““Consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself?”
— Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, Herman Melville
““Consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself?”
— Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, Herman Melville
A sketch of The Thing, created by a firsthand witness and dated to the late 1800s. Unconventionally, blue ink was used, presumably at the artist's request. The artist's identity has since been lost.
❲ Description ❳
Entity 20 (Pacificus leviathan), known as The Thing on Level 7 and commonly referred to as The Thing, is a marine entity that inhabits the deepest regions of Level 7 where the water extends infinitely. Its biology closely resembles that of whales, although its body more closely resembles an eel, thought to result from convergent evolution due to the conditions of its deep-sea habitat.[1] On the other hand, its true size remains unknown, with estimates ranging from that of a massive astronomical body to an entire planetary orbit. This uncertainty is further compounded by the frequent wave activity in Level 7’s outskirts, despite the level’s seemingly infinite expanse, which would render any waves generated by its movements undetectable. No documented sightings have captured the full extent of its form, and neither its head nor tail has ever been documented, making it impossible to determine its exact dimensions.
The water's ultrapurity and the absence of life within Level 7 are generally attributed to The Thing, as its existence is the only possible explanation for its size. Some theories suggest that the ocean was once teeming with life, supported by the ever-present light that envelops Level 7’s sky—an essential component of photosynthesis. This light, along with the presence of breathable oxygen, and detectable carbon dioxide, indicates that marine flora and plankton may have once thrived. However, the absence of glucose, a critical element for photosynthesis, suggests that it may have been entirely consumed by the entity. Additionally, The Thing is widely believed to be responsible for the bone dust-laden atmosphere and persistent fog, likely a byproduct of its waste. If the theory that it has consumed all life is accurate, it may have reached such extreme levels of starvation that it has begun digesting bones to the point of reducing them to microscopic fragments.
The scarcity of food on Level 7 does not appear to affect The Thing, as it has shown no signs of deterioration. Its movements remain consistent with descriptions from old documents dating back to its discovery during the Panic of 1873. However, during that era, wanderers in the Frontrooms faced severe food shortages, which may also have extended into the Backrooms. Desperation for food eventually led wanderers to discover that The Thing’s flesh is surprisingly edible. The countless parasites and microorganisms feeding the remains of its flesh do not appear to cause any gastrointestinal issues or any other effects on the body, and on the contrary, provide extra protein as proven by studies done by numerous groups. Furthermore, its flesh has been tested to contain small amounts of carbohydrates (likely from glucose), iron, vitamin B12, vitamin D, calcium, and omega-3 fatty acids. One downside, however, is that the taste is repulsive, described as “a mix of rotten fish, ammonia, and sulfur.” This rotten smell causes an unbearable stench in one’s breath for months but does not cause harm outside discomfort. Although a prominent food source in Level 7, one should not entirely rely upon it as the sole food source when traversing the level. Most wanderers spend multiple weeks until months on the level in search of exits, and nutrients such as carbohydrates, essential vitamins such as vitamin C (which may cause scurvy if not properly addressed), fiber, etc., are lacking in the flesh. It is advised to bring a sufficient supply of food. However, it should also be noted that bringing provision from the outside to Level 7 is impossible, as encounters with other people who use different exits and/or times have never been recorded.
Even when entering in groups, separating from each other is not advisable. Radio communications are ineffective, likely due to interference from The Thing, and may also pose a risk by drawing its attention. Even minor disturbances, such as accidentally activating a walkie-talkie within its habitat, could potentially alert The Thing to a wanderer's presence.
A photograph captured by a passenger of a sailboat, presumably from Level -13, riding a tsunami caused by the Thing’s movements.
❲ Theories on Behavior & Its Rebuttals ❳
The behavior of The Thing remains largely inconsistent and speculative, as only a few attempts to extensively study it have resulted in the members surviving or retaining any memory of the event. This is due to the entity’s isolated habitat, located far from the level’s spawn point and the psychological effects it induces. However, historical and contemporary records suggest that The Thing tends to remain dormant when it has not yet encountered or acted upon—the descriptions of which have not changed ever since. This could indicate that it has not adapted, and that Level 7 has remained unchanged since The Thing’s discovery. As it appears to “play dead,” it will drift, as if carried by currents even though Level 7 lacks natural currents.[2] This dormant state persists for an indeterminate duration, unfazed by external stimuli, including attempts to cut into its flesh.
Strangely, due to its lack of reaction to pain, it is also hypothesized that The Thing may have lost the ability to perceive pain as a result of gradual devolution, likely caused by its prolonged dormancy and the absence of natural predators. Regardless of how its body is mutilated, it remains unresponsive. Furthermore, this insensitivity has led to the theory that The Thing may lack an understanding of predation or even the existence of other living creatures, as observed in multiple survival accounts. Fatal encounters appear to occur only when The Thing is startled after prolonged isolation. It may be unaware of human presence, and deaths attributed to it may result not from deliberate aggression but from the massive waves generated by its instinctive escape response, which are powerful enough to drown anything in its path. Even more curiously, given that The Thing’s flesh is teeming with parasites, it is speculated that these microorganisms may have hijacked its nervous system.
The entity may, in fact, be a corpse, as indicated by its pungent odor. Its movements could result from parasites manipulating its decaying body to find new hosts for reproduction and remain unresponsive to external stimuli. Therefore, the massive thousand-kilometer-high waves in Level 7 could stem from involuntary movements, such as gastrointestinal explosions caused by gas buildup within the body. This could also explain the lack of a distinguishable head or tail, as these powerful bursts can render wanderers unconscious—either from direct impact or the resulting shockwave—eliminating potential witness accounts of its anatomy. Or, the parasites may have complete control over its neurological system, effectively turning it into a zombie. This could explain The Thing’s excessive voracity, as sustaining the parasites would require prolonged survival and nutrient absorption. However, despite the apparent lack of prey, they continue to persist.
Furthermore, the fact that the flesh can be consumed raw by humans without harm, along with the parasites, could possibly be their significant adaptation to the environment within The Thing, as it is is cold-blooded. This suggests that the parasites have long adapted to the cold, stagnant environment, making them highly susceptible to even slight increases in temperature, which could lead to their immediate death.
A sample of The Thing's flesh. Despite its looks, it is still edible, and its parasites provide extra protein.
❲ Biology ❳
The Thing’s body exhibits an anguilliform shape despite existing in an environment devoid of natural currents. Its extreme flexibility enables sudden, forceful movements, which significantly contribute to the generation of the massive waves observed within Level 7. However, numerous reports—primarily from distant observations—suggest that certain segments of The Thing’s body appear “glitched” or display visual distortions similar to the reality warps found deeper within the level. This phenomenon is likely a result of its prolonged presence in such an unstable environment. They also describe The Thing’s body forming irregular and unnatural shapes, including self-intertwining loops, extreme contortions superficially caused by a broken spine, and apparent dismemberment, where segments seem completely severed yet continue moving as if still connected, possibly rendered invisible rather than truly detached.
Its visible anatomical structures, including its thick, leathery, and scarred skin, as well as the numerous gills and fins—excluding its caudal fins, which have never been observed—are rarely documented in detail. Nevertheless, based on the little information available, they have indicated that these features appear randomly distributed across its body, seemingly lacking any functional purpose, and also vary dramatically in size. Early artistic depictions by firsthand witnesses also illustrate these misplaced fins and gills, supporting their existence. Ranging from those no larger than a goldfish’s to structures spanning hundreds of kilometers, they resemble endless mountains and ridges. This extreme variability may be attributed to reality distortions within Level 7, potentially suggesting the past or present existence of other life forms in the depths—though some speculate that any remaining organisms may have been wiped out by the anomalous Corruptionite found in the level’s most remote regions, and its corpses integrated into The Thing. Despite its seemingly aged and damaged appearance, no scars have been documented on The Thing’s body, aside from those inflicted by hunters. This suggests that its tough, scale-like hide is resistant to the effects of Corruptionite. However, this resilience does not extend to all forms of damage, as its flesh can still be cut open with sufficient effort, much like that of familiar marine creatures.
Besides its resilient exterior, The Thing’s internal structure has largely deteriorated into a gelatinous mass, interspersed with clotted blood and teeming with parasites. Exploratory dives into its interior have revealed that its skeletal system incorporates cartilaginous reinforcements and traces of Corruptionite, suggesting that the entity may have absorbed and utilized the substance, similar to calcium in bone formation. This phenomenon has been confirmed in its vertebrae, which are embedded hundreds of meters beneath the surface in its thinner regions, while the rest of its skeletal system likely extends even deeper. Beyond its parasite-infested flesh and the surface-level portions of its skeleton, no other organ systems have been identified. The parasites within its body remain dormant, likely due to the internal temperature matching the surrounding waters at approximately 4°C. However, this dormancy may not extend to the head, where warmer, internal temperatures may be required for brain activity needed for its movement.
It should also be mentioned that The Thing’s flesh has been unnaturally expelled into various other levels, particularly those connected to Level 7 via reality warps. In certain nature-based levels, massive chunks of its tissue and even rivers of blood have been discovered and documented through photographs.
Earliest surviving photograph of The Thing—or more precisely, its flesh—taken during the Great Depression era, likely within a facility on another level.
❲ Discovery ❳
Although official records place the discovery of The Thing on either Thanksgiving or Christmas of 1873, historical evidence suggests that knowledge of its existence predates this event by several centuries. Early Chinese and Muslim Backrooms explorers, who documented Level 7 in the 1100s, referred to a massive, floating carcass of an unidentified sea creature who lived near the reality warps. However, their accounts describe it as “impossible to approach,” offering no further elaboration. The first confirmed encounter with The Thing occurred during the 1873 expedition when an unnamed team—whose identities have since been lost to history under unknown circumstances, although confirmed to be from the United States—successfully harvested a small portion of its flesh and transported it back with them. The fate of this expedition remains uncertain after exiting Level 7; it is speculated that they may have consumed the flesh while its parasites were still active, leading to their demise, or that they were murdered under unknown circumstances, potentially in connection to the Pip Complex.
Despite the uncertainty surrounding the original expedition team's disappearance, their findings inspired numerous other teams to search for The Thing. A few months later, its existence was officially confirmed by an independent British expedition, likely on Christmas Day, whereafter news had spread, causing Level 7 to become a major hunting ground as The Thing provided a seemingly endless food source. The sturdy hardcovers of books and shelves found in the level were repurposed to construct boats, allowing for the large-scale transportation of its flesh, and over the next few years, the exploitation of this resource led many to believe that The Thing was nothing more than a lifeless carcass. This fueled widespread support for the theory that The Thing was, in fact, a long-dead entity. As this assumption grew, disappearances in Level 7 increased dramatically, with previously unsolved cases also being retroactively linked to its presence.
Bodies once thought lost forever have been discovered across multiple levels of the Backrooms, sometimes even centuries after their disappearance. This phenomenon is attributed to the expulsion of The Thing’s flesh, often disrupted by hunters, which may have been drawn into reality warps and displaced into various levels—including those previously unknown to have connections to Level 7. While older remains typically manifest as scattered bone fragments, more recent studies indicate that decomposition begins only after expulsion from Level 7, influenced by natural decomposers and entity scavengers. As a result, several levels have been found containing unexplained pools or even entire rivers of blood, with notable cases such as those documented in Level 199. These occurrences were never reported before The Thing’s discovery, marking this as one of the few human-induced disturbances to have had a widespread, observable impact on the Backrooms.
DAY 7/20
Really started to wonder how much stranger we are than the Backrooms. The crew and their superiors told me to write and yap about things in my mind, then gave me a raggedy old copy of Moby-Dick as a makeshift diary and told me writing was gonna help my brain from developing any tumors from the radioactive, bone atmosphere. If you think about it, escaping insanity is just luck. But taking control of the freed, formerly insane self after escaping? That’s skill.
I still gotta focus, though, gotta make shit up and all that. Unlike counting the waves out loud or analyzing the Britons’ indifferent movements toward the ocean—like when they were dumping bottles of concentrated Sunkist I got from a friend in the same group—writing ain’t wholly boring and all. You see, it’s more important in the fact that it’s quiet. It ain’t make much noise aside from the soft strokes of the pen passing by like each of the tiny waves crashing into one another. You know, I just thought of that long, winded description now, so I’ll keep going. Maybe they’ll use this later to judge whether I was sane enough to understand how words work (proof that I had logic), so I wouldn’t go on a rampage like those poor souls who first discovered The Thing, back in the 1800s, probably around when Kansas was still in its infancy.
Alright, flash forward to today.
Been a week with me and the two British folks. My branch of the B.C. only lets them explore Level 7 for some reason. So, usually, no Americans, but I’m pretty sure the Pip Complex slipped into their mind and made them insane enough to bring a random "Yank" along—at least, that’s what they and their superiors call me. I’m kind of a nobody. Everybody is, at least in this place. But in life, you have to make shit up to prove yourself worthy. Doesn’t matter how much you’ve done—you always gotta bullshit about it. Me, after a little post-Pip Complex clarity, I figured I was a bit of a detective. More like a sniffer dog, maybe more accurately a shark. Butchering meat for a few years does that to you, you see. Took me some time to come up with something about mastering the art of differentiating saltwater from decomposing flesh. I was human once, alright? I drank water and splashed my face with it instead of Jack Daniel’s during my shifts, always while tossing out decomposing fat scraps and shriveled silver skin, and all that... They were the reason why I was here in the first place.
When they found me in Level 4 and my desensitization toward blood and flesh and all that, they gave me this plastic bag full of what I thought was soggy spaghetti in a watery, rotten marinara sauce. It looked pink. I still remember the sight. They told me to smell it and it was as if I took a whiff of some schoolkid’s impure meth up my nose, and of course, remained in my lungs for a while. Even if I ran back from Oregon to Kansas and back again I would’ve not exhaled it entirely yet. Worse part? When I’m not a mindless Smiler and a human. Of course, I’d need to rest and stop
Below is an audio transcript of a video recording captured on an iPhone 7, with subjects identified by their first names. The original recording has been classified, with only a photograph taken from a separate Polaroid device ever being released.
22/3/2021, 00:00 a.m.
Graham: Oh, for fuck's sake, you really brought a shitty iPhone into the Backrooms—
Adrian: Pipe down, mate. Just let the bloke record in the comfort of his own mobile.
Marshall: Should be all right now… I'm not good with phones.
Graham: Yeah, I know you're not Garry Marshall. Just pan it over… Not the waves! There! Yes, yes. Good. Care to say what it is?
Adrian: Somethin's floatin' there. It doesn’t look all that alive from what I see.
Marshall: They look like spilled flesh, I think. Get closer.
Adrian: We should probably leg it after this.
Graham: The seabed's still here, though. No Thing's roaming around here.
—[Sound of water lapping]
Marshall: Yeah, definitely flesh. But no image of The Thing comes to mind, gotta be honest.
Adrian: Did someone snuff it here?
Graham: Nah, must be impossible. I've read the Level 7 page far too much now. Either Marshall's nose or mind doesn't work. Maybe... Yes, Pip Complex! Marshall's lost his marbles again.
Marshall: I'll actually go insane again and kill you if you don’t shut up. Just get closer, man.
—[Water splashing]
Adrian: What the fuck...
—[Inaudible]
Graham: What, you never seen a headless, limbless corpse floatin' in the sea before? Alright, I s'pose. Guess it’s just me an' Admiral Photographer Marshall now. Hang about, let me grab somethin'.
—[Footsteps]
Marshall: Yeah, it's a person. Just with all-black, rubbery skin. There's tar all over here, man. The bottom of the boat's all black!
Graham: Hang on, you don't see those shiny pearls right there?
Adrian: Mate, we must go. Now.
Graham: Not so fast, we've got to nick this thing's pearls and flog 'em for supplies. Maybe some Almond Water… and more of that Sunkist for Yankee Marshall here.
—[Water splashing]
Graham: All right, someone give me a camera! We need to get a snap of this thing. Marshall, get closer. We're showin' this to people later so they know this thing's legit
Marshall: Okay, just make it quick. My battery's running low.
Adrian: Wait, hold on—there's a shipwreck down there—
—[Video ends]
❲ References ❳
- First background image (Pixabay Content License), edited by me: "Fog Mist Scary Black" by merdanata.
- Second background image (Unsplash’s Content License), edited by me: black boat on body of water" by Jack R.
- First main image (CC0 / Public Domain), edited by me: "Image from page 9 of 'The fauna of the deep sea' (1894)" illustrated by Sydney John Hickson, uploaded by Internet Archive Book Images.
- Image of tripod fish (CC0 / Public Domain), edited by me: "Bathypterois longicauda" by Albert Carl Ludwig Gotthilf, uploaded by Citron.
- Image of hatchetfish (CC0 / Public Domain), edited by me: "Image from page 339 of 'Discovery reports' (1929)" by Institute of Oceanographic Sciences (Great Britain); National Institute of Oceanography; Great Britain Colonial Office "Discovery" Committee, uploaded by Internet Archive Book Images.
- Second main image (Unsplash’s Content License), edited by me: "grey yacht fence" by Jules Thomas.
- Image of elbow crab (CC BY-SA 4.0), edited by me: "FMIB 46424 Deep-Sea Crab (Platymaia wyville-thomsoni)" by William Thomas Calman, sourced from Freshwater and Marine Image Bank, uploaded by BMacZeroBot.
- Third main image (CC BY 4.0), edited by me, (CONTENT WARNING: Moderate gore, containing an image of infected marine flesh on a sample plate. PROCEED WITH CAUTION when accessing the research paper where the image originates from): "Parasite140092-fig2 FIG 6 Cestoda Trypanorhyncha Molicola horridus in Diodon hystrix liver" by Ian Beveridge, Rodney A. Bray, Thomas H. Cribb and Jean-Lou Justine.
- Image of icefish (CC BY-SA 3.0), edited by me: "Chan irinae holotype" by GeSHaFish.
- Fourth main image (CC0 / Public Domain): "A whale's tongue, Harris [Cairt Phostail series postcard: 2005; scan courtesy of Norman Hudson" by Archibold Alexander 'Archie' Chisholm.
- Image of narcomedusae (CC BY-SA 4.0), edited by me: "A suite of six illustrative ROV frame grabs of pelagic predators and their prey included in this study. No scale bars for size are available from these sequences. From left to right, top to bottom: (a) Gonatus sp. (squid) feeding on a bathylagid fish (Bathylagidae); (b) Periphylla periphylla, the helmet jellyfish, feeding on a gonatid squid (Gonatidae), with a small narcomedusa (Aegina sp.) also captured; (c) an undescribed physonect siphonophore known as 'the galaxy siphonophore' feeding on a lanternfish of the family Myctophidae; (d) a narcomedusa, Solmissus, ingesting a salp chain (Salpida); (e) the ctenophore Thalassocalyce inconstans, with a euphausiid (Euphausiacea) in its gut; and (f) the trachymedusa, Halitrephes maasi, with a large, red mysid (Mysidae) in its gut." by C. Anela Choy, Steven H. D. Haddock and Bruce H. Robison, uploaded by Epipelagic.
- Image of pelican eel (CC0 / Public Domain), edited by me: "Figb0625" by G. Brown Goode and Tarleton H. Bean, uploaded by Filip em.
- Fifth main image (CC BY 2.0), edited by me: "the remains at clayton lake" by Matt Anderson.https://www.flickr.com/people/126377022@N07
- Image of stargazer fish (CC BY-SA 3.0), edited by me: "Astroscopus guttatus", by an unknown author, sourced from Animalia, uploaded by Internet Archive Book Images.
- Ambience audio (CC BY 4.0, CC BY 4.0, and CC0 / Public Domain, respectively), edited by me: "calm waves sandy coast 140428_0181.wav," "Mystical Garden," and "Spindown Huge" by klankbeeld, OneiroidState, and Olaf464, respectively.