Backrooms Decrypted: Attic Floorboards (Level 19)

Level 19 of the Backrooms is also known as the Attic Floorboards. It has a CLASS 2 survival difficulty rating. It is SECURE, UNSAFE, and has a LOW ENTITY COUNT. Level 19 is a complicated maze of strangely shaped attic spaces crammed with boxes, old furniture, and other assorted stuff. A warm, fire-like glow may come from beneath certain of Level19's floors, beaming up through the flooring. This radiance has an unusual, enticing impact that might entice wanderers by giving a sense of ease and calm. Pulling direct memories from the individual and modifying them to be directly tied to this light is a common occurrence. 👁‍🗨👀🪓😨👁‍🗨👀

• Welcome back, Explorer. Do you know where you are? Of course, the backrooms, but where are you now? It's dark and musty. Dust and haze are pervasive in the air. There are boxes everywhere, barely held together by tenacious strips of scotch tape. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust because they have just come from the harsh glow of recent memories and the darkness here seems almost foreign. At least it isn't as bad as some of the earlier levels, where the darkness was so dense and real that no light could possibly break through it. We assume you're fortunate in that regard. But you'll soon discover that there is something much worse hanging around up here than darkness.
• Whether you'll learn the truth before it is too late is the only unanswered question. Greetings from Level 19. Make sure to breathe it in. You get used to your surroundings pretty quickly. Although the smell of musty old clothes and mothballs up here is not particularly pleasant, it is something you can tolerate. In fact, it brings back memories, but this is not the time for sentimentality. After all, you are an explorer, so go out and explore. Each old wooden floorboard beneath you makes an audible creak as you carefully move across it. Arched roof above you that appears to be supported in place by similarly aged wooden planks. You occasionally see vintage furniture, such as old tables, chairs, and armoires, stacked up along the walls, some of which are covered in tarps and others of which are left to collect dust like everything else.
• You are familiar with this location. No, you tell yourself, that can't be true. It must simply be the residual effects of Level 18's memory field. It's not that cramped, but there's still a lingering sense of claustrophobia about this place, so you just need to ignore it and keep moving, don't you? The absence of a clear exit is common in the backrooms, but in this location, it seems to be particularly burdensome. You start to think that it might never end as you make your way further and further down the attic. Every stale memento from your youth is kept in the eternal attic. No gift has ever been given. Decorated for Halloween and Christmas every year. Six generations of spiders living in a mansion of cobwebs with no other experience.
• It gives you the chills. Not a good place, this. Or does your attitude suddenly change, as if a switch has been flipped? The growing unease you were experiencing before has been replaced by a warm sensation that comes from the center of your chest and spreads throughout you, bringing you comfort and serenity. You breathe out, spinning and twirling the airborne dust particles. You have a sense that the world is in order somehow. There appears to be light at the end of the tunnel. And we're not just using figurative language. You can't help but notice something in the old, dusty floorboards in front of you—a faint light that appears to be coming from there.
• The same way a lizard would gravitate toward the sun's warmth, you feel drawn to it. You require whatever is causing that odd orange glow under the floorboards. Feeling good about it. It makes you joyful. And things that do that are few and far between down here aren't they, Explorer? You approach the floorboards with the orange glow and drop to your knees, pressing your fingers and face against the old, dusty wood without even thinking about the possibility that you might get splinters. Nothing could disturb the peace you are inexplicably experiencing from this orange glow. You are brought back to more innocent times when there was no fear, no doubt, and no self-awareness curse.
• When it's all said and done, you'll remember those happy times when you thought everything might be alright. At that point, you can clearly recall where you first saw this location. When you were a young child, so many years ago, you went to spend a week with your grandparents while your parents were dealing with something. A few rusty old metals in a tin cigar box, his dog tags, and even his service pistol were among the wartime mementos your grandfather showed you while leading you up into the attic, you recall. The realization that you were so close to living history astounded your impressionable young mind. Once you were done, he would take you back downstairs, where your grandmother would be waiting for you with a tray of hot, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
• You start to smile warmly and contentedly just thinking about it. A familiar sound, your stomach growling, shakes you out of your trance. You suddenly realize that it has been a very long time since you last had food, and you need to make up for it as soon as possible if you don't want your time in the backrooms to end before you reach Level 20. You shakily get to your feet, not exactly eager to leave behind the comforts that the orange glow under the floorboards offers. Don't you think that would just be embarrassing? Comfort must sometimes give way for the sake of absolute necessities. The floorboards once again squeak beneath your alien footsteps as you stomp down the length of the infinite attic.
• There are boxes everywhere; surely one of them holds food that is safe for you to consume. Your stomach is churning, and the pain is now almost intolerable. Hunger-stricken, in pain, and impatient, you reach for the closest box and rip it open. How did you not notice this feeling earlier? Was it the orange glow? It's stuffed with porcelain baubles, tiny ceramic Santas with faded paint, and garish vines of tinsel-covered ornaments for the holidays. There's nothing useful here, but what if there's something tasty underneath? You grab a bauble, obviously not thinking clearly, and stare into the box, only to discover more baubles underneath. You let the ornament and the box fall to the ground in a mild delirium.
• Strangely, the ornament doesn't clatter, while the box does. Actually, it quietly disintegrates into dust the moment it comes into contact with the floorboards; it doesn't shatter. That is the kind of thing you might notice if you were in a better frame of mind.