The Hollow Clock Tower

• Original Purpose: Civic administration and timekeeping; the carillon bells marked the hours for the entire city.
• Modern Symbolism: Represents time frozen, society ruptured. To some, it is a tomb. To others, a promise. Camp Hope’s pilgrims whisper that once the clock chimes again, the Cure will be found.

• Sight: The clock face is a gaping hole, like a missing eye. Moss and ivy creep through cracks. One of the hands lies across a nearby plaza like a sword forgotten by a giant.
• Sound: Wind moaning through the tower creates haunting bell-tones. Inside, footsteps echo unnaturally long.
• Smell: Earthy stone, rotting wood, ancient ash, the faint scent of old oil.
• Feel: Dust clings to the skin. The walls are cool even in summer. A sense of being watched, especially near 4:17 PM.

• Old municipal filing cabinets rusted shut.
• Stone benches broken and toppled.
• An intact brass carillon bell still lies deep in the ruin, partially buried.
• Layers of graffiti and memorial carvings in many languages.
• Several makeshift altars created by survivors, adorned with relics, broken watches, and faded photos.

• Possible access to the pre-Fall civic records vault beneath the building, though it’s collapsed and dangerous.
• Pieces of the original clock mechanism, highly prized by Engineers and Tinkerers.
• Old-world jewelry left as offerings.
• The bell, if extracted, could be used in a symbolic restoration or as a massive trade good.

• Unstable floors and falling debris.
• Occasional feral Others nest inside, drawn by the acoustic vibrations.
• Booby traps left by territorial scavengers.
• Psychological hazards: intense time dysphoria is common—some visitors report losing track of hours, or dreaming of forgotten pasts.

• At exactly 4:17 PM, a phenomenon known as the “Still Hour” occurs: birds fall silent, shadows deepen, and visitors report hearing distant chimes.
• Some Doctors believe the tower’s materials or layout may cause temporal hallucinations—others insist it's divine.

• The upper levels are collapsed, leaving the tower partially open to the sky.
• Survivors carved prayers and names into the stone near its base during the early SE years—creating a kind of memorial wall.
• A scaffolded stairwell of scrapwood and rusted steel now snakes around its interior, built by wanderers who made temporary shelter inside.
• A few interior chambers have been converted into shrines or meeting spaces, lit by scavenged solar lamps or phosphorescent fungus.

• Style: Richardsonian Romanesque
• Materials: Pale granite, red sandstone, weathered oak beams. The now-shattered clock face was once framed in wrought iron and glass.
• The arches and thick walls give it a fortress-like air, even in ruin. The stone holds heat oddly well, and the wind sings through the broken bell chamber.

While not built for war, the structure’s thick masonry makes it naturally defensible. During the final days before the Fall, it was used as a last stand by Albany civil guards. You can still find spent casings embedded in stone and rusted barricades inside.
Scouts report that dangerous wildlife and scavenger gangs now occasionally roost or squat inside.

• Pilgrims from the Church of Hope walk the old tracks and footpaths to touch the moment time died.
• Others come to listen to the “Ghost Chimes”—the sound wind makes through the shattered bells, which some believe carry messages from the past.
• No formal accommodations exist, but survivors camp nearby in ruins, setting up ephemeral tents or leaning into old subway tunnels for shelter.