Jagged chunks of rubble, weathered gray and dusted with grit, cradle a dented tin canister no larger than a fist. Its rusted surface warps under faint dents from forgotten blows, edges crimped tight against the chill of decay. Faint scratches mar the metal, whispering of hasty burials in shadowed ruins.
These sliders set site audio only, so you can mix against Discord and other apps (phone volume still caps everything).