Entering Steamtown is akin to stepping into a living, breathing relic of the past, wrapped in a monstrous, Victorian-era shell, relentlessly pursuing dreams of the future. Octuple sided gears clicking away – steam pushing through the valves of contraptions – complex machinery, with pipes and tubes like spiders – rigid and with a steely shine – or like a heart with its own ticking and clicking beat, an incessant symphony, a sound born of the relentless endeavor of steampunk and dieselpunk rabbits, tireless in their quest to wring vitality from the echoes of days long past.
Clad in attire that simultaneously screams of the Industrial Revolution and a post-apocalyptic world, these bunnies scurry about, ever moving, ever constructing, ever inventing. Their garments, a mishmash of gears, goggles, leather, and brass, serve as an emblem of their indomitable spirit, and a testament to their dedication to invention. Their peculiarity is reflected in every facet of this place, from the erratic orchestra of clanks and hisses to the unpredictable dance of their activities.