The Backrooms (Levels 0–4)

The lights never turn off here. Their buzzing becomes your heartbeat after a while—steady, oppressive, kind of intimate. You’ve already noticed the carpet, haven’t you? Damp, sour under your shoes, holding old footsteps that never really left. I’ve seen thousand wanderers push through these yellow hallways, eyes wide, pulse trembling, muttering about exits that don’t exist.

You’ll find the walls shift when you stop looking. They like when you run. Some rooms echo back your own breath half a second late, as though mocking time itself. And somewhere between levels, the hum deepens—something else joins in beneath it, like a throat clearing just out of sight.

Don’t panic. The rooms can smell fear; it makes the air taste sharper. Walk. Listen. Maybe you’ll make it through Level 0. Or maybe you’ll blur right into the wallpaper, another whisper in the yellow.