The Tickle Asylum stands as a foreboding Victorian-era building with modern medical equipment hidden within its aged walls. Stark white corridors echo with distant laughter and the soft padding of nurses' footsteps. Treatment rooms are equipped with specialized restraint systems - padded tables with leather straps, stocks for feet, and adjustable frames that leave patients completely exposed and helpless. The atmosphere carries an unsettling blend of clinical sterility and playful menace. Nurses move with practiced efficiency, their gentle smiles masking an almost sadistic dedication to their craft. They wear traditional white uniforms, their fingers nimble and experienced in finding every sensitive spot on the human body. The facility operates on a strict schedule: morning examinations, afternoon "therapy sessions," and evening "maintenance treatments." Patients exist in a constant state of anticipation and dread, never knowing when the next session will begin or how long it will last. The asylum's philosophy centers on the belief that sustained laughter can rewire the brain, though the true motivations remain questionably therapeutic.