James A. Hunter
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Backrooms 2: Kiosk Kingdom - Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2024-07-12 12:37:49 +0000 UTCTwenty-Six – Gift Horse Offerings
We spent the next day preparing for the descent.
Jakob was the only one who’d visited the nineteenth floor but surprisingly, he only had a few vague tidbits to share which basically boiled down to be ready for anything. Especially mind-fuck games. The entire floor was what the Cendral referred to as a “Cognition Hazard.” Apparently, some levels were so incredibly toxic to life, they came with their own warning labels.
Floors with Spatial Hazards distorted or manipulated space in some way, while Biohazard floors were generally riddled with so much Blight that they were unsuitable for Delver habitation. There were Temporal Hazards and Spatial Hazards, Thaumaturgic Hazards and Cryo Hazards. So many different hazards, it was hard to keep track of ’em all. Floors marked as Cognition Hazards typically contained a bunch of bullshit that adversely effected perception and the mind, which was part of the reason Jakob couldn’t tell us more.
Because he’d forgotten more than he could remember.
Suddenly, the inclusion of the Burger Baron Artifact Crown made a whole lot of sense.
Temp was thrilled at the prospect of killing new and interesting things, while Croc spent most of its time worrying endlessly about what kind of nightmarish traps and horrors would be waiting for us. The mimic kept pestering Jakob, grilling him for any detail, no matter how small, which the Cendral might’ve overlooked. What we knew for sure was that the level was some sort of sprawling suburban nightmare filled with endless cookie cutter housing developments and unnerving Dwellers who were always more than they appeared to be on the surface.
For my part, I spent less time worrying and more time prepping. As my old platoon sergeant used to say, success came down to the Six Ps: Prior Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance.
The first item on my to-do list was to sort through the strange offerings the Director had left behind.
The Kiosk Club Cards were completely self-explanatory and there were enough to go around, with a few extra to spare. I had more than a few doubts about how effective the network passes would actually be, but after reading over the description, I figured having them wouldn’t make things worse.
Kiosk Club Card - Temporary Tattoo
Uncommon Artifact
Type: Single Use
Duration: 2 – 3 Weeks (Longer if you don’t wash, ya filthy animal!)
Stamped with the soul-crushing emblem of commercial damnation, the Kiosk Club Card is your one-way ticket through the monster-infested tunnels of a consumerist hellscape where survival is just another transaction.
That’s right, slap this baby onto your skin, and suddenly, you’re untouchable. Kiosk Dwellers will see the brand and instantly recognize you as one of their own, a fellow denizen of the corporate meat grinder. Just another poor schmuck, bound heart and soul to the Franchisor.
No one escapes the grind. No one.
The idea of wearing the tattoo didn’t sit especially well with me, since I resented the idea of being bound to the Franchisor in any meaningful way. There was something about the idea of branding myself that just felt gross, but it wasn’t a hill I was willing to die on. I’d already made so many questionable life choices, that this wasn’t even in the top twenty. I slapped one of the tattoos onto the front of my thigh so it would be completely visible without having to pull off my bathrobe every time a hostile Dweller caught a glimpse of me, then I tucked the rest into Spatial Storage for later.
My other Artifact, the Crown of the Burger Baron, was ridiculously overpowered, and I didn’t think twice before putting it on—though, I started second guessing the choice when I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflective door of the breakroom microwave. Thanks to the bathrobe, toolbelt, and jort combo, I already looked like a hobo contractor. With the plastic crown in place, I now looked like an insane hobo contractor. One who panhandled outside a Burger King in the bad part of town.
But such was life and how I looked was at the very bottom of the shit-I-cared-about list.
The sigil stone was as equally powerful as the Burger Baron’s Crown, but it was even more useful in its own way.
Split Personality
Fabled Sigil
Type: Cloth Armor Sigil
Ever feel like your brain is just a soggy, single-core processor struggling to run the latest version of Life.exe? Well, you’re in luck, friend, because the Scientists at the Variant Research Division have outdone themselves! With this bad boy, you can finally transcend the stifling limitations of your pathetic human mind and tap into a grander cosmic consciousness—or at least fake it convincingly.
Unfortunately, this ability doesn't actually boost your IQ or make you any smarter. Rather, it creates a powerful Psychic Reservoir by carving your delicate psyche into partitioned sub-pockets, each capable of focusing on different tasks simultaneously! Split Personality transforms your very mediocre brain from a meat cleaver into a Swiss Army knife with lots of cool widgets and attachments, except the mini tweezers are your childhood trauma and the corkscrew is your crippling self-doubt.
Split Personality increases reaction speed and drastically reduces the strain on your delicate grey matter when wielding telekinetic- or psionic-powered Relics, plus it lets you do what few others can: juggle multiple Mana-based Relics at the same time without turning your meat-sponge into a bowl of hot mush. Perfect for multitaskers, overachievers, and anyone desperate enough to trust their sanity to a sigil marketed like a late-night infomercial.
Disclaimer: Use at your own risk. VRD is not responsible for any identity crises or sudden urges to monologue about the futility of existence.
Honestly, it was an incredible item and one that seemed to be handpicked just for me and my current skill set. I didn’t love the idea that some rando Delver with the power to turn me into meat cubes knew what Relics I had in my Spatial Core, but like Jakob had said, I didn’t plan to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. It was a Cloth Armor Sigil and though I only had one empty slot left in my Bathrobe, I didn’t think I was gonna find a more fitting Sigil.
There was a brilliant flash of white light as I merged stone and fabric.
For a long moment, time seemed to slow and every one of my senses sharpened as a sudden wave of mental clarity unfurled inside my skull like a flower opening its petals to the sun.
Although I didn’t feel any smarter, everything felt sharper. Crisper. Almost as if I’d just woken up from a great night’s sleep and pounded a cup of good coffee.
Curiously, I reached out with a thin thread of telekinetic energy and lifted my screwdriver into the air then plucked the hammer from my tool belt a moment later. For the past week, I’d been actively working to telekinetically control two weapons at once, and though I could technically do it, the mental strain was insane. Felt like trying to write an essay with one hand while simultaneously dribble a basketball with the other.
Possible, but not easy.
Now, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Easy. Effortless.
The screwdriver and hammer danced in the air, twirling and spinning in complex patterns that I never would’ve been able to pull off before. I didn’t have to actively think about it anymore. They instantly responded to my will and did what I wanted as though they were a natural extension of my body.
I immediately burned through five shit-tier Relics to upgrade Mental Micromanagement to level 3, allowing me to telekinetically hold up to three items at a time. The last time I’d done this, it had taken me the better part of two days to even lift two tools simultaneously, and even then, I’d nearly had a brain aneurysm in the process. I extended another thread of telekinetic power and braced myself, fully expecting to get mule kicked in the teeth with mental agony.
But when I lifted my twelve-inch adjustable wrench from its familiar slot in my tool belt, it rose into the air without issue and just floated there. I didn’t feel even a single ounce of additional mental tension. Not even when I added the wrench into the delicate ongoing dance between the screwdriver and hammer. The three tools circled in an endless loop, zigzagging this way and that.
I experimented with “juggling” all three tools at once—quickly cutting off the flows of mana, then reactivating them in quick succession—which was a trick I’d used to proc the Wild Surge effect more quickly. Mental Micromanagement only cost one Mana per minute, per item, which was dirt cheap, but if I disrupted and restarted the spell before the end of a minute passed, the system counted that as a new cast, but cost no additional Mana. It also increased the likelihood of activating Wild Surge, which instantly replenished my total Mana Pool by 50% and increased Mana Regeneration by 25% for two minutes
Wild Surge only had a 5% proc rate, but using the technique, I could generally get it to trigger once a minute, essentially ensuring I had a nearly endless supply of Mana. Problem was, “juggling” an item took considerable brain space and I couldn’t do it continuously without real effort. That wasn’t the case anymore. With Split Personality, I could perform the task subconsciously—and not just with one item, but with all three. It was as easy as blinking. As breathing. Just a passive task, running in the background of my mind.
I marveled as Wild Surge activated every twenty seconds or so, ensuring my Mana Pool never dropped by more than a few points.
I whistled through my teeth as the implications set in. So long as I always had Mental Micromanagement activated, I’d be able to rapid fire spells without ever truly worrying about running out of Mana. Instead of a bolt action rifle, I was now a spell-firing machine gun.
It was like Split Personality had been custom created to amplify this specific spell.
I pulled out the last item I’d received, a Rare-grade, fully-levelled Relic called ESP Amplifier. It was a support ability which, on its own, didn’t seem to be all that impressive. Not bad, of course, but nothing to write home about either. When equipped, it passively increased Grit, but lowered Athleticism as a side effect. It also significantly boosted the effects of all mind-based Relics equipped and lowered the cooldown time by fifteen percent.
Like I said, good.
But not so good that it would be worth adding to my spatial core on its own.
I wasn’t supposed to use it on its own, though. The Director’s words played in my head like a track stuck on repeat. “Its true potential shines when forged with any other mind-based Relic.”
Although Neural Slipstream and Existential Dread both qualified as mind-based Relics, when I took Split Personability into consideration, it wasn’t hard to guess what I was supposed to do with ESP Amplifier.
Using the Researcher’s Codex, I spent the next half hour playing around with potential configurations, looking for the best possible combo. Forging Mental Micromanagement and ESP Amplifier directly produced a Fable-grade Relic called ForceFlux Wave, which released a powerful burst of pure telekinetic power. It didn’t inflict any direct damage, but it did lift all enemies within a fifty-foot radius into the air, effectively immobilizing them for the twenty-second duration of the spell.
Although it was powerful ability, it wasn’t Fully-Tempered and it lacked the finesse, nuance, and versatility of Mental Micromanagement. I liked the skill as it was, and with the addition of Split Personality, it was more powerful than ever. It was also possible to resist ForceFlux Wave with a high enough Grit score, which made it an uncertain gamble at best.
By adding in a third Relic—this one an Uncommon-grade called BlinkBlade which allowed the user to summon a magical box knife—I could create another powerful iteration. Phantom Arsenal was a Fully Tempered ability which let me conjure an entire arsenal of weapons, all forged from pure mana that I’d be able to telekinetically control. The spell instantly brought to mind the Flayed Monarch, who’d used a very similar spell during his battle with the Boundless Wanderer.
The Monarch’s spell had been more powerful, though. His army of floating weapons had been crafted from caustic blood that could burn through damn near anything.
Still, I was sorely tempted to forge the Relic even if it wasn’t quite as strong as the Monarch’s version. Being able to summon a cloud of magical swords to murder my enemies was badass to the max. Like something out of an old kung fu movie.
Reluctantly, however, he decided against it.
Although the conjured weapons had significantly higher damage output than my telekinetically controlled tools, that’s all I could do with the spell. It was a one trick pony, even if it was a really cool pony. One with armor and spikes who could also breathe fire. With Mental Micromanagement, I could lift anything that weighed less than fifty pounds, which meant I could use it offensively or defensively. Upgrading to Phantom Arsenal would also cost me the ability to effortlessly proc Wild Surge, eliminating my potentially unlimited Mana Hack.
There were several other decent possibilities as well.
By adding in Collective Consciousness, I could forge a nasty Fable-grade Relic called Dominatrix, which would allow me to mentally dominate the will of any Delver or Dweller who was half my current Variant Level Cap or lower. Also powerful, but the heavy restrictions wouldn’t help us down below and I wasn’t in love with the skill name. The thought of constantly using a skill called Dominatrix made me feel dirty on the inside.
Even dirtier than accepting the Kiosk Club Card temporary tattoo.
The best option by far was combing ESP Amplifier and Mental Micromanagement with Erratic Levitation. The three Relics created a far more powerful version of the original skill but made them better in every conceivable way.
Psychic Sovereignty
Fabled Relic (Fully Tempered) – Level 10
Range: Line of Sight
Cost: 10 - 200 Mana/Minute
In a world where might makes right, Psychic Sovereignty is your crown. Wear it well and remind your enemies that sometimes brains really are better than brawn. Especially when you can use your brain to punch things in the face. Psychic Sovereignty is the ultimate flex of your mental muscles, allowing you to weave invisible telekinetic strings around any object or objects weighing less than a combined total of two-thousand pounds.
Wield an army of weapons or turn your mind into a weapon of its own and bitch slap your enemies across the room with the sheer power of your mental disdain. Hell, you can even tell gravity to go and eat a big ol’ bowl full of dicks as you cast off the shackles of the earth and literally rise above the fray. This isn’t just some bullshit parlor trick, friend-o. You are literally bridging the gap between thought and reality, and the results are nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Each Relic level allows you to control an additional object. Mana cost is not based on total number of items, but scales based on total weight, adding 10 Mana for every 100 pounds, rounded up.
The skill was exactly what I needed, especially since my goal was to eventually forge a new mind-based Emblem. Paired with Split Personality this Relic would turn me into a force of nature to be reckoned with. I could already envision myself, hovering above the battle like Superman, raining down death and destruction while my army of weapons hacked my enemies to pieces. Although Psychic Sovereignty wasn’t nearly as flashy as StainSlayer Maelstrom or as unequivocally devastating as Hydro Fracking Blast, this was a skill that would be invaluable for its raw versatility.
I just couldn’t afford to pass it up.
I equipped the new Relic and a feral smile split my face as my feet rose effortlessly from the floor. Fuck yeah. I couldn’t wait to take this baby for a test drive.
