If one takes a wrong turn at the fork of the 95 highway, leading to the Washington state border, one might find themselves in a peculiar, minuscule burg known as Gravity Falls. Here the rustic, yet uniform cabins are spread thickly at the bottom of a bowl-shaped hollow, squat on the edge of a river that leads down from the Canadian wilderness onto the very border of the town, to cut select dwellings away from the rest.

Leading down from the wooded hills, some would be hard pressed not to spy the brier-bordered stone walls of the enveloping mountain scape, gaping wide like monstrous maws; and the bridge that overpasses the gap that lingers about an air of a time of America's youth. Here the ground gets lower, and the summits begin to look sketched from an all-too-symmetrical painting. The lake that ebbs to the right seems manmade; the industrious manner of the town seem primitive; many buildings clearly being from the late Victorian era, leading the way into a fashion of the early 1990s, giving a sense of displaced time.

Here the wild weeds, brambles and other thick flora gain a luxuriance, not widely found in many settled regions. At the same time, planted fields are apparently few or nonexistent. The logging industry seems to be the easiest discernible factor of work for the town, but not much else.

Without quite knowing why, one might find a reluctance to ask directions from the gnarled, solitary figures, sometimes spied now and again, on crumbling, ramshackle doorsteps or loitering in the almost vacant cul de sac. Those furtive figures seem to give off an almost palpable feeling of queer, forbidden things, with which it would be better to be left uncovered. And when one inquires on specific events that occurred in the town's past that may have been viewed from the far side-lines of neighboring villages, one will find a standoffish feel of secrecy, trying to keep sleeping dogs asleep, and with a superstitious fear of speaking about any anomalous events that are even just rumored upon. (Such rumors happening in the town's youth, back when the burg's history was jumbled and obscured, and back when the talk of witchcraft and demon-lore was wholly a viable fear in the minds of the denizens.)

Outsiders visit Gravity Falls as much as possible, in some vague attempt to grasp at the unknown events that surround the town's youth, and the fantastical quirks that some of the town's history hints at; many of whom usually left as baffled as they entered or even more so. But since a certain season of panic and paranoia, spreading outwards to only two of the town's neighbors, most of the signposts pointing the way to the burg were taken down, so what little traffic any of the businesses had once caught had now been dwindled significantly.