Backrooms: Delvers and Dwellers - Chapter 13

Thirteen – Compass of the Catacomber

I looked over my newly upgraded stats once more before closing out my SBR tab.

Dan Woodridge

Specimen Biotag ID #03A-01-B00R7T569C!

Variant Assimilation Level: 5

Race: Human, Standard

Current Experience: 3,715

Next Level: 4,250

Personal Enchantment Points: 0

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Health: 28

Health-Regen / Hour: 1.3

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Stamina Reserve: 16

Stamina-Regen / Minute: 1.2

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Mana Pool: 35

Mana-Regen / Minute: 2.9

Individual Adaptative Stats

Grit: 6

Athleticism: 5

Toughness: 6

Perception: 10

Resonance: 15

Preservation: 3

The only thing that had really changed was the size of my Mana Pool and my Mana Regeneration Rate. The overall amount of Mana I had at my disposal had quadrupled and my Regen rate had tripled. I could now cast Bleach Bolt seven times in rapid fire succession before running dry. It still felt like my Regen rate was as slow as a narcoleptic sloth, but that just meant I needed to pace myself—be strategic in how I used the spells I had at my disposal.

I closed the Monolith Menu screen and fished out the brass compass, holding it flat against my palm. Time to see if this horse could run.

Compass of the Catacomber

Mythic Emblem

The Backrooms are filled with a thousand dangers, from lethal traps to ravenous Dwellers, but none are more deadly than the murky, ever-twisting, ever-changing corridors of the Backrooms themselves. Though many Delvers perish at the claws and fangs of inhuman horrors, even more die thirsty, hungry, and alone, trapped in a dark room with no way out.

Not the Catacomber.

The Catacomber is a twisted blend of cartographer and cryptic graveyard robber. Though lacking in combat prowess, a unique blend of skills and spells allows those holding this Mythic Emblem to map the uncharted depths, effortlessly venturing where others fear to tread. In a world of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. The Catacomber has both eyes open and a torch that will never go out.

As I finished reading over the Emblem description, I was surprised by how different it was than the other Relics I’d seen so far. Each Relic was essentially a single skill or spell, which could be leveled up, swapped out, or forged into more powerful skills at will. But they were always just a single ability. This was different. This read like an RPG class description. A class that specialized not in combat or even spell-slinging, but in navigation.

I’d played DnD and online MMOs for years, and I always tended toward the brawler builds. Hit first, hit hard, ask questions later. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve run as fast as could get away from a lame-ass class that revolved around disarming traps or making maps—even now it sounded so incredibly boring. But I wasn’t playing a game, I reminded myself. This was my life, and I was trapped inside of an endless labyrinth where everything, including the furniture, was deadly.

Because I’d invested the bulk of my Personal Enchantment Points into Perception and Resonance, I was as squishy and vulnerable as a basket of newborn kittens, but if the Emblem allowed me to avoid fights, sidesteps pitfalls, and find shelter, it would be well-wroth my comparatively abysmal Athleticism and Toughness Score.

I peeled my gaze away from the Catacomber description and looked at the six “Emblem Slots” listed beneath. In essence, each one was a distinct Relic, all fused together under one umbrella, just like Croc had explained.

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Emblem Slot 1: Mapmaker’s Eye

Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

Mapmaker’s Eye is a passive feature, which allows the Catacomber to generate a visual Map of the Backrooms as they explore. Unexplored areas stay veiled by the “Fog of War,” but once a section has been visited, the floor-map will remain intact even after a “Floor Shift” occurs. The presence of benign and hostile Dwellers, secret doorways, and other Delvers will also be indicated on the Map.

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Emblem Slot 2: Surveyor’s Mark

Rare Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

The Backroom’s are a living organism and, as such, the corridors, rooms, and byways that make up each floor are extremely resistant to external change. Trying to alter or even mark the surface in any way is futile at best and potentially life-threatening at worst. Surveyor’s Mark is a passive ability that allows the Catacomber to mark their path through the Backrooms, leaving a trail others can follow.

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Emblem Slot 3: Spelunker’s Sixth Sense

Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

After years of traversing treacherous tunnels and crumbling ruins, the Catacomber has developed an uncanny passive ability to detect insidious traps and spot concealed foes with almost casual indifference. Many develop an almost perverse fascination with disarming and rearming the traps, often to the rage of those who laid them in the first place. Their uncanny passive ability also allows them to spot loot from a mile off, much to the envy of their fellow adventurers.

I whistled through my teeth as I read.

The first three abilities alone were enough to make Compass of the Catacomber a priceless item that anyone inside the Backrooms would kill for. I’d spent less than a day here, but after wandering aimlessly through the Lobby—constantly on the move from unseen threats, stalking me from dim shadows—I knew exactly how miserable, disorienting, and dangerous this place was.

Even my rudimentary attempts at creating a map had proven useful, but in a place this size, I doubted that walking around with reams of paper was a tenable solution. But a map that I could look at in real-time? And one that actively labeled secret passageways or hostile enemies? Yeah, that would make life considerably easier. That, paired with Spelunker’s Sixth Sense would let me easily avoid so many of the environmental dangers the Backrooms had to offer.

Sure, I’d still have to worry about running into a gang of cannibalistic Delvers or roaming packs of tentacle-faced Dwellers, but I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally having my face melted off by an acidic water fountain.

Surveyor’s Mark was less immediately applicable, especially since I had the map to help guide my feet and I was currently alone. If it was included with the Emblem, however, I was sure there was a good reason for it.

If the first three abilities made the Emblem priceless, the last three made it a treasure fit only for a king. Or for a god.

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Emblem Slot 4: The Researcher’s Codex

Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

Despite its current function, the Progenitor Ship was originally designed as a Researcher Vessel. As such, it contains a host of valuable information on all the Delvers and Dwellers who now inhabit its endless and ever-changing corridors. This passive skill grants the Catacomber a Credential Key for all restricted Variant Research Division Labs and additional insight into the varied inhabitants of the Backrooms, including their strengths, weakness, skills, and behaviors. The Researcher’s Codex Notes will be accessed, complied, and disseminated through your Localized Administrator.

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Emblem Slot 5: Pathfinder’s Unerring Arrow

Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

Range: Line of Sight

Cost: 30 Mana

Duration: 30 Seconds

Using the Pathfinder’s Unerring Arrow, the Catacomber conjures an illusionary blue arrow, visible only to them, which will lead unerringly to any objective fixed firmly in the Catacomber’s mind. With each step taken, the conjured arrow extends its reach, always pointing in the optimal direction, bypassing obstacles, dangers, and hinderances, which allows the caster to navigate even the most treacherous environments with unflagging confidence.

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Emblem Slot 6: Corvo’s Blanket Fort

Mythic Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 15

Kids all over the world are well-acquainted with the boundless joy of rearranging and repurposing couch cushions and bed blankets to make an awesome fort. This is just the grown up, extra-dimensional version of that. Use Corvo’s Blanket Fort ability to cordon off a portion of the Backrooms and claim it as your own, transforming the area into a cozy little pocket dimension that you can always retreat to when to going gets too rough.

As with any good blanket fort, your pocket dimension can grow by adding extra material. The Catacomber can add 2,500 square feet of space to their Blanket Fort for every Variant Assimilation Level earned. Think of it as a high-end real estate investment, only with fewer property taxes and more flesh-eating monsters.

But the best is yet to come.

As with all real-estate, they say it’s all about location, location, location, and with Blanket Fort, you always have an optimal location. This ability allows the Catacomber to create one Doorway Anchor per two Variant Assimilation Levels. A Doorway Anchor can transform any standard door within the Backrooms into a dimensional gateway, which connects directly to their slice of paradise. Doorway Anchors can be moved at any time and may be set to private or public, restricting who can enter the comfort of your own personal hell.

For a full list of Blanket Fort features and options, please see the Blanket Fort DYI Operations Manual, available after claiming your first section of the Backrooms!

As I finished reading, a cold sweat washed over me, and I found myself acutely aware of how much trouble I was in. The Compass of the Catacomber was… Amazing, didn’t quite fell like an adequate term, but I wasn’t sure anything else fit. Incredible? Astonishing? Divine? It was all of those things and then some. In the Backrooms, knowledge was power, which made the Researcher’s Codex a weapon that would start paying dividends the second I used it.

And it was nothing compared to Pathfinder’s Unerring Arrow or the ridiculously named Corvo’s Blanket Fort. Although Mapmaker’s Eye would allow me to draft a map real time, it was still limited in scope—I needed to physically go someplace before the Fog of War lifted, but Pathfinder’s Unerring Arrow would allow me to sidestep that limitation. It could take me anywhere I wanted to go with a thought.

Need a stairwell? Just think of one. Food running low? A little magic, a splash of razzle-dazzle and boom, I’d know exactly how to get there in the quickest, most efficient manner possible.

As for the Mythic Corvo’s Blanket Fort ability…

I literally couldn’t think of a more powerful skill in an endless, ever-changing dungeon. With that, I could create a haven, one which would be accessible at any point from any location within the Backrooms and, unlike the other Relics, this one would scale with me over time. I could attach more and more spaces as I leveled up, until I essentially had my own self-contained Kingdom with everything I could possibly need within.

It was awesome. That was also the problem. It was too awesome.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was the kind of power kingdoms were built upon. I wasn’t sure how the grizzled gunslinger with the foam anime sword had knocked this Emblem out of the Flayed Monarch’s Spatial Core—probably some sort of specialized Relic or Artifact, if I had to guess—but there was one thing I knew as certain as the sun rose in the east and set in the west: The Flayed Monarch would come looking for this particular lost treasure.

Even if I somehow managed to give the Compass back to the skinless warlord, I got the sense that he wasn’t exactly the forgiving type. More the, slice your skin off, boil you in oil, then hang you to death with loops of your own intestine, type.

This compass had painted a target on my back that was visibly from outer space. Sure, the Backrooms were enormous, but I got the very real sense that the Monarch had eyes, ears, and hands all over the place. It was only a matter of time before a member of the Skinless Court found me. Once they did, the Flayed Monarch would come a callin’, and when that happened, I’d be a dead man. End of story.

Unless…

Unless I used the Compass of the Catacomber to become strong enough to survive against the wrath of a living deity.

That would be easier said than done, but it wasn’t impossible.

The Compass itself didn’t make me stronger, faster, or offer me extraordinary combat capabilities. It was information, convivence, and safety. It would allow me to easily navigate and avoid the perils of the Backrooms, but killing Dwellers would still to be a challenge. And without killing a metric shit-load of extremely deadly Dwellers I would never earn enough powerful Relics to save myself or challenge the Monarch. But maybe I could get other people to do the heavy lifting for me in that arena.

With the specific abilities and limitations that the Compass did offer, the solution to my long-term problem was immediately obvious.

I needed to start my own business.

On its face, launching a start-up might not have seemed like the best way to topple the empire of a demi-god, but if there was anything more powerful than magic, it was capitalism. I’d personally witnessed capitalism and the greed for cold hard cash take down countries, unseat dictators, and raise up nobodies from the depths of utter obscurity to the heights of absolute power and influence. Capitalism was a deadly, double-edged sword that could easily cut both ways, but if I was smart, maybe I could use the Compass to make sure it sliced things in my favor.

Hell, I’d been running my own business for years, so I already had a solid grasp on the fundamentals, and the most important thing I’d learned about running a successful business was that you needed to find a need, then figure out a way to fill it. The true power of the Compass was that it would allow me to offer the other unfortunate souls trapped in this place several things that were in critically short supply: Safety, convivence, and information.

Any time there was short supply and high demand, an enormous profit could be turned.

Instead of transforming the pillow fort into my own, personal Fortress of Solitude, I could make a place for other Delvers to come and trade, buy, and sell. A place to grab a bite to eat without having to worry about whether something was going to eat you instead. A refuge to catch a few minutes of uninterrupted shuteye without the constant fear that you would never wake up again. And unlike the Safe Harbors, scattered around the various floors, my trading hub would be faction neutral—except for the dicks from the Skinless Court, of course, who wouldn’t be allowed in—and there would access points far and wide.

I could put doorways on damn near every floor. Shit, just being able to use the hub to reliably move from floor to floor would be a great feature.

I was going to have everything anyone could ever need to survive the Backrooms, and I’d offer it for a reasonable price—though reasonable was a relative term. A bottle of water was worth a buck fifty at a local gas station. That same bottle of water, offered to a man stranded in a desert and dying of dehydration, was priceless. Point was, all value was circumstantial and what I had to offer was potentially worth a fortune. In payment, I’d collect Relics and Artifacts for myself—not to mention countless favors and endless goodwill, which I would hopefully be able to leverage against the Flayed Monarch.

This was my best—or, more realistically, my only—shot at long-term survival.

The only question now was, what kind of store did I start with?

A hotel of some sort was the first place my mind immediately jumped to. The Backrooms were a nightmare and finding a safe location to rest was a dubious proposition at best. Most hotels usually had a small, attached restaurant and a little gift shop that I could use to sell items.

That was a solid option, but there were also a few complications.

First off, even small hotels were big. Picking up a hotel straight out of the gate would burn through the majority of my square-footage, and there was no way I’d be able to properly run anything bigger than a quaint Bed and Breakfast without staff. I’d need a cook, cleaners, someone to work the front desk and handle check ins, plus another person to deal with the shop. That was a goal I could work toward long term, but for now, I needed something smaller, more efficient, which focused on what I really wanted to accomplish: acquiring all the Relics and Artifacts I could get my hands on.

I could resell the worthless Relics or sacrifice them to bump up the Relics in my Spatial Core, but I was also bound to come across some useful items that would allow me to get more powerful as well.

The hotel idea was out. At least for now. Next, my mind skipped to a grocery store.

That could be a solid option, too. Smaller. Easier to manage. I could find a camping surplus store to raid, then set up a few cots for folks looking to sleep. The accommodations wouldn’t be glamorous, but it would be safe, and people would pay a hefty premium for safety. It would also have food and supplies—though restocking things like fresh produce or meat would be extremely difficult. Plus, once I got to thinking about it, I realized most of the items inside a grocery store were luxury goods.

No one would have access to a fridge or a pantry, although that could probably be circumvented by using the Subspace Storage System. The Storage System was time-locked, after all, which meant any perishable items stored within would stay good indefinitely. Still, the thought of some post-apocalyptic survivor, taking the time to make a home-cooked meal seemed laughable. Food that was quick and easy to eat on the go like beef jerky, chips, or protein bars would be far more useful.

The grocery store was better than the hotel, but still too specialized.

What I really needed was an ol’ timey general store. Like the kind of place that would exist in an 1800s western frontier town. A location that was small and manageable, with just enough room to set up sleeping spaces, that also had a little bit of everything. Food. Medicine. Basic hygiene gear. Decent bathrooms. Survival items. Good shelf space. Eventually, I’d be able to attach other structures, but the general store would serve as the beating heart of the operation.

But what the hell was the modern equivalent of a frontier general store?

A Walmart, maybe? That was in the right ballpark, but had a lot of the same problems as the hotel. Too big. Too much shit. Impossible to manage, even with Croc’s help.

What about a gas station? No. That had the opposite problem. Too small, not enough shit.

I continued to kick it around, running my hand along the stubble at my jaw. I’d need to trim my beard before too much longer. My fingers froze as I abruptly recalled the last time I’d taken a vacation. I’d been running late for my flight, and I’d packed up all my hygiene gear in a frantic flurry, throwing stuff blindly into my travel bag. In the rush, I’d forgotten to grab my razor from the shower. I’d needed to buy a new one before I ended up looking like a disheveled marmot, so I’d stopped by the one place that I was certain would have what I needed.

Because they had a little bit of everything.

In a flash that felt like divine revelation, I knew exactly what I needed to find...