeps a candlelit serif room off the Faery Yurt, whose Cormorant is high-contrast and cut yesterday.

Spectral

Production Type — Jean-Baptiste Levée and Ilya Naumoff. The Mopery’s reading face. Low contrast and drawn for screens, which is the opposite of the yurt’s: the two warm serif rooms are kept apart at the stroke rather than at the palette.

Cinzel

Natanael Gama. The Oracle Deck. Inscriptional Roman capitals — letters cut into stone rather than pressed into paper — and nothing else here is cut. It ships as a variable font, so one file serves both weights.

Cardo

David Perry. The commentary on the back of every card in that deck. A classicist’s type, drawn for people setting Greek and Old English beside Latin, which is the right face for something that expects footnotes.

UnifrakturMaguntia

j. ‘mach’ wust and Peter Wiegel, after Peter Schöffer. The Doomscroll’s masthead and nothing else — never a headline, never a line of a poem. Eighteen lines of blackletter is an access failure wearing atmosphere, and the gothic cliché is spent here rather than in the library two doors up, which is what keeps the dark academia room off the obvious peg.

Vollkorn

Friedrich Althausen. Every poem on the scroll. Drawn for small text on cheap paper, which is what a broadside is. Variable, so one file carries both weights.

Permanent Marker

Font Diner. The pen somebody actually had on them, in Club Chronic. Apache License 2.0, not OFL — it had no entry of its own here until The Foundry went through the whole shelf.

Stardos Stencil

Vernon Adams. The Foundry’s nameplate and its headings, and nothing else. A stencil letter is a hole rather than a mark — a shape cut out of metal so it can be used again and come out the same — which is the idea of type arriving four centuries early and in the wrong material, and it is what gets painted on a workshop’s crates. Anton is the street’s other condensed display face and is Club Chronic’s: solid, on a black wall, pasted up under a marker.

Work Sans

Wei Huang. The Foundry’s prose, and a workhorse on purpose: a room whose content is other people’s typefaces cannot have a voice that argues with what is in the window. The Garden made the same call by setting no display face at all; this one keeps a display face and makes the text face get out of the way.

Space Grotesk

Florian Karsten. The body face wherever a room does not insist on its own.

The quotations

Karen Barad

“Indeed, causality is an altogether queer matter.” — Nature’s Queer Performativity, Kvinder, Køn & Forskning nr. 1–2 (2012), 25–53.

Helen Edgar

“We are not broken objects. We are relations, all of us still becoming.” — We Are Made of Relations, More Realms. Helen is a colleague, not a corpus: her writing is credited to her and never folded into our “we”.

Stimpunks Foundation

“Queer and neurodivergent liberation are entwined.” — Queer and Neurodivergent Liberation are Entwined. Ours, and the one line on the street that is.

Ex Hex

One line of Rainbow Shiner, written by Laura Harris, Betsy Wright and Mary Timony, from It’s Real (22 March 2019), quoted on issue #2 of the zine where the course it closes is distilled. Buy it from the band — the song is theirs and nothing musical is hosted here.

Embodied Education

“Supporting nervous system regulation means tending to and responding to the body’s needs first and foremost…” — Embodied Education: Creating Safe Space for Learning, Facilitating and Sharing, quoted on our own Bodymind Break and quoted again from there in The Latibulum. The shelf of things to do with a bodymind on that page is lifted from the same source, and is ours.

Lewis and Short

“A hiding-place, lurking-hole, covert, den, of animals.” — the entry for latibulum in A Latin Dictionary (Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short, Clarendon Press, 1879), which is also where the burrow gets its second sense and Cicero’s latibulum et perfugium doloris mei. An 1879 dictionary is public domain; it is credited because a room built on one word should say which book it read.

Chairy’s lines

Twenty-eight sayings, each recorded in data/chairy.json with the page it came from. Five are paraphrased from our own Behold the Spectrum, which in turn quotes Carol Black’s A Thousand Rivers. The rest come from our philosophy, framing and creed pages. Two are not ours and Chairy says so aloud: “Nothing About Us Without Us” is a motto of the self-advocacy movement, credited on our own page to Michael Masutha and William Rowland of Disabled People South Africa, 1993; and “Design for Real Life” is a book by Eric A. Meyer and Sara Wachter-Boettcher. A talking chair that passed off a movement slogan as a house line would be the exact failure this site argues against.

The voices

Ryan Boren

The five passages on monotropism in Hear Queer Here, and the first yell in the Playhouse. Ours, recorded by us.

Enigma

The second yell in the Playhouse, lent to us on 2026-09-20 — the first on that button from somebody other than the person who built the room, and published under the name it came with. It carries no onward licence, unlike the rest of this site: CC BY-SA cannot be revoked, and a voice somebody lends us has to be one they can take back. One message takes it down, and taking it down means deleting the file and the record rather than hiding a flag. The room says whose yell it was out loud on the press as well as saying it here.

“Oh, so cozy.” — Ryan Boren

2 seconds behind “a small mountain of blankets” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

“Squish.” — Ryan Boren

2 seconds behind “a whole squad of squishmallows” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

“Twinkle, twinkle.” — Ryan Boren

3 seconds behind “fairy lights, obviously” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

“Mmmm.” — Ryan Boren

2 seconds behind “the smell of vanilla cupcakes” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

“Ahhhh.” — Ryan Boren

4 seconds behind “a standing supply of coffee and tea” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

“Nom nom nom.” — Ryan Boren

2 seconds behind “cheese and pesto, always, for emergencies” in Helen’s regulation nook — an easter egg she and Ryan wanted in her room. Ours, recorded by us, so it keeps the site’s licence; a voice lent to us by anybody else would not. It is credited here as well as hidden there, because a joke is not a reason to stop saying whose voice it is.

Helen Edgar

Reading the five passages on developmental pace, when they are recorded. The words are ours and the voice is hers, which are two different facts — and her recording will carry no onward licence, because somebody who lends us their voice has to be able to take it back.

The borrowed names

The rooms named after things other people made. None of these people or estates are affiliated with Stimpunks, and none of them endorse us. The rooms are homage, not licence — we took the shape of the idea and wrote our own words in it.

Danny the Street

A character from DC Comics’ Doom Patrol, created by Grant Morrison and Richard Case, first published in August 1990. A sentient street who turns up wherever somebody needs shelter and rearranges what is on them to suit whoever has arrived. The whole architecture of this site is stolen from Danny, and we would like that on the record — which is why the credit is no longer only in a scrolling marquee that a screen reader never reaches. There is a page about it now: where the name came from, what Danny has been since, the television version, and why the Danny in our marquee uses they/them. Nothing of DC’s is reproduced there; every drawing on it is of a road.

Pee-Wee’s Playhouse

Created by Paul Reubens. Where the idea of a room in which every object is alive and clickable comes from, and the Playhouse’s secret word too: whenever anybody said it, everybody screamed, and in our room when a toy says it the room screams. The secret word did not start there: Groucho Marx had one on You Bet Your Life, where a duck came down instead, and crediting only the most recent hand is how an idea’s history gets shorter every time it is retold.

Pink Pony Club, and Chappell Roan

A song by Chappell Roan, and now also a subroom of thirteen videos from the same catalogue. Both take the shape of the work and none of the words — not because a lyric is untouchable, but because this room never needed one to make its point. Where we do quote a song we follow how we quote: a line or two, never the chorus on its own, and the songwriter named separately from the performer.

The smial, and J.R.R. Tolkien

The Latibulum is drawn as a hobbit-hole — round door, brass knob in the middle of it, thick walls, lamplight, a hill on top — and that shape is Tolkien’s. Smial is his word for it too, which is why it is in this list rather than in a comment. The Tolkien Estate is not affiliated with Stimpunks and does not endorse us. What the room takes is the silhouette and the argument that a hole in the ground is a good place to live; no name, character, place or line of his is used, and the room is named in Latin for that reason.

Latibulum — Walkabout Saga

The word came to Ryan from A New (Very Old) Word and What It Means for Today, which is where anybody who wants the essay rather than the dictionary should go. The room checks the sense against Lewis and Short rather than restating the post, so that the two can be read against each other.

Enid Sinclair

A character in Netflix’s Wednesday. Colorful goth, and the patron saint of not matching the house.

Riot grrrl

A movement rather than an author. The zine table takes its form — xerox, ransom note, staples, free — and none of its text.

Quantum queering

Barad’s argument, carried into physics education by Alexis Buzzell and Ramón Barthelemy, and read from Autistic experience by Helen Edgar.

Esmx the Porkypine — Kaya Oldaker

Not borrowed, and in this list anyway. Esmx is the Stimpunks Foundation’s mascot, commissioned from Kaya Oldaker and ours to use; the artist is credited here, in the Arcade and on the drawing itself, because holding the rights to a commission is not a reason to stop naming the hand that drew it. “Esmx” is CC BY-SA 4.0 with an invitation attached — feel free to customise! Make variants of Esmx to represent your community — and the Esmx in the cabinet is us taking our own invitation rather than pasting in the original. Bring Your Muchness, the fanfare that plays when somebody turns the dial up to MAX GLITTER, is the other way round: it is Kaya’s own Rainbow Leaping, Esmx running and punching the air with one fist, exactly as she drew it, cropped to the drawing and scaled, with her name and her alt text on the picture; the Bring Your Muchness profile effect on the CB is the same picture. Kaya also asks that anybody sharing Esmx include alt text. Esmx’s own page has the originals, every official variant and the blank template.

Carlsbad Caverns

A national park in New Mexico, looked after by the National Park Service, and the pun in Arlesglad Caverns’ name. We took the pun and two of the Park Service’s published measurements, credited on the page and above; the lift down is ours, although Carlsbad has one too. The park and the Park Service are not affiliated with Stimpunks and do not endorse us.

Sonic, and Pokémon

Named on Esmx’s own page as the inspiration behind the design, due to their popularity within the Autistic community. No character, sprite, sound or mechanic of either is used here; what the Arcade takes from them is the fact that the mascot already came from that shelf, which is the reason there is an arcade at all.

Penguin pebbling — Amythest Schaber

Not borrowed and not ours either. Penguin pebbling is one of the Five Neurodivergent Love Locutions, coined by Amythest Schaber (Neurowonderful) and documented by Stimpunks in 2022. The line most people meet it through is @brainsandspoons’: “I thought about you today. I remembered this thing about you. Here’s something I want to share with you specifically.” Helen Edgar wrote it up at Autistic Realms in 2023 — a pebble, a twig, a flower, a photograph from a walk, and explicitly not spending money. The cabinet is built on the locution and on nothing else.

Penguin Pebbling, the card game — Helen Edgar & Ryan Boren

There is already a Penguin Pebbling game and the cabinet here is not it. Penguin Pebbling: A Game of Creating Belonging, Building Connection and Understanding Autistic Identity is thirty cards across all five locutions, by Helen Edgar (Autistic Realms) and Ryan Boren (Stimpunks), 2026, with Helen’s artwork. Go and play that one — it is the better thing and you can print it. The cabinet takes nothing from it: no cards, no prompts, no artwork, no five-locution structure. The reason is a licence rather than modesty. The deck is CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 and this site is CC BY-SA 4.0; an adaptation would carry the non-commercial clause onto a page that cannot hold it, and share-alike means that is not a thing we could quietly absorb. Relicensing is not ours alone to do either — half the authorship and all the artwork are Helen’s.

What the penguins are actually doing

Adélie and gentoo penguins build nests out of stones, carry them about, and steal them from each other. The tidy romance is the popular retelling — one penguin choosing the perfect pebble and presenting it to its beloved — rather than the finding, and the cabinet says so on its own face. The locution is named after the image and is not weakened by that: a metaphor does not have to be a finding.

Otterly Adorbs, and the otters — Helen Edgar

Not borrowed either, and here for the same reason. The Stimpunks Solidarity Session leaves an otter cam running every Saturday while the conversation drifts in and out, and Helen Edgar wrote down what that was doing for her in Stimpunks Solidarity and Otters (Autistic Realms, 2026) — the otters as parallel play, a cave and a watering hole in one animal. Otterly Adorbs is built on her reading, and it is hers: credited to her by name and not folded into our “we”. Helen is at Autistic Realms.

What the otters are actually doing

The mechanics come from The Stone You Keep (Star Stuff No. 58), which took Helen’s reading to the primary literature and sources every finding. The three the cabinet states on its own face: Tinker, Bentall & Estes, PNAS 105(2) 560–565 (2008), on individual dietary specialisation — there is no standard otter; Hall & Schaller, Journal of Mammalogy 45(2) 287–298 (1964), Point Lobos, thirty instances over six days, a mussel taking a mean 35.5 blows with a range of 6 to 88; and Law et al., Science (2024), 196 tagged otters, tool use varying enormously between individuals and the users showing less tooth damage. One thing the zine corrects and this cabinet follows: the lifelong favourite rock kept in a pouch under the arm is a popular retelling, not a finding. The primary supports a stone kept and reused across successive food items within a bout of feeding, and that is all the game does with it.

Quill Drift’s one rule

That a porcupine cannot shoot, throw or fire a quill is the correction on card No. 3 of the Quillery, which sources it to Uldis Roze, Porcupines: The Animal Answer Guide (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2012). It is the cabinet’s whole mechanic and not a note at the bottom of it.

Swaying Sweetgrass

Pitch 02 in the campgrounds, and the room on this street with the most borrowed material in it, which is why its credits are several tables rather than one. Nothing about sweetgrass on that page is ours. The teachings belong to the nations and organisations that published them, the book belongs to Robin Wall Kimmerer and Milkweed Editions, and the twenty-one-strand teaching belongs to an Elder we cannot name because the video does not name him. None of them is affiliated with Stimpunks and none of them endorses us.

Every id was resolved against YouTube rather than typed off the links that arrived — status, embeddability, length, title and channel, off one fetch of each watch page.

In the fire pit — the fire itself

Ryan’s brief, 2026-09-28: the pit had talks round it and no fire in it. A whole playlist of campfires filmed in the forest, on the channel that filmed them, put on and left burning. It is the one press in that clearing with no runtime, because a list its channel keeps adding to has no length; make-sweetgrass.py requires a runtime on every recording and refuses one on this. Its titles sell the fires for sleep and focus, and the room copies none of that.

At the fire — Kimmerer in her own voice

Authorised recordings: her publisher, her university hosts, her conference keynotes, her interviews. Every one is a screen, nothing is hosted here, and every label says how long it runs before you press it.