Escaping the unbearable brightness of yet another weekday morning, you ascend the spiral staircase that winds around the elven form of the Treehouse, and after an extended climb, arrive at the Primrose Door. The illumination inside the Tree is gentle as syrup, cascading over a domain of marble, gold, and glass. In this space, the Sages of Rock Paper Shotgun spend decades pondering the enigmas of existence, including the question of whether “Nvidia” ought to be capitalized. But what’s this? The vaulted velvet sanctuary sits vacant.