First entry: office has been compromised!

ok...Looks good...

oops... mic pick that up...

Hello, this is Mr. Freeman.

As the title of this entry states, the office I had secured in a secluded location has been compromised. It appears the intent was pure destruction—nothing was taken, just destroyed. It could have been a random Hound, but the Death Moth Jelly was destroyed, not eaten. I’ll have to investigate further, but to the point.

Through a tedious method of acquiring a defeated Monitor Entity with random access to Earth’s internet, I am able to post here.

As of now, I have my standard long scouting supplies. I will attempt to set up an HQ nearby as this accessed Monitor could be compromised. I also have my notebook and pen to sketch images down, though please keep in mind I am no artist. The data is what’s important. The Clocksmith is always patrolling for parts.

Again, I digress… I will use this accessed page as a repository for data gathered on Backrooms reality. I have been unsuccessful in securing data here in the Backrooms, but perhaps it can last here. When I can, I will add comments and insights. Some of the connections I have made require knowledge of the Backrooms to understand, and to un-understand. There is a history here, a reflection of our own history. It’s a play, a ballet, a symphony beautifully distorted into… into… I digress.

I need rest. It’s been a very eventful day. Old tricks are the best tricks… I have survived for… fifty… yes, no more than 50 now? I can’t continue. Shrooms, I need more shrooms, variety… options…

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)

I’ve made a troubling discovery—someone has been in my office. It seems a Wanderer might have equipped themselves with some of my items and possibly heard my messages. Interestingly, I found a smartphone that likely belongs to this person, who may have unwittingly led the Faceling to my office, resulting in its destruction.

While examining the area, I noticed Grawlix lurking around the corner. It doesn’t seem to want to communicate with me right now. This is both curious and concerning.

We have an active Wanderer. The Conductor must be excited if this one has lasted long enough to supply themselves. This development is both intriguing and dangerous. I must gather more data.

I will continue my observations and try to piece together what has happened. If this Wanderer saved some data, it might prove invaluable. I need to understand how they managed to find my office and what they have taken.

The clock is ticking, and the Clocksmith is always patrolling for parts. I must remain vigilant and continue to document everything I can. This new twist in the story of the Backrooms is something I didn’t anticipate, but it could be the key to unlocking more of its secrets.

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)

I want to take a moment to explain how I’ve survived the Backrooms for so long. It all derives from a concept I’ve concluded: the Backrooms slowly change people, animals, and things into entities. At what point the Backrooms deemed me an entity is unknown to me, but what is known is that my existence here is by design.

At first, I no-clipped into the Backrooms like any other Wanderer. I was tested and survived, eventually escaping back to our reality. But my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know what this reality was, and I found my way back. Now, my obsession has given me a peculiar kind of protection.

Some entities ignore me entirely. The Conductor finds me annoying and a pest, while the Clocksmith seems to want to recruit me into his grand design to control the Backrooms. These interactions have granted me a unique perspective and a degree of safety that most Wanderers do not enjoy.

I don’t know why the Backrooms are guiding me, but I will take every advantage I can. There’s a deeper purpose to my presence here, and I intend to uncover it, no matter the cost. Each day brings new challenges and discoveries, and I remain ever vigilant, documenting every detail.

The journey continues, and so does my pursuit of understanding the enigmatic nature of the Backrooms.

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)

The Monitors are entities of devious designs. I can only guess by their retro aesthetics that most of the Monitors entered Backrooms reality from the late 60’s to the early 80’s. The Monitors (depending on their design era) will hypnotize their Wanderer victims with relevant images tailored specifically for them. Be it DOS patterns or early sprite fractal patterns, the Monitors know how to captivate and control.

Some of the more advanced Monitors can take up an entire room, configuring themselves into intricate machines that construct traps of holograms and voice-mimicking audio. All the data they need is embedded in Backrooms, always reading you, deciding what to do with you, how to play or change you. Monitors feed on data and only receive it when a Wanderer is present in the Backrooms to fire up its senses.

As for Monitors and their links to the Earth’s internet, I believe deeper within the Backrooms are more complex Monitors that may have access to modern data. This allows the Backrooms to stay updated on humanity and its technology. There is a connection between Earth and the Backrooms’ level development. My accessed Monitor is my only means to leave details on Earth. More will come.

I find myself back in an empty room with a false stairwell, very quiet. Learning to sleep with one eye open is a good trick in movies, but here, I do it to see and rest, to see what happens. They know I watch, I record. The Sighton, that multi-eye monkey, ran from me. His secrets will have to wait.

I gather more insight to give information on the Clocksmith. His Order may take over if the Conductor doesn’t find a way. The Clocksmith is always patrolling, growing, making, tinkering, plotting—creating a false sense of time that Earth is bound by here. Why would the Backrooms make him an entity? Who are these Shoguns of the Backrooms Levels that decide such fates?

More questions than answers, but I will keep observing, keep recording. Every piece of data is a step closer to understanding.

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)

I’ve found something extraordinary: a cruise ship that has no-clipped into the Backrooms. It’s an eerie sight, a vessel seemingly from the 90s era, resting perfectly upright in a room with the familiar yellow wallpaper and chevrons, and a red, moldy carpet. There’s no creaking or popping, no sound of metal expanding or contracting—just an unsettling stillness. It sits as if placed in this room, the ceiling close like the top of a box, and accessible only through a door-sized corner turn in the hallway. A sliver of an opening any Wanderer running would easily miss.

I’ve decided not to make the entrance more noticeable until I’m sure this place can serve as a safe haven. Strategizing now, keeping it hidden until I’m ready to establish a more permanent base.

The ship doesn’t offer much in the way of advanced electronics for salvage—no modern circuit boards that I can use. However, I’ve found useful parts for unchanged technology like dynamos and speakers. I’m not equipped for finer circuit board refurbishing, but the tech I can salvage will help for now. The bridge of the ship is my new camp. I examined it for any signs of power or radio function, but there’s nothing. It looks like Wanderers have scavenged here before, though I don’t remember ever coming across this ship.

With my camp set and survival bag restocked, I can take a moment’s ease. The next goal is to establish a computer here and secure the bridge for data upload to the Earth internet file repository. I realize I’ll need to dismantle the Monitor and try to wire it into this room. This cruise ship now sits in decomposition, a perfect base for now.

The Clocksmith… my mind... lights... ideas... This find would be a goldmine for him. It must not have been discovered yet, given its state. I mumble to myself, thoughts racing, it's not safe to go. This place could hold untapped potential.

But for now, I rest. Itik se ostotl itok Bæchrumas...

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)

HQ has been setup...

In the vast, unending corridors of the Backrooms, one may encounter a haunting sight—the Lost Agents. These beings, once human researchers driven by curiosity, have now become shadows of their former selves, transformed by the relentless grasp of the Backrooms into mindless, desperate figures. Clad in worn protective hazmat suits, they wander aimlessly, their identities erased, replaced by an unwavering pursuit of any Wanderer who crosses their path.

Lost Agents pose a formidable challenge to anyone unfortunate enough to encounter them. Their suits, though tattered and worn, still provide a shield against liquid and gas attacks, forcing Wanderers to resort to more physical means if confrontation becomes inevitable. Weapons that once served as protection now render these agents into something nearly unstoppable, making direct conflict a risky endeavor.

However, their humanity isn’t entirely gone; the faintest traces of need still linger within them, leaving vulnerabilities that a resourceful Wanderer can exploit. They are drawn by the allure of sustenance or distraction, with items like Death Moth Jelly, Almond Water, or Scarabacks proving useful in diverting their attention, if only for a moment. These remnants of their former selves create a small but crucial chink in their defenses, allowing for a narrow path of escape.

The Lost Agents serve as a grim reminder of the fate that awaits those who venture too deep into the Backrooms. Once driven by intellectual curiosity, they are now consumed by the very entity they sought to understand. Their hollow eyes and aimless steps stand as a testament to the dangers lurking in the shadows, a glimpse into the potential fate of anyone who dares to explore the unknown labyrinth of the Backrooms.

(Mr. Freeman’s transmission ends abruptly.)