The Plane of Shadow isn't evil, it isn't even miserable, it's just unbearably melancholy.
There are no parties. The inhabitants are barely aware of one another.
It is cryptic, cold and--despite having no civilizations--civilized. It is as if the city took over the world and then was hit by a neutron bomb.
There is no shopping, but there is espionage and trade. This is traded for that. This secret for that knife, this mask for that hourglass. There is a thriving trade in knives, masks and hourglasses. There is no mead, ale, or beer, only wine.