Gigsville is not a place. It occupies no location and has no address. Though its citizens come from all walks of life, have jobs (at least most of them), eat regular food, keep pets, sleep and all the things that normal people do, they are essentially a community of like-spirited folk who like to dress weird and blow things up. They do this kind of thing on a decently regular basis. They came into existance in the bleak days before the 1998 Burning Man Festival.
Since that time their numbers have grown into the hundreds, adopted a Code Of Conduct and now have their dark little hearts set on world domination. But since they are a relatively unorganized bunch as a whole, that will probably not happen any time soon. In the meantime they are content with regular outings into the desert to perform improvised fire haikus over a B.A.F., race rocket cars made from Twinkies and occasionally some of them will breath fire and drink too much scotch.
But they are not all about peace and love. There is also art. Some of it is 2, 3 or 4 dimentional but mostly Gigsvillians are their own artform.
"We're not here to accomplish anything greater than creating opportunities to spend time together a few times a year and inspire each other from time to time. There is not now – nor has there ever been - any great cabal dictating what people can and can't do here, except for matters of obvious public safety, and even that has been a kangaroo court at best." - Buck Down, Mayor Emeritus
Gigsville's Code of Conduct