Deep in the center of an irradiated wasteland a rift in reality has formed and a whole block from some unknown city has spewed forth. This alien city is inhabited by corpulent creatures larger than man with flabby pale skin and unpleasant jowly faces. They call themselves functionaries of Malebolge. Their days are filled with making plans for projects of cyclopean scale, filing forms of mind wrenching complexity and accumulating an archive of otherworldy facts.
One venturing deeper into the block soon finds himself lost in a city without end. Oppressively huge office blocks are arranged in complex geometrical patterns and a hot wind blows rags of partly filled forms everywhere. Hordes of desolate petitioners line the streets, some of whom have queued for an aeon or more.
A truly monstrous office complex rises in the center of the city. It's reflection can be seen in every window, it's looming shadow cast on every wall. This is the High Tower of Bureaucracy. One who manages to find his way to it's halls may endeavor to fight his way through near impenetrable procedures and find the highest office where resides the Archivist. Perhaps he will let you fill the Ultimate Form.
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