His bad luck started in that mansion of mirrors. A small trip broke the first mirror and a twist in reaction caused his arm to shatter another. So it went. The ill luck brought on by that first mirror guided his arm into the second. The compounded misfortune forced his steps into a third mirror unseen and behind him.
Soon, there was no hope. Every mirror spawned hundreds of triangles in its shards. His fate, not determined until that point, forced on him an eternity in that room. He moved as slowly and cautiously as possible. His hands were bloody, but his senses were overcome by the constant crackling under his feet.