When everything goes to hell, it doesn't matter who you know. It's what you know. What you remember.

What really matters is where you came from.

The Proga family came from old money, and they squandered it away. They hold the same grand party every year, but every time it gets a little less extravagant, a little less special. Rumour was, they'd spent it all on secret collaborations with the government. Not that they have anything to show for it, now.

This year, the only reason they're holding the party at all is the weight of tradition. You probably won your ticket from a radio station. It doesn't matter. Are you here for the party, though, or something more important?

Are you ready to learn where you're headed?