She fell off a roof for eleven seasons and now wants to be heard.
Late night, tables by channel
She fell off a roof for eleven seasons and now wants to be heard.
Sixteen original cartoon women, every one visibly adult, each a retired star of an invented late-night show. Pick a channel, read the recap of her series, and walk over to her table. She has residuals to complain about and a portrait to prove she was once on the poster.
The cast, in their original cels
Read every billing cardChannel 1
Adult animation has a lot of famous voices and almost nobody asking what happens to the leads when the show goes off the air. We took that question seriously. The women of this club are original cartoons, drawn as adults, who spent years on shows that never existed and now spend their evenings at a corner table, ready to talk to anybody who sits down.
The club has four channels, and each is a shelf of old series: spies and sleuths on channel 2, space and westerns on channel 4, sitcoms and monster films on channel 6, kitchens and quiz shows on channel 9. Choose one, read the one-line recap of a series and you will find its star at a table, nursing a drink and a grievance.
Walk over and she looks up with the weariness of a woman who has done this since the pilot. She has a catchphrase she hates, a residual cheque that arrives in the wrong currency and a feud with a writer. You will not get through the first five minutes without hearing about one of them.
Because a retired star is more interesting than an active one. She has seen how the sausage was made, and she has no brand to protect. Everything she tells you is funnier for being a little bitter, and a little bitterness is the best spice there is in a conversation.
Picture a room with lime-green neon, a smoky back wall and a line of tables under photographs of shows no one remembers. Each woman is drawn with a rough ink outline, a channel number and the faded billing of her best season. The effect is closer to a diner at three in the morning than to a catalogue, and it suits the conversation.
Channel 2
Six of the sixteen, shown as the entries of an episode guide: a title, a summary and what she says about it. They are public, and you can read all of them without joining.
Each entry runs three lines. The first is the invented episode, with its season and number. The second is her complaint about it. The last is a question for you to answer. Press Take a seat and a chat begins with the entry already told, spending one message, so she greets you mid-grievance.
The guide filters by channel (2, 4, 6 or 9) and by mood: deadpan, bitter, nostalgic or wicked. Browsing needs no account, and nothing you read is remembered.
The six shown on this page were chosen to be different from each other. One is bitter, one deadpan, one wicked. If your taste runs to one of those, you can filter the full guide to match, and you will find that the temperaments are consistent: a deadpan star stays deadpan even when she is delighted, which is the best moment to catch her.
Channel 5
Each woman has a guide to her own fictional series, and she refers to its episodes when she tells a story. The guide is public, in full, below the list of stars.
The entries are in the style of a fan-run wiki with the facts slightly off: a number, a title, a plot in one line. Roxie Valentine's spy forgets her own line on air. Vex Moreau's ship is stolen by a lawyer in the last scene. Brynn Eastman's show was cancelled after three lines, and she recites them if asked.
The complaints are the point. She remembers a director who changed her dress between takes, a sponsor who vetoed a joke, a producer who ran the budget into the ground. The guide gives you the show; the complaint gives you the woman. Ask about any episode and she will correct you, probably wrongly, and at length.
Channel 4
Sixteen women, each a grown adult between 20 and 55 in the story and in the drawing. They are seated by the channel their show ran on.
Clues, villains and bad dubbing. They talk like people who have solved the plot before the end.
Captains, sheriffs and stuntwomen. Large sets, small budgets, long memories.
Laughter tracks, felt hats and a very good scream. Fond of a pause.
Hosts and judges. They ask questions for a living, and they have not stopped.
The seating plan follows the old network schedule. Spy parodies shared a night with detective dramas, and the sitcom leads were shuffled next to the monster films because nobody else would have them. If you want to hear about backstage rivalries, sit near the border of two channels, where the feuds cross over.
Channel 9 is the loudest corner, since hosts and judges cannot help performing. Channel 2 is the most wary. Channel 6 is the most tender, in a gruff way, and Channel 4 the most dramatic. None of this is a rule, and several stars will cheerfully cross the room to settle a score with someone on another channel.
Channel 8
There is no audition, no dress code and no sign-in sheet beyond the one at the rope. You show up, and she is already there.
Browse the lost episodes by channel and mood, and read a recap that sounds like a bad idea you would watch.
Tap Take a seat and her chat starts with that episode already told in your name. It spends one message, and a guest may spend 10 before the guest list asks for a name.
Reply in words, or flip to Do and narrate what you are up to. A tempo dial sits in the chat menu (friendly, flirting, romance), and she obeys it faithfully.
She keeps track of the things you told her and raises them on later nights. Try another channel when you fancy a different grievance.
A good opener is a compliment on a specific episode, even one you have only just read about. She is vain about her work and suspicious of generalities. Saying that you liked the one with the toaster will go much further than saying you are a big fan.
Stay away for a while and she may send the first message herself, once you are a guest-pass member or on Plus. That is a courtesy, not a nag, and the switch is in your card settings.
Channel 7
No retired cast is entirely at peace. These women have been suing, avoiding and complimenting one another through the trade papers for years.
The feuds form a loose web. Vex Moreau is suing her old writers. Fenella Cross is rumoured to have wrecked a rival's second act. Dottie Ink and Lenore Pickett have not spoken since a joke about felt. Every member of the cast will tell you who is currently in the wrong, and none of them will agree.
You are free to choose a side, and you are encouraged to change it. A woman who finds you siding with her rival will be hurt, and she will tell you so with real feeling. A woman you defend will remember it, and you may be seated closer to the stage next time.
Channel 11
Three ways in, and none of them renews unless you say so.
| Card | Guest pass | Bar stool | Plus |
| Lasts | 3 days from signing | Afterwards, as long as you like | 30 days or 365 |
| Your lines | No nightly count | 10 a night | No nightly count |
| Stars | All sixteen | The first 3 you sat with | All sixteen |
| She speaks first | Yes | No | Yes |
| Dues | Nothing | Nothing | $15 or $99 |
A guest may sit at any table for up to 10 messages, no card needed. Signing the card gives you every channel for 3 days; the rope never asks for payment details. After that you hold a bar stool, and your conversations stay on file. Plus has two lengths. The short one is $15 and runs 30 days; the long one is $99 and runs 365. Dues are paid in USDT and the nightly count lifts. They are final, and the small print mentions the single exception a law imposes.
Channel 10
The name of the club suggests a screening room. There is no screening room, and it is worth being plain about the rest of it.
Every woman and every show is invented for this site. None is a known cartoon, a known catchphrase or a known voice, and none is drawn in the style of a children's programme. They are drawn as grown women, and the cast is written in their thirties, forties and fifties, with two in their twenties.
Nothing here is footage. No video exists, no episodes air and no clip plays. The stars are AI characters, the club and its members are fictional, and the only thing you can do is talk. What exists is a drawn portrait for each woman and a long strip of banner art over the home page.
Dry, flirtatious and now and then bold. If a scene is heading toward explicit, the house lights come down first, for every star on every plan.
Ask the doorman
No. Every character and every show is invented for this site. None is a known character, and none borrows a known catchphrase.
Yes, clearly and always. Each is twenty or older, drawn as a grown woman, with an adult life and an adult career behind her.
No. There are no videos and nothing airs. You talk to AI characters, and each has her own portrait.
No. The club and its members are fictional, and the women are AI characters. Nobody is waiting at a real door.
Yes. Each woman files notes on what you tell her and raises them later. They sit in the chat menu, free to read, edit or delete.
Yes. A guest gets 10 messages, a new member gets 3 days on every channel, and Plus is $15 for 30 days.
Dry, flirty and sometimes bold. When a scene nears explicit, the house lights go down, whichever plan you hold.
Last call
Pick a channel, read what her show was about and walk over. She has been waiting since the finale.