Is The Backrooms Real Novels & Stories

They would be gods of their own virtual reality. Portal B (The True Real): A jagged, harsh landscape of a dying universe. A world where the Architects had harvested everything. It was cold, it was dangerous, and they would be physical, mortal beings once again. "If you go to the Real," the Developer warned, "there is no 'Respawn.' If you die there, you are gone. And your powers... they won't work like they did in the code. You’ll just be wolves in a world of machines."

The walls were massive tanks of pressurized salt water, the only light provided by the glowing terminals of an air-gapped server farm. No signals went in. No signals went out. Leo’s voice, the Director’s threats, the Syndicate’s orbital signal—it all died here. Damian released me. I stumbled, my hand catching the edge of a mahogany desk that felt out of place among the humming hardware. I counted the exits. One. The way we came. "The War Room," Damian said. He walked toward a wall-sized display that flickered to life, showing a grid of faces. "No Argus. No board-member backdoors. Just the truth."

Hector was that far gone, and the equipment needed to do it couldn’t be far. Sal and his group entered the basement. Its lighting was far too weak to penetrate the gloom. It reminded him of a video game dungeon. The smells of a dungeon made the difference between a video game and reality. He’d seen horrific places before. This was on a whole different level. It appeared to be a cross between a butcher shop and a funeral home. Both run by a madman.

Marcus roared. Jessica looked annoyed as she spat, "I told you that I don't!" I stood in the doorway, watching this scene unfold, and couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. In my past life, Jessica secretly kept in touch with Marcus behind my back. But in this life, she did the opposite. At the end of the day, she was the type to keep one foot in each camp, never truly loyal at heart. Margaret was the first to notice me. "Zachary, you're back. Come quick and talk some sense into Marcus. His temper is getting worse," she said, taking my hand. Her tone carried a hint of ingratiation.

Even his moist lips were inviting me for some taste. "G-Go Away!" I screamed and ran to my room. No, I am not admiring that man. Not in this lifetime.

Celestin opened her eyes and got up from bed without any expression. She went straight into the mirror, just a few steps across her bed, and look at her young reflection. A pale-faced woman appeared before her, with gray hair like ashes from a fireplace and eyes like ice, clear yet cold. "I'm 18 again. How nice." She sarcastically smirked after. Celestin always regresses at the age of 18, just three years before her supposed death. 'I have no time for this. I must continue where I left off.'

Tears were already filling her eyes. I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Leila, nothing has happened to him yet. But we must not panic. Help me look.” She nodded and then quickly turned to the elder sales lady. “Do you have a back exit?” “Yes, this way,” she replied, but I was already moving toward it. “You can’t go back there, sir!” “Watch me,” I said, running at super speed toward the back room. I quickly found the back door and tested it, making sure that it was locked. I looked carefully around the edges and saw bits of microscopic dust around the edges. No one had opened it recently.