As the road bends in to a small patch of forest, a worn-down sign reads: 'SAGINAW MENTAL INSTITUTION'. From the voids left by missing letters, you make out the words: 'Reaching wellness'. Now all it says is 'aching'.

A clearing opens up ahead. There, a menacing building stretches almost a mile wide with impunity. You see the murderous cult, Blue Frogs at the doors, armed to all hell. Two floors. Boarded windows. One entrance.

Ruin dominates the interior of the Saginaw Mental Institution.
Water damage and mold claim the peeling walls; bits of splintered ceiling, grime, and smashed glass occupy every surface; decades of abuse mark the scattered furniture.
The place feels like a monstrous, dead giant, an asylum's carcass sprouting a savage temple, and you're standing in its jaws.
From the bright blue swaths of fabric hanging from the high ceilings to the Blue Frog insignia cutting through the decay, the cult has branded everything.
Every so often, a far-off scream interrupts the silence.
From the foyer, dark hallways extend east and west beyond broken gates. You also see a stairwell across the room.
If you listen closely, you can hear a commanding voice from the east.

You become aware that you're in a large auditorium with a dome structure in the middle.
Before it stands a Blue Frog, clad in ornate robes and a gas mask with a crown motif, standing on a dental chair.