The explored section of Level 920 takes the form of a rural town stretching across several kilometers, known by its residents as "Lorna Texas". The skybox is pale blue and lit by an impossibly bright sun, while large cloud formations are visible far beyond the town. Weather in the level is dry and hot, estimated at nearly 35°C. Vegetation is sporadic, the most common being deciduous trees and patches of dry grass. The roads are wide and heavily cracked, lined with utility poles, sidewalks, and traffic lights.
The entrance to the level opens into an urban commercial district with stores, restaurants, a movie theater, and various specialty shops. The occupants of this level travel using fully operational vehicles: cars, trucks, motorcycles, and even buses. Parked and moving vehicles are common along the roads and throughout the many large, dusty parking lots. Signage indicates that the level boasts a population of approximately 12,000 people, with a thriving livestock industry on the outskirts of the town.
Residential areas spread outward from the main strip in loose grids, which slowly fade into green fields. The homes are small one- or two-story buildings, similar to those found in places like Level 9, though with more variation in appearance. The outskirts of the level remain unexplored, though a highway can be seen in the far distance.
Video Log
A transcribed excerpt from Miguel Garcia's recording of Level 920.
(The door chimes as Miguel enters the diner. An older woman behind the bar turns and waves to him.)
Darlene: Take a seat wherever, sweetheart.
(Miguel makes his way to the nearest stool and sits down. The camera pans the restaurant revealing several patrons. It settles on the television in the corner; a news broadcast is on and an orange-tinged man is speaking. Miguel sets the camera on the counter as the scowling man a few seats down turns to greet him.)
Rick: Ain't from around here, are'ya?
Miguel: No sir, I work for the M.E.G. in Level—
(The man scoffs cutting Miguel off.)
Rick: Yeah, reckon I can tell—all you city folks comin' here and takin' our jobs, ain't right I tell ya'.
Miguel: Oh, I, uh—I'm not here to work, sir—I just found the entrance and want—
Darlene: Will you hush up, Rick—you've been crankier than a hog in heat since 1984. You ain't worried 'bout yer job, you haven't worked in damn near twenty years.
(She wags a finger at the now flustered Rick. Her curly blonde hair bounces as she walks towards Miguel.)
Rick: Now, that's not—
Darlene: Just cause your wife left you for some big city lawyer don't mean you got the right to bully every passerby you meet.
(Rick mutters several obscenities as he stands and tosses green paper money onto the counter.)
Rick: You's can be a real sonuvabitch sometimes, ya'know that, Darlene?
Darlene: Oh, have a blessed day, ya'old coot—I'll be seein'ya tomorrow.
(Rick glares towards Miguel as he passes by, Darlene is now standing in front of him.)
Darlene: Sorry 'bout that, hun—what can I do ya' for?
Miguel: Thanks, that guy was kind of a dick—sorry if that's your friend.
Darlene: I'd hardly call him that, sweetie, don'tchu worry about a thing.
(Miguel retrieves a handful of Presses from his pocket and places them on the counter.)
Miguel: I don't know if you guys accept bucks, but this is all I have on me—I was hoping to get some Almond Water.
(Darlene stares at the Presses, mouthing the letters B, N, T, G to herself as she reads them. She looks back at Miguel with a questioning expression.)
Darlene: What city ya' say you were from, hun? Ain't never seen money like this—definitely ain't pesos.
Miguel: I'm from Eleven, Ma'am, born and raised. My name's Miguel.
(Her face contorts in confusion before returning to a pleasant smile.)
Darlene: Well, Miguel, can't say I've heard of it, and we definitely don't accept whatever this is… But I'll tell'ya what—we ain't got almond water but Vince makes a mean root beer float—it's hot as blue blazes out there, can't send ya' off with nothin'.
(She pushes the pile of presses back towards Miguel.)
Darlene: Why don'tchu hang on to these, hun. Might wanna' take them down to the bank on 4th Street, see if they can exchange it for ya'. One second—
(She turns to a window in the wall and shouts to the kitchen.)
Darlene: Can I get a small float!
(She turns back to Miguel.)
Miguel: I'm surprised to hear you have a bank, I've never heard of this place before.
Darlene: Hey, now—just 'cause we ain't a big city don't mean we ain't civilized—ain't that far in the sticks, sweetie.
(A bell rings and a root beer float is placed in the window. Darlene slides it in front of Miguel and hands him a spoon.)
Darlene: Dig in, sweetie, I'll be back in two shakes.
(She grabs a coffee pot and walks away to tend other customers. Miguel quickly eats the ice-cream floating in the soda. As he finishes he puts his face near the camera and whispers.)
Miguel: This place might be weird as hell, but this shit is delicious.
Darlene: How was it, hun? Good, by the looks of it.
(She laughs as she takes the now-empty cup.)
Miguel: It was amazing—thank you, ma'am.
Darlene: Oh you're quite welcome, sweetie. At least they taught you manners whereever you's from—don't see that much nowadays.
Miguel: Yeah, of course—
(A loud tone comes from the T.V., the screen flashes red with the words "Breaking News" scrawled across the bottom. A serious looking man stands at a podium appears to be giving a speech. The channel abruptly changes to a football game, Darlene tucks a remote back into her apron.)
Darlene: I swear this whole world's goin' to hell in a handbasket.
Miguel: I really should be going, Ma'am, thanks again for the drink.
Darlene: Don't'chu worry about it, hun—have a blessed day, okay now? Stay safe out there.
Miguel: Yes, Ma'am—you too.
[END LOG]
Despite extensive searches by the M.E.G. the entrance to Level 920 has not been rediscovered. Like many of the exits on Level 11, it's possible that the entrance was only temporary, or the alleyway shifted before the search party returned.
