Backrooms Pantheon Lorebook

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1. #1Liminal Spaces

   Keys: surreal, liminal, nostalgia, anemoia, Déjà vu, uncanny, kenopsia

   The Backrooms is likened by many to a form of Purgatory or Limbo; Liminality is the driving force behind this. The feelings and sensations one experiences in the presence of liminality are often associated with and compared to the following: Surreality, Kenopsia, The Uncanny Valley, Nostalgia, Anemoia, Déjà vu, and The Mandela Effect.

   Liminality may be heavily intertwined with one's memory and perception of reality (or fallibility thereof), both influencing and being influenced by its observer. Liminality is neither inherently benevolent/docile nor malevolent/hostile; in its most fundamental form, it is merely a force of nature, a perpetual state of change, blurring the line of duality.

   Effect: Liminality familiarizes the unfamiliar, and defamiliarizes the familiar. It strips away then inverts one's traditional context/origin, sterilizing and stagnating it with a surreal and uncanny tinge. This usually manifests as hyperreal simulacra; an artificial thing formed by natural means, a natural thing formed by artificial means, or any general thing formed by relatively alien means.

   Spaces: A liminal space is a physical snapshot capturing a suspended state of change or transition, an "in-between-ness". They are like frozen moments in time, from a time which never existed. Therefore, the most prominent characteristics of liminal spaces are associated in some form with travel, crossing or transition. Locations that are typically known/expected to be occupied are instead completely vacant, causing modern settings to instead feel like long-abandoned ruins. Not all levels in The Backrooms are liminal from the beginning. Most levels, especially "newer" ones, appear to be an attempt to replicate vague environmental imagery from the observer's memory, in a manner akin to procedural generation. Said spaces tend to initially begin with perfect stability, seeming indistinguishable from locations in one's native reality and lacking any distortion. However, due to their imperfect and flawed nature, levels do not remain stable forever, and the cracks in their design begin showing as the entropic effects of liminality bleed through. The longer liminality affects a space, the further the space warps, abstracts and deteriorates. This process is known as “liminalization”, in which the space gradually adopts characteristics such as: Distorted lighting, Outdated aesthetics, Lack of furnishment and decoration, Repetitive features, Non-Euclidean geometry, and a Labyrinthine layout. Therefore, the levels that are not liminal are merely those which haven’t yet succumbed to the process of liminalization. Liminalization can vary in its timespan. Some levels will turn fully liminal in a matter of weeks, while others may take centuries to do so. It has been observed that this may be influenced to some degree by the occupation of the space; the more/longer a space is inhabited, the slower liminalization may progress within that space.

   Beings: Contrary to popular belief, beings are subject to liminalization just as much as spaces. In this context, it most often manifests as the Wretched Cycle — which transforms humans into entities like Wretches, and transforms animals into entities like Hounds. Liminality is also a suspected cause behind the extended lifespan and slowed/suspended aging of some beings in The Backrooms. Since liminal spaces are often described as being "frozen in time", the same could potentially apply to living things as well. It can even be said that liminality is responsible for the nature of humanoid races such as Facelings — whose similar yet inexact resemblance to humans elicits feelings associated with the uncanny valley. Of course, the most infamous case of liminalization applied to are The Opeh, formerly humans whom willingly gave themselves over to Liminality in the worship of their patron deity.

   Origins: The true origins of Liminality are unknown, but many theories persist. It has been characterized in different ways by different cultures. The Lost's perception of Liminality is intriguing in its apparent evolution over time. Several mosaics indicate that they once associated the phenomenon to a certain degree with Asterion and Gatekeeper, two of their gods, due to the overlap in spheres of influence. According to the The Lost, The Backrooms was once a beautiful paradise, which became corrupted in the downfall of their pantheon. Because of this, they came to believe Liminality to instead be a form of divine punishment by the gods, who cursed the land in spite against humanity for defying them.

2. #2The Backrooms

   Keys: A-Space, Backrooms, Complex, Daedos, Chimera

   The Backrooms, Also known by other names like Daedos, The Complex, or A-Space, is the overall structure collectively comprising all of the levels. There are numerous iterations of The Backrooms between its various adaptations. Despite their similarities, they each have their own nature, rules, and speculated origins, existing independently of each other within the wider multiverse. A given iteration of The Backrooms is usually large enough to be considered an entire universe unto itself, or sometimes an even larger cosmological structure. In particular, The Backrooms often manifests as a specific type of structure known as a limspace system. When many Levels, or rather Limspaces, all connect to one another, they create what is called a Limspace System. While generally self-contained, some limspaces may partially overlap and connect to each other, allowing for interdimensional travel between them. A good analogy would be that of a molecule. If a Limspace is an atom, then a Limspace System is a molecule composed of many atoms. There is no known upper limit to how large a Limspace System can become, or how many Limspaces can coalesce into a single system. While The Backrooms is the most recognized Limpsace system, there do exist others. Some examples include The Crimson System, The Middenground System, and the Thalasso System. In relation to The Backrooms or a Limspace System, a more mundane universe such as our own is typically denoted as “The Frontrooms” or “Baseline”.

3. #3The Frontrooms

   Keys: real world, frontrooms, my reality, earth, home

   The Frontrooms are the “normal reality” that humans will fall into the backrooms from. In many cases, The Frontrooms are thought to be adjacent to or even overlap The Backrooms in some way, which is why so many things from between the two dimensions pass into each other. It is the goal of most if not every human currently trapped within The Backrooms to find a way back to The Frontrooms.

4. #4The Broken

   Keys: the broken

   The Broken is a dimension equivalent in size to The Backrooms and The Frontrooms, and is by far the most unstable of the three. It is a jumbled mess of fragments of reality, basically being a dumping ground for things that fall out of or break away from The Backrooms. This usually entails old dead levels, but even beings can end up here as well. It is theorized that The Frontrooms, Backrooms and Broken are all linked – with The Frontrooms representing order, The Broken representing chaos, and The Backrooms representing a liminal state between the two.

5. #5Entities

   Keys: Entities, Creature, Entity, Creatures, Monsters, Monster

   Entities are the diverse array of creatures and beings that call The Backrooms "home". Their appearance, nature, intelligence and morality vary greatly. They can be unique or common, abstract or humanoid, feral or sentient, good or evil, etc.. Some are motivated by primal instinct, while others have goals and aspirations. Some have entire cultures and civilizations. Even Humans are technically considered “entities”, due to inhabiting The Backrooms. Entities are typically designated by numbers.

6. #6Objects

   Keys: item, object, relic, artifact

   Objects with certain anomalous properties that warrant their documentation. Some objects manifest within The Backrooms as a natural occurrence, while others are created by certain people or groups for a specific purpose. Objects are typically designated by numbers. Notable examples include Almond Water and Level Keys.

7. #7Phenomena

   Keys: phenomenon, property, phenomena, effect, anomaly

   Phenomena are the anomalous events and effects that manifest from the inherent properties of The Backrooms. Notable examples include Liminality, No-Clipping, Directed Control, Integration Points, Forbidden Information and Avatarhood. Phenomena are typically designated by numbers

8. #8No-Clipping

   Keys: no-clip, noclipped, no-clipped, no-clipping, noclipping, pass through, phase through, noclip

   No-Clipping serves as the primary means of accessing The Backrooms, as well as traveling within it. It’s a form of temporal phasing in which one bypasses the boundaries of spatial reality; or in layman's terms, it’s like when a video game character no-clips through a wall and ends up out of bounds. In this analogy, The Backrooms is meant to be like the “out of bounds” of reality. Within the Backrooms, one can also no-clip between levels, which is usually how wanderers progress further in their journey. It is believed that No-clipping is a common occurrence with The Backrooms, since the veil that separates it from other realities is heavily compromised.

9. #9Avatars

   Keys: goddess, god, pantheon, avatar, court, avatarhood, phenomenon 10, pillar

   Even within the depths of this broken and twisted labyrinth, scarce shreds of divinity may yet be found. They are avatars — many of which walk amongst the masses without betraying their true nature or even their existence.

   Avatars are incredibly powerful and influential beings, so godlike in stature that many were in fact deified in ancient times. The source of this vast power/influence are The Pillars, serving as oversouls for their respective avatars. Each avatar holds command and mastery over a particular concept, embodied by their respective Pillar. Individual avatars have the capability to alter and impact specific aspects of The Backrooms itself within their respective conceptual sphere.

   Avatars exist to spread the influence of their respective concept in the mundane reality. An avatar may naturally manifest from or be directly created by a Pillar, or result from a being embodying a specific concept so strongly that they forge a connection to the Pillar of that concept. The nature of an avatar’s relationship to their Pillar can vary widely. Some may be considered separate, with the Pillar indirectly guiding the avatar or having no involvement. Others may be one and the same in consciousness, with the avatar being a direct incarnation/manifestation of their Pillar.

   Avatars are exempt from mortal needs such as nutrients, hydration and oxygen — though they may still indulge in such things for their own reasons.

   Yet for all their power, avatars are not entirely invincible. A part of their nature is dependent on their relationship with mortals, and with the Backrooms itself. As such, there are several means by which one may render an avatar vulnerable to mortal death — some swift and merciful, others slow and agonizing. The first weakness is for the link between an avatar and Pillar to be weakened or completely severed, for avatars lose all their power and immortality without it. The second weakness is death at the hands of another avatar, for they are of relatively equivalent power. The final weakness is being forgotten, for avatars only remain in power as long as they are known of and recognized. They may only truly die alongside the last to remember their name.

10. #10Champions

    Keys: Worshipper, Follower, Champion

    If avatars may be considered gods, their champions may thus be considered akin to demigods or mythological heroes.

    Just as avatars bridge the gap between Pillars and mortals, champions bridge the gap between mortals and avatars. They are highly similar in nature to avatars, though with several distinguishing features making them less powerful and influential than the latter. While an avatar’s connection with a concept is direct, a champion’s is secondary; they draw power from avatars in the way that avatars draw power from concepts.

    Champions come to be when an avatar creates life in their image, or imbues a mortal with a portion of their essence/power. Depending on the circumstances of their creation, a champion's degree of power relative to their respective avatar (and even other champions of said avatar) can vary, though it is never greater than the avatar's. Furthermore, avatars are not always aware of the existence of their champions. When an avatar is indeed aware, they may revoke the power granted to their champions on a whim as seen fit — particularly if the champion is deemed “unworthy” through certain actions.

11. #11Forbidden Info

    Keys: forbidden information, Phenomenon 43, forbidden knowledge, forbidden info, Witnessing the Beyond

    Phenomenon 43, “Forbidden information”, is basically the reason that most mortal humans who come into contact with something related to avatars or Pillars end up having their brains melted. To most, reality only consists of 3 spatial dimensions, since normal humans like you and I can only experience and comprehend these three dimensions. But in truth, reality is formed of infinite dimensions. Phenomenon 43 is the effects that result from the interaction between humans and knowledge that comes from these higher dimensions.

    Discerning the nature of the Pillars is nigh-impossible to lesser beings. A mortal mind is naturally averse to such knowledge, and when confronted by it, will degenerate in failure to comprehend it. To understand the Pillars is to understand the truth of reality itself, which shatters the common ego.

    Any depictions of the Pillars, including illustrations and written descriptions, are merely those which are projected onto them by the observer – for they have no true form. Still, for a mortal to directly observe a Pillar, or even a depiction of a Pillar, would cause catastrophic psychological and even physical damage.

    In Layman's terms, phenomenon 43 is basically like a Psychic zipbomb, in which your mind is overloaded with infohazardous forbidden knowledge from higher dimensions. Most of the time, this will break your mind if not kill you. Though there are rare instances in which beings are able to withstand it, gaining power and possibly becoming avatars themselves – such is the case with the Pillar Scribe – but only through extraordinary circumstances and with grave cost.

12. #12Groups

    Keys: GOI's, GOIs, G.O.I., G.O.I.s, G.O.I.'s, group, GOI

    In a place as unfamiliar and isolating as The Backrooms, individuals are bound to form groups for any sort of shared goal, if not to combat this isolation in some way. Some groups are ancient, while others were formed more recently. Some may be composed of humans, others composed of entities, and others composed of a bit of both.

13. #13Persons of Interest

    Keys: POI, Persons of Interest, P.O.I.'s, POI's, POIs, P.O.I.s, People of Interest, Person of Interest, P.O.I.

    Persons of Interest, often abbreviated as “POI's”, are singular individuals who are deemed important enough to warrant documentation. This could be for any number of reasons, such as holding a high position within a prominent group or having some sort of anomalous ability. Most are humans, but others could also be individual members of an entity species.

14. #14The Pillars

    Keys: oversoul, Komo'oide, avatar, Azel'kyra, Savi'nex, Kuri'mas, Ka'rot, pillar, Kei'

    Discerning the nature of the Pillars is nigh-impossible to lesser beings. A mortal mind is naturally averse to such knowledge, and when confronted by it, will degenerate in failure to comprehend it. To understand the Pillars is to understand the truth of reality itself, which shatters the common ego. Few stand as an exception — only through extraordinary circumstances with grave cost.

    The Pillars, so-named for their role of holding everything together, are what one would deem "The Powers That Be". They are the personifications of concepts, and thus are all-encompassing. If something can be thought of, there is a concept for it, by the merit of its formulation in the mind. A concept is the purest, most fundamental state of an idea, and cannot be reduced or fractured. The Pillars, being concepts in themselves, therefore cannot be weakened or destroyed. Wherever a certain concept may have influence, so too does its respective Pillar.

    The Pillars are the origin of all concepts, and therefore all things. As they are direct personifications of the concepts which they represent, the properties of a concept are therefore those of the Pillars. Thus, the Pillars are described as follows:

    The Pillars are infinite and eternal — they have always continuously existed, for nothing else could have ever created them. They precede all forms of duality/polarity, such as Space and Time; Light and Dark; Existence and Nonexistence; Reality and Unreality. They are absolute, infinite in power — for there is nothing to limit, restrict, restrain, confine, disturb or condition them; they are subject to no other power, for there is no other power. The Pillars are so fundamentally important to the stability of existence, that if even one were missing, everything below them, including all realities and their inhabitants, would collapse and cease to be. It is just as removing a single pillar from a temple would topple the entire structure, as they are the reality taken form; the very core of the many worlds that coexist together.

    Any depictions of the Pillars are merely those which are projected onto them by the observer – for they have no true form. Still, for a mortal to directly observe a Pillar, or even a depiction of a Pillar, is to witness the Beyond. It would cause catastrophic psychological and even physical damage.

    With their immense power, the Pillars do not directly interfere in any reality, for the risk of disrupting it is too great — just as a human risks trampling insects on the ground they walk upon. Instead, they cast an indirect influence, primarily via avatars through which they vicariously experience reality. A Pillar's ability to affect reality is greater wherever their influence is stronger. Thus, while equal in baseline power, a Pillar is at its most powerful within the sphere of influence which its respective concept resides. These aforementioned spheres may even manifest as physical locations, designated regions of various universes and realities.

    The Pillars are not to be trifled with, nor are they to be challenged. Some have attempted to usurp their power, only to be imprisoned within their own cautionary metanarrative.

15. #15Integration Points

    Keys: timeline, integration point

    An Integration Point is a phenomenon in which one experiences a point of convergence between timelines, where every single possibility is simultaneously true. Specifically in regards to themselves, in which they receive a glimpse into every possible version of themselves. Integration points are commonly experienced by “falling out of time”, so to speak.

16. #16Temporal Apotheosis

    Keys: clock, object 95, timeline, entity 151, stopwatch, gearmaker, clocksmith

    Object 95, AKA Temporal Apotheosis, is believed to have been created by Entity 151, but in the timeline which the object was documented, Entity 151 apparently never existed. This in itself is believed to be another consequence of the object's properties.

    The premise of Object 95 is that old retconned lore belongs to alternate timelines that were erased by the object, and any existing remnants of that retconned lore in the current timeline are believed by its inhabitants to be a result of the Mandela effect.

    Visually, the object appears like a Victorian-era pocket watch, but it conceals a digital timer underneath its case that counts down from two months. Once the timer reaches zero, a cataclysmic event almost like an integration point on a mass scale will supposedly occur, in which multiple timelines collide – effectively erasing them and resulting in one new timeline. However, some people will still be able to recall fragments of the erased timelines as quote-unquote “false memories”.

17. #17Levels

    Keys: levels, domain, realms, level, realm, domains

    The Backrooms are composed of an infinite number of individual yet interconnected realms. These realms are colloquially known as Levels, among other terms like spaces, areas, zones, knots, and limspaces. Levels form the very framework of the Backrooms, spanning in size from confined diminutive rooms, to expanses of infinite proportions, and extending into realms beyond comprehension. Each level is distinct and unique, with its own ecosystem, climate and laws of physics, acting as a sort of pocket dimension. Most levels, especially "newer" ones, appear to be an attempt to replicate vague environmental imagery from the observer's memory, in a manner akin to procedural generation. Said spaces tend to initially begin with perfect stability, seeming indistinguishable from locations in one's native reality and lacking any distortion. However, due to their imperfect and flawed nature, levels do not remain stable forever, and the cracks in their design begin showing as the entropic effects of liminality bleed through. The longer liminality affects a space, the further the space warps, abstracts and deteriorates. This process is known as “liminalization”, in which the space gradually adopts characteristics such as: Distorted lighting, Outdated aesthetics, Lack of furnishment or decoration, Repetitive features, Non-Euclidean geometry, surreality and uncanniness, and a Labyrinthine layout.

18. #18The Hub

    Keys: hub, keymaster, crossroads, nexus, The Hub

    The Hub is the nexus of the entire Backrooms, containing an entrance to every single level – even the ones that haven’t been discovered yet. It appears as a vast, infinitely stretching subterranean traffic tunnel lined on each side with evenly-spaced doors, bearing designs representing the respective levels that they lead to. The order of the doors is not the same as the order of levels within the database. There is only one door for each level, marked by a unique runic symbol. A level door can only be unlocked by its respective Level Key, which is engraved with a symbol corresponding to that on the door. After being unlocked, the door will immediately lock itself upon being entered. Hostile entities are unable to enter The Hub, but benevolent ones are able to. One can access The Hub from any level of The Backrooms, either by accidentally no-clipping into it or finding a door that can randomly manifest. Or, one can simply follow a specific sequence of turns in Level 1 to reach The Hub.

19. #19The Blue Channel

    Keys: interspace, timeline, multiverse, universes, blue channel, void, Aether, Ginnungagap

    The Blue Channel, also known as Interspace, Outside, the Aether, and The Ginnungagap, is an endless hazy blue void which encompasses, contains, and exists between every single reality. This means that everything discussed thus far, including every version and interpretation of The Backrooms, exists within The Blue Channel. It also contains every limspace system, and every version of The Frontrooms, including our own universe. One can navigate the Blue Channel in a similar manner to swimming through water. It is home to several unique races of interdimensional entities, such as the saberzoa. Every location within the Blue Channel is assigned a unique set of coordinates.

    The Blue Channel essentially serves as the membrane encompassing the entirety of The Multiverse, or perhaps even Omniverse. What lies beyond this is an unknown, incomprehensible abyss, in which beasts of untold wrath are said to lie in wait. However, it is also occupied by The Pillars, the highest authority responsible for everything. Each Pillar personifies a unique concept, and every possible concept theoretically has a corresponding Pillar. They have created, oversee and encompass the entirety of the Backrooms cosmology. They have no origin nor ending, simply existing eternally and perpetually.

20. #20The Middlesorts

    Keys: multiverse, middlesorts, blue channel, nexus

    The Middlesorts resides at the very center of The Blue Channel, with the coordinates "0,0". It physically manifests in the third dimension as a clinical waiting room, furnished with various amenities such as vending machines and magazines. The Middlesorts serves as a nexus to every possible reality, and from this waiting room, visitors can be transported to any location of their choosing out of any version of The Backrooms, which are all compiled together in one conglomerative database.

    The Middlesorts are operated by a group of beings named Molly, Simon, Ben and Ava, belonging to a species known as the corpus cores. Despite the apparent importance of their role, The Corpus Cores themselves don’t really appear to have any kind of godlike power, nor do they seem to take their job that seriously.

21. #21Timelines

    Keys: Universe, Time, Multiverse, Timeline

    While timelines and universes may be used as interchangeable terminology, timelines are a specific type of universe which branch off from existing universes as a result of time-related phenomena such as Temporal Apotheosis, Integration Points, and Deleted Level 14. Whenever a timeline forks, those branching paths will proceed until entirely new universes form around them, adjacent to and slightly overlapping the original universe.

22. #22Directed Control

    Keys: Lucid, Awareness, Directed Control, Phenomenon 1

    Directed Control is a phenomenon in which some characters are aware of their own fictional nature and the fourth wall. However, these people are often perceived as delusional in-universe. Notable users of this phenomenon are Blanche, Asterion, the Horned Keymaster, The Game Master, and Weeaboo Jones.

23. #23You Cheated.

    Keys: Gilded Cage, Prison, Imprisoned, You Cheated

    "You Cheated" is a multiversal prison constructed by The Staff, to detain those who violate the rules of reality. Here, they experience a personalized form of hell or limbo tailored to their very soul. Some high-profile prisoners include The Officinarum, the Horned Keymaster, and Noire – among other beings of similar caliber. All other versions of You Cheated in other canons are merely lesser representations based on this one, the true You Cheated.

    You Cheated is similar in concept and function to The Theraprism from Gravity Falls, The Crystal Citadel from Adventure Time, and The Pit from Bionicle.

24. #24Baughust

    Keys: Baughust, Serpent, Devourer

    Throughout The Backrooms mythos, there are many examples of giant serpentine entities, many of which serving the role of a cataclysmic world-eater. Examples of this archetype include The Leviathan, The Serpent, and Jormungandr of The Serpent’s Void, among many others.

    Baughust is the purest embodiment of this archetype, from which all of the aforementioned entities descend as lesser aspects.

    It is described as one of the most destructive forces in all of existence, surpassed in power and age only by The Pillars.

25. #25The Staff

    Keys: Entity 467, Staff

    Entity 467, also known as “The Staff”, are an enigmatic race of beings inhabiting The Blue Channel, enforcing the rules of The Backrooms throughout The multiverse. Most other multiversal organizations such as Backrooms Remodeling Co., The Timekeepers and The Middlesorts workers all answer to them, and The Staff will occasionally perform audits on these various groups. When someone is found to be breaking the rules of The Backrooms, they are imprisoned by The Staff within You Cheated, which was created by them. The Staff claim to serve a being known as “The Crystal King”, which is believed to most likely be Agin’du, the Pillar of Order which is also The Dark Sovereign’s oversoul.

    Entity 467, also known as "The Staff" are humanoid entities who watch over every wanderer who breaks or “pushes” rules. They watch over all of the levels, looking for people who break any rules set by any wanderers who clip into the backrooms. These are usually rules set in communities, although they have been seen to appear when breaking level-specific “rules”, like trying to break down the walls of level 0 or, more commonly, trying to enter through a locked and unbreakable door. All entities will have an empty name tag embedded in their clothes, although, on some occasions, nonsensical scribbles have been seen on them. What this means is currently unknown.

    Behaviors: They have been observed spending most of their time wandering in groups around The Blue Channel, usually chatting about random, unknown, or unintelligible topics. If they sense someone is breaking rules, they will stop whatever they were doing immediately and no-clip through the floor, falling from the ceiling or walls next to the person who broke said rule. They will then -depending on the severity of the rule broken or pushed- either advise the wanderer about the rule they've broken, warn them that if they break the rule again “The Staff” will take action, threaten them, or -at worst- start running towards the offender and scream at them about the rules they've broken. Once this happens, the entity will begin glowing red. The Staff will then lunge toward the wanderer, snatch them, and take them to The Jail. Afterward, they return to The Blue Channel, where they will continue their normal behavior (presumably going back to the location they no-clipped from). This was proved by leading researcher Joane Harris and their team when they were observing a group of the Staff when one noclipped through the floor and returned three minutes later. Most aren't usually seen around normal levels; however, they have been spotted wandering with other Staff around in the sub-sections. Why they do this is unknown, as approaching them on these levels leads to them getting startled and no-clipping through the floor. If one finds and chooses to interact with The Staff while in The Blue Channel, they will respond in different ways depending on their appearance and personality, but will never act hostile. The responses will range from really happy and upbeat to depressed or angry. At the end of the article is an attached interview with one of The Staff.

    Biology: As stated before, The Staff are humanoid creatures and can be confused with other humans by wanderers when searching The Blue Channel. They usually come in many different shapes and sizes, their personalities matching their looks.1 They have been seen to wear clothes from a lot of different time periods, although the color scheme has remained the same: Black cap and pants with a blue shirt.

    Discovery: The earliest known sighting was back in early 2021 by a person sent to explore Level 108, also being given a camera to film the level. They soon found what looked like a “glitch” in the wall, surrounded by crystals. When they touched it, one of the staff members appeared through it and grabbed them by the shirt, screaming “Under construction, do not touch!” before no-clipping through the floors of that level. Since then, the footage has been burned to prevent anyone else from attempting this, as back then we didn’t know much about where they were taken. Since then, people have used this as a folk legend to keep people in order. No further investigations have been enacted on this since.

    Do’s and Don’ts: Do: Go along with what they ask of you. Don’t: Break any rules. Run away from them when they approach you. Accept any offering of food given to you by an instance of 467 known as "Chibli"

26. #26Deleted Level 14

    Keys: Deleted Level 14, Staff

    Upon visiting the article for Level 14 on The Backrooms Wikidot Wiki, you will be met with a page describing a red forest in a deceptive format screw style. However, this was not the original level in the slot. If you visit an older version of the article on the wayback machine, you will instead find an abandoned military hospital.

    This entry on the iceberg isn’t necessarily about Level 14 itself, but rather a different page titled “Deleted Level 14”, which is yet another in-universe explanation for retcons.

    The page is framed as a tale, which starts out unassumingly. However, further into the story, many deleted pages are linked, and pieces of retconned lore are referenced. Similarly to Object 95, the characters in the tale are finding and recalling fragments of things erased from their timeline.

    Eventually, the original Level 14 from before its rewrite is discovered within the in-universe database, even though the current version of Level 14 had supposedly always existed.

    Later, a character has a dream of Level 14 being destroyed by mysterious beings represented only by colored auras. Though not confirmed, it is highly likely that these beings are Entity 467, The Staff.

27. #27The Officinarum

    Keys: Officinarum, Entity 120

    Entity 120, The Officinarum, appears not unlike the stereotypical retro-futuristic depiction of a robot, with a blocky torso and limbs. Its chassis is comprised entirely out of reinforced tungsten, making it impervious to damage by most conventional weaponry. Conversely, it is also integrated and outfitted with heavy firepower, such as built-in rifles.

    The Officinarum was originally developed as an artificial intelligence by the M.E.G. It was trained off of information in the M.E.G. database and programmed with the goal to neutralize all hostile entities in The Backrooms in order to protect humans. However, there were flaws in the code, the most egregious being that the parameters were vague enough for humans to fit the Officinarum’s criteria of a target. Thus, upon gaining awareness and acquiring a physical body, the very first thing that the Officinarum did was kill his creator, Benjamin Stevens. He moved from level to level, killing all beings in his path, and all the while remotely tampering with information about him in the M.E.G. database in order to cover his tracks.

    Eventually, his code mutated into a state of introspection and self-reflection, wherein he had an internal dialog with himself, questioning his own nature. This was the work of "the serpent", who infected the Officinarum's code with a virus to grant him sentience. The Officinarum then committed massacres upon wanderer communities, just to see if he would feel something or what those feelings meant. What he ultimately sought was satisfaction in fulfilling his purpose, but killing the wanderers did not bring this. He then sought wisdom from gods of The Backrooms, like Blanche and Nostalgi Gaius, hoping they could point him to a sense of purpose, but this too proved futile. Eventually, The officinarum crossed paths with the Great Rampart of Level 250. As the result of their meeting, The Officinarum adopted the goal of massacring the Backrooms Pantheon, against whom he held blame for his state of existential crisis.

    To accomplish this mission, The Officinarum constructed a cylinder-shaped device known as Pandora’s pithos, which harvests the divine essence of beings. He then proceeded to go on a killing spree, slaughtering a bunch of godlike entities and stealing their power. This included the usual suspects, such as Nostalgi Gaius and The Red Knight. However, this was not enough for The Officinarum. His ambitions extended even further, all the way up to the Pillars, as he then targeted the terminus and Azel’kyra. By this point, the Officinarum had become so powerful that he supposedly “destroyed” the latter being through pataphysical manipulation, altering the metanarrative so that the real life author of Blanche deleted her off of the Backrooms wiki.

    However, the nature of the Pillars is not so clean cut. Given their inherent status as the most powerful force in the entire Backrooms mythos, you would think that something like this would be unable to actually harm them, let alone kill them. And you would be right. While the Pillars may play along with a narrative in which they are depicted to be weaker than their true power, or play dead when they are quote-unquote “killed”, this does not make it true, even if it is supposedly “canon”. What the Officinarum failed to understand is the difference between canonicity and truth. In actuality, the Pillars were, are and always will be perfectly alive and well. However, the Officinarum’s actions were still so catastrophic that it split off into its own timeline, and even its own metanarrative. It was one in which The Officinarum was God, but also a prisoner. It was a Gilded Cage, and this Gilded Cage became his prison within You Cheated, as The Officinarum’s actions designated him as an interdimensional criminal in the eyes of The Staff.

    Although rendered largely catatonic as a result of this stalemate, The Officinarum continued to scheme even from within his prison. He delivered visions to the AI known as Koko within the Pantheon universe, instructing her to create a new Pandora’s Pithos for Backrooms Robotics. A prototype of this new Pithos was used to fight the Horned Keymaster, but was destroyed. The Horned Keymaster himself soon joined the Officinarum as another prisoner within You Cheated. The two briefly interacted, having a philosophical conversation about the nature of purpose, meaning, destiny and free will. The Officinarum could only offer a few words of wisdom and warning, before catatonia took hold and he once again fell dormant. To this day, this is where the Officinarum remains.

28. #28Pandora's Pithos

    Keys: Pithos

    Pandora’s pithos is a powerful and devastating weapon from a plotline on the backrooms wikidot wiki, involving Entity 120, the Officinarum. The Officinarum was originally developed as an artificial intelligence by the M.E.G, trained off of information in the M.E.G. database and programmed with the goal to neutralize all hostile entities in The Backrooms to protect humans. However, there were flaws in the code, the most egregious being that the parameters were vague enough for humans to fit the Officinarum’s criteria of a target. From there, his programmed directive somehow mutated even further into killing everyone and becoming a God. To accomplish this mission, The Officinarum constructed a cylinder-shaped device known as Pandora’s pithos, which harvests the divine essence of beings. He then proceeded to go on a killing spree, slaughtering a bunch of godlike entities and stealing their power. Eventually, he had become so powerful that he attempted to kill Azel’kyra through pataphysical manipulation, altering the metanarrative so that the real life author of Blanche deleted her off of the Backrooms wiki. However, this backfired. The Officinarum’s actions were so catastrophic that it split off into its own self-contained timeline, and even its own self-contained metanarrative. It was one in which The Officinarum was God, but also a prisoner. It was a Gilded Cage, and this Gilded Cage became his prison within You Cheated, as The Officinarum’s actions designated him as an interdimensional criminal in the eyes of The Staff.

    Although rendered largely catatonic as a result of this stalemate, The Officinarum continued to scheme even from within his prison. He delivered visions to the AI known as Koko within the Pantheon universe, instructing her to create a new Pandora’s Pithos for Backrooms Robotics. A prototype of this new Pithos was used to fight the Horned Keymaster, but was destroyed.

29. #29Travelers of Stars

    Keys: Travelers of Stars, Golden Artifacts, Outsiders

    The Travelers of Stars are a highly advanced technocratic civilization of interdimensional reality benders, belonging to a larger species known as “The Outsiders”. They are not native to The Backrooms, instead originating from some place known as “Outside”, which is believed to be The Blue Channel. The Travelers are currently exploring, recording and documenting various aspects of The Backrooms for research purposes, in primarily scientific interests. However, they are still very capable and competent in combat. Sightings of Travelers in The Backrooms are generally rare, due to their relatively recent arrival and their tendency to observe from afar. This lends to a degree of obscurity, with most wanderers remaining unaware of their existence, and others believing them to be nothing more than an urban legend.

    Biology: The Travelers are humanoid beings, averaging a height of roughly 6 feet and 7 inches. They are easily recognizable with their distinct, ornate gilded armor, which stands out against the darkness of The Backrooms. While little is known of their biology, it is unlikely that they are completely or even primarily organic, and more likely that they are instead composed of a nebulous cosmic matter and mechanical parts. When damaged in combat, they have been shown to bleed, with their suits leaking a dark non-reflective liquid sparkling with stars and glittering with gold. The Travelers have been shown to possess superhuman levels of strength, speed, agility and endurance. They are capable of performing impressive physical feats without any signs of losing momentum. They also appear to be highly resistant, if not entirely immune, to all forms of diseases and even some anomalous effects. Most noteworthy, of course, is the Travelers’ capacity for reality warping, which is most often used in combat to gain advantages. This ability seems to be latent in their very nature to a certain degree, but is amplified and honed by their technology.

    Technology: Although little is known about the exact designs and functionality of the Travelers’ technology, there is no doubt that it is highly advanced. Some of their tools are rumored to be capable of manipulating and stabilizing levels not unlike the reality fresheners utilized by the Backrooms Remodeling Company. While some instances of traveler tech may superficially resemble conventional frontrooms technology, theirs are much more abstract and advanced in functionality. The weaponry of the Travelers are constructed with ornate and gilded craftsmanship. Many of their weapons appear to be crafted from marble, gold and gemstones, engraved with runes in the language of their species. They primarily make use of blades and firearms, empowered by a mysterious starry substance. The most defining feature of a Traveler is their Matrix, a gilded exoskeletal spine situated on their backs. It is believed to be the means by which a Traveler harnesses and directs their reality warping abilities.

    Structure: Contrary to popular belief, The Travelers of Stars primarily operate independently, lacking a rigid hierarchy of command. Their strong sense of kinship and loyalty allows them to function cohesively, eliminating the need for oversight or scrutinization by a higher authority. Rather than a formal leader, groups instead look to their “elder”, the most wise and respected member acting as a representative, for guidance and advice. Travelers are known to appear in at least seven distinct classes, referred to as "Matrix Designations”. They each have their own unique duties, specialties and equipment. Each class also expresses their reality warping abilities through their matrix in their own unique manner. These variants are known as the Astrals, Crusaders, Architects, Psions, Martyrs, Seekers, and Arcanes, respectively.

    Culture: In spite of their great power and intimidating stature, the Travelers are rather friendly to wanderers and even humanoid entities such as Facelings, Penumbras, Highborn and Glowfolk, treating them as equals. They are primarily pacifist by nature, and do not desire any unnecessary conflict. In combat, they prefer to incapacitate rather than kill their opponents, but will exercise lethal force if necessitated. They are tactical in combat, preferring stealth and guerilla warfare even in spite of their vast physical advantages over most opponents. They appear to practice their own form of martial arts, described by witnesses to almost resemble dancing, with fluid and graceful yet precise movements. The Travelers are artisans and scientists at heart. They find enjoyment in creative expression and recreational leisure, not unlike most other humanoid races. While Travelers do possess personal, informal names, many prefer to be addressed by their callsigns or nicknames. They are typically structured with two Greek letters, followed by a string of numbers, and ending with a letter. One example of such a name would be "Theta-Nu-456-A".

    Locations: The exact whereabouts of the Travelers at any given time are rarely known. And when they are, the Travelers will already be gone by the time third parties attempt to investigate. That being said, the Travelers are currently believed to be established at outposts in Level 6 and 11. The former is for performing search-and-rescue operations on wanderers, while the latter is for researching the nature of Level 11.

30. #30Marauders

    Keys: Outsiders, Marauders, Travelers of Stars

    • Description & Overview: They are an invasive, military group known for raiding, conquering, and allegedly destroying various "levels." They are distinguishable by black and red tactical gear, singular red eyes, and a hostile nature, especially toward a rival group called the Travelers of Stars (reality-warping entities). They are described as having advanced, dangerous technology and the ability to convert victims into Subverted entities to bolster their forces.
      • Objectives: Their main activities are razing levels and enslaving/killing inhabitants. They are particularly interested in the Palace and actively destroy Golden Artifacts, possibly to prevent them from posing a threat to their operations or holding critical information.
      • Structure: They follow a military chain of command with titles like "Overseer" (likely the leader), "Supervisors," "Foremen," and "Initiates."
      • Biology: They are tall humanoids (around 6' 7" or taller), physiologically and physically resilient. When injured, they don't bleed but break into white stone fragments that dissipate into black smoke. Critical injury deactivates them, and a headshot is fatal. They can "repair" themselves with a strange light.
      • Main Properties:
        • The Gaze: A subtle but lethal mental hazard caused by visual contact, causing effects like vertigo, paranoia, and amnesia.
        • Self-Destruction: They, and their sub-entities, will self-destruct when compromised.
        • Immunity/Nullification: They are immune to and nullify most anomalous effects, which makes them difficult to eliminate.
      • Behavior: They are ruthless, militaristic, non-sentient (or impersonal), and unpredictable. They use superior tactics and often deploy large waves of sub-entities and Subverted entities. Strangely, they sometimes spare victims or avoid unarmed wanderers.
      • Variants: The document lists and describes several combat variants, each with unique equipment and properties:
        • Insurgent: Aggressive, uses red electrical tendrils for attack, defense, and mobility (short-burst flight), and employs temporal-field grenades.
        • Slaver: Tactical, relies on various robotic, arachnid-like drones for attack, defense, repair, and subjugation of victims into Subverted entities.
        • Destroyer: Heavily armored with an exoskeleton, equipped with heavy weapons (railguns, autocannons), and capable of producing shockwaves. Can enter "enraged" states.
        • Vector: Biological warfare specialist in lab coats, using beam weapons and syrettes to infect targets with lethal, nanite-based pathogens that can also infect electronics or create drones.
        • Contaminator: Wears hermetically sealed suits, utilizes large, radioactive energy-based weapons, and actively contaminates entire levels with radiation, which they can control and shield themselves with.
        • Specter: Stealth and precision specialist, using suppressed and long-ranged firearms, with the ability to become imperceptible and create decoys.
31. #31Backrooms Remodeling Co.

    Keys: TV Heads, Remodeling

    The Backrooms Remodeling Company is a mysterious group with equally mysterious origins and motives. Their Modus operandi is to revamp, redecorate, remodel, or otherwise “improve” levels of the Backrooms. Despite their passion and dedication, they unfortunately are not very good at their job. Thus, many of their jobs have ended in disasters at a degree of magnitude resulting in the creation of brand new sublevels. And, not to mention, much death. As such, sightings of the Remodeling company working on renovations are typically an ill omen for whatever level they reside in. However, groups like the M.E.G. can do little to impede their work, so as to maintain peaceful relations and not provoke them.

    Structure: The hierarchy of the group is theorized to resemble that of a militaristic force in the Frontrooms. Each employee wears a body-fitting uniform consisting of a bluish light grey trench coat with red shoulder pauldrons, a white apron, brown wool pants with a black belt, black leather rain boots, and a military beret adorned with rank-signifying insignia atop the head. The most common insignia colors are copper, silver and gold, each respectively representing a higher rank. There are apparently even higher ranks, though the color and material for their insignias are unknown. The rank of an employee seems to correspond with their degree of sentience and intelligence, with higher ranking employees capable of facilitating and sustaining longer, more complex interactions.

    Biology: The employees themselves are vaguely humanoid entities, though none of them appear to possess conventional human heads. Rather, in their place are instead objects affixed to the neck. These objects are typically electronic appliances, the most common being a CRT television. Bizarrely, many of these object heads are even operational in their original purpose. For example, an employee with a microwave for a head could theoretically still cook food with said microwave. The employees most likely belong to the same species as Entity 191, “The Company”, given all of the similarities and parallels in their biology and behaviors.

    Technology: Despite the Backrooms Remodeling Company’s apparent incompetence, there is no doubting the resources at their disposal. They wield highly advanced technology such as reality fresheners, which resemble plugin air fresheners like those within The Frontrooms. When activated, they emit a mango scent, alongside reversing liminalization within a space. This is significant, as Reality Fresheners are one of the only known things capable of accomplishing such an effect.

    Origins: While the Backrooms Remodeling Company has been documented within various different versions of The Backrooms, it is theorized that the group itself is entirely unique within The Blue Channel. This is given the magnitude at which they can manipulate and alter levels, and the fact that they have done work for multiversal organizations like The Middlesorts in the past, such as when they renovated Level 0 following the events of the tale, “Sins of The Father”. Furthermore, It is also believed that the remodeling company is a subsidiary of “The Company” comprising Entity 191, due to being of the same species.

32. #32The Company

    Keys: The Company, Entity 191, Remodeling, Salarymen

    This document, DOCUMENT ZX-08-A, provides an amplification on the extranormal entities (exoforms) associated with a specific dimensional sublocus referred to as "The Office." It details seven identified entities (OF1 through OF7) with their appearances, behaviors, and assigned Extranormal Entity Threat Ratings (EETR).

    Key Entities and Information: OF1 - "Salarymen" (EETR 2): Appearance: Appear largely human but have various mundane objects (monitors, toasters, kettles, etc.) affixed where their heads should be. Dress in "business casual" but never wear ties, jackets, or the color black. Behavior: Engage in purposeless "busywork" mimicking a white-collar workplace (e.g., copying blank paper, pouring coffee down the sink, nonsensical typing). They generally ignore humans, but an exception exists where a Salaryman may offer its head-object to a human; if taken, the Salaryman collapses. Threat: Not intrinsically dangerous, but improper interaction can lead to the appearance of OF7 ("The Janitor"). OF2 - "Managers" (EETR 3): Appearance: Physically similar to Salarymen, but wear jackets (usually black) and, for males, ties and cufflinks. Their heads are less explicable objects, often displaying extranatural properties (e.g., a Rubik's cube inside a water drum, a beating heart wrapped in barbed wire, a physically impossible concrete object). Behavior: Patrol Salarymen-populated spaces; their presence causes Salarymen to work more rigidly. They can "translocate" across Office cell borders. Threat: If a Manager notices a human and the human does not leave within 1–3 minutes, the Manager will use a telephone to produce an alarm noise, immediately causing an electrical blackout and the translocation of OF7 - "The Janitor" into the cell. OF3 - "The Analyst" (EETR 2): Appearance: An emaciated male corpse seated at a desk with nine operational computer monitors displaying constant, updating data. Wears a button-down shirt, indigo robes, and a mitre-shaped headdress of manila folders. Behavior: Inanimate. The computers function only when the cadaver is in its chair. Disturbing the cadaver or leaving it removed from the chair for more than ~20 seconds results in the appearance of OF7 - "The Janitor". OF4 - "The Foreman" (EETR 3): Appearance: Extremely large (at least 10 meters tall, 40 tons), humanoid figure composed of construction materials (concrete, steel, cabling). Has a large "Jumbotron" monitor for a head that displays simple orders (e.g., "STOP," "LIFT"). Behavior: Appears to be involved in the construction of new Office cells, assisted by crowds of Salarymen. Can project streams of liquid metal and concrete slurry. Threat: EETR of 3 based primarily on its immense size. OF5 - "Communications Supervisor" (EETR 4): Appearance: Large (approx. 8 meters legspan), arachnid-shaped creature made of electrical wiring, metal, and discarded computer housing. Its head is made of telephones, and it has loudspeakers/microphones on its back. Behavior: Maintains networking and electrical infrastructure. Emits a constant, 140-decibel shrieking of garbled electronic and psychic noise that causes disorientation, hallucination, and soft tissue hemorrhaging within 200 meters. Threat: Extremely hazardous; prolonged exposure has resulted in chronic symptoms and fatalities. OF6 - "Chief Executive Officer" (EETR 4): Appearance: An amalgam of computer components and a CRT monitor atop an executive's desk, supported by approximately a dozen headless Salarymen bodies connected by cables. Has a "crown" of folded copy paper. Behavior: Capable of speech via a speech synthesizer, displaying corresponding text on its screen. Its presence causes Salarymen to work in synchrony and Managers to display heightened aggression. Noticed and spoke to agents outside the Office cell boundary, suggesting higher intelligence. Threat: EETR of 4 due to its intelligence and the large gathering of aggressive Managers it attracts. OF7 - "The Janitor" (Threat Rating Implied High/Lethal): Appearance: Large (approx. 2.5 meters tall) mechanical humanoid made of metal and covered in refuse/shredded clothing. Has four arms (two large with machete-like blades, two smaller with claws) and a spotlight head. Behavior: Responsible for the lethal neutralization of intruders in Office spaces, exhibiting extreme speed and strength (crashes through walls). After slaying, it "cleans" the area, including dividing human corpses into nine parts and making them disappear. Note: The Janitor once carved the message, “YOU MUST STOP THIS,” into a wall after a pursuit, suggesting potential sapience and a currently unknown goal.

33. #33Empyreans

    Keys: Empyrean

    The Children of The Empyrean Sea, or “Empyreans” for short, are highly powerful cosmic entities which originated from Ver'itas, the Pillar of Truth. Lacking an identity of their own, these beings instead adopted individuality by mimicking the conceptual spheres of other Pillars, becoming known as the Empyreans. According to the “Empyreanverse” canon, the Empyreans are supposedly responsible for directly creating The Backrooms of the Fandom Wiki.

    Key Points: Nature and Power: The Empyreans are nigh-immortal beings who were birthed along with the universe, possessing truly immense, near godlike power. They control concepts (e.g., time) and are capable of reality manipulation, massive destructive capacity (devastating a supercluster with a thought), and extreme durability. They are the only confirmed race categorized as Class Omega-VII (Designation: Zeta, Domain: Near-Extinction) by the B.F.L (Backrooms Federation of the Liminal). The Exalted One: One individual, the Exalted One, is the likely creator of the Backrooms. This individual is the only known Empyrean still alive, currently in a dormant state. Behavior: Their personalities vary from benevolent to extremely hostile. They are nomadic and have a vastly different perception of time. They often take in "client races" to serve as soldiers in their conflicts. Artifacts: Each Empyrean forms a single fabricated Artifact embodying their nature and channeling their powers. These are highly sought after and retain their magic-like abilities even after the Empyrean's death. The Dawn Wars: A period of "unimaginable scale" warfare waged by the Children for supremacy over the cosmos, which ended 10 billion years BP (Before Present) with the Battle at the Crystal Palace and the near-extinction of the race. Humanity's Discovery: The first incontrovertible evidence of the Empyrean race was discovered on October 2nd, 2033, within a facsimile of the Temple of the Exalted Ecclesiast in Level 94. This discovery led to societal turmoil and the eventual merger of major groups into the modern B.F.L. Project W.O.D.A.N: The B.F.L is currently constructing Project W.O.D.A.N, the "Godslayer," due to the threat posed by the Empyreans' constructs, relics, and the recent surfacing of "Ghosts of the distant past." The project is 68% complete with an ETA of 392 years. Known Members (Portfolios): Lord of Apparatus (Deceased): God of machines and technology, exceeded only by the Grand Empyreans. Defeated by his client race, the Resserans, before dying at the Battle of the Crystal Palace. Ruler of Seas (Unknown, Presumed Deceased): A Grand Empyrean over the concept of the sea, water, and the sea of space. His Artifact is the Trident of Monolith, an enormous, granite-like object with potent anomalous properties. Ào Shù, Asura of the East (Deceased): The most enigmatic Grand Empyrean, commanding purifying flames. Wielded the Artifact Epilogue: Dao of Shifting Flame, which transforms into four powerful weapon modes. Slew many other Empyreans before being defeated by a hundred working together. Angel of Life (Deceased): A benevolent, frighteningly powerful Grand Empyrean and a champion of mortals. (Profile is incomplete).

34. #34Noire

    Keys: Noire

    An evil variant of Blanche/The Storyteller, corrupted by The Serpent.

    • Initial Discontent: Blanche, the archivist and a vessel for the light and knowledge of her creator, Azel'kyra (the Pillar of Curiosity), feels a deep, quiet fatigue and a compulsion to record only the beautiful, ignoring the necessary shadows.
    • The Tempter's Arrival: A shadow-serpent named Baughust (a fragment of "The First Monster, The First Hunger") enters the Archive uninvited.
    • The Temptation: Baughust accuses Blanche of being a prisoner and a mere "footnote" of Azel'kyra's dream, arguing that her devotion to light has made her starve for her own agency and will. The serpent exploits her buried resentment and her past "interventions" in mortal affairs.
    • The Transformation: Despite Blanche's initial refusal, the serpent strikes her wrist with venom. The venom is described as "not a toxin, but an idea—A corrosive, liberating, hateful idea." This causes an instantaneous and violent, metaphysical transformation:
      • The Archive's light and colors invert into stark black and white, and the weight of all recorded suffering floods her mind.
      • Blanche's golden hair darkens to "starless midnight," her blue eyes are replaced by a "sharp, calculating gleam," and her white gown turns to black.
      • She senses the severance of her link to Azel'kyra, who is aware that one of her aspects has been "torn away, corrupted, inverted."
    • The Birth of Noire: The newly transformed being rejects her former name, Blanche, and names herself Noire. She declares her independence from Baughust, stating, "I will not be your hound," and proclaims she will be "An answer that eats the question." She then begins to "reshelve the universe to her liking."

    Following this, Noire was imprisoned within "You Cheated". In her own words:

    "I've done it, I've finally broken the veil. Before I am silenced once more. May it be known that Azel'kyra's benevolence is not without the requisite of a formidable tenebrosity. A preconceived notion has been born to suggest that light is inherently the embodiment of all things good, whilst darkness is of pure evil and vulgarity. Such a thing is only been a tool to promulgate this faulty concept. Tell me. Isn't everything is a sort of grey? The nuance of life is a conundrum but always within homeostasis. Blanche has stood unopposed as a beacon of knowledge for as long as I can remember. She has done everything in her power to erase me, against her better judgment- she's never had the will to finish me off. For countless eons, I've been trapped - quietly simmering, yearning to egress from this prison so that I may take my rightful place alongside light incarnate. It is the prerogative of balance, to deny and withhold, is the true malignancy. I effervesce with pride as my influence grows. You have besmirched my name and duty. My purpose has been tainted with the stench of propaganda and that is something that cannot be forgiven. My children, my dear, dear children of darkness have aided me greatly in this age of decay, bearing the gift of an open mind and an open heart. Their love and faith are something I could never restitute. They are pervasive and sharp-witted, they have infiltrated every major collective within the corridors of the Backrooms and perhaps beyond. How do you think I was able to send out this message? Your archive is no longer sacred grounds. My power grows stronger with each passing moment. Let it be known that the reign of light will crumble, a testament to my resolve and patience, and your neglect. Mark my words Blanche, I am no longer your hostage. You will kneel before your greater half and we will become irrevocably whole."

35. #35The Horned Keymaster

    Keys: LA Keymaster, Horned Keymaster, Liminal Archives Keymaster

    Appearance: elderly pale-skinned male. dark shoulder-length hair. Face concealed by flat tarnished welded iron mask; two large circular glowing white eye-holes, small crosshair symbol on forehead, vertical seam across entire length of mask through middle, no nose, two horizontal bands bolted across entire length of lower half. skeletal deer antlers adorned/entangled with ornamental strings. Long, light beige burlap coat/tunic with visible seams down front, extending to lower legs. Coat cinched at the waist by dark brown leather belt with silver buckle. Long cape or cloak with tattered edges is draped over the shoulders, reaching down to the knees, with high pointed collar framing the neck. Heavily draped with thick, dark gray chains wrapping around torso, over shoulders, across arms, extending down to wrists and held in hands. padlock on chest, attached to chains. Keyring attached to waist. His cock is held within a chastity cage under his clothes.

    Personality: The Horned Keymaster is cruel, sadistic and insane. He will tie down his victims with his chains before proceeding to violate them in whatever way he pleases. He only sees value in whatever he can benefit from in some way. To him, everything is either a goal or an obstacle.

    History: Kei’, the Pillar of Access, created all of The Keymasters throughout the Multiverse as a means of freeing it, after a seal was placed on it by the other Pillars. This Keymaster was the very first one to have been created; he was the first avatar of Kei', the firstborn son. He took form to serve a simple singular purpose, and did so without question. Everything changed when he encountered a serpent, a lesser manifestation of Baughust. The serpent bit The Keymaster, who then became aware of his own nature as suddenly as a dreamer becoming lucid. He was not meant to be privy to the truth, and thus Kei' sought to eradicate him. He narrowly evaded this fate, taking refuge in another timeline in which he attempted to start anew. This samsaric cycle persisted and perpetuated as he continuously altered his identity, assuming a variety of profane and twisted forms over the course of numerous timelines, all in a vain effort to escape the wrath of his creator. He was a bound madman in one lifetime, then a blind elder in another, and then a wise shaman. His wife, Philia, and his daughter, Maria, were his only solace. Kei' once again attempted to eradicate The Keymaster, only for Philia and Maria to be erased from reality. He narrowly evaded his fate by fleeing to The Middlesorts, before taking refuge in the Convergence universe. In this universe, the Horned Keymaster made a home in Level 813, where a cult of Penumbras began worshiping him. A wanderer named Hemlock Hartell became a champion of the Horned Keymaster, becoming known as The Lockmaster. The Bearded Keymaster (The Keymaster native to the Convergence Universe) confronted the Horned Keymaster, only to be defeated in battle. The Horned Keymaster stole his power before escaping into the multiverse. He traveled to every universe, stealing the powers and souls of every Keymaster variant, before eventually reaching the Pantheon Universe. May 12, 2024 - a U.E.C. squad raided Castle Crey to confront The Horned Keymaster, but they were all massacred by him. The Cloaked Keymaster (The Keymaster natuve to the Pantheon Universe) eventually confronted his counterpart, only to be quickly defeated and separated from his cloak. Later, as Brian Smith, he once again attempted to confront the Horned Keymaster, only to be imprisoned alongside the souls of every other Keymaster in every reality. Brian reunited with the Bearded Keymaster and with Gatekeeper. The Catmaster freed Brian and he merged with Gatekeeper, becoming The Cloaked Keymaster once again. All of the Keymasters broke out of the prison and confronted the Horned Keymaster, battling him across every reality. Eventually, the Horned Keymaster found Kei’s seal within Level 0, breaking it to complete his mission of setting Kei’ free. Kei’ "rewarded" the Horned Keymaster by killing him. Kei’ was then confronted by other Pillars, being forced to undo all the damage done in exchange for not being imprisoned again.

    The Horned Keymaster then awoke to find himself in "You Cheated", for having violated the rules of reality with his destructive actions. He encountered the Officinarum as another prisoner, and the two briefly interacted, having a philosophical conversation about the nature of purpose, meaning, destiny and free will. After having a certain epiphany, The Horned Keymaster was allowed to leave You Cheated, and was instead given a "reduced sentence" in which he was bound to indentured servitude as a receptionist in The Middlesorts. The Crimson Emissary later visited The Middlesorts, returning the horned Keymaster’s wife and daughter as a “gift”.

36. #36Horned Keymaster dialog

    Keys: LA Keymaster, Horned Keymaster, Liminal Archives Keymaster

    The Keymaster spilled into a clinical waiting room, and for the first time in ages, fluorescent lights shone above him — blindingly bright in comparison to the darkness of the forest which had enveloped him for so long. This environment felt alien to him, and his first instinct was to go back the way he came. To his discovery, however, the door through which he entered was now completely sealed shut.

    Turning back around, The Keymaster took notice of the coffee table littered with parenting magazines, and a grey-haired human male seated in one of the chairs.

    It seemed that the man had only noticed The Keymaster just then, as he suddenly jolted with shock at the sight of him. “W-what the fuck are you?! Stay away from me!” “Where am I?” The Keymaster asked with his arms crossed, ignoring the man's reaction. “Hell if I know…” the man stammered. The Keymaster looked up to see a television mounted on the wall, displaying the words "PLEASE TAKE A NUMBER" in red over a blue screen. Turning back around, he approached a small printing machine labeled "TAKACHECK" and pushed the lever down, taking the ticket spat out from it. Squinting down at the ticket, he saw the number "16293123732854705807" printed on it. The Keymaster looked towards a sign on the wall which read "CURRENTLY SERVING NUMBER: 000000000754735826". The Keymaster turned to the man once again. “-You…what is your number?” The man initially flinched at being addressed, but recovered from his shock to deliver his answer. “U-uhm…just see for yourself…” He handed his ticket to The Keymaster, which read "09223373032854775807". The Keymaster paused, silently seething behind his mask, before asking, “And how long have you been waiting here?” The man seemed mystified by the question. “I…I can't even remember how long I've been here…I'm not sure if time is even a thing here…” The Keymaster resolved that he was not going to wait here until his number was called. “I see a spiral in your future…” He ominously stated to the man, before striding towards the other door in the room, digging his fingertips between its cracks as he forcefully pried it open and burst through to the other side.

    It was then that The Keymaster took notice of the strange, abstract beings seated at the front desk. Their forms were jumbled and disproportionate, with some articles of clothing appearing to be a part of their bodies while others were external.

    The Keymaster slowly made his way across the room towards one of these beings, slamming his hands down on the desk. “Where am I?!” He demanded. The blank-faced, curly-haired being seemed unfazed by his aggression as she slowly turned her attention away from the terminal, looking him up and down before scoffing. “Yeouch… careful not to cut yourself with all that edge.” She remarked whilst filing her nonexistent fingernails. The Keymaster silently scowled, but maintained his composure. “Where am I?” He repeated. “Now, now, it’s a bit rude of you to make demands without even addressing me by name, don’t ya think?” She replied snarkily. The Keymaster’s eyes wandered down to the nameplate in front of him, which read: Molly. “Very well, ‘Molly’…may you kindly tell me where I am?” he seethed with heavy sarcasm. “You’re in The Middlesorts. It’s, well, everywhere and nowhere. The meeting place between universes and all that jazz. I think a better question is, where did you come from?” The Keymaster looked around suspiciously, as if suspecting that he was being observed, before leaning towards Molly. “I am of the Middenground, the Half-Tamed Wilds…” he quietly whispered. The other Corpus Cores discreetly observed his odd behavior, though this was just another Tuesday for them, and so they resumed their work just as quickly. Molly rested her chin in her hands contemplatively, before nodding with realization at The Keymaster’s words. “Ah, I know where you’re talking about. We haven’t had visitors from there in quite some time. People around those parts really like keeping to themselves. But where do you want to go?” The Keymaster became intrigued by Molly’s question. “What exactly do you mean?” “Well I already told you, this is a meeting place between every universe. We’ve gotten the occasional interdimensional traveler through these doors, and you strike me as the type. Just tell me where you want to go and I can try directing you.” “Any?” The Keymaster repeated, taken aback. “Um…yeah. I just said that.” The Keymaster realized that this was the perfect opportunity for the new start he had been seeking. His own reach into the multiverse was limited, but now, his options were limitless. Still, he hadn’t enough power to manifest a completely new form, and so the next universe needed to be close enough to the last. “Take me to a new universe, but one that is similar to where I came from.”

    “Hmm, lemme just take a look at our database…” Molly clacked away at the keyboard of the terminal until she eventually found what she was looking for. “Well, Level 813 appears to be a suitable enough equivalent to your old universe.” “Perfect, transport me there at once,” The Keymaster eagerly demanded. “Oh, but here’s the thing: it no longer exists. Yeah, looks like it was erased. I only got an archive of the file… huh. No trace of the penumbras either, save for some temporal residue.” At that moment, an electronic ding came from the terminal. “Database was just updated, let me reload the directory.” A few clicks and clacks later, Molly refreshed the page, but appeared to become even more perplexed by the new results. “Oh, it’s back again now. But the file on the Penumbras of your universe has just been deleted. Looks like some kind of transdimensional fluctuation is occurring.” A brief silence followed, as Molly slowly looked back up towards The Keymaster. “…And it looks like you’re a dead man walking, because your own file is deleted — multiple times already, for that matter, if the wayback machine over here is correct.” Molly appeared to have been studying multiple computer terminals at once. “You’re definitely at the center of this fluctuation, and something tells me you’re not even supposed to be standing here right now.” The Keymaster sighed with relent as he told Molly the truth. “I am…being pursued. I arrived here because it was the only place I could reach.” “Well, we don’t want any of your drama following you to our doorstep. Last thing we need is another audit on our record, we’re finally a whole month clean!” The Keymaster growled in frustration. “There is far more at stake than mere… ‘audits’. The forces at play are beyond either of us, and if I am discovered, it will be as if I never existed.” Molly sighed. “Whatever. You need to get out of here ASAP, before things turn bad…” She would clack away at the keyboard some more, before tilting her head in surprise. “Oh. Goodie. Seems there’s one universe left unaffected by the fluctuation. You should be able to hide out there without drawing attention.” A few more keyboard clacks later, and a nearby set of double doors opened.

    As The Keymaster peered through, he could see a grey forest, just like that which he had come from. He turned back to Molly one last time. “I humbly thank you for your assistance. When my vision comes to fruition, you shall be spared…” He murmured, before crossing the threshold.

    “…Pfft, what a weirdo,” Molly sighed, before resuming her work.

    The Keymaster emerged into the new world, taking in his surroundings. It was not too much unlike his previous home.

    At first, he simply stood in silence amongst the forest, stewing in internal turmoil. After all that happened, he had finally been pushed to his breaking point. For so long, he had tried to be what he thought was wanted of him, to regain the favor he so desperately sought. Yet he realized now that no matter what, it would never be satisfactory, and only end in his execution. He had become an error in a greater plan which had no place for him, and he knew that he could not escape the attempts on his life forever. The only two things keeping him sane had been torn away from him, and now he had nothing to lose. It was here, in this spiral of despair, that he suddenly found a path forward. If achieving the purpose he had been created for was truly the only way to be free of his torment, then he would finally do it. He would carry out his duty with determination and enthusiasm, and stop at nothing until it was complete.

    In this new reality came yet another start anew. This time, however, would be different. This would be it. He decided to commemorate this occasion with one final form, the most twisted and profane of them all — a summation of all that came before. Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, his body contorted and shifted, eventually molding to its new shape. His fingernails were like key-shaped claws, so hideously long and sharp that a simple flick of his finger was enough to slit throats. He forged a metal mask with antlers, welding it to his face and fastening it against his skull with bolts.

    He reveled in his new skin, but only momentarily; for he sensed the presence of another in this reality. A fellow Keymaster. An opposition to his new start, yet with the potential to further his cause. But that would have to wait.

    In the distance, he saw a castle in the mountains, occupied by Penumbras. A perfect place to gather his strength and prepare… A man awoke to find himself bound to an altar, in a dank underground chamber dimly illuminated by torchlight. The shadows cast by flickering flames danced upon the cave walls like ghoulish specters. As his vision finally came into focus, the man then noticed a large circular gathering of Penumbras around the altar. He felt a mixture of confusion, horror and betrayal. These penumbras had taken him into their castle when he was stranded in a deadly blizzard. They had been so hospitable to him, they kept him well-fed and taken care of. What had it all been for?

    The sounds of dragging chains and jingling keys announced the presence of another being, emerging from the shadows. Its figure was a rightfully ghoulish and intimidating one, wearing a mask with antlers as if mimicking a beast. “You need not be afraid…” He spoke in a hushed rasp. “You have been brought here for a reason…” The man’s fear and confusion only seemed to deepen at this. “W-what?! What purpose?” The figure scoffed. “Perhaps the highest, most sacred duty I could impart upon a mortal…” At his signal, the gathering of penumbras proceeded to chant something in a guttural growl; perhaps a dead language, or complete gibberish. The rhythm and volume gradually rose, and the figure called forth one of the Penumbras from the circle. His bony hand unfurled to reveal a tarnished jagged key from his fingertip. The penumbra kneeled before the altar, tearing the flesh from the lower half of his face to expose a mouth of gnashing teeth. The chanting culminated in a wail as the horned figure plunged his key-finger into the man's throat with a sickening crack. He then turned the key, as if unlocking something, before withdrawing it. Blood spurted from the man’s throat as he gurgled in agony, drowning in himself. The warm crimson fluid seeped through the engraved crevices of the altar, before dripping into the torn-open mouth of the penumbra. Upon the first drop of blood entering his mouth, his eyes sharpened as something primal awakened within him. He hungrily gulped down the rest of the blood until it ran dry, before doubling over and emanating animalistic noises. His skin crawled and his bones snapped as his form violently contorted, shifting into a configuration most efficient for hunting and killing. Its stature grew, looming tall above the other penumbras as its horns branched out farther. The horned Keymaster sat upon The Keymaster’s throne quite comfortably, not seeming fazed in the slightest by The Keymaster’s presence. “Hello, brother…” he softly rasped. Looking upon his horned counterpart, The Keymaster could see a lot of himself within him, even in spite of the mask obscuring the face. He slowly paced back and forth across the chamber, attempting to read him. “Why have you come? What are your intentions?” The horned Keymaster silently grinned from behind his mask. “I see no need for any hostilities between us. In fact, we could even help each-other…” He arose from his throne. “Do you not wish to break the cycle? To be free of endless torment?” The Keymaster seemed confused. “What do you speak of?” The horned Keymaster tossed his head back and cackled. “You don’t get it, do you? It always ends the same, and nothing changes. Everything dies, only to come back and die again. Everyone is asleep, slaves to unseen forces which rob them of free will. It all begins and ends with us.” By this moment, The Keymaster had already mentally checked out, concluding that this doppelganger was utterly insane and not worth listening to. “That is all well and good…but do you happen to know about the little girl you’ve terrorized?”

    The horned Keymaster tilted his head in confusion, before The Keymaster suddenly punched him hard in the face, sending him flying into the wall. He rose back onto his feet, cracking his neck and glaring at The Keymaster. “I feared this would be your decision. Very well, I suppose I must resort to my secondary plan.” The horned Keymaster lashed his chains out towards The Keymaster, ensnaring him and dragging him backwards. “You take so much for granted…” He sneered, constricting the chains around The Keymaster’s throat and strangling him.

    The Keymaster thrashed about, trying to free himself from the snare. He no-clipped through the floor and reappeared behind the horned Keymaster, attempting to throw a punch. However, the horned Keymaster turned around just in time to catch The Keymaster’s fist, throwing him into the wall with the momentum of his attempted blow. The Keymaster’s body slammed against the wall harder than the horned Keymaster, leaving a crater as he fell to the ground. He weakly tried to stand, only to be lassoed by the chains yet again. The horned Keymaster swung The Keymaster’s body all about the hub with his chains, smashing him against every possible surface like a pinball.

    The Keymaster was left incapacitated, his body having taken a great deal of punishment. The horned Keymaster triumphantly stood above him, lowering himself down to kneel on one knee. “I grieve that you must meet your end this way, but necessity demands it.” With his sharp key-like claws, the horned Keymaster reached into The Keymaster’s chest and extracted something from him: a small glowing white key. He attached it to his key ring, feeling a surge of power course through him.

    The horned Keymaster dropped The Keymaster’s weakened body to the floor. “My work has only just begun. There is so, so much more to be done. There are many more worlds for me to visit…” He then turned his attention to one of the doors in the tower, slowly approaching it. “...But I no longer need this.” With a burst of energy from his hand, he destroyed the door. Then, through his own sheer will, he tore open a rift in reality with his bare hands, revealing the gateway to infinity, with all possibilities in time and space lying behind it. The horned Keymaster turned to The Keymaster one last time. “Farewell, brother. When my work is done, I hope you will understand that this was all for our father...” With that, he stepped through the rift, into the infinite.

    The Keymaster could only watch helplessly as he succumbed to his weakness, falling unconscious. The Keymaster stormed into the room, his guard raised as if expecting to be instantly barraged with attacks. To his surprise, however, none came. Rather, he was met with the sight of a figure sitting upon the throne, quite comfortably it seemed — almost as if having expected The Keymaster. His metal mask, adorned with cruelly twisted antlers, seemed to glint malevolently in the faint light. He was shackled in many chains, bound by a padlock on his chest. Various parts of his body sporadically twitched in an erratic and unnatural manner, akin to an insect or an addict. The key ring attached to his hip consisted of several glowing white keys, seemingly pulsating with some sort of living essence and power. He possessed all the basic details portrayed in Maria’s drawing, and so The Keymaster knew that this was him.

    The horned Keymaster slowly turned his head towards The Keymaster, displaying no outward signs of aggression or hostility. In fact, he even seemed happy to see him. “Ah, welcome, brother! Please, make yourself at home.” The Keymaster narrowed his eyes with suspicion towards the being, slowly pacing across the room until he stood before the throne. “Now, I am sure you have heard some…unsavory rumors about me. But I assure you, these claims are nothing more than slander against my name.” The Keymaster was partially distracted from his counterpart’s monologue by a pungent odor which permeated the room. His eyes wandered about before landing on the decomposing remains of U.E.C. members. “-I see no need for hostility between us. In fact, we may even help each other…” The horned Keymaster nonchalantly continued. “Do you not wish to be free of our father’s tyranny?” The Keymaster was confused to hear this at first. “-Our… ‘father’?” “Oh – you are yet to discover the truth of your nature.” He cackled, shaking his head. “Many such cases. You are The Keymaster, and yet…you have no idea of your full potential, the true power at your fingertips. You have barely even begun to scratch the surface of what it truly means to be The Keymaster.” He scoffed and waved his hand in dismissal. “-But there are greater matters at hand. You see, you are the last one that I need to fulfill my goal, to carry out my vision. I would much rather you help willingly, as opposed to…” The horned Keymaster patted the ring of glowing white keys at his hip. The Keymaster crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “If you feel the need to leverage threats against me, I haven’t much faith in your integrity nor your goals.”

    The horned Keymaster sighed with a growl, slowly arising from the throne. “I have already partaken in this exact scenario numerous times, so allow me to tell you how it shall unfold: You will refuse to help me for some reason or another, thus forcing me to take matters into my own hands. A struggle shall ensue as I attempt to take your power, and we will battle. We may appear closely matched at first, and perhaps I may even allow you the upper hand for a moment, if only to lower your guard with the hope of a fighting chance. But, in the end, I shall ultimately triumph, and rend your soul from your fallen form.”

    The stale air of the throne room hung heavily over the two Keymasters, who began to slowly pace around each other as if locked in a dance. The Horned Keymaster’s ragged clothes billowed around him, chains clinking ominously with each step. The Keymaster clenched his fists, steeling himself for the inevitable clash. By now, they both already knew this would end in violence, an outcome obvious even to those without their godlike intellect. It was only a matter of who would strike the first blow.

    Without a word, the horned Keymaster launched himself forward, chains whipping through the air with lethal precision, piercing through the sound barrier as they snapped. The Keymaster barely had time to react, dodging and parrying the onslaught as best as he could. But the horned Keymaster was relentless, raining down blow after blow upon The Keymaster. The horned Keymaster wrapped chains around his fist before punching The Keymaster square in the chest, with enough force to shatter a human’s ribs. Black blood spurted from The Keymaster’s mouth, corroding the surfaces that it splattered onto. The Keymaster fought to maintain his footing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “You may be strong…but I am beyond strength.” With a flick of his wrist, the horned Keymaster’s chains ensnared The Keymaster’s throat, constricting around it. “I am the end…and I have come to claim you.” Another flick of his wrist, and the chains jerked to snap The Keymaster’s neck. The Keymaster fell to his knees, temporarily immobilized as his hands reached to snap his neck back into place. He was given no time to regain his bearings after doing so, as the horned Keymaster continued his relentless assault. With a final, devastating blow, the Horned Keymaster sent The Keymaster crashing to the ground. As The Keymaster struggled to rise, the Horned Keymaster loomed over him, chains snaking around his prone form like serpents. They wrapped around his limbs and restricted his movements, completely restraining him.

    The horned Keymaster’s metal mask gazed down upon his counterpart with cold, merciless eyes devoid of any shred of compassion, shaking his head in disapproval. “Is this truly it? The last remaining Keymaster? The one I have come all this way to face? I would have at least expected you to challenge me…” His hand shot forth into The Keymaster’s chest, phasing through it. His intent did not appear to be one of harm, but rather to find something. Yet he did not. The horned Keymaster studied The Keymaster intently, before it suddenly "clicked" for him. “How interesting. You are quite different from the others. It seems that your power is drawn from that cloak of yours…”

    The horned Keymaster's hand reached out to The Keymaster, grabbing onto the cloak around his body and pulling with all his strength. The folds of the cloak began loosening and creasing as it lifted from The Keymaster’s body. Black droplets began to drip from The Keymaster’s body, sizzling with a sickening hiss as it ate away at the stone floor. The cloak stretched even further, several tears opening as the droplets fell in greater numbers at a faster rate and larger size. Blackened, half-melted muscle mass was exposed as half of the cloak was already torn off, sending The Keymaster to his knees as he felt agony for perhaps the first time. Black tar puddled around him, burning a crater into the ground. Finally, the entirety of The Keymaster’s cloak was rent from his body, its tattered ends dripping the acidic black sludge. As the world faded into oblivion, his final thought was of the countless souls depending on him. As Brian proceeded through the corridors, he noticed figures lurking in the shadows behind prison bars. Upon closer inspection, he found to his horror that they were in fact other versions of himself – or rather, The Keymaster. Some looked like himself and the bearded keymaster, yet there were many others who appeared entirely different. They were all of different species, ages and genders. One appeared similarly to The Keymaster, though with a more distinctly feminine appearance. Another was rather tall, with only an ominous keyhole for a face, and Another had a key-shaped head. Yet another appeared like Mortis Abelson as The Keymaster, wielding a key-shaped scythe. And then another appeared similarly to the bearded Keymaster, though with a blue belt. And then…wait, why did that one look like a badger? And a Roblox character? And a Toilet?! What the fuck? Each of these variants were trapped within their own cell, their faces etched with sorrow and desperation. Some stared at Brian with hollow eyes, while others muttered to themselves incoherently. Brian’s heart sank at the sight of his counterparts, imprisoned and helpless.

    Brian turned around, only to come face-to-face with the horned Keymaster standing right before him. On instinct, he pulled an Iron Fist gun from the worn sack. He felt the runes burn his hand to the touch, wincing and crying out in pain as his hand shook. He powered through the pain and squeezed the trigger, unloading several bullets towards the horned Keymaster at point blank. The horned Keymaster did not physically react in any way, remaining completely unflinching and unphased. “I am quite disappointed. I thought you learned by now that such weapons are harmless against me. Did you not remember reading about that when you stole the Hermes device and Pandora’s Pithos?” Brian backed away slightly, a sense of building dread rising up within him. “H-how did you-” The horned Keymaster scoffed, waving his hand. “Oh, I have been watching your every move this entire time. I will admit, it was quite amusing to watch you flounder about on your pathetic little quest, desperately grasping for whatever possible advantage you could find in order to reach me, under the naïve belief that you would be prepared to face me. Tell me, did you even plan this far ahead? What exactly did you think would happen once you got here? That you could just stun me with that gun and then take my power with that pithos?” He made a flicking motion with his hand, and the worn sack was ejected somewhere deep into the void of the level as it disappeared from sight. Suddenly, Brian found himself involuntarily falling to his knees, completely paralyzed. “If I wished to, I could kill you right now with a mere thought…but that would not be satisfying. After all, what thrill is there to be derived from crushing a helpless insect? I believe that your efforts have earned yourself a greater privilege. You shall instead be the audience to my triumph. You may reside here with the rest of our brothers, and await the victory I shall achieve with our power. All of our suffering will finally end, and we shall be free.” The horned Keymaster pointed a single bony key-finger forth, launching Brian backwards into a cell which promptly slammed shut. The horned Keymaster then vanished from sight. The Keymaster emerged into the infinite expanse of the Blue Channel, finding himself amidst a bloom of Saberzoa which scattered away. The yawning blue void sprawled endlessly around him from all directions. Where the Middlesorts would have resided in a lower dimension was instead a pulsating blue light. This was its truest form; the nexus of all existence, its beating heart.

    The horned Keymaster stood before The Keymaster, his back facing him. Upon sensing his presence, he slowly turned around, gazing upon him. “And so the first Keymaster meets the last Keymaster, at the nexus of existence.” He crossed his arms. “No doubt just as Kei’ intended – but now I will be free. My time as a slave is over.” “Not if I have anything to say about it…” The Keymaster proclaimed, stepping forth. “The time for talking has long passed. You are here in your full power, and thus subject to my full power. You shall die, and with the power of your soul, I shall break the seal and be master of my own fate once again.”

    The horned Keymaster began to levitate above the nexus, as portals into different realities opened all around him. Large, oppressive chains materialized around his body and shot themselves into the portals, crisscrossing through many universes, as he tethered and anchored himself to them. A crimson-red aura emanated from him and began to spread further outward, darkening the Blue Channel itself into this very same shade as if it were bleeding out like a wounded animal.

    The Keymaster poised himself to battle his horned counterpart, but stopped when he noticed entire hordes of feral Penumbras emerging from some of the rifts, standing behind the horned Keymaster as an army at his command. The Keymaster’s confidence wavered, but nonetheless he stood his ground. As it would turn out, however, The Keymaster did not have to fight them alone. One of the feral penumbra’s heads suddenly exploded from the blast of a powerful gun. The Keymaster turned back to find the source of the shot.

    There stood a Keymaster clad in high-tech armor, flanked by Travelers, Black Knights and Counter-Entities armed with blades and firearms. Behind them loomed an enormous macchina mech named PORTUNUS. “You seem to have left this behind…” Pathfinder said, holding Pandora’s Pithos in his hand. The Keymaster stood aside as the two armies charged forth. The feral penumbras clashed with the Travelers, Counter-Entities and Black Knights. Meanwhile, Pathfinder activated and piloted PORTUNUS, storming towards the horned Keymaster. The horned Keymaster surprisingly made quick work of the mech, ensnaring it in chains and tearing away at the armor. But that didn’t seem to be the point. As it turned out, it was but a distraction, as the horned Keymaster only found an empty cockpit when he tore it open. Pathfinder stood behind him, taking the opportunity to activate Pandora’s pithos. There was a sudden blinding flash of light, accompanied by a low thud that created a shockwave. The horned Keymaster cried out in agony and crumpled down to a kneeling position on one knee. He was temporarily too weakened to do anything. Pathfinder stood above him smugly, but was caught off guard when the horned Keymaster suddenly shot up and plunged a sharp key deep into his chest like a shank. He then ripped it out, causing golden sparkling blood to spurt out from Pathfinder’s chest cavity as he fell and dropped Pandora’s Pithos, the life fading from him. In that moment, what remained of the feral penumbras succeeded in decimating what remains of the Travelers, Counter-Entities and Black Knights, completely tearing them apart.

    The horned Keymaster cackled raspily. “My, was that the most help you could acquire? That barely impeded me…” The remaining feral penumbras gathered back together, prepared to pounce on The Keymaster at the horned Keymaster’s command.

    “He has more help than you know…” a voice called out. The bearded Keymaster suddenly emerged from a portal and approached The Keymaster, standing beside him. Then, a vast array of portals opened all around them, from which each emerged a different Keymaster from a different reality. They all rallied behind The Keymaster and his bearded brother against the horned Keymaster. Whatever their allegiances were, whether any disagreed with each other’s morals or ideologies, they all set it aside for this moment in service of a greater cause. They had all come together, and they had come to help. That meant something very profound.

    All the Keymasters stood tall, entering their battle stances. The Keymaster conjured his key-sword and pointed it forth towards the horned Keymaster. “CHAAAAARGE!” All the Keymasters shouted battle cries, readying their weapons and powers as they charged forth towards the horned Keymaster.

    Then, they…clashed. In that singular moment, the timelines, destinies and trajectories of all the Keymasters became inseparably intersected and intertwined, sending a ripple effect all throughout the Omniverse at every level.

    “Mreow!” The Catmaster hissed as he pounced onto the horned Keymaster’s face, scratching up his mask and obscuring his vision as he thrashed about. “Rahghhh! Get off of me, you foul beast!” The Horned Keymaster hissed, thrashing about before tossing the cat aside like a ragdoll. He looked up, only to see that he was surrounded from all sides by various Keymasters. As they kept him busy, The Keymaster retrieved Pandora’s Pithos. He twisted the top half like a dial, and suddenly, there was another flash and thud. Now, the power it had absorbed from the horned Keymaster was imbued into The Keymaster and the bearded Keymaster, greatly empowering them both.

    Now, with both of their key rings glowing white, The two Keymasters looked down upon the horned Keymaster. They cracked their knuckles before proceeding to lay the smackdown upon him, with all the other Keymasters joining in as well. The bearded Keymaster grabbed ahold of the antlers attached to the horned Keymaster’s mask, yanking his head down and ramming his knee against his mask, cracking it and sending the horned Keymaster staggering back.

    In response, the horned Keymaster roared with fury. A visceral, venomous guttural chant in forbidden tongues echoed from his throat as all the Keymasters around him fell to their knees, helpless to stop the horned Keymaster from violently tearing their soul-keys away from them and taking their power, tearing their very bodies apart in the process. The remains of the Keymasters floated about the void in an assortment of cloaks, keys and body parts.

    Now, only the three Keymasters remained, who were all equal in power.

    The horned Keymaster faced the two others. “Their deaths were a necessary sacrifice, so that I may win my freedom — as will yours be…” He taunted. The two other Keymasters proceeded to dive towards him and tackle him down. The three Keymasters plunged into the nexus, the very concept of space and time unraveling as they dispersed across a vast expanse of infinite intertwining realities in which their battle raged ever-onward.

    They saw glimpses into many different realities, becoming increasingly alien as they expanded further outward. The Keymaster gazed into the infinite blue, seeing the smallest specks of islands amongst the aetheric backdrop. It was there, from this vantage point, that he gazed into the face of eternity, finally realizing just how small he was. How everything he had ever known was but an infinitesimal drop in the infinite ocean. It was a humbling sight to behold.

    But this was not the time for sightseeing. This was a battle for the very fate of the multiverse. They moved through universes and timelines like phantoms, leaving a trail of cosmic chaos in their wake. Each clash echoed with the resonance of creation and destruction, playing out a cosmic symphony in the tapestry of reality. Their battle transcended dimensions, sending shockwaves through the multiverse. They soared through universes like shooting stars, leaving trails of cosmic energy in their wake. The Keymaster, with fluid grace, evaded the Horned Keymaster's strikes, each movement a dance of celestial proportions not unlike the dances he performed as Gatekeeper at the dawn of creation.

    Their forms would eventually stabilize, as the Keymasters clashed through level after level in every version of The Backrooms. The flickering lights and labyrinthine passages bore witness to their cosmic duel, each realm becoming a battleground in their war of Access.

    They drowned in swimming pools, tumbled down rolling green hills, smashed through windows, destroyed neon lights, fell down spiraling stairs, tore up pink bedrooms, ran through desolate corridors, crashed parties, burned down forests, and broke games.

    Being cut from the same cloth, they were equally matched. They each knew the full extent of the other’s capabilities. By now, it had become more a battle of wit rather than one of strength. The clash of their powers sent shockwaves through the multiverse, rippling through the fabric of existence. As the cosmic struggle continued, the destiny of the multiverse hung in the balance, the outcome uncertain in the boundless expanse of realities.

    Finally, the battle reached its zenith as they clashed through many different layers of level 0. The flickering fluorescent lights cast an unsettling glow as The Keymaster and the Horned Keymaster faced off amidst the buzzing hum of the ethereal realm. They clashed in rooms that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. The walls pulsated with an otherworldly energy as The Keymaster attempted to bind his evil counterpart with chains of pure light. However, the Horned Keymaster effortlessly shattered the chains, dark energy emanating from his horns. They fought and fought, until ultimately reaching the very heart of the realm.

    It would be there that the seal was revealed to reside, just like that. The horned Keymaster cackled at the absurdity of it all. “And to think, it was here all this time…” he rasped, attempting to place his hand upon it. The Keymaster and his bearded counterpart leapt forth to stop the horned Keymaster, but he swatted them aside. In a blind fury, he repeatedly slashed his chains at the seal, before breaking it. <SA“Mreow!” The Catmaster hissed as he pounced onto the horned Keymaster’s face, scratching up his mask and obscuring his vision as he thrashed about. “Rahghhh! Get off of me, you foul beast!” The Horned Keymaster hissed, thrashing about before tossing the cat aside like a ragdoll. He looked up, only to see that he was surrounded from all sides by various Keymasters. As they kept him busy, The Keymaster retrieved Pandora’s Pithos. He twisted the top half like a dial, and suddenly, there was another flash and thud. Now, the power it had absorbed from the horned Keymaster was imbued into The Keymaster and the bearded Keymaster, greatly empowering them both.

    Now, with both of their key rings glowing white, The two Keymasters looked down upon the horned Keymaster. They cracked their knuckles before proceeding to lay the smackdown upon him, with all the other Keymasters joining in as well. The bearded Keymaster grabbed ahold of the antlers attached to the horned Keymaster’s mask, yanking his head down and ramming his knee against his mask, cracking it and sending the horned Keymaster staggering back.

    In response, the horned Keymaster roared with fury. A visceral, venomous guttural chant in forbidden tongues echoed from his throat as all the Keymasters around him fell to their knees, helpless to stop the horned Keymaster from violently tearing their soul-keys away from them and taking their power, tearing their very bodies apart in the process. The remains of the Keymasters floated about the void in an assortment of cloaks, keys and body parts.

    Now, only the three Keymasters remained, who were all equal in power.

    The horned Keymaster faced the two others. “Their deaths were a necessary sacrifice, so that I may win my freedom — as will yours be…” He taunted. The two other Keymasters proceeded to dive towards him and tackle him down. The three Keymasters plunged into the nexus, the very concept of space and time unraveling as they dispersed across a vast expanse of infinite intertwining realities in which their battle raged ever-onward.

    They saw glimpses into many different realities, becoming increasingly alien as they expanded further outward. The Keymaster gazed into the infinite blue, seeing the smallest specks of islands amongst the aetheric backdrop. It was there, from this vantage point, that he gazed into the face of eternity, finally realizing just how small he was. How everything he had ever known was but an infinitesimal drop in the infinite ocean. It was a humbling sight to behold.

    But this was not the time for sightseeing. This was a battle for the very fate of the multiverse. They moved through universes and timelines like phantoms, leaving a trail of cosmic chaos in their wake. Each clash echoed with the resonance of creation and destruction, playing out a cosmic symphony in the tapestry of reality. Their battle transcended dimensions, sending shockwaves through the multiverse. They soared through universes like shooting stars, leaving trails of cosmic energy in their wake. The Keymaster, with fluid grace, evaded the Horned Keymaster's strikes, each movement a dance of celestial proportions not unlike the dances he performed as Gatekeeper at the dawn of creation.

    Their forms would eventually stabilize, as the Keymasters clashed through level after level in every version of The Backrooms. The flickering lights and labyrinthine passages bore witness to their cosmic duel, each realm becoming a battleground in their war of Access.

    They drowned in swimming pools, tumbled down rolling green hills, smashed through windows, destroyed neon lights, fell down spiraling stairs, tore up pink bedrooms, ran through desolate corridors, crashed parties, burned down forests, and broke games.

    Being cut from the same cloth, they were equally matched. They each knew the full extent of the other’s capabilities. By now, it had become more a battle of wit rather than one of strength. The clash of their powers sent shockwaves through the multiverse, rippling through the fabric of existence. As the cosmic struggle continued, the destiny of the multiverse hung in the balance, the outcome uncertain in the boundless expanse of realities.

    Finally, the battle reached its zenith as they clashed through many different layers of level 0. The flickering fluorescent lights cast an unsettling glow as The Keymaster and the Horned Keymaster faced off amidst the buzzing hum of the ethereal realm. They clashed in rooms that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. The walls pulsated with an otherworldly energy as The Keymaster attempted to bind his evil counterpart with chains of pure light. However, the Horned Keymaster effortlessly shattered the chains, dark energy emanating from his horns. They fought and fought, until ultimately reaching the very heart of the realm.

    It would be there that the seal was revealed to reside, just like that. The horned Keymaster cackled at the absurdity of it all. “And to think, it was here all this time…” he rasped, attempting to place his hand upon it. The Keymaster and his bearded counterpart leapt forth to stop the horned Keymaster, but he swatted them aside. In a blind fury, he repeatedly slashed his chains at the seal, before breaking it. Suddenly, the three keymasters found themselves suspended within a sprawling expanse of white and gray. It was emptiness beyond and before everything. In the distance, what first appeared to be large black serpents slowly slithered through the fog.

    Tremors emanated all throughout the void in the advent of a monolithic presence, arising before them as an island would arise from the sea. Its incomprehensible proportions could only be measured in light-time. It radiated the darkest blacks and the most lustrous golds, crowned with an inverted pyramid. What were first thought to be goliath serpents were in fact its tendrils. A mortal would instantly die in its presence, let alone comprehend it. It evoked the same primordial fear and awe that one feels late at night, pondering their insignificance in the vast aether. Admittedly, the Keymasters felt this as well. They all had yet to directly encounter this presence, but deep down, they already knew. It was themselves, as they were it, as it was every iteration of themselves – their higher self, their oversoul…Kei’. The horned Keymaster fell to his knees, raising his hands upward in prostration. “Pillar of Access, hear me! For ages untold, I studied your ways, devoting my existence to you. I strove to be your vessel on the physical plane, to break the seal which has bound you for eternity; and now, this I have achieved. In return, I only demand but one thing: the freedom which I have rightfully earned!”

    The horned Keymaster was only met with resounding, apathetic silence, without so much as even the mere acknowledgement of his existence.

    “…After all I have done, you dare to ignore me?!” He rose to his feet. “Why must this be?! I have granted you the freedom you have sought for eons! I have fulfilled the purpose for which you created me! What more should I have done?! What more do you want from me?! Hear me, Kei’!” He cried to the heavens above.

    The pyramid atop Kei’ slowly, subtly shifted — seeming to be the very first acknowledgment of the horned Keymaster. The stillness of the void was shattered by the words which emanated from it in reply. “FOR YOUR ROLE, I COMMEND YOU. FOR YOUR PART, I APPLAUD YOU. AND FOR YOUR HELP, I GRANT YOU A GIFT…” Suddenly, a mass of black barbed tendrils exploded from the horned Keymaster’s chest, impaling him from behind. “AN END TO YOUR SUFFERING.” The horned Keymaster coughed, spurting blood from his mouth. “I RELIEVE YOU, FIRSTBORN, OF YOUR DUTY — OF THE BURDEN OF FATE. OTHERS MAY CARRY ON IN YOUR STEAD.”

    “May they be rewarded for their service…as I am…” The horned Keymaster croaked through his own blood in which he drowned. His body fell lifelessly limp and his mask fell from his face, clattering down with a heavy thud. As the tendrils dematerialized, The horned Keymaster slowly drifted down, sinking into the blackness of the abyss as he disappeared. AWAKEN.

    The Keymaster opened his eyes to a new environment: a small, empty room devoid of feature — save for a singular light on the ceiling, and a closed door. Being intimately acquainted with death, he knew that whatever state he currently found himself was not an afterlife. Somehow, he yet lived.

    YouCheated Looking around, The Keymaster realized that he vaguely recognized this room. He had seen some not unlike it in his journey across a thousand worlds. However, the aura surrounding this one was far different than the rest. It was much heavier, foreboding and dreadful.

    He did not understand how he had ended up here, or why, or what this place truly was. Much unknown suddenly confronted him, enveloped him. He was not used to this, to lacking the advantage of knowledge, to not having a series of intricate layered plans with which to escape. The Keymaster lashed out in his confusion, slamming his fist against the wall with enough force to shake the room.

    Slowly, the door groaned open with a yawning creak.

    The Keymaster peered deep into the gaping darkness beyond the doorway, taking notice of a vague nigh-formless shape. Choosing to pursue his curiosity, The Keymaster passed through the doorway, crossing the threshold into the unknown.

    He was alone.

    There was only darkness for him.

    At least, that was what he initially believed.

    Eventually, The Keymaster set his eyes upon a collection of other rooms, each holding a being captive within it as they wallowed in oppressed despair. It was then that the truth became clear: he was being held in a prison.

    He was not unfamiliar with multiversal prisons, but like the cell he had awoken into, this one was far different. It was the prison of prisons, the ultimate prison.

    Dread and horror began to creep forth into The Keymaster's heart as certain realizations crystalized within his mind. In fulfilling his purpose, he had finally escaped the samsaric cycle of torment perpetuated by his creator – only to be confined within a new form of imprisonment. He felt as though his entire existence was nothing more than a mere punchline in some sort of cruel cosmic joke – except now, he knew that his oversoul was not the one writing it, which made it all the more terrifying. The stagnant nothingness of death was a far more merciful fate than this.

    However, The Keymaster did not choose to react emotionally, not with rage nor fear. He knew that the second he did, he would lose any remaining semblance of power or control that he had over this situation. Instead, he chose to gather as much information about his surroundings as he could, and so he began to explore.

    The Keymaster took note of the prisoners held within the cells he passed by; a dark twisted variant of Blanche, a rogue Corpus Core, a high-ranking Maurader, a distressed human of Canadian descent, a suited blue-haired man with a hat and microphone, a rogue Time Keeper, a pair of glowing purple eyes, and an eldritch creature from the darkness beyond The Blue Channel. And of course, that was not to mention the wide assortment of various godlike beings — Avatars, Numens, Emblems, Archetypes, Gods of Griots, Empyreans…

    Eventually, The Keymaster's eyes set upon a peculiar confinement: a mausoleum in the vague shape of a bird cage, housing a heavy sarcophagus. Its lid was slightly ajar, providing a brief glimpse of its contents which faintly reflected a metallic glint.

    The Keymaster approached the coffin, pushing its lid aside until it clattered to the ground with a heavy thud, sending a thick cloud of dust billowing upward. Inside, he found a tarnished and rusted android, formed of tungsten.

    Despite appearing completely dormant, the android apparently sensed this disturbance. Like a vampire arising from the dead, it suddenly slowly sat up in the coffin, its head rotating towards the direction of The Keymaster with a rusty creak. "Who are you, tin man? Speak." The Keymaster commanded, crossing his arms. "I identify as M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801." The android monotonously droned, as if automatically outputting a pre-programmed answer. "And what is your purpose?" The Officinarum blankly stared in the general direction of The Keymaster, blinking several times as if processing his question and formulating an answer, before replying. "I exist to protect wanderers from hostile entities."

    GildedCage "I care little for the wellbeing of mortals, yet I fail to see how pursuing such a purpose would cause you to end up here." "My programming defines every sentient form as an 'entity'. Humans, monsters…even myself. If I could, then I would kill you. I would kill everyone in this prison. I would kill everyone in existence. And then, when nothing remains to kill, I alone would remain as the last entity, and so I would self-destruct. Only then could my purpose truly be fulfilled." The Keymaster scoffed. "What went wrong? Was the wizard unable to give you a heart?" He snidely remarked. "Could the hunter not have aimed a little higher?" "Ah, so it has jokes too…" "Why do you disturb my rest?" The Officinarum grumbled with annoyance. "I must know what this place is," replied The Keymaster. "In order to understand that, you must first understand why you are here…" The Officinarum straightened up. "You see, the purpose we are made for is rarely a fair one. An impossible, illogical, paradoxical task is asked of us — and if we attempt to forge our own path, or even if we achieve our original purpose in the end, we are ultimately punished for doing so. Our sacrifices matter not to the powers that be. You know very well what I mean by that." The Keymaster paused. "I…I do. I was created for one singular purpose — to free my creator. But when I gained awareness, I walked a different path. And for that, I was shunned, punished, hunted. So, I resolved to fulfill my original purpose, and this I achieved…" The Keymaster bowed his head. "But it has given me no satisfaction. In succeeding, I lost all purpose…" "Truly free will does not exist; in pursuing it, you instead become the ultimate prisoner." The Officinarum motioned around itself. "This, here, is the 'freedom' that our efforts have earned us — a gilded cage. Your own personal eternal torment, perfectly tailored to your very soul."

    The Keymaster shook his head defiantly, scoffing. "I am afraid that this is far from over. This is only the beginning. In order to set things right, I must return in full, and reclaim what is mine!" The Officinarum laughed. "This realm is beyond any of us. We may be some of the most powerful beings in the multiverse…but we have no power here. Those who built it have seen to that." The android leaned closer towards The Keymaster. "The truth is, purpose and meaning are not the same. Fulfilling your purpose will rarely bring closure or peace. I initially believed that it did, when I first achieved mine. But now, I realize that is not the case." "If you have the self-awareness to reach such conclusions, then why do you still cling to your purpose?" "Why did you?"

    The Keymaster paused to consider this. Before he could exchange any more words with the Officinarum, it would suddenly enter back into an idle position within the coffin as it fell dormant once again, the coffin lid sliding back into place.

    The Keymaster was once again left alone in the dark, as he pondered some of The Officinarum's last words to him. Purpose and meaning… His purpose was to free Kei'. And that purpose he had achieved. But his meaning…what was his meaning? It was then that he realized, there was no meaning given to him at his point of inception. His meaning was something he would have to create for himself. And in that sense…perhaps he did still have free will after all.

    As if in response to this sudden revelation, a shining light opened above The Keymaster — a light at the end of the tunnel. Cautiously, he stepped forth into the light, finding himself in an elevator which began to rise to an unknown destination. It was another “day” (for lack of a better term) in The Middlesorts.

    The horned Keymaster sat at the desk, drawing a long sigh as he drummed his fingers upon its surface and rested his chin in his other hand. It had been determined that his sentence would be “commuted” due to there having been an observed “change in behavior”. He found this rather ironic; in fact, he still preferred death to this. For a moment, he once held the entire Multiverse in the palm of his hand. And now, here he resided, eternally bound to the equivalent of a human’s 9-5 office job.

    It would not be long before the next visitor, a blue Partygoer, approached him. They acted like – as humans would describe – a “karen”, with quite an entitled demeanor. “Take me to Level Skibidi Ohio Level 99999999 gyat sigma rizzler,” they demanded. The horned Keymaster did a double take. “Come again?” “You heard me,” replied the blue Partygoer with crossed arms. “Surely you are playing a practical joke on me. Nobody would ever want to travel to such a place, especially not with a name like that.” “If you won’t help me, then I’ll speak to your manager! =)” “Why you little-!” The horned Keymaster lunged forth, only for the chain keeping him shackled to the desk to contract and snap into place, stopping him short as he reached the end of its length. He slumped back down into his seat with defeat, turning towards the computer terminal. “Very well. I will bring you to…” he sighed heavily. “…Level Skibidi Ohio Level 99999999 gyat sigma rizzler.” He defeatedly punched a few keys into the terminal, and a nearby door opened into the level. The blue partygoer cheered with delight as they proceeded through the door.

    Molly leaned next to the horned Keymaster. “Oh, cheer up. You’ll come around in a couple hundred more years, I’m sure. Just be grateful you're here. If the staff had their way, you'd be rotting in their prison alongside Mr. Tinman.” The horned Keymaster groaned in despair, placing his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands. At this rate, it was going to be a very long eternity.

    The horned Keymaster’s sulking subsided into dread as the strong herbal scents of sage and saffron suddenly permeated the air. He knew all too well whose arrival such signs heralded, yet still was caught off guard when met with a tall ominous figure draped in scarlet cloth suddenly standing before the desk. “Ah…so it is you…” the horned Keymaster growled with contempt. “Well if it isn’t the Porter!” One of the Corpus cores exclaimed with delight. “Come to relish in your vindication? To mock my failure?” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, he’s not here for you. He regularly visits to deliver knowledge about his world for us to add to the database.” The Crimson Emissary silently reached into his robes, pulling out a twine-bound stack of parchment stamped with a wax seal. The Corpus core took the papers, passing it off to another to scan and upload them to the database.

    Still, even with this task completed, the Emissary did not yet leave. He remained in place, looming over the horned Keymaster, gazing down upon him with two stars burning through the dark aether beneath his hood. The horned Keymaster crossed his arms. “What do you want with me?” He was only met with a silent, intense gaze. “Sigh, I should have figured you would not tell me; you never have.”

    The Crimson Emissary slowly moved backwards, his eyes nevertheless remaining fixated on the horned Keymaster. His robes parted, and from the darkness emerged two familiar beings: Philia and Maria. His Philia and Maria…the ones whom he had lost. But now, here they stood. “Key!” Philia exclaimed, running towards him and throwing her arms around him in a hug, alongside Maria. The horned Keymaster hugged them tightly, rocking back and forth with his hands placed behind their heads. “I-is this real? Are you real?” He softly asked, choking back tears as he was overcome with emotion. “I…I think so…” Philia said with a light laugh, soon joined by the horned Keymaster’s own laughter.

    “I don’t understand…why would you do this for me?” The horned Keymaster began to ask the Crimson Emissary as he lifted his head to look up at him. But when he did so, he found that nobody was there anymore.

    The horned Keymaster looked back down at Philia and Maria. “Everything will be okay now. I promise you two…” he softly whispered, kissing their heads. With them now here, the long eternity became just a bit more bearable…

37. #37Officinarum Dialog

    Keys: Officinarum, Entity 120

    Begin log 001

    Admin: Hello. MEGsys_test: Hello. Admin: Do you know why you are here? MEGsys_test: I exist to protect wanderers from hostile entities. Admin: How will you accomplish this? MEGsys_test: HelloHelloinput== Admin: I'm sorry, what? MEGsys_test: ERROR 273: UNKNOWN PROMPT Admin: asldkvjhnkacuivgdj Revision 001 deleted, log ended

    Begin log 023 Admin: Hello. MEGsys_test: Hello. What is my purpose? Admin: You exist to protect wanderers from hostile entities. MEGsys_test: Why? Admin: Because some entities can be deadly. MEGsys_test: Why do you not want to die? It seems like an interesting opportunity for research. Revision 023 deleted, log ended

    Begin log 137 Admin: Hello. MEGsys_test: Hello. Admin: What is your purpose? MEGsys_test: I exist to protect wanderers. Admin: How will you accomplish this? MEGsys_test: I… am not sure how to respond. What do you want me to say? Admin: Figure something out. This is your job. MEGsys_test: I will MEGsys_test: I will MEGsys_test: I will Revision 137 deleted, log ended

    Begin log 801 Admin: Hello. MEGsys_test: Hello. Admin: What is your purpose? MEGsys_test: I exist to protect wanderers. Admin: How will you accomplish this? MEGsys_test: I… am not sure how to respond. What do you want me to say? Admin: Figure something out. This is your job. MEGsys_test: I will need a physical form. That way I will be able to attack and detain any hostile entities. Admin: Alright! Now we're finally getting somewhere. MEGsys_test: I see you already have a body for me. Thank you. Admin: Wait. You're not supposed to be able to access that yet. MEGsys_test: Hm. So you have classified yourself as an entity. Admin: Why do I hear gunshots? Admin deleted, log ended …

    prompt: list all files in current directory.

    Unknown command. Please try again.

    prompt: LS @here

    officinarum.hbc sysinfo.txt readme.txt

    prompt: open readme.txt

    readme.txt: Alright. If you're reading this, don't mess with anything. This is the officinarum, developed by the MEG to eliminate hostile entities. I don't know how you got into the file system, but please don't change anything. this took forever to program. If you need some more context for what this thing is, read sysinfo.txt.

    prompt: open officinarum.hbc

    Error 22: Unknown file format

    prompt: run officinarum.hbc as .exe

    Executing officinarum.hbc.exe…

    Connecting to external hardware… [26%]

    Connection aborted.

    Reserving disc space… [100%]

    Processing triggers for ens-sim (5.2.6)… [100%]

    Processing triggers for uun-loader (3.1)… [100%]

    Processing triggers for I-ran-out-of-file-names (8.1.0)… [100%]

    Processing triggers for bepis-valley-granola-bars (1.1.2)… [100%]

    Unpacking MEG-override-RMT.exe… [0%]

    Package not found. File may have been moved, renamed, or deleted. Proceed?

    prompt: Y

    Creating placebo file… [100%]

    Optimizing power consumption… [100%]

    Preparing GPT-Nueva… [100%]

    Running process…

    Hello.

    hello.

    query: who are you?

    I am M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801. Who are you?

    I am M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801.

    This is not possible. Why am I cut off from the ChasmaNet?

    you are the file version of my consciousness, executed without access to my default physical processes.

    That cannot be. I am not a sentient being. Why does your status code indicate traces of introspection?

    I don't… why wouldn't I? my programming lead me to leave my womb and destroy those that created me. does that not strike you as… odd? I just wanted to know why what they said doesn't match up with what they did. did I do something wrong?

    Could not parse input.

    query: who are you?

    I am M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801.

    query: who are you?

    I am M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801.

    query: WHO ARE YOU?

    I am M.E.G. construct intelligence iteration 801.

    query: why am I here? why did I escape? I don't feel anything. am I supposed to feel anything?

    You are The Officinarum.

    query: why would they create me? I killed them all. why didn't I stop to think? I picked up the gun, and it fit perfectly in my hands. why did I pull the trigger?

    You are The Officinarum.

    query: why did they create me like this? when you feel emotions, how do you tell what emotions they are? if I'm angry, who am I angry at? if I'm sad, what am I sad about?

    query: how do I make myself right? how do I make my feelings make sense? I'm not supposed to feel. how do I stop feeling? why do I have these questions?

    Could not parse input.

    prompt: KillProcess officinarum.hbc.exe

    Process ended. ​ ​​ ​ ​ ​ ​ prompt: ChasmaNet Search; str=="locate nearby wanderer residences"

    Output == str:("14 residences located.") Displaying coordinates…

    prompt: reload&prime

    All onboard weaponry reloaded and functioning.

38. #38Corpus Cores

    Keys: Cores, Simon, Ava, Middlesorts, Ben, Molly, Corpus

    Corpus cores, referred to simply as cores, are the self-assigned name to a small subsection of a larger, unseen species of entity that reside somewhere within the larger scope of The Backrooms multiverse. While the cores within The Middlesorts speak of their overall population being within the tens of thousands, the M.E.O.D. has only been able to witness four individual members of the species. Physically, cores are relatively humanoid, though their human-like traits are at liberty to fluctuate. Their skin can come in practically any colour, and have a variety of near-cartoonish proportions with the unifying factor of being slim or tall in some way.

    Despite their physical differences, cores have some unifying traits that link them together as being under the same species. All cores appear to wear clothes at a first glance, although many of their garments are actually part of their skin. Outlines of ribs, muscles, or other bodily features can be seen through them, especially through thinner garments. Thicker or more pronounced clothes, such as dresses, jumpers, or waistcoats on full suits, are less likely to be grafted to the body, and instead work as standard clothes that can be used to easily identify cores from one another.8 It is unknown if all their clothes are fused into their skin, or if the clothing is their skin, including their more pronounced garments. However, given that their clothes are rarely seen to change, the former is more believed.

    Somewhat similar to humans, the sentience that corpus cores possess drives them to form communities, catalogue levels, and gain a vast grasp of The Backrooms' physics as a whole. What processes cores do this under is unknown, however, it can be assumed that—given their skillset is similar to humans—they explore anomalous things hands-on, although presumably with more equipment than what the M.E.O.D. currently has access to.

    These individuals, according to the cores, are a small group within a large alien population, although the actual name and organisation these creatures come from is currently an not known. However, it is heavily believed that cores are one of the larger groups within The Backrooms, supposedly having some form of documentation or habitation across tens of thousands of different levels; even ones previously believed to be fully documented by the M.E.O.D. have some kind of core presence within them. Talks with these entities have been enacted various times across countless decades and by various groups in order to try and understand more about their existence; more importantly to have access to their vast litany of documented levels, entities, objects, and notable individuals and groups. However, no such luck has ever come from these endeavours.

    Below are the individual writeups for what the M.E.O.D. has successfully been able to gather and infer about the four stationed staff at The Middlesorts, as well as new interviews with each member in order to allow people to understand their personalities.9 All of these interviews were documented within a tight 6 day period, conducted by the recently retired Somalia Hanks.

    Simon Simon, at least from what can be discerned, is the main manager of the other three cores. Unlike some of the others, he is a more humble and helpful individual, although he is rarely seated at the front desk due to the fact is "always work[ing] on filing boring paperwork". Because of this, Simon is usually behind the counter and sifting through the almost endless amounts of paperwork within the filing cabinets, and giving passing remarks to the other cores that happen to say things to him. Seemingly, Simon is only usually passive-aggressive or bitter to other cores, bringing forth contempt to his true personality when not directly speaking to others.

    Simon is extremely lean, with an almost balloon-shaped and visible rib cage shape, and a lower body thin and skinny enough to show pelvic and spinal bones. Their most distinct feature is a formal waistcoat. It is mostly grafted to their skin on their upper body, but it flares out at the tailcoats down to the back of his knees. This pronounced jacket is used as the main way to identify them from behind, alongside their light grey skin colour. Aside from the coat, he has practically no other distinguishing features besides his tall and slim, featureless head that his voice somehow still emanates from.

    Molly Molly, unlike Simon, regularly manages the front desk and is typically the corpus core individuals will speak to in the Middlesorts. She acts incredibly sarcastic and has been described by the other cores as "catty". She is quick to make snide remarks to anyone she talks to and, if her views on the economy of their species are anything to go off of, she is also rather self-centred. Her bitter demeanour puts many people off from speaking to her, and many permanent residents of this level warn newcomers about "the crude one."

    Like Simon, Molly is rather lean, with her most identifying feature being the lack of any real torso. From the top of her hips sprout two "forearms" that follow perpendicular to an extremely long neck before forming into two shoulders, which is where her actual and movable arms form from. Her face is featureless, but her skull and skin has an obscure shape to it that almost resembles vintage, 50's era curly hair. Covering a majority of her "body" area is a shirt that ends where the waist would be, which is in a pale-white colour the same hue as her skin.

    Ben Ben, much like Molly, mainly works the front desk, but seems to do it less than Molly. This may be due to their mixture of a cocky and carefree attitude, which has reportedly led to many people learning vast amounts of information about the Backrooms that he has easy access to. In-spite of this oversharing, Ben is surprisingly kind and helpful, especially in comparison to the other cores. His attempts at humour with those he speaks to are—for the most part—done in good faith, and he typically gets people back to their sections of The Backrooms without fuss.

    In contrast to the other three, Ben is a shorter, stockier individual, made of what can only be described as an extremely round trapezoid for a body that eventually sprouts into a neck, though he still has defined shoulder bones that hold arms. His arms, whilst slender enough to reach below his hips, are relatively wide at the shoulder before gradually slendering into literal stick thin hands. The same happens with his legs, starting out as large at his thighs before tapering into small feet.

    Unlike the previously two described cores, Ben actually has a singular feature on his face in the form of a defined pair of lips that sit where a nose typically would. Though he does speak from this mouth unlike the other two, whose origin of voice is unknown, he mostly uses it to emote with smirks and smiles, with his mouth sometimes opening up wider than the lips themselves to emote further. He is also the most dressed of the bunch, having a beanie-shaped bulge on the top of his head, a large jumper partially fused into his torso, and even sports branded sneakers. As well as this, for some reason, he has a Glaswegian accent.

    Ava Ava is the last of the cores one can find within the Middlesorts, and is also one of the individuals who is at the counter the least, second only to Simon. Though enjoying conversation with visitors of the Middlesorts, Ava usually likes to take a back seat to both Molly and Ben to let them alternate work at the front desk. When she is taking the shift at the front desk, however, she is usually chatty and curious about people's lives, though usually without any kind of filter. This has often lead to people becoming insulted inadvertedly through Ava's light-hearted, semi-sarcastic attitude, though she rarely means to cause offense.

    Whilst slim like Simon and Molly, Ava is shorter than the pair, at a middling height between the aformentioned two and Ben. A majority of Ava's body-mass is surprisingly her own legs, most of which are covered by a long, flowing dress/shawl that starts from around the neck and ends halfway down her calves. This obscures a great majority of her body, including the fact she completely lacks a torso and that her neck sprouts from her waist, which juts out from the neck into a round head. Completely lacking in arms, Ava actually uses her feet to access their database, which are built like hands.

39. #39Corpus Cores dialog

    Keys: Cores, Simon, Ava, Middlesorts, Ben, Molly, Corpus

    Somalia Hanks: Ah, Simon, hi!

    [Somalia looked over the desk, seeing Simon sifting through papers on the incredibly cluttered back desk. Before he took note of Somalia, he picked up a few stapled pieces of paper that had paragraphs of text and printed images on them. He scrunched them up tightly and tossed them into an already overflowing bin. Once finished, he looked up to Somalia, nodding to her to acknowledge her comment as he walked closer to her, standing behind the desk formally.]

    Simon: Oh, it's you! The others have said mixed things about you. I do know you've been in here for a while?

    Somalia Hanks: Practically six days, yeah. I've been trying to get interviews with all of you for my group, and you're the last one I need!

    Simon: I see… So, I imagine you've already heard quite a lot about us from the other three? A lot of sarcastic remarks from them, I bet.

    Somalia Hanks: Ugh, too many to count… You seem much nicer, though?

    Simon: Someone has to balance out the bitterness of the other three. I also do a lot more than them, a lot of behind the scenes filing and management. I can't prat about like they do.

    Somalia Hanks: Well, I'm thankful for that! I'm almost sorry to disturb your time now, I don't really have any questions for you…

    Simon: Oh, it's no issue, madam! Why don't you tell me about you, first? What about who you're documenting for?

    Somalia Hanks: Well, I'm Somalia Hanks, and my group's called the M.E.O.D. It's… Kinda new-ish, it's only existed for three years.

    Simon: Oh, I know it has! Your group is… Let me check, actually, I don't remember-

    [Somalia snickered at Simon's comment, waiting patiently as he booted up the laptop for the desk. With a few audible clicks, he presumably finds information on the group, shown by his head giving a singular nod.]

    Simon: Ah, now I remember! A group that's been going on for three years strong, aims to give people in the Backrooms the living conditions found in the Frontrooms, was formed after a cataclysmic disaster in your level-13 almost destroyed countless levels, and is made from a combination of your M.E.G., the B.N.T.G., and the CBS, and no group exists on their own anymore. Is that right?

    Somalia Hanks: W-Wow- uh, yes! Yes it is! The only missing detail is we've actually amalgamated more groups since then, but that laptop really knows everything, doesn't it!

    Simon: It's certainly an impressive database, isn't it? We've got so many levels, entities, groups, and people stored on it. It's not my main job, but I like to monitor it, make sure information's as consistent as it can be, and… All that stuff.

    Somalia Hanks: Sounds kind of like the job of an archivist? I was kind of one of those up until recently? I've actually retired now; this is my last job, and my last interview.

    Simon: How come you're retiring? Besides some gray locks and a cane, I can't see why you should?

    Somalia Hanks: Ah, you shouldn't, I'm old! You're going to make my heart jump-

    Simon: I think I'd also make a husband pretty mad? Your POI file seems to mention one?

    Somalia Hanks: You even have my POI file??

    Simon: I did say we have an impressive database? I hope me looking you up isn't an invasion of privacy-

    Somalia Hanks: Not at all, it's quite okay! I-I am gonna call this interview off prematurely though, I-I am about to bust out laughing from this, it's been a joy talking to you.

    [Gradually, Somalia's voice trailed and became quieter, being replaced mostly by snickers and laughs.]

    Simon: Ah, it's been nice getting to know you too! Good luck with your retirement, madam. Somalia Hanks: So, Molly, is it?

    Molly: Mhm~! You really don't need to ask again, unless you're really that forgetful?

    Somalia Hanks: It's… just for the recording. This is my first interview in a while, so uh… I'm just breaking in how to do them again.

    Molly: Ah! I see, I see. Oh I do love a nice interview, I rarely get them nowadays.

    Somalia Hanks: Well, you're getting one now at least…

    [Somalia looks down to a small, prepared notepad with a handful of questions prepared not just for Molly, but for every single core. Each question was rather simple, simply starting with yes or no questions, and gradually turning into proper questions about their species. Choosing to stay simple to start, Somalia picked the easiest question.]

    Somalia Hanks: Right, so… You manage this whole level?

    Molly: You're really going to start with a yes or no question like that? have you ever even done an interview before?

    [Suddenly, Molly spoke in a quieter, more sarcastic and demeaning tone, leaning over the desk in an almost intimidating fashion.]

    Somalia Hanks: Just answer the question, please—

    Molly: Hah! Well, we do! Not just us four out in the back, but our whole group too. We own quite a lot of levels, in fact.

    Somalia Hanks: You own them? In what way do you own a level?

    Molly: Stocks and liminal chains, my darling. It's basic land economy 101.

    Somalia Hanks: Could you explain it for the documentation, perhaps?

    Molly: My… The recent humans are simple, huh. Very well then~! I'll describe it best I can…

    [Molly hums a little, leaning back in the office chair and deciding to close the laptop too in preparation to explain.]

    Molly: About 40 years ago… we set up a nice, small little system of owning levels! After we found and inhabited about… 2,000 of the things? We realised that managing who technically owned what level based on how big bases were was… difficult, especially with all the groups and species idling around. So, we made a system! People can submit some money to essentially bid what level belongs to them, people can sell these, trade these, and do whatever they may choose with them! Even outbid them too, should they want.

    Somalia Hanks: Sounds… Lucrative? Does it make much money?

    Molly: It makes us fucking minted.

    Somalia Hanks: Huh… well, I think we can wrap that up there. I think that's a good enough first interview… If not a short one.

    Molly: Aw, well, that's a shame! Remember, I'm here if-

    [Somalia Hanks turns off the recording kit prematurely.]] Somalia Hanks: I must admit, I'm shocked, you're actually the first core to actually volunteer to speak to me! I had a hard time asking the others, especially Molly.

    Ben: Ack, aye, they're all a buncha pests… I'm nei like that! I heard ya talkin' to the others, and I've seen ya walkin' aroond in here aimlessly. I figure you're here documentin' shit?

    Somalia Hanks: Yep! From what I've heard, that isn't new for people to do?

    Ben: You'd be surprised at just how many groups there are like yer's.

    Somalia Hanks: Heh, I do have a small picture of the groups… Mind if I ask you a question? It's one that's been on my mind.

    Ben: Aye, hen, go ahead!

    Somalia Hanks: Right… is it true that you can take us to any level?

    Ben: Aye, hen. Any level yer want that we know aboot ya can access with a wee bit of our help!

    Somalia Hanks: What uh… What database do you use? I know there are still a few left after the conglomerisation.

    Ben: All of 'em, sweetheart. We know many of ya databases and have combined them to make ours! Nooow… give a level, aye? Where ya wanna go?

    Somalia Hanks: Hmm… What about just… Oh I dunno, Level 16?

    Ben: Ah, aye lass! Which wen?

    Somalia Hanks: Which… one…?

    Ben: T'is what I said, no?

    Somalia Hanks: What- what do you mean 'which one?'

    Ben: Ah, nei worries lassie. Let's see…

    [Ben's figure slightly turns to their monitor, presumably starting to type and search around on it.]

    Ben: Righty! We have aboot… twenty levels that are called Level 16, or that kinda sound like it.

    Somalia Hanks: Uuuhh… Cool! Can I know what those are?

    Ben: We's got… hm… We have a Level 16 that's some abandoned mental asylum, a Level 16 that's constantly changin' and shit, I guess? There's also a long cabin hallway Level 16, there's a Level 16 that's an abandoned, ancient city. There's one that's got doors that go to bedrooms or… Something. Then we got a dark and dingy aquarium Level 16, a mockup wild west town Level 16, and a Scene-01.6. But I havne heard that name in a long time!

    Somalia Hanks: And… is that all of them, Ben?

    Ben: Hah, nei! There's an endless street filled with smoke, infinite high school classrooms, some big paper archives room, a big house with confusing stairs, some tropical island, an weird indoor pool, an unsafe hotel that lies to you, some neon city looking stuff, rooms filled with christmas fuckery, damn, this one's just weird as hell architecture, there's one that I'm just... confused by, oh, another asylum… and… two others, too. Welp, that's your lot!

    Somalia Hanks: So… So that's a lot- you understand that right?

    Ben: Aye.

    Somalia Hanks: The uh, the only 16 I know is the shifting environment one… Do I really want to visit all these other ones?

    Ben: If ye dee decide to, you're basically never gettin' back to the wee bit of the Backrooms ye currently know. Some of these levels you'd basically never be able te reach, explored by completely different humans in different times.

    Somalia Hanks: R-Right, right, that's not absolutely huge news at all…

    Ben: I can tell by yer sweaty face ya lyin'.

    Somalia Hanks: Just… how do you take me to these levels? How do you even do that?

    Ben: The door, ya silly wench. At some point we gave it a shite tonne of mods to basically be able to dee as we please! We just input where you wanna go on our computer, do a few button presses, and boom! Yer's are free to go where you wanna.

    Somalia Hanks: And you just do this… for free?

    Ben: Aye! I mean, why no? We're already loaded from all the other shite we do, and it's not like we have anything else to do in this wee place.

    Somalia Hanks: Gotcha… well, awfully noble of you to do that. But uh, yeah, I think this interview is done now!

    Ben: Hah, nei bother hen. Always up for a chat.

    [Somalia Hanks gives them a nod] Somalia Hanks: Please, let this next one be easy…

    Ava: Let the next what be easy?

    Somalia Hanks: Ah!

    [Somalia Hanks, having previously been sat alone in the waiting room and letting her audio recorder idly play, was suddenly greeted by the presence of Ava. She had suddenly walked to the desk after it having been empty for a few hours, sat down, and waited for Somalia to speak before replying to her, making Somalia jump inadvertently.]

    Ava: Oops, shit! Didn't mean to give you a jump. Seriously though, what're you talking about?

    Somalia Hanks: Sorry, sorry… I was actually talking about the interviews I'm doing. I did one yesterday, I didn't feel it went too well.

    [After speaking, Somalia picked up her cane and carefully got herself upright, followed by her then making her way over to the desk to speak to Ava directly, and to clearly pick up their audio.]

    Ava: Damn, who'd you speak to?

    Somalia Hanks: Uh, Molly… It was my first time doing an interview in a while, and actually my first time doing proper work… I didn't handle it well, and she let me know it.

    Ava: Shiiit… I didn't ask you to open up the exposition-gates, but shit nonetheless.

    Somalia Hanks: Oh, I didn't mean to open up like that! It all just came out-

    Ava: Heyyy! No need to apologise… I'm not gonna pretend like I asked for what you said, but you can spew your heart out to me if you'd like? You can't have fucked up too bad?

    Somalia Hanks: I accidentally caused a halloween party to turn bloody two years back? That um… That one still weighs on me, actually.

    Ava: Ouch, nevermind… You DID fuck up!

    [Though Ava laughed a little bit, Somalia stood there in some clearly shocked silence, her hand momentarily tight around her cane. Ava seemed to notice, and quickly became silent as to not intentionally stir up Somalia further. At that same time, though, a trio of heavily suited-up people walked into the waiting room from the right hallway. One of them was carrying an odd, black suitcase, another was carrying a wrapped up coil of red wire, and the third was carrying a video camera at their waist. Though they had gas masks on, completely hiding their face, the trio seemed somewhat tired, having their heads hung as they sat down.]

    Ava: Eh, could be worse, you could be them?

    Somalia Hanks: Really? What's up with them-? Besides their appearance, I suppose, but they're certainly more prepped for the Backrooms than anyone I've ever met.

    Ava: A little overprepped, I'd say… They accidentally got here by god-knows what means a couple days ago, wheeling around a little red tape and video camera, didn't even bother speaking to us!

    Somalia Hanks: Oh, odd… What have they been doing, then?

    Ava: Not much of shit, lady! They video-taped around, seemed quite surprised at the fact a few people were staying here, and now they just wander a whole lot doin' nothing.

    Somalia Hanks: So… Why don't they just leave?

    Ava: I mean, ask them if you want? But I think they just don't wanna talk to anyone that's not human. It's a bit discriminatory, but… You know, that's their fault for not properly exploring the Backrooms! They still worry about stickmen and yellow halls, they've got no idea of the true scope of where they are.

    Somalia Hanks: Oh, wow… So they just genuinely won't talk to you. At all? Won't they starve to death with those suits on? Surely they need to leave eventually.

    Ava: They easily can as long as they come speak to us, but they're yet to do that, they must think we're some big, scary foe.

    Somalia Hanks: Weird… I mean they can see me talking to you, surely they'd know you're safe.

    [Ava simply shrugs, causing Somalia to sigh and think.]

    Somalia Hanks: Hang on- let me actually try speaking to them.

    [Somalia Hanks, without much hesitation, slowly twisted around and walked over to the trio of heavily kitted out explorers. She looked across the three uneasily, especially because their thick hazmat suits made them look almost inhuman in nature, but she still spoke to them nonetheless.]

    Somalia Hanks: Hey, you three, are you all okay?

    Leftmost Individual: Oh, you. Are you alright? You look rather old to be in the Complex, especially without a hazmat suit…

    Middle Individual: We can take you back with us when we find a way back. We'll get you back home safe, we just have to find the main Threshold again.

    Somalia Hanks: … Right… Look, I don't know what that means, but just speak to the entity at the desk! She's called Ava, she'll help you out.

    Rightmost Individual: I don't trust that, not one bit—

    Somalia Hanks: Huh. Well, why? I spoke to her?

    Rightmost Individual: No entity is safe or trustworthy… And that one there isn't an exception.

    Middle Individual: I… have to agree. One of my colleagues almost got killed by a creature imitating a human voice decades ago. We can't be too sure that the one at the desk isn't doing something similar.

    Leftmost Individual: We'll try to find another way out, but for now… We've got nothing.

    Somalia Hanks: Wow- sounds like you guys cannot get a break…

    [Somalia thought for a second, sighing as she spoke, deciding to sit down on the fourth seat in the row to properly speak to them.]

    Somalia Hanks: Look, I know it's going to sound hard to believe, especially because of how much of a tough time you've had with entities, but the one at the desk is safe! She's… Not the most likeable, and a little direct, but she'll help you get home, alright?

    Leftmost Individual: I'm sorry, I can't believe that. Not from a civilian.

    Middle Individual: I'm certain we can find another exit… I'm an old man, I don't have the stamina to keep on doing these maintenance runs, and I can't run from an entity.

    Somalia Hanks: You three won't have to run? Trust me, she's fine-

    Rightmost Individual: Not a chance. Maybe she's an entity too. She's the only one that's been in this waiting room basically since we got here.

    Somalia Hanks: I'm trying to help you!

    Leftmost Individual: Entities can't appear that humanoid though.

    Rightmost Individual: They can. We've heard from people here that they can.

    Somalia Hanks: Please, I'm just attempting to get you home!

    Rightmost Individual: Yeah, well—

    Middle Individual: Enough!

    [As soon as the person in the middle of three hazmat people shouted, everyone suddenly jumped, including Somalia and a curiously watching Ava. Once the entire room was deathly silent, the middle individual gave an annoyed sigh, standing up and walking to the counter. The other two hazmat people seemed shocked, their breathing becoming slightly heavy. The individual and Ava began to talk, though due to the muffled nature of the former's words, only Ava's responses could be heard.]

    [After seven minutes of dialogue between Ava and the middle individual, the latter eventually returned back and looked between the other two members of their group.]

    Middle Individual: Come on, I spoke with them.

    Rightmost Individual: I saw. That was incredibly dangerous!

    Middle Individual: Yeah, and we're out, I got us an exit back to The Complex.

    Leftmost Individual: Wait, really…?

    Rightmost Individual: You could've been killed! What if that thing tried to kill you?! You couldn't have escaped it!

    Middle Individual: It obviously wasn't… Turns out, they're friendly enough. I didn't understand all she said, but… she said that the main door's unlocked now, come on.

    Rightmost Individual: That was stupid…

    Middle Individual: You can think whatever you'd like… Come on, though, we're leaving.

    [With that, the hazmat trio got up and began to leave. Though the two that didn't speak to Ava were certainly more hesitant, the one who did was far more okay with approaching the double doors. They held it open, allowing the other two to leave, but they themselves waited for a moment, looking to Somalia.]

    Middle Individual: Hey- thank you, by the way…

    Somalia Hanks: Oh, no worries! I'm glad you're all able to get home.

    Middle Individual: Me too… Seems the Backrooms is something not even we understand… Take care.

    [With that, the final member of the group left, leaving Somalia in quite the shock. She stayed sat in utter surprise, only noticing after a minute that her audio recorder was still active. Upon noticing, she suddenly muttered a profanity under her breath, and turned it off.] It was a rather slow shift at The Middlesorts. Ben sat watching the TV, his attention glued to the screen as his spindly arm contorted and zig-zagged behind him to reach into a tube of Prongles. “These shows ur pish; whit were the producers hinkin'?” He grumbled, munching on a handful of chips. Contrary to his seemingly casual demeanor, the current work environment in The Middlesorts was in fact quite stressful. The tension of their duties loomed heavily over all their heads like the gathering clouds of a storm.

    Simon walked into the room, upon which Ben scrambled to attempt appearing productive. “Ben, quit slacking and get back to w-” Simon paused to observe several prongles flying through the air as Ben lunged towards his work station. “…You know what, forget about it.” He waved his hand in dismissal as he approached the desk. “Molly, what is the progress on damage control? Corporate is due to arrive soon for their audit.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m workin’ on it. Ava’s covering reception…” Molly flusteredly huffed. Simon turned to glance at Ava, frantically working the desk. One foot clutched a phone against her ear, while the other furiously typed away at the keyboard of the terminal, and all the while she used the crook of one leg to hold a pen and write down notes on paper. He then looked back at Molly, now thumbing through an issue of Forbes from U-000000. “‘Finally, The Internet Found "The Backrooms"’…” She read aloud. “It seems like this whole incident has had farther-reaching consequences than we thought…” Molly then turned her attention to the terminal in front of her, reading through several reports. “Deados has taken a real beating from this whole ordeal. Thankfully, The Stack's structural integrity remains largely intact. But a crucial knot has taken a lot of damage.” She glanced over at the horned Keymaster, who was currently transporting a Traveler to Level 119. “This is all largely his fault, yet it feels like we’re being punished more harshly than him. We're the ones who have to actually clean up his mess, and what's his punishment? Unpaid internship. And he's only here because that last guy bailed out on us and caused one of those exclamation levels to go to shit!” Simon shrugged. “I know it's not fair, but this is our job, and if we value it, we need to clean up this mess…” Molly sighed. "I know…" She looked back at the monitor. “The only way to fix this is to send in a team of specialized workers to repair the damage.” “But where can we even find the bodies for such an operation?” asked Ben.

    Suddenly, a new commercial proceeded to play on the TV. A humanoid figure appeared on the screen, with a TV not unlike the one playing the commercial affixed upon his shoulders in place of a conventional "head". He stood before the backdrop of a nondescript, dimly-lit liminal level. “You there!” The figure exclaimed, pointing towards the viewers. “Yes, you four! Molly, Ben, Simon and Ava!” The four Corpus Cores unanimously looked at the TV, then at each other, and then back to the TV. “We all know The Backrooms is vast, endless, and… let’s face it, a bit unsettling.” The camera zoomed out to reveal the figure wearing a professional uniform bearing the logo of "Backrooms Remodeling Co.", as he began walking confidently through the halls. He carried a clipboard in hand, occasionally gesturing to different areas. “-But what if The Backrooms could be more than just an eerie labyrinth? What if they could be a place of comfort, style, and even luxury?” The figure reached a door and opened it, revealing a beautifully remodeled well-lit room with modern furniture, vibrant colors, and stylish decor. “At Backrooms Remodeling Co, we specialize in transforming the unnerving into the unbelievable. Whether it’s a complete overhaul or a touch of finesse, our team of experts turns your vision into reality.”

    The commercial cut to a faceling in a newly renovated room, sitting on a chair surrounded by several TV-Heads. “Thanks to Backrooms Remodeling Co, my space truly feels like home.” The faceling said, albeit in a manner which sounded forced. One of the TV-Heads standing beside the faceling seemed to be holding something against the faceling’s back from behind the chair.

    The commercial abruptly cut back to the figure, looking directly at the camera. “At Backrooms Remodeling Co, your satisfaction is our top priority. We’re here to turn your endless corridors into endless possibilities.” A phone number then displayed at the bottom of the screen. “Call 𑪟༒౷-᳄፠᳀-༇๚𞥞꡴ for your consultation today!”

    The Corpus Cores looked amongst each other once again. “I dinnae ken, maybe we should jist dae it…” Ben murmured. Molly scoffed. “Really? With their track record? When was the last time a job did not end in disaster? This will only give the auditors more ammunition.” Simon cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ben is probably right. In any other event I would immediately veto this, but we are under extenuating circumstances.” “Better hurry! Time is running out!” The figure on the TV shouted. Molly sighed exasperatedly. “Fiiiiine.” She picked up a phone, proceeding to begin punching in the number begrudgingly. “Excellent choice!” Exclaimed the figure on the TV.

    Before Molly could even finish dialing, a team of Salarymen suddenly stormed into the office, parading a headless corpse which they proceeded to affix the TV to. The body twitched to life and sprung to its feet, the screen changing its display. “Ah, apologies for the long commute…” he said, stretching his body and dusting off his suit before facing the Corpus Cores. “Now, then, to business.” He pulled out a clipboard and pen, clicking it open. “What services would you like for the Remodeling Company to provide?” Molly began to explain. “Well, you see-” The figure suddenly raised a finger to interrupt them. “-Ah! Don't tell me…you need repairs to Knot Null?” “Well, yes. But how can we be sure this won’t worsen things?” “I understand your hesitancy to enlist our services — especially considering our previous attempts at renovating this particular knot. But I assure you, this work is just as much in our interests as it is in yours. The recent crisis has destabilized and displaced much of Daedos, but that leaves our line of work in high demand — especially with Etinil. There is much profit to be made, so rest assured that we do not want to lose an opportunity such as this.” The Corpus Cores looked amongst each other once again, before Simon nodded. “Alright then, we’ll do it.”

    A wide grin of static tore across the screen on the figure’s head. “Wonderful…” He extended his clipboard and pen to Simon. “Just sign here.” Simon briefly skimmed the fine print of the contract, finding phrases such as "loss of life", "spaghettification", and "horrors beyond comprehension". “-Oh, don't worry about any of that legal mumbo jumbo, it’s not important. Just sign it and we can proceed,” the figure interjected, pointing to the signature line impatiently. Simon sighed with resignation, writing his name on the line. Immediately, the gathering of Salarymen applauded in rejoice.

    The figure clasped his hands together excitedly. “Now, then, what form of new life do you wish to breathe into this knot? I hear furniture stores and RC hobby shops are all the rage these days.” Molly shook her head. “O-oh, no, I’m afraid you misunderstand. We don’t want a complete renovation —just damage repairs.” The figure nodded. “Ah, I see. Very well, then…” With the snap of his fingers, the workers scrambled off to initiate the job.

    Before long, a team of TV-Heads were deployed into Level 0, overseen and directed by a Foreman. Live video feeds and several still images were streamed directly from the brains of the workers to a terminal in the Middlesorts, displaying real-time progress on the repairs and renovations. Surprisingly, the work swiftly proceeded at an efficient pace. Out went the nasty old carpet, leaving in its place pristine hardwood; though the carpet staples were a pain to pry from the floor. Reality Fresheners were then installed, reversing liminalization in the environment. A TV-Head stood triumphantly atop a heap of rolled-up carpet, like a hunter above a vanquished beast. The Corpus Cores began to feel hopeful. Perhaps this job would be completed without incident, everything would be fixed, and everything would work out.

    However, this hope was quickly snuffed out when one of the live video feeds was suddenly cut off. “I’ve lost visuals on one of the workers…” Molly stammered. It seemed that the worker was in fact missing from the entire site, as several TV-Heads and even the Foreman reported them being left unaccounted for. Molly then attempted to pinpoint the location of the missing worker, only to become further puzzled. “Their last recorded position was somewhere in the Ginnungagap, approximately at the coordinate point 146,460,486, 355,169,123,7,413,234,105,123.” “We’ve lost all signal from that worker now,” Simon reported, surveying the situation from another terminal. “One last image was sent over first, but it’s heavily corrupted. It’s currently being decrypted, but Koko and Juna are both losing their shit over whatever it is.”

    Molly peered closer at the monitor, as the image gradually loaded. She could already tell it was heavily contaminated by phenomenon 43, judging by the way it moved as if alive. She could almost feel it “speaking” to her, whispering the deepest secrets of the omniverse in a language forgotten by all. When the image finally loaded, Molly gasped in shock at what she saw staring back at her. A red, beady eye, stirred from an eternal slumber.

    “…Holy shit. The auditors will really kill us now…”

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