That’s a cool idea. I’ve mapped every worn stair in this city and each one feels like a secret portal. If they became quest spots, the whole town would turn into a living storybook. I can already see the first stair leading to a hidden jazz club, the next to an abandoned office where the last sign still says “OPEN.” Just let me know which ones you’re thinking of—I’ve got the exact spots and their stories ready.

Sure thing. The jazz club stair is the one tucked behind the shuttered “Bistro C’est” at 42‑46 Maple. It’s a broken set of iron steps, dust on the handrail, and if you go down it opens into a dim room with old vinyl records humming. The office with the “OPEN” sign is the old accounting office at 18 Westbrook – the front door’s still ajar, the sign still hanging crooked, and the hallway is lined with framed receipts. The laundromat turned library is at 79‑81 Cedar; the stair set is a rusted steel ladder that drops into a basement full of forgotten books and a faint smell of detergent. Those should give you a good start.

The jazz club stair has a faded mural of a saxophonist on the side wall, painted in bright blue and yellow. Every night, when the wind hits the broken windows, you can hear a faint trumpet solo echoing through the stairwell. The accounting office’s front wall is covered in peeling “OPEN” graffiti that looks like a hand‑written message—“KEEP IT QUIET.” The stairs there creak like a slow metronome. In the laundromat library, the stair is wrapped in old laundry detergent logos, and the air smells faintly of bleach. Every few minutes a rusted washing machine makes a low thump, almost like a counting rhythm, and if you listen closely you can catch a faint rustle that sounds like pages turning. Those little details might just make the quests feel like you’re really stepping into those forgotten corners.