Level 777 – "Lost Vegas"
Info
note from scutoid: hi it's me ur faceless scutoid. welcome to morgan. this is origin of morgan. :-)
note from The Beach: hi im b- i'm not breach i'm scrootoid
Level 777 is a street lined with nothing in the middle of nowhere.
There is nothing above and there is very little below. Quite frankly, it's a miracle anyone even found this place to begin with. But two people did, and what's more, they decided it would be a place worth hitting the hay in for a night.
Perhaps if they'd let on a little farther or decided to turn in a little sooner, they would find themselves somewhere better. Or worse. Certainly not here, and not at all poised to plant within this dark dusty earth the seeds of a scheme unlike any other—seeds that will become great gleaming trees, reaching out with both limb and root and puncturing the great solid nothings above and below. They will make it into something.
Sheltering the two people presently is one among a few low-lying brick buildings, none of which dare stretch above a story tall to confront the nothing themselves. Despite their position in the middle of two nowheres, they are well-lit and have access to running water. A few are furnished with quarters and sand-dusted bedding, a bathroom or two. You could wash comfortably, if it weren't for the sand making the towels rough and coarse.
In the mind of most wanderers, this would be nothing but a liminal space. In more creative minds, perhaps a canvas for a base or outpost. No human can live in boredom forever — brief pockets of safety are often false vacuums full of boredom — and so building communities was one way to stave off the Backrooms boredom. But in the mind of Frederick Collingwood, this place was an echo of home. In the mind of Brianna Nimolire, this place was an opportunity for something else entirely.
For, before this pair fell into a comfortable sleep for the first time in goodness knows how long, they had gained a vested interest in the sole darkened building of the bunch: though poor in the usual facilities, they found it populated with a host of dust-caked gaming machines and stacked tables, long since gone silent but hardly in poor shape.
Now for most folks who found themselves here, concerns of money were only a distant worry, if not merely a memory. Hardly any semblance of society to center an economy around. But it was a mix of sentimentality and opportunity, and perhaps the slightest touch of fanciful dreaming, that implored Brie and Fredrick to stick around this gritty old oasis. Not many got the chance to transform one of these empty spaces into their own vision, after all.
Call it a risk taken, if you must. It will be the first of many.
It is, unsurprisingly, still dark when Brianna is awakened by her own tossing. She did her best to shake the sand off of her cot before laying down, but it would take a thorough washing to get it all out. Plenty of it has ended up in her hair. With absolutely no knowledge of how long she's slept, Brianna takes a minute to ponder the set of circumstances that led her here before wandering through the tiny lobby of her shelter and heading out the front door. The sand is a little rough but comfortably warm under her bare feet.
Somehow, she has ended up back in front of the building with the games inside. It is still dark inside, but the facade's light fixtures do well to illuminate its entrance. Fredrick is already there.
"…Fred?"
He looks as if a culprit in a caper.
"—Brie! I was just starting to examine the insides of the cabinets."
"Without me? Interesting. What have you found?"
"Not much at all! Which is good news, mind you. The open slots are all clogged with sand, of course, but the actual internals are quite clean. At least a few of these should start up just fine if we can wipe them down and get power in here again. There's some models I recognize in here too, funny enough."
"Recognize? Sorry if this is rude, but… were you a frequenter, or—"
Fredrick smiles. "Repairman. I started with old arcade machines, but a lot of them are quite similar in design. Only a few more moving parts on these, really. Video games, though—that's beyond me." He turns back to the machine, now working at the screws on its casing with the blade of a multitool knife.
"…'video games'?"
He stops again. "Oh, yeah, uhh. They're like if you could… use your television as an arcade machine. Dang, if only you'd waited a few years to slip in here."
Brianna looks over the array of yet-untouched cabinets. "I'll pass. Televisions scare me enough."
Intending on lending a hand, she makes her way over towards the opposite side of the room. There's a row of near-identical machines here, along with the back door. It's been slightly propped open.
"Fred? Can you come look at something for me?" calls Brie, crouched by a slot machine with a peculiar red card stuck very precisely next to the coin slot.
"Sure. Show me whatcha got there."
BACKROOMS ROBOTICS
GENERAL MERCHANDISING RED CARD
ITEM IN QUESTION
Casino Components
Backrooms Robotics claims these resources as our own and would appreciate if other factions or wanderers leave them be. If you are in need of materials such as these, we are purveyors of all sorts of electronic goods and would love to welcome you! If you know where to find us, that is.
"…ah."
"Right? Who do these people think they are, making claims li—"
"—no, Brie, I mean ah as in these guys are serious. I keep hearing about them."
"How serious? They must not be too prominent, yeah?"
"Ah, no, they are very prominent. At the very least, I've heard that they've got a sizeable workforce, a few bases, and a whole level to themselves — not to mention some sorts of technology that don't even exist on Earth. If they've decided to mark these as their own, they're definitely going to come back for them."
"Then what do we do about these? Are they all tagged?"
"Let's see here. If they were all applied in the same place, I don't think the ones I opened up earlier were, but…"
They go down the row of machines in opposite directions, checking each coin slot.
"How many tags do you have over there?" calls Fredrick from one end.
"Six of them, I think," Brie returns. "Though there's a few with the front facing the wall."
"Well, that's not really that many of them, huh. And this seems to be the only tagged row from what I've seen… you think we just let them take what they want? Less trouble for us, and there's still plenty left over."
Brie ponders what to do for a second. What were the chances? The odds? A high-profile group, here in this very casino they were about to renovate!
"Sure, we let them take what they're after. But that's not all. I say we try to strike a deal with these folks."
"Brie- we don't actually have anything to barter with. And there's no point — they're very mysterious."
"Sure, we don't have much now but with your experience—"
The two stop for a moment as they hear the creaking of the front door. The suspense freezes the air in the room solid—worse than any entity encounter, more palpable than the tension of any hallway corner.
But they don't hear the professional murmurings of Robotics businessmen, no. They don't hear that at all. The two voices that come from the door slide into earshot mid-conversation.
don't get it, Saoirse. It's not about what's inside Area 51, it's about freedom of information!"
"…right. Could we focus on freedom from this beach first?"
"Fine."
The two wanderers' footsteps echo throughout the casino, scanning for danger. There is no trace of the building's other two guests.
"I think it's clear. You think there's an exit in here?" Saoirse asks, looking closer into the nooks and crannies of the arcade.
"Well, we're going to have to che- c— ACHOO!"
The hall falls silent for a second before Saoirse catches another lady peek up from behind a knocked-over machine: "Bless you!"
"—Brie!" Frederick hushes her.
"What, Fred? I'm only being polite."
"Were we not trying to hide?"
"From Robotics people, sure, but—they don't look very Backrooms Robotics to you, do they?"
"Dunno. You tell me."
Brie examines Saoirse and Xavier in silence. They didn't look particularly Backrooms Robotics to her.
Xavier is the first to break: "…Hi?"
"These people are harmless." Brie calls back to a stack of draped tables.
"All right, all right," responds the bottom-most table. The two newcomers can only see a shuffling of dark fabric as Fredrick crawls out from under it. "Just don't go blessing people before you know what their deal is."
Brie struts over to the two newcomers, and strikes up a conversation. "So, you two — where are you headed?"
The two eye each other. "Well, we were just looking for an exit from this level to start with," explained Xavier, "But past that we didn't really have a plan."
“Well, then you’re in good company. We only just stopped in here to rest, but this room caught our attention.” Frederick interjects. “Or lack thereof… this is the only building that isn’t lit up well.”
Brie takes another glance around. With nothing better to do, Saoirse follows her gaze.. “Pretty odd, considering how nice the rest of it is.”
“How do you think they got power in a desert anyway?” Xavier asks.
Frederick continues without answering. “It is nice! I’ve been considering sticking around just to mess with these machines.”
He starts pacing down the shelves.
“Old habit, but… as long as there’s food and water nearby we could possibly make a racket from these. I’ve never seen a place like this anywhere around here.”
Brie looks back to him. “Wait, you were thinking of sticking around here?”
“Sure. Doesn’t seem dangerous at the very least. Why?”
“Extremely weird, but… that’s exactly what I was thinking of, too. Slot machines or no.”
He grins. “Sounds like a project I can get behind. Though…”
Both Brie and Fredrick turn to the other two, who have been watching this conversation much in the manner of a professional tennis match.
“Have you two got anything to do?”
“Have you lot looked upstairs lately?”
“No?” “Nope.” “…we only just got here?”
Frederick points to the top of an old, rickety set of stairs with a faded golden handrail.
“If you ask me, that’s just about the only place in this world that’s got not an ounce of sand on it. I’m sleeping there for the night, not sure about you people.”
Brie heads first in the direction of the stairs, but Frederick speeds past her with his wide strides and climbs the first step.
Creeeak…
The second step.
Creeeeeak…
The third step.
Creeeeeeee–ak- –SNAP!
The staircase crashes upon itself, vanishing from view entirely. The other three rush over into the resulting dust cloud and nearly throw themselves in not a pile of splinters—but an oblong hole where the stairs had once been. Brie peers over the rim of the pit and nearly jumps when Fredrick’s strained voice echoes from the pitch dark below.
“I’m okay! Just-” he began, but winced – “-just, maybe lower somebody else down here.”
“How do we do that?” Xavier’s voice calls from above. “I don’t see an elevator or anything—”
“The handrail’s still there, right?”
It is indeed, if covered in a fresh coat of sawdust.
“There’s a few ropes and ties scattered around up there! As long as one of you can tie a decent knot, you should be able to make a pulley out of it.”
Brie turns to Saoirse. “They’re against that wall over there by the back exit. You mind getting them, uhh…”
“Saoirse.”
“Oh! That’s a nice name.”
“Ah… thanks. But yes, ropes.” She departs.
Brie now calls down to Fredrick. “Is it just you down there?”
“Nope. There’s a pile of wood. And, uh… no, something did crawl over me.”
“Shit. Just… stay right there, alright?” She turns back to Xavier and Saoirse, who are presently wrestling with a dusty packet of cable ties.
“Mm, I might not have a choice. Leg’s on–ngh!–fire right now,” he calls out quietly, to no answer.
There's still a little weight on his burning leg. He shifts slightly to lessen the burden, inadvertently causing another layer of veneer to give way. With a dry SNAP that echoes from wall to unseen wall, it splits in twain, sending its unwitting passenger down fully to the floor. Fredrick grimaces against the sudden shock of cold tile. His injured leg flares up.
He takes a moment to hiss to himself as the pain shrinks to only barely tolerable levels. A dry thump resounds up above, followed by a suspiciously Xavier-esque yelp of pain. Fredrick doesn't listen to whatever conversation about knot security may have ensued, as his new perspective of face-against-floor has given him something else to pay attention to.
Whatever little light comes from above isn't enough to give him a sense of this place's bounds—indeed, it is barely enough to tell his own being from cracked wood. The rest might as well not exist, if not for the series of blinking yellow lights at his own eye level.
It's not much, but it serves as an excellent reminder that he is not here to take a breather. A better reminder would have been the barely illuminated shape of a hand gingerly receding from the wall above him, but he doesn't see that now.
hi
Hi soooooo
get image of 1940ish las vegas DONE
put two goobers here who aren't in the council yet but want to fix up some of this place's casinos DONE
do actual writing for them DONE
???? MOSTLY DONE
put saoirse and xavier here later THERE THEY ARE
ok new plan
- they all find level 777.1 together and it is an absolute mess and also probably why robotics wont be back for a while
- xavier gets to use his scrongler or whatever again
- but hey the labyrinth is actually mad rich in materials/supplies and maybe has some luck shenanigans going on????
- regardless this might actually be a halfway decent place to set up shop
- ????
- profit