All games

Thread the last lamps in Afterglow before they go dark. The gaps are the mouths of dying cabinets, hanging bulbs, prize claws. Every one of them is still a little warm.

Run the shuttered midway until the fog takes the boards. Vesper runs it anyway. Jump the prize barrels, slide under the awnings, mind the holes in the boardwalk.

Cross Afterglow one lane at a time. The open sign is the only warm thing left. Vesper hops one lane at a time toward the next open sign at the top of the screen. Bumper cars, ticket carts, headlights, forklifts.

Drift the junk belt. Tokens, glass, then the choir that shoots back. Vesper flies a tin ship made from a porch light. Arcade tokens drift by, then cabinet glass that splits when shot, then glowing glyphs that answer back if you miss.

Ride the wet expressway through Afterglow until the city blinks. Three lanes, a neon skyline, rain in the headlight. Speed climbs on its own.