To the south of the island lie the rolling hills of the woodlands. Lush and green and covered in a thick forest, the woodlands beckoned to adventurers and nature enthusiasts alike with their natural splendor. Providing one of, if not the best, views of the island from its peak, it garnered quite a reputation amongst those looking to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. In fact, a couple worse for wear makeshift campsites dot the large area, seemingly abandoned in someone’s haste.

Hidden away in the hills and situated far from the city, the nuclear plant was the only area on the island off limits to residents and thus very little is known about its inner workings or its purpose. Luckily for the competitors this season, the doors to the factory have been opened and await all those courageous enough to venture inside. Just think of the super powers rolling in the waste could bring on.

Nuclear plant employees lived in a nearby residential district, separate from the larger town to the north. It looks complete in that it includes numerous living complexes and some stores, but it also appears decrepit. Many windows have broken, concrete has chipped or stained, and debris is scattered on the streets.

The Airstrip was, at one point in time, the hub of activity. It bustled with life, ferrying people to and from the island around the clock. It is now a shell of its former self; remnants of its past life lie scattered and broken across the grounds. Specifically, a handful of small planes that have deteriorated in the years since the island was inhabited remain on the premises. Perhaps the only remaining glory it has comes from the tower, which stills stands strong and tall with minimal corrosion and provides quite the view.

A tourist hotspot, the western beach has seen its fair share of action—and not without reason, either. Between the romance of the lagoon and the dangerous allure of the roped-off caves dotting the area, it’s understandable why so many would flock to the location, although rumors of people disappearing in the caves managed to dissuade just as many from it.

Dotted with large apartment complexes, small stores, and run-down parks, the southern part of town was never much to look at and has only gotten worse since being abandoned. Though the area was once notorious for its crime rate, the streets are now desolate and cracked, the worn, yellow flyers reading ‘EVACUATION; 10 APRIL’ the only reminder that life once walked them.

In its prime, the northern part of town housed exclusive gated communities and beautiful estates with manicured lawns, including the mayor’s mansion. Now overgrown and abandoned, surrounded by rusted fences and broken fountains, the area is barely recognizable as a neighborhood sought after by the elites.

Very little remains of what used to be Central Park, the empty overgrown knolls and cracked pavement a stark contrast to the life that once teemed in the area. Much of the park has fallen victim to decay, the striking center fountain cracked and never without a coating of stagnant sludge at its bottom. Similarly, the gazebo, once a favorite for weddings, lies overrun by flora and tall trees, with its once elaborate trail pockmarked by weeds. Most would never believe the derelict area used to house extravagant ceremonies and festivals.

Nestled in the hills are the twin school buildings, two multilevel structures connected in an ‘L’ shape, one an elementary wing and the other a high school. It appears as though the schools have held up better than other locations on the island, possibly because they're further from the coast, although the interior still shows the early signs of decay. There are personal belongings still in several desks, lockers, and cubbies. These range from children’s toys and lunchboxes to jackets and the like, although there are no textbooks or maps anywhere to be found. Outside, several yellow school buses lie broken and dismantled in the parking lot.

The shopping center remains petrified in a time before the evacuation, the shops and kiosks still fully stocked, with the exception of appliances, electronics, and weapon-like objects. The other stores carry ruefully outdated products, the clothing especially dreadful for any fashion conscious students. At least hunger won’t be a problem for those desperate enough to hazard a go at the unlabeled tins of food.

An artifact of the island’s tourist industry, the hotel was once alive with excited eyes ready to tour the splendors of the island city. Now, the only eyes it’s going to see are the fearful ones of the students tasked to take one another’s lives. While most of the Hotel’s majesty has crumbled since the evacuation, it’s still an extravagant piece of architecture, boasting several floors of rooms, a grand entrance hall, and both an indoor and an outdoor pool—though only the latter is filled, and even then it’s just a stagnant green mess. Adding to the hotel's appeal, it is situated a stone’s throw away from the beach.

The hospital was the hub for all those feeling under the weather. The structure is a plain, square, white building that has grayed with time but served the island well. The hospital has three floors. The first level holds reception, emergency admittance, and offices; the second level is stocked with patient beds and an intensive care unit; and the third level is split between a children’s wing and a maternity ward. Throughout the building there are abandoned patient files, unmade beds, pilfered snack machines, and used bedpans. Children's and baby’s toys litter the third floor, and observers can take in the crayon artwork done by ill children that has been pinned to the walls.

The shipping yard is a maze of colorful containers that has remained largely unchanged since the island was abandoned, aside from accumulating more rust. When the island was populated, it served as a hangout spot for groups of the local teens, especially when they didn’t want to be caught partaking in less socially acceptable activities. Once more, it’ll see its share of teens, though this time they’ll most likely be looking for shelter from the bloodshed rather than the law.

The eastern inlet looks more like a junkyard nowadays than the quaint harbor it once was, with a beach made up of discarded bottles and miscellanea hidden in the tall grass—a godsend for the competitor with a decent amount of ingenuity. The shops have fared just as well, becoming less tourist trap and more death trap, the majority having just crumbled into the ocean following years of corrosion. What few remain house nothing of value, unless one plans on taking some souvenirs home.

Once a favorite of the island residents, the Aviary has long since fallen into disrepair. One can assume, based on the avian remains strewn about (some still encaged) and the general disarray, that it hasn’t been cared for in quite some time. The only sign of life comes in the form of a headless statue of a knight poised for battle in the middle of the stone courtyard, unceremoniously covered in the excrement of former occupants, much like the rest of the building.

Time has left the golf course unrecognizable. Once a place for high society to idle time away, it’s since become no different from any other meadow, aside from the odd overturned, broken down golf cart and the holes strewn about. The once perfectly-maintained field has grown over and the water hazard, without proper care, lies stagnant. On the bright side, the clubhouse no longer requires a membership.

The amusement park hosted the best festivals on the island back when it functioned, full of carnival games and food stands with hundreds of the natives turning up to partake in the merriment. Now hosting its farewell event, it leaves little joy to be had. Although the rides are now in disrepair and have become nothing more than scrap metal, they serve as a reminder that people once celebrated on the amusement park’s hallowed ground.

The Homestead remains much the same post-evacuation as it was pre-evacuation: weather-worn and spooky. An expansive farm with overgrown grass and wheat fields surrounds the area, peppered with rusted equipment. Now struck with wood-rot, the structures offer little coverage from the elements, but provide an eerie look into the past of the previous owner; the bed is still neatly made and the kettle still sits ready on the wood burning stove. The start of a small wood carving lies on the nearby table.

Built as a response to the island’s newfound tourism industry, the Northern Coast offered adrenaline rushes for the adventurous spirit. With a zipline attraction and bike trails of varying difficulties, it proved to be especially lucrative. Now that the island has been abandoned and nature has moved in to take it back, it can prove difficult to actually find the attractions among the thick foliage. Even if one manages, it probably wouldn’t be wise to test them out, given their general state of disrepair, though the zipline does remain standing.

The lighthouse became little more than a decoration following the construction of the airstrip, beckoning for ships that never came. Turned into a museum of sorts sometime after the tourism boom, it became a popular stop for those eager to learn about its history on the island, containing preserved living quarters roped off from the public. Rumor has it that the Captain’s Cliffs outside served as a hot spot for those unhappy with the island life, but that’s just a rumor. The real killer is the nasty undertow in the waters below.