Backrooms Decrypted: Surviving The Matrix (Level 12)
The Matrix is another name for The Backrooms Level 12. It has a CLASS 0 survival difficulty rating. It is SECURE and SAFE. It is called DEVOID OF ENTITIES. Level 12 appears to have a basic impact that no other Level has: it censors itself. Any attempts to film or photograph Level 12 will produce either a basic white picture or a flurry of noise and TV crap.
By InfoPublished 3 years ago • 3 min read
Surviving The Matrix (Level 12) ⚡☠
- Welcome back, Explorer. You look tired. And of course, we don't blame you. You've had a long journey through The Backrooms so far, and considering some of the terrifying things you've seen over the previous eleven levels, who could blame you for losing sleep, there aren't many places in this frightening dimension where you can comfortably take the weight off your feet and just relax. Do you think you're any safer here, well, let's find out? Welcome to Level 12, Explorer. We hope you enjoy your stay. As you enter the level, you notice how different it seems from so many of the others. In many cases, levels of the Backrooms have been defined by their dizzying expansiveness. An office block that goes on for eternity.
- The endless, winding streets of a city that feels more procedurally generated than constructed by human hands. A field, misty and desolate, goes on and on and on and on. But that's not this level. It's a white room, not especially large or small. The gleaming paint job on the wall almost induces a kind of snow blindness. It's an unnatural level of crispness and clarity, like walking into some surreal screen saver. There's a door on the far wall, but strangely, you notice that there isn't a door behind you. Don't worry; you're too well versed in the ways of the Backrooms to be bothered by the logical inconsistency of that. You're instead focused on the chair and table sitting in the center of the room - as though you're preparing for a job interview, and your interviewer just happened to be late.
- But you're not late or early. Time is just sort of irrelevant in the Backrooms; it’s something you've always liked about the place. I’ll never move on without you. I’ll always move at the pace you do - even if the way it expresses that is by sending a horde of vicious, bloodthirsty monsters after you while you run for your life. You have to take the good with the bad on these things, right the first thing you do is approach the door, of course. It's never a bad idea to see if anything is waiting on the other side. With your free hand, you keep a tight grip on the handle of the revolver that's been with you for so many levels now. Anything that even thinks about coming at you will have six of your tiny metal friends to deal with, and they could move a hell of a lot faster than any entity you'd met so far.
- However, as you jiggle the door handle, you realize that the door is locked. Well, that figures. Several levels ago, that might have disturbed you, or even led you to panic, but you're more of a hardened Backrooms veteran these days. Every level, you've learned, has its own logic, its own internal rhythm. If you wish to survive in the Backrooms, you need to remain ever versatile. You need to analyze every level on its own terms, with no expectation that it may exist in the same parameters of other levels. You need to learn the rules anew each time, and learn how to properly play them. That's why, given the only other objects in the room are a table and a chair, you decide to take a load off, and sip some tasty, rejuvenating almond water out of your canteen.
- You spend a moment thinking about how much it would suck to be stuck in the Backrooms and have a nut allergy - would that effectively spell doom for you, It's a frightening yet compelling question. We sincerely hope that your time on Level 12 and the brief break from the horrors have been enjoyable. Which they gave you. It will all get worse very soon, for that reason. As we go deeper, be sure to keep an eye out for the upcoming exciting Backrooms exploration. Into this Liminal Abyss even further?
About the Creator
Prom Dresses
The sun fell in slanted beams across the wraparound porch, and Jim held court from his favorite rocker, twirling a lollipop between his fingers and occasionally popping it in his mouth. He’d been doing this since he stopped smoking, and the young’uns didn’t remember the cloud of Pall Mall that used to shroud his face as he told his tales. The kids were playing in the yard and under the porch, escaping the brutal shafts of September sun in the cool sand with stripes of light interrupted here and there where an adult’s frame blocked the sun from shining through the gaps between the slats of the porch floor. Presently, a grubby face appeared over Jim’s shoulder. The kids wanted to go down to the creek to play.
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.