James A. Hunter
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Backrooms 3: Kiosk Kingdom - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-03-06 17:41:33 +0000 UTCChapter Eight – Sinclair
I closed out of the upgrade section and immediately noticed there was a new tab labeled Interior Terraformer.
Opening it revealed a comprehensive list of available rooms within my storefront, and when I selected the Arcade, a 3D model materialized, along with a whole new set of possible design options. Along the right-hand side was a catalog of material components currently in use throughout my base—everything from stone and marble to wood flooring and upholstered fabric.
Using my hands and the 3D overlay, I could drag and drop selected materials into place, instantly rendering a “preview” version of what the room would look like. Really, it wasn’t so different than using CAD software.
While my Horrors continued to work, I played around with various designs and configurations—swapping the nasty old wood-wall paneling for exposed brick, covering the cold concrete floors with wooden boards, exchanging the busted lighting fixtures with the modern chandeliers from the hotel suit that served as my bedroom. A little gray shiplap as an accent wall helped tie the room and bar together. In less than half an hour, I had everything looking exactly the way I wanted it, and then it was just a matter of selecting the “Accept Renovations” button and letting the store do the rest of the work.
The transformation process itself was much more dramatic than I’d anticipated.
When I accepted the changes, the entire building shook and rattled, the lights flashing frantically, the air itself groaning as though my store was a living thing. Which, I suppose, it was in a manner of speaking. The Backrooms were alive and this space, though in its own private pocket dimension, was still apart of them.
I watched in a combination of awe and disgust as floorboards began to appear, growing almost like scabs along the floor, while brick oozed and wriggled through the wall paneling, quickly replacing the old boards. The lights were forcibly sucked into the ceiling like a fisherman reeling in a big one, before new ones descended in their place.
The entirety of the transformation took about five minutes in total, and when I checked the stores available mana reserves, I found they were nearly empty. Apparently replicating and fabricating so much raw material from, essentially nothing, took a shit load of raw power.
When the shaking finally subsided and the dust settled, the Arcade was almost unrecognizable.
Four pool tables occupied one side of the room, and an assortment of padded booths and high-tops tables, taken from the lounge, sat in front of the bar.
Rows of pinball machines hummed and dinged against the backwall, their blinking lights casting a flickering glow across the new wooden floors. Rows of vintage slot machines promised a good time and potential prizes if you had the Tokens to spend. Several coin operated Winston cigarette dispensers, glass-topped gumball machines, and a handful of other antique arcade games—like the Love-O-Matic and an off-brand fortune-telling contraption called Mystic Morty—were sequestered in their own corner of the Arcade.
It was exactly the kind of place I could see myself spending a Friday night—getting a few drinks, a big ol’ burger, or even a decent steak. Maybe shooting a few rounds of pool afterward with some buddies.
That thought felt like a knife twisting inside my guts and robbed the smile from my face.
As great as Croc, Jakob, and Temp were, I missed my friends. And I missed my home.
My home hadn’t been great—just a little three-bed room ranch with a big backyard and a detached garage for all my tools, but it had been mine. Bought and paid for using a VA and a stack of cash I’d earned as Hazard Pay while deployed.
I’d come to accept that, at least for a good long while, this place was my home, but thinking about my friends was a good reminder that I still wanted a way out of this hellhole. Sure, there was a lot of cool shit here, but I’d give up all my fancy new powers to forget the gruesome, stomach-curdling things I’d seen since No-clipping. Like the bodies of those poor Howlers, encased in silk, their organs and bones liquified—and all because of a single, stupid decision I’d made in the heat of battle.
But there was no going back, not yet. And wishing for it wouldn’t change anything.
I forcibly pushed those thoughts away, killed the dregs of my beer, and pushed myself upright. The last thing I needed to do before I could call it a night was create one final golem to manage this place. I’d need to hire on some additional human staff as well, but that could wait.
Ideally, I’d create two new minions—one to oversee the arcade and another for the spa— but I’d need to expand the shop a little more before I could swing that. I could forge one golem for every 5,000 square feet of material I controlled. Right now, I had just under 35,000 square feet, which capped me at six golems total. After accounting for Princess Ponypuff, Baby Hands, Camo Joe, and my two new Hell Hounds, that only left me with a single available slot.
Still, I planned to make that count.
I’d come to learn that intention mattered a lot when it came to creating golems, so I took a few minutes and carefully gathered the materials that would best suit my vision.
A bunch of top-shelf liquor bottles were the first things to go into the pile. Next, I added items from the kitchen—high-end knives and cookware, mostly, though I tossed in a white chef’s apron as well. I took a minute to collect some luxury supplies from the spa, including several bottles of lotion and men’s cologne, then popped by the section where we sold Artifacts. We had a variety of enchanted weapons and armor for sale, but I didn’t bother taking any of those.
Instead, I grabbed a lifeless plastic mannequin, used for displaying clothing.
I figured that would serve as a decent base for the monstrosity.
Lastly, I swung by the Pharmacy and raided my makeshift morgue.
I didn’t need body parts for this, but after thinking back to how the Lounge Service Rep had spoken and carried itself, I knew that was exactly the vibe I wanted. Its head was a literal TV, so I salvaged that first, then stripped the corpse of its neatly pressed jacket and trousers. Were they a little bloodstained? Sure. Was there a fist-sized hole straight through the center? Also yes. But even with the stains and damage, it was still the nicest outfit I had in the store.
Once I had everything in a pile on the floor, all that was left to do was pick a Relic and I already had one in mind—the Rare-grade Velvet Rope Barrier, which I’d also looted from the service rep. The Relic was powerful and legitimately useful as a crowd control spell, so I was a little hesitant to use it. On the other hand, I knew the better the Relic, the more powerful the golem. But it wasn’t just about raw power, either. Intention mattered, and the feel of the Relic—its theme, its flavor—also contributed to the final outcome.
Velvet Rope Barrier embodied both service and exclusivity and that was exactly what I needed for this newest creation.
Would you like to transform the selected material into a Cannon Fodder Golem? Doing so will destroy the Rare Relic, Velvet Rope Barrier. Proceed? Yes/No?
When I hit Yes the lights in the arcade dimed and a golden glow enveloped the curated pile of items. I fixed the image of a sophisticated bartender in my head. The kind of guy who could listen to someone complain about their shitty day and also bounce rowdy drunks just as good as he could mix up a Smoky Old-Fashioned.
The golden motes of light sank into the scattered items, setting them into a flurry of motion. As they did, a huge funnel of preternatural energy flowed from the store into golem and, for the first time, I could actually see the inrush of mana. Could see the way it seemed to convert the Relic at the center of the creature into something else, something new—a crystalline core with an odd set of runes engraved into its surface.
Huh. Now that was new.
This hadn’t happened with the two Devil Dogs, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I’d used a Rare-grade Relic? Or maybe it was due to my sky-high Resonance or my drastically increased Perception. There weren’t any forthcoming answers, but a moment later, another pop-up appeared—though this one came courtesy of the Researcher’s Codex.
>>> Research Inquiry: Initializing <<<
Test Supervisor: Senior Chimeric System Engineer, Iteration 1.3789A
Test Date: 10.03.1159 BCE (Julian Standard, Updated for User Preference)
Subject: Extraction and Analysis of the Chimeric Convergence Engine – Core Unit Sample #17, obtained from an Unstable Semi-Sentient Construct
Introduction
Today's analysis focuses on the Chimeric Convergence Engine (CCE), an anomalous biomechanical core extracted from a Semi-Autonomous Sentient Construct. Functionally akin to the Chimeric Spatial Cores within Sentient Progenitor Entities (SPEs or “Dwellers”), the CCE serves as both a power source and a governing intelligence.
Unlike conventional spawned minions that rely on AI matrices and mana conversion, Semi-Autonomous Sentient Constructs operate under a distinct classification due to their reliance on a CCE rather than traditional mana sources. Typical minions draw energy from a Delver’s refined Mana Pool, since raw Singularity Essence from the Progenitor Engine is too chaotic for direct use.
The Delver’s VIRUS Interface acts as a stabilizing system, converting Singularity Essence into usable mana. The CCE functions similarly—filtering and refining this volatile energy into a self-sustaining power source capable of granting synthetic organisms awareness and adaptive cognition.
Observations
The CCE is neither purely mechanical nor organic but a hybrid, resembling a living organ despite its artificial origins. Dissection revealed a complex neural framework fused with runic pathways akin to those in high-tier Relics, likely encoding instincts and directives.
A notable feature is its fluctuating resonance pattern, which adjusts to external stimuli and appears to sync with an unknown network beyond current analytical capabilities. Additional research suggests the CCE might directly interface with the larger Progenitor Engine, suggesting that the core does not function independently but as a sub-node of a much larger, centralized system.
Hypotheses
The CCE does more than power its host—it evolves, responding to mana fluctuations, potentially fostering autonomous thought, instincts, and even emotions.
Its encoded instruction set may be more adaptable than previously assumed, allowing for behavioral shifts, task recalibration, and even personality mutations based on environmental factors.
Continued exposure to corrupted or Blighted energy could lead to catastrophic failures, manifesting as erratic or violent behaviors in affected constructs.
The removal or destruction of the CCE does not immediately terminate the host, suggesting that core processes persist in fragmented forms, potentially resulting in rogue or feral constructs.
Conclusion
The Chimeric Convergence Engine represents a remarkable fusion of organic synthesis, primal energy refinement, and evolving intelligence.
Its direct link to the Progenitor Engine grants immense potential—but also unpredictability. The implications of its existence raise critical concerns regarding the autonomy and proliferation of sentient constructs. Further study is required to assess its full capabilities, potential fail-safes, and the risks of unchecked expansion. One question remains: Are we creating servants, or are we creating something that will, inevitably, break free?
>>> Research Inquiry: Complete <<<
I read through the report several times, trying my damnedest to parse all the weird jargon.
By the time I was done with my fifth read through, I had the gist of it. It confirmed a lot of what I already suspected. What it boiled down to was that these golems were uniquely different than other summoned creatures, though they weren’t quite like Dwellers either. They were genuinely self-aware, capable of thought, feeling, and even growth overtime, but as Semi-Autonomous they were also restricted in some fundamental ways.
They were bound to whoever had summoned them.
When I finally dismissed the report, I found my newest golem waiting for me.
He stood tall and slender, his broad shoulders draped in the neatly pressed suit jacket once worn by the lounge receptionist. A stark white apron was tied snugly around his waist and served as a sharp contrast to the formalwear. He had four articulating mannequin arms, each one long and nimble, capped by a hand with long spidery fingers. And for a head? A flat-screened television monitor with a digital face.
“Hello, sir,” my new bartender said, dipping his head to me. “How may I be of service?” He paused and stared at me with digital eyes that burned with faint blue light. “Apologies, but you look like a man in need of a drink. Perhaps, I’m mistaken, but I’d say you’ve had the kind of day that would make one of the holy saints start swearing.”
His voice was warm and steady, threaded with a refined Cockney accent. He spoke with a measured cadence, carrying an air of wry wit and quiet confidence.
I snorted and nodded, “Yeah, you could say that. What do you know how to make?” I asked after a second, wanting to see what my newest golem was capable of.
“Well now,” he responded, fishing a glass out from beneath the bar, “I can make just about anything you can think of. For you, though?” He seemed to consider me for a moment longer, his head tilted slightly to one side. “I’d suggest something stiff—an old fashioned, perhaps, or a dirty martini. Something with a bit of weight to it, if you catch my meaning. Or”—he rapped the counter lightly—“I could make you the best Gin and Tonic you’ll ever taste.
“Bit of a specialty of mine. Trick is, you don’t drown the gin. Let it breathe, let it speak for itself. You get the right balance—sharp, crisp, just enough bite to remind you you’re still alive. I’ve seen that drink lift spirits that were buried six feet under. And from the looks of it, you might just need a bit of that magic yourself. Ultimately, however, the choice is up to you, sir.”
His response left me reeling.
This thing hadn’t even existed five minutes ago, but somehow it just knew about dirty martinis and how to make a gin and tonic? How? And the way he spoke, like he was an old hand who’d seen it all and could deliver reassurances or hard truths with equal ease. I knew this thing was a Progenited creature, and one that I’d made, but it felt like more than that. This thing felt alive and vibrant. Intelligent and aware. He reminded me of Camo-Joe, but more somehow.
True, this was the first time I’d used a Rare-grade Relic, but was that all there was too it?
I wasn’t sure and I felt vaguely uneasy about the creature standing before me.
“Uh, let’s go with a gin and tonic,” I replied with a tight smile.
“Of course, sir. Gin and tonic, it is.” He moved with speed and grace, his four arms snatching bottles from the shelf as though he’d been born behind the bar. In less than thirty seconds, I had a perfectly mixed drink, and even though I’d never been a fan of Gin and Tonics, I had to admit it was damned tasty.
“I think this is going to work out just fine,” I said over the top of my drink. “Don’t suppose you already have a name?” I asked, knowing the answer was going to be no.
“Sinclair,” the bartender replied without preamble or hesitation. “Though, as the master of this fine establishment, you can opt to choose a different name, if you’re so inclined.”
“Uh, no,” I said, momentarily caught flat footed. “Sinclair is fine. I’m just happy to have you on board.” Once again, I felt a twinge on uneasy, but I pushed it away for the time being. “Now, let’s talk a little business. I’ve got some big plans for this place and I’m going to need your help to pull them off.”
“Of course, sir,” Sinclair said. “I live to serve.”
He listened raptly as I launched into my plans, carefully spelling out his role and responsibility—part bartender, part arcade manager. I told him about the door fees, the two drink minimum, and also tasked him with talking to Ponypuff about manning the spa. It wasn’t a perfect long-term solution, but it would work for now. Sinclair followed along with ease, and I could see real intelligence in the creature’s electric blue eyes.
I thought back to the Research Report.
Are we creating servants, or are we creating something that will, inevitably, break free?
I wasn’t sure I liked the potential implications of that line of reasoning. Still, these things were useful tools. And I needed every tool I could get my hands on, even if they had the potential to be dangerous.
Comments
James A. Hunter
I love it, too. In the Backrooms there are A LOT of theories about what is going on and how stuff works, but the only ones who really know the truth are the Researchers. Most of them are dead, but their work isn't all lost and that stuff is true. For the most part.
Nick Skeen
Knowledge is power
Nick Skeen
One service dan could also make a lot on (and learn a lot and help others) is just sitting there and telling people their odds/resonating chances when combing relics.
Nick Skeen
More world/research/virus stuff! Getting a peak behind the curtain so to speak is always fun as a reader
