The Backrooms

Overview

The Backrooms exist as a profound anomaly; A realm that defies the very foundations of the Multiverse and the rigid laws of conventional spacetime. They sprawl outward in a vast, labyrinthine expanse that stretches far beyond the boundaries of The Hub, that central nexus where realities converge and diverge. This place is no mere void or forgotten corner of existence. Instead, it forms an immense, ever-shifting maze that encircles The Hub like a colossal, menacing halo, its corridors twisting through dimensions that no sane mind could ever map. Its origins remain veiled in absolute enigma. To some, it functions as a deliberate punishment, a brutal gauntlet designed to break those who dare to push against the limits of reality in their quest for transcendence. To others, it is nothing more than a cruel accident, a trap that snags unwary travelers who somehow accidentally tear through the fragile weave of existence during their journeys across the cosmos. Whatever its true intent, the Backrooms stand as a testament to the Multiverse's hidden perils, a domain where the ordinary rules of space, time, and sanity unravel into something far more sinister.

Across countless universes, those civilizations fortunate or unfortunate enough to glimpse the truth of the Backrooms weave its essence into their deepest lore. Ancient myths, whispered tales around flickering fires, and elaborate stories passed down through generations all attempt to capture its horror. In some worlds, bards sing of endless yellow halls that swallow souls whole. In others, scholars in shadowed libraries scribble frantic warnings about a place where reality frays at the edges. Yet these fictional accounts, grand and exaggerated as they often are, pale against the stark truth. Popular legends might speak of thousands upon thousands of interconnected levels, each more bizarre than the last. But in the cold light of reality, only three primary base levels have ever been confirmed. Each one builds upon the last in a hierarchy of escalating dread, transforming what begins as disorienting isolation into a relentless assault on body, mind, and spirit. For any being who finds themselves hurled into this forsaken place, survival becomes an agonizing ordeal, a test of endurance that strips away hope layer by layer, leaving only the raw, gnawing fear of what might lurk just beyond the next turn.

Level 0: The Liminal Realm of Infinite Ambiguity

Level 0 stands as the gateway, the most deceptively simple yet profoundly unsettling of the three. It unfolds as an infinite expanse of monotonous corridors, a place that feels simultaneously vast and suffocating, both a location and a profound absence of one. The walls stretch endlessly in every direction, coated in a faded, sickly yellow that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. Overhead, rows of fluorescent tubes hum with a low, incessant drone that burrows into the skull like a living thing, vibrating through the bones and echoing in the ears long after one has tried to block it out. Shadows flicker at the edges of vision, twisting unnaturally as if the walls themselves are breathing. The air hangs heavy, thick with a stale, musty scent that carries hints of damp rot and forgotten decay, as though the very structure is slowly crumbling from within. Time here loses all meaning. Hours might stretch into what feels like days, or minutes could collapse into an eternity of wandering. There are no windows, no doors that lead anywhere meaningful, only the endless repetition of identical hallways that mock any attempt at progress.

Navigation in Level 0 is pretty disorienting. With no landmarks or consistent features, explorers are quickly rendered helpless in a boundless maze. Although Level 0 is the most populated level in terms of survivors, the sheer scale of this space ensures that encounters are exceedingly rare. Some survivors have reported shadowy, ghostlike entities moving in their peripheral vision, while others speak of whispers and eerie echoes resonating through the vast hallways. These may be hallucinations; a symptom of extended exposure to the level's maddening atmosphere. Or, they may be signs of a presence beyond mortal comprehension.

The experience within Level 0 is said to evoke a deep existential dread. Those trapped here often feel disconnected from reality, as if suspended in a liminal space beyond worlds, which, well, they literally are. The structure itself seems to resist any attempt at familiarity, alien and unnatural to any being. Those who survive Level 0 report a profound sensation of being erased from time, as if existing outside the perception of the Multiverse itself; which again, they quite literally are. Smilers are said to be reported on this level, as well as the Partygoers.

Level 1: The Warehouse

Level 1 introduces a shift in ambiance from the surreal isolation of Level 0. Here, the environment resembles a dilapidated warehouse. The walls remain tinted in the same sickly yellow as Level 0, but are now marred with peeling wallpaper and sporadic stains. Corridors snake endlessly in all directions, with flickering fluorescent lights casting sharp, unsettling shadows over scuffed linoleum floors. The air is stale, musty, carrying the faint scent of mildew and decay. Doors line the hallways, though most are locked or lead to identical, barren rooms. Occasionally, one might encounter a room with mismatched furniture from a variety of all universes, some of which may even hail from universes that no longer exist. These incongruous objects hint at the Backrooms' age and suggest that it serves as a collection point of discarded relics from across existence and the entire history of the Multiverse.

While seemingly mundane, Level 1 harbors real threats. Hounds, humanoid creatures with a relentless aggression, prowl the shadows. These entities are uniquely lethal, their strength sufficient to subdue beings of formidable power. Able to tear flesh with ease, they make survival a near-impossible feat for those unfortunate enough to encounter them. The Hounds can be sensed before they're seen, with soft growls or distant footsteps often serving as the only warning of their presence. Encounters with these entities end swiftly and brutally, with few survivors able to escape once detected.

Despite Level 1's desolate appearance, the presence of these creatures amplifies the inherent sense of dread and danger, reminding explorers that this level is more than a mere abandoned structure. It is a realm of unyielding hostility, where every shadow holds a threat, and every corner harbors the potential for deadly encounters.

Level 2: A Realm of Corrosion and Ruin

Level 2 shifts once again, immersing explorers in an environment vastly different from the warehouse-like expanse of Level 1. It resembles a decayed industrial complex, with rusted metal walls stretching endlessly through narrow, twisted hallways. Flickering lights barely illuminate the darkened corridors, casting long shadows that accentuate the level's oppressive, claustrophobic atmosphere. The sound of water droplets echoes through the corroded walls, further amplifying the eerie ambiance. Navigation becomes increasingly treacherous, with unexpected dead ends, hazardous machinery, and sudden drops. Hidden pitfalls lie in wait, an instant death for the unsuspecting wanderer no matter what or who steps too carelessly.

Level 2 is populated by entities known as Stalkers. These spectral figures, elusive and silent, prey upon explorers with unmatched cruelty. Stalkers appear as exaggerated reflections of their victims' worst fears, drawing strength from the terror they incite. They strike without mercy, utilizing the victim's own fear as fuel for their attacks. In addition to the Stalkers, the level's deteriorating infrastructure presents its own dangers; those who slip into the labyrinthine passages are often met with an untimely death. Level 2 is, without a doubt, a trial of resourcefulness and resilience, as one's only hope of survival lies in constant vigilance.

Navigating the Backrooms: Levels, Sub-levels, and Escape

All three primary levels form a stratified layer within the Backrooms' structure. Traveling between levels typically occurs by chance, as random staircases and elevator-like mechanisms occasionally appear within levels, hinting that they very much exist on top of the other.

There are also said to be sub-levels, like Level Fun or the Red Rooms of Level 0, though these are relatively obscure. Escaping the Backrooms is nearly impossible; should one manage to locate an exit, it's highly unlikely they will return to their starting point. Instead, they may emerge in a random sector of the Multiverse, any dimension, any alternate timeline, or somewhere you can just, die instantly.

In the Backrooms, death is final, extinguishing the soul permanently and erasing any trace of existence, rendering revival impossible. This fate compels wanderers to exercise extreme caution in seeking an escape, either by finding an elevator or by "no-clipping" out of the Backrooms altogether. However, these methods are rare, and even success can lead to disorientation, as the exit might open into any realm or universe.

Entering the Backrooms: A Journey into the Impossible

Of course, accessing the Backrooms, and thus confirming its existence as more than mere myth or fevered tall tale is nothing short of a cosmic improbability, bordering on the absurd. This realm lurks utterly beyond the fabric of space and time; It is, in the most literal sense, a realm that defies existence itself, a shadow cast by the Multiverse's own architecture. Yet, for all its inaccessibility, there are only two known methods to breach its thresholds, with one being the sole pathway remotely achievable... If "achievable" stretches the word to its breaking point.

The primary method, sometimes known commonly by commonfolk as "no-clipping," is recognized by scientists and reality-weavers alike as quantum tunneling: A quantum mechanical quirk where particles, atoms, or entire beings slip through energy barriers that classical physics deems impenetrable. Lacking the requisite energy to crest the wall, the object phases through it anyway, defying logic and probability. In the context of the Multiverse however, this can manifest further as "phasing out of reality," a catastrophic glitch that ejects the unfortunate from the woven tapestry of existence, hurling them into the void beyond, straight into the clutches of the Backrooms.

Yet quantum tunneling, especially on a macroscopic scale for sentient beings, is not merely rare; it is a statistical phantom, passively occurring with a likelihood roughly on the order of 1 in 10⁶⁰ per lifetime under normal conditions. Such odds render accidental entry a freak occurrence, a roll of dice across near infinities where failure is the only constant.

This begs the inevitable question: How? How do civilizations or anyone at all know of the Backrooms? The answer lies in the staggering immensity of reality itself, a canvas so vast that even the most infinitesimal probabilities bloom into certainties over eons. The Multiverse, as we know, is 21 duotrigintillion (2.1 x 10¹⁰⁰) years old and spans a diameter of 14.5 duotrigintillion (1.45 x 10¹⁰⁰) gigaparsecs. So of course, it has birthed and consumed countless realities in its interminable expanse. Though it has encapsulated only hundreds to thousands of universes at any given moment, the relentless churn of creation and destruction over its lifetime suggests far more have flickered in and out of being.

To try and grasp the scale, consider this estimation: Assuming an average universe endures for about 10 billion years, the Multiverse's age implies roughly 10⁹⁰ generations of universes have risen and fallen. With approximately 10³ universes (NOT counting the alternate realities) coexisting at any time, the total number of universes ever to exist swells to around 10⁹³.

Within each universe, sentient life proliferates on an astronomical scale. Drawing from familiar cosmic benchmarks. A typical universe boasting 10¹¹ galaxies, each with 10¹¹ stars, and conservatively assuming 10²⁰ inhabited systems where civilizations thrive, the total beings per universe, across all generations and epochs, might reach 10³² (factoring in 10¹² individuals per system over time). Thus, the grand total of sentient entities to have ever existed across the Multiverse climbs to an incomprehensible 10¹²⁵.

Despite the odds of quantum tunneling being vanishingly small at 1 in 10⁶⁰ per being, multiplying this against 10¹²⁵ souls yields approximately 10⁶⁵ individuals who have inadvertently no-clipped into the Backrooms over the aeons. Survival, however, is another abyss entirely. The Backrooms' merciless design ensures that escape is a miracle squared. Estimating a survival and return rate of perhaps 1 in 10⁶⁰, the number of those who have glimpsed its depths, clawed their way out, and lived to whisper warnings dwindles to about 10⁵... A mere hundred thousand scattered across dimensions and timelines.

These rare survivors, emerging disoriented into random corners of the Multiverse, become the seeds of legend: Fragmented accounts etched into ancient tomes, encoded in tons of folklore, or just shared in groups among the curious enough to listen. Their tales, distorted by trauma and transmission, fuel the myths that echo through civilizations, a faint but persistent reminder of the peril lurking just beyond reality's fragile veil.

Of course, it's only an extremely rough estimation and the math most likely isn't truly accurate, but it serves to give an idea as to how there's documentation on the Backrooms in first place. It's something not normally achieveable, but, it surely can happen to someone extremely unlucky.

The Purpose of the Backrooms: A Mystery Beyond Reason

The purpose of the Backrooms lies shrouded in questions as vast as its endless halls, with speculation as dark and intricate as its shadowy passages. While countless myths across cultures depict the Backrooms as a primordial terror meant to ensnare wanderers, others believe they embody an ancient fear; one which transcends all beings across space and time. For those aware of its existence, it's a source of legends, urban myths and even just a joke, something obviously fake to the average mortal who does not believe in the existence of such. But among the few who claim to know the ancient secrets of creation itself, another possibility arises, one that resonates like a secret chord woven into the fabric of reality.

Some say that the Backrooms were crafted as a labyrinth, a maze spun to encircle a single, sacred space; the TV Room. A legendary place known only to the few whom were closest to The Creator.

This white, almost sterile room, if it exists, is said to hold a single object at its center: an old, possibly even Earth-made television, frozen in static, emitting nothing but a soft, flickering light and the sound of white noise. This apparent TV, ancient and untouched, is often believed to contain a portal, a threshold where the Creator himself might have just have vanished from the Multiverse, leaving behind a realm devoid of any intervention, a realm governed by the chaotic nature of existence. What lies beyond the TV remains a total unexplainable mystery; perhaps it's the Creator's final destination, or perhaps it's the point of no return, a place beyond creation, and probably beyond destruction too.

Yet even this theory, shared only among the few closest to the Creator's knowledge, remains as intangible as the shifting walls of the Backrooms. The TV Room's existence is questioned as often as it is feared, for if it is real, it represents an ending beyond endings, a final halt to the journey through the Multiverse, a space that could unravel the last threads of comprehension. For some, it's a haunting curiosity, a reminder that even those closest to the truth are ensnared by mystery; for others, it represents the threshold of oblivion, a place so ultimate in its silence that it becomes indistinguishable from the idea of the Creator's absence, a door beyond which lies nothing but the endless void left by His departure.

This room, if indeed it exists, would take ages upon ages to reach, traversing infinite spaces and enduring untold horrors. Every step through the Backrooms would wear down even the most resilient mind, testing one's resolve until reality itself becomes a hazy blur. Reaching this place would signify the end of the line, the last point within existence's cruel maze. And yet, if one were to finally stand in this stark, pale room, with that single flickering TV before them, the ultimate question would remain: is it truly an ending? Or is it the beginning of the end?

To face the TV in the vast, timeless void of the Backrooms is to confront the reality of existence itself. Perhaps the TV Room isn't merely the end, but the last point where questions can still exist. Perhaps, beyond it, lies the answer that renders all things, all worlds, and all realities irrelevant; a final truth so complete that it transcends our understanding of life and death alike. And so, while the TV Room remains a theory, an enigma to those who speak of it, it stands as a possibility: a final, fragile border between everything we know and the unknowable silence that waits beyond.