Coming down the stairs, you are assaulted by loud music and disco lighting. Suddenly, the music changes to something that sounds very familiar to you. Before you can name it, however, a very irritated voice booms through the air.
"Amadeaus!" he bellows, "I have told you, NO MORE MACARENA! Now, play something by The Cure."
The source of the voice is a balding man in a spattered lab jacket. As you come closer, you hear him muttering something about "overpaid, dead musicians". He returns his attention to his lab table, holds up a flask of purple liquid, swirls it, and hands it a scrawny fellow behind him. The thin man downs the contents in one gulp. Suddenly, he turns into a young John Travolta, complete with white disco suit. He spins once, boogies into the mass of dancing bodies, and starts dancing on top of what appears to be a closed coffin. On closer inspection, the some of the dancers appear to be in varying states of decay. Others seem to come from the annuals of historical party animals.
You realize that the man in the lab coat is mixing up another potion. When it becomes the color of anti-freeze, he holds it up to a light and comtemplates it. Then he shakes his head.
"Nawh," he says, "one Elvis impersonator, is enough. What this party needs is a Tarzan and Jane."
He divides the potion between two flasks and starts adding more components. Finally, he has two rather vile looking potions. Then he turns to you.
"So what do you want to be?" he asks. "Tarzan or Jane?"
What will it be? Tarzan or Jane?
Stepping further into the room, you notice an eerie blue glow under the stairs and a large door in the opposite wall.