Level A-0 - «Coast»

If you fail to stay cautious and lose your grip on reality, you may find yourself in Level A‑0 — the stone Coast, where time sheds all meaning and space turns wavering, almost tangible. There are no sounds you could recognize here, no shapes you could name. Instead, you’re met with the soft whisper of waves echoing your own thoughts and with a fog that steals sleep and reason until you dissolve within it. A lighthouse burns steadily on the coast, yet its light is no salvation for the lost — it is a beckoning embodiment of an ending, one that will ultimately leave you wandering forever. Be careful: if you enter the water, you will forget who you once were and take on a form you will never be able to comprehend.

The Coastline of Level A‑0.

Level A‑0 is the initial level of the Backrooms, and it is typically the one that becomes both a person’s point of entry and their final destination.

Description:

Level A‑0 is the boundary layer of the A‑cluster, a stone coast where time and space lose their familiar shapes. It is a place where life and death do not exist as distinct events but instead take on an endless cycle. They turn within the waters of this level like relentless waves, concealing countless stories. From these waters, everything that exists in the Backrooms is born.

No defined forms exist here yet. This is the place where thoughts begin to take shape, and ideas slip into reality. Yet within this process, there is always a hidden element of chaos — a moment of inevitable destruction that precedes order. It is a space of uncertainty, where all possibilities and ideas already exist, but none of them possess a clear form, ready to become anything at any moment.

On Level A‑0, nameless wanderers — now long vanished — succumbed to hallucinations. The most common among them include:

The drone of the lighthouse. At times it grows deafening, then suddenly falls silent, only to surge back with renewed force.
The appearance of dark figures on the horizon, disappearing the moment you try to focus on them.
A powerful sense of déjà vu, as though you have been here before and walked this path — but only in another time.
Strange, distorted sounds resembling rustling or creaking, as if someone is hiding in the fog, somewhere out at sea, though you will never find the source.

According to some assumptions, the frequencies of the waves striking the stones in Level A‑0 shift unpredictably, causing the air to vibrate in unnatural ways. These vibrations affect every living being on this coast in anomalous, disquieting ways.

Entities:

No entities have been identified in this level. This is largely due to the rain that frequently floods the entire area. The temperature of this rain is unnaturally high, preventing living creatures from remaining on the surface of the rocky coast of Level A-0 for long. However, the temperature of the level itself remains within normal limits even after the rain. Despite the absence of any clear forms, there is still a sense that something is present. If you suddenly feel as though you see or hear someone resembling a human, remember that it is only an illusion. There are no people here in any familiar sense, only reflections of what might once have been — or what has already faded — linger in this place, elusive shadows left behind. Who or what truly resides here remains a mystery. The only evidence of its existence is the text that will be presented later in this article.

Entrances and Exits:

Entrances

“The text of many articles lies to you,” said ■■■. Stranger does not lie. And this — these are His words. Stranger speaks through stones, through water, through red and black, through the bones of the creature whose remains washed ashore just yesterday. All of this is His speech. Listen to it once — truly listen — and you will arrive here forever, and for a single fleeting moment.

Exits

The way out of Level A‑0 is not obvious. There is only one path: to submerge yourself in the water. After that, wanderer, you will become part of what once existed or what is soon to be created. A stone, a grain of sand, an unknown entity, or perhaps even an entire level — you may become anything at all.

Whoever finds the courage to descend into the water gains an exit, forgets their former self, and passes through every cycle of life and death. The exit from this level is the acceptance of the Backrooms as a new Stage.

And suddenly a question rises to the surface… Once you take form in the water, wanderer — what will you become? Only Stranger knows. He is writing the story at this very moment.

The birds on the Coast will sing again

and you will become part of their choir...

The grey stones have cooled. The setting sun paints the Coast in a soft pink. The lighthouse in the distance keeps shining relentlessly, now here, now there. Sometimes it blinks; sometimes it fades entirely. The lighthouse is white — but not always. It turns black when the yellow sphere sinks beyond the horizon. I do not like the lighthouse. I will never approach it. I fear Stranger. The light of His lighthouse can erase me, forget me, or turn me into something terrible. I do not want that. And, I suppose, no one would.

There is sand on the coast, and among the stones grows a sparse grass that often reddens because of me. The blue water foams white. Beyond the horizon, which often shimmers with shifting colors, lie grey misty walls, blue oceans… Beyond them stretch green fields and dark swamps. In the far distance glimmers the blue desert. To the right of the lighthouse, far, far away, rise vast dark‑green forests. One of them occasionally emits a strange light that resembles the lighthouse’s glow; another is inhabited by orange, moving creatures I had never seen before.

I exist here, watching all of this from the Coast. The blue water often reaches the sand, and the white foam brings food. Sometimes, I find strange objects caught between the stones. At times, the Coast receives moving pieces that spill red from within. They try to flee from the sea and the foam, unwilling to return. Soon, from hunger or rain, they stop moving. I pity them. Over time they blacken. I try to end their suffering by burying these pieces in the sand. They never return and no longer belong to the cycle of the Backrooms.

It seems that all of them emerge from this foam, and in time, the water will carry their red bodies far away — to those green fields, swamps, and seas. And then… they will return to the sea again. Sooner or later, they will come back here. This is their place. Some are too clumsy; rare waves wash them out, and they die in the water. Others get stuck in the sky, existing somewhere in the endless blue. Occasionally, the foolish ones end up here, on my grey Coast… They do not live long, though they try. Sometimes they leave notes and attempt to reach other levels, but it is all in vain. They clutch their heads and mutter something. Too much red gathers inside them. Soon they blacken… usually from rain and hunger. I hide beneath the stones, they are too large to hide from rain.

Evening falls. I have walked the entire Coast. To the east, I hear the cries of birds. They move across the sky. White ones — they do not like me. When I sleep beneath the stones, they may wake me, trying to peck at me. I fight them off. They often fly toward the lighthouse. The birds do not fear it; in the rain, they shelter beneath it.

While I wandered, the sky grew cloudy again, yet there will be no rain. Rain comes with the yellow circle, and only when it hangs directly above the lighthouse. The water dripping from that circle is hot. It causes pain. After it, I turn red. The grey stones help me. Burying myself in them, digging beneath the red sand — it feels pleasant. But over time the stones begin to heat from the rain — breathing becomes difficult. The rain seeps through the sand and reaches my white places. I turn red again. Sometimes I blacken, like those moving pieces. But unlike them, I do not die and do not stop moving. The foam does not consume me in the end. Why does this happen? I do not know. And perhaps knowing means disappearing. By the next sunset, I recover and turn white again.

I am afraid to hide from the rain in the lighthouse… He does not know I am here. Stranger is the creator of everything: the water, the coast, those distant places. Even me — apparently by accident, like a stuck idea — He created as well. I simply found myself here and learned to exist quietly, in His world, watching the Backrooms from the side, as He does. The light of His lighthouse is most fascinated by His travelers. He watches them and turns His light toward them. They disrupt His design, walk the wrong paths, try to escape beyond this Coast and the blue sky, but no matter how they search — there is no exit.

I think there are many of Them inside the lighthouse — the creators of the Backrooms. Each adds a drop to this endless sea, then directs the lighthouse’s beam toward the distant waves. Reflections form spaces. They fill with water… and the water? The water changes color, becomes solid, and sometimes comes alive.

The lighthouse turned its light to one side again. Inside the lighthouse, Stranger appeared. From the water, a new place emerged. Black and red moving creatures began seeping into it. Strange, yet beautiful. The water began to change color, becoming harder. Then the vast sea began to tilt. The water and everything within it started pouring into that place, spreading, flooding every corner. It is beautiful. But… water cannot always fill every space. There are almost always small empty gaps. Wanderers call them exits and entrances… These places help foolish beings travel. They fall into them and follow the paths created for them. I, too, would like to travel, but I cannot. I fear the water. The foam is frightening; it turns me black. Those places hurt terribly. The foam confuses me… first it causes pain, and then it brings food and makes everything better.

«The large stone in the distance. That’s where the travelers are.»

I almost forgot to speak of the nearby levels… Right beside the Coast, beyond the invisible wall separating Level A‑0, lies the large grey stone. This stone can float on the water, and above it often hangs a white, airy foam. Sometimes I see travelers on it. They do not see me — I am too far, beyond the limits of their primitive mind and sight. One of these travelers is too curious. He is frightening, often hiding his face behind a mask. He unsettles me and Stranger. This moving one tries to study the invisible Coast through some kind of glass. Foolish. He will never reach this place. He stays on the stone only briefly; the white foam hanging above him prevents him from studying either me or the lighthouse.

The lighthouse turned toward me again. Stranger, standing within it, is searching for something. He does not want me here. The lighthouse’s beam darted toward a nearby stone, and in its place, a moment later, gaped a puddle. The beam began to stretch along the coast. Things it touched started turning into water. The lighthouse’s light is only a few meters away.

Rain is punishment. The lighthouse is judgment. The water is… ▲■▲

The lighthouse flashed