The legend of the Zanetti family.

It's worth pausing here for a moment, because people who only know the short version of this story tend to imagine Giovanni as some common swindler who bought an old building for pennies and got lucky. That's not true, or at least not the whole truth. What was invisible to the rest of the world was obvious to him: the cells, the corridors, the entire system of bolts and locks designed to keep people inside. All he had to do was flip it inside out.

The story goes that, on his first night in the new building, Giovanni walked through all the cells with a flashlight in one hand and a notebook in the other. No one accompanied him. He jotted down new ideas at each cell. They all boiled down to one word: "challenge." Years later, the notebook ended up in his sister's possession. From then on, no one but her had access to it.

In the morning, he called his daughter. "Look over there, Rose. It's all ours." "Of course, Dad," she replied, not quite sure what she was getting herself into, because nine-year-olds rarely know what they're getting into when their father shows them an empire built from someone else's bars. "Has anyone else gotten permission for something like this before?" asked someone from his team, a man whose name no one remembers anymore. Giovanni smiled the same smile that would eventually become the family's trademark. "No one has ever been crazy enough to put forward such a proposal before," he replied. "But someone has to be the first."

As it turned out, he was right this time, too. What began as a private experiment by one man with a suitcase of plans, within a few years transformed into a family enterprise that transcended the borders of one city, then one country, until it became a network of locations where former cells became arenas, and guards became guides through a pastime that combined competition, cooperation, and time pressure.

Her father had sensed it before he could even name it, but she was the one who saw it clearly: people from outside, the same people who, in other cities, would have passed the old prison without a glance, began to approach. Peeking through the gate. Asking when they could enter.

"Funny, isn't it?" she says today, leading another group of newcomers along a corridor that was once used to lead prisoners for a completely different purpose. "Now people from outside want to come here themselves."

Because that's exactly what happened. People came looking for something more than just weekend entertainment: lovers of puzzles, competition, and time-pressured actions. Bored with everything they'd already seen twice. Thrill-seekers for whom ordinary entertainment was no longer enough before it even began. All of these, mixed with the legends of former prisoners, formed what Rose simply calls her twisted playground.

She's the one who greets every new guest today, and she does it differently than anyone else would. Not as an intruder. Not as a customer. Like a team member who has volunteered for a trial run and will soon discover what they're truly capable of.

Enzo Zanetti, Rose's younger cousin and the quiet genius of the family, spends most of his time out of sight, though his fingerprints are in every cell. While Giovanni was developing Prison Island and Rose was learning its principles, Enzo set up a workshop in the former prison laundry. Since then, he's been designing challenges there.

No one has seen his sketchbooks in their entirety, and those who have seen even a single page claim that Enzo deliberately postpones some of his puzzles because, as he himself supposedly says, some ideas require further refinement before they reach the players. He was the one who decided that each cell needed its own unique character: some tested reflexes, others logic, and still others demanded the sheer courage to press the button, even though no one knew what was behind it until they did.

Enzo rarely shows himself to visitors. But when someone solves one of his puzzles with exceptional skill, he returns to the workshop that same evening and begins designing another challenge. The staff has become accustomed to this sight and stops asking questions. All that's known is that a new sketch arrives on the board in the morning.

Giovanni's older sister, whom the staff simply calls "the Warden"—with respect and a touch of what some call fear and others simply common sense—keeps in her office what the family calls the Code.

The code began with the same notebook Giovanni wrote on his first night in the new building, the very one rumored to have disappeared from his study and ended up in his sister's. Vittoria claims the notebook was always intended for her. Giovanni maintains she simply took it without asking. She calls it safeguarding the family legacy. What is certain is that Vittoria has been guiding it ever since, page by page, until the small notebook has become a thick, leather-bound volume filled with rules, histories, and exceptions to the rules.

Vittoria decides which stories make it into the official history of the place, and which remain just whispers among the guards after their shift. She was reportedly the first to propose the badge and points system, saying, "Goals alone aren't enough. Players need points, competition, and a purpose to keep coming back to." It's hard to disagree with her.

No one has seen the Code in its entirety, and no one is entirely sure how much of Vittoria's stories is family history and how much is a legend built over the years. When asked directly about it, she simply smiles, the same smile that all the Zanettis seem to have inherited from the same ancestor, and replies that the best rules are those that make you ask questions.

This is perhaps the most important thing to know about Alexander Grim. He did his time, got out, and for a long time had no reason to return. Like everyone else, he avoided the building.

He only returned when he heard that someone had bought the ruin and was preparing something there that no one had ever seen before. Giovanni found him one afternoon outside the gate, right where he had stopped a few years earlier. He didn't ask him what he was doing there. He simply asked, "Are you going back or staying for a while?"

Grim hesitated. He said he had nowhere to go, so he might as well stay. Giovanni made him an offer no one had ever made him before: work with us, and you'll get something you've never had before. Responsibility for the place that once held him inside against his will.

Today, Grim is responsible for the guards' workflow and training in each new Prison Island location. He trains the team, sets the green and red lights, and it's his low, calm voice that announces the end of time when the clock reaches zero. Having served time within these same walls himself, he knows better than anyone that not every opportunity comes again, so it's worth seizing it to the fullest. He supposedly tells every new player this before they step foot in their first cell: he spent years behind bars. Players have only two hours to demonstrate how they perform under pressure.