The only advice given to all new arrivals, written for all to see in a way that cannot be ignored:

All prisoners arrive the same.
None will have memory nor goods to claim.
All arrive equal and proceed on foot.
Your lives are your own to grow or loot.
Should you want your memory or just an end.
Proceed up the stairs which will bring your cleanse.
Be warned however that the stairs are no reprieve.
Should you take them it will not be to leave.
Your sentence is final.
You are here to die, how that happens is your last remaining denial.

It’s an amalgamation of landscapes all smacked together hodge podge, floating within its very own pocket dimension. There is no escape, because there is no way out. The door only drops people in. To get out, you must take the stairs and die, or just die. It is the cosmic penal colony for every one of the worst beings in the universe to spend the rest of their life sentences, yes, plural. If you did not get executed, you got sent here, which means someone out there really wants you to suffer.

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