Limbo

Limbo is Dante’s version of a liminal space. A resting place for souls who haven’t sinned, but haven’t been allowed into heaven. And at King’s, you can’t get closer to liminal than Seminar Room 7, where the daylight never enters and the classes never seem to end. 

Lust 

The second circle of Hell is for those overcome by lust. The “carnal malefactors” who let appetites sway their reason. It’s the realm for high school relationships that try to go long-distance, teenagers with no communication skills and new friendships that start out a little too flirty. But this circle of hell is dedicated to never-ending interactions with the person you hookup with on move-in day and never plan to see again, only to realize they are also in your FYP tutorial. It’s an eternity of awkwardness. For the next four years, you will see them everywhere. You bump into them in the quad. They’re a regular at Gin and Jazz. Their team always beats yours at Wardy trivia. And worst of all, they make eye contact with you while reciting the dying soliloquy during the KTS’s fall production of Hamlet. It’s Hell’s version of whack-a-mole — and you were one lustful mole.

Gluttony

The third circle of Hell is for those degraded by their self-indulgence. It’s the bodilyless, floating feeling you get drinking your third red bull while pulling an all-nighter. It’s the midnight trek to Triple A on a Tuesday. But the third circle is specifically dedicated to Prince Hall. Particularly, the fugue state one enters when eating pizza that is neither warm nor cold, with dough that is both raw and burnt. It comes with the feeling of depersonalization that occurs when one encounters a salad made of ice chips, mushy chickpeas and tasteless carrot sticks. The punishment of the gluttonous is a meal chased down by a red juice that will probably soon be proven radioactive and cancerous.

Greed

Do you have big plans for your university education? Did you make the President’s List, lead a society or become a Rhode scholar? Well … your greed has consequences. This circle of Hell is dedicated to those greedy enough to be accomplished. Your punishment is having the worst version of yourself being photographically preserved on Bill Lahey’s Instagram. His camera is everywhere and it preys on the unsuspecting. Is your mouth open mid-bite? You’re makin’ the ‘gram. Are you the only one looking at the camera in a room full of people? Now you’re a star. There is no reward for your accomplishments. Only an endless Instagram carousel of your worst moments immortalized by the president of your university. Not so motivated now, huh?

Wrath

The swampy, stinky waters of the River Styx are where the wrathful viciously fight each other to keep their heads above the slime. In other words, you’re stuck in the Cochran Bay laundry room, fighting for machine space. It’s musty, mouldy, definitely haunted and somebody left your freshly-washed laundry in the middle of the very dirty floor. You have no clean laundry and no respect. This circle of hell is dedicated to the explicit sabotage perpetrated by ruthless hooligans with no regard for laundry room etiquette. Also, there’s no more funds on your laundry card. Good luck getting clean now.

Heresy

The sixth circle of hell is for heretics — the realm of the contrarians, outsiders and non-conformists. This circle of Hell is for the person at King’s who thinks no one else has an inner life. It’s the final destination for tutorial member who hasn’t read the book, but won’t stop talking. This ring of hell is for those snobby enough to talk about Hegel in their free time — and enjoy it. The real punishment: an endless chapel retreat. You planned to go on a canoe trip, but somehow you end up kneeling in the snow chanting in Latin. Do you suddenly believe in God, or do you just have frostbite? 

Violence

This circle of hell comes in three parts. The first ring is for the murderers, war-makers, plunderers and tyrants who are bad neighbours. This is the realm of the bad roommates, the Alex Hall mice and the person in the room directly below who decides they need to practice electric guitar at 1a.m. Your punishment? The powertripping patrol supervisor with a red shirt and dyed hair, who knocks on your shower curtain yelling “PUH-trol!” while you’re naked and unaware. It’s a jump-scare rivalling the best horror movie scenes.

The second ring is for those who commit violence against themselves. This ring is dedicated to those with seasonal depression, the waifish folk who haunt the King’s library until 11p.m. and 

people who discover that cigarettes are sexy, but are never able to scrub off the cloud of smoke that perpetually exists around them. For the people who pull so many all nighters in a row they start to hallucinate, or drink so much at the Dante party they are vomiting for the next 48 hours. Your punishment is a constant bombardment of dental dams and condoms from the KSU every time you walk into the A&A, because someone has to look out for your health.

Finally, the third ring in the seventh circle of hell  is for those who commit violence against God, art and nature. Your punishment is a perpetual confrontation with the angry bartender at the Wardy. It’s unclear why there’s a conflict — but they definitely think it’s your fault. Plus, they can’t remember how to make a cocktail from their own menu, so you’ll have to wait 30 minutes for that too. 

Fraud

The eighth circle of hell is for those who commit fraud. This is the realm of the KSU, the Wardy and the Galley. Budgets are constantly revised, businesses are continually in debt and student fees continue to rise. There is always a mitigating plan, though the details are fuzzy and the students in charge are likely corrupt. Does anyone know what is happening? Not really. Does anyone want to try and fix the problem? Definitely not. So you’ll still get the punishment of another fee increase and a $19 cocktail anyway.

Treachery

The ninth circle of hell is for those guilty of treachery. In a lake of ice, frozen and betrayed. This one is dedicated to the FYP grading scale. Tutors will comment on your paper saying: “good job!” and “great insights!” only to stab you in the back with a B-. The ephemeral A is kept perpetually out of reach. Conspiracy theorists wonder — is it all a long-con to take away your entrance scholarship? No one knows for certain. Either way, the feeling of betrayal runs deep. 

The centre of Hell

In the center of hell, half frozen in a lake of ice, is Dis, the devil himself. His body is made up of the Journalism faculty, scrupulous folk who force streeters on unsuspecting first-years. The three heads of this satanic monster are Simon Kow, Dorota Glowacka and Melanie Frappier, the directors of the King’s honours programs. Your body is stuck between the gnashing teeth of the King’s faculty. 

The centre of this perpetual hell is your true punishment — your Honours thesis defence. The slow sinking pit in your gut as you realize the culmination of your four year degree is an 80 page academic paper on the philosopher Grotius and his outlook on piracy. What have you done with your life?! What kind of job can you possibly get in this century? No one knows … but one thing is for certain. Your experience at Kings is a unique Inferno and explaining it to anyone on the outside will be the true test of your virtue.