Frowning Husks Partypoopers = )
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I remember how that damned creature cornered me, biting me with the sharp mouth on one of its arms. I wasn't able to scream, cry or physically react. Blue, leathery skin began painfully replacing my flesh until I could no longer feel my muscles. All I could do was curse in my mind, and curse at the world. To my horror, my mind retained its humanity, and I saw myself as the monster I became, a reflection that shouldn’t have been my own. I cursed at myself for having survived the transformation while others didn't. The others had the chance of embracing mindless monstrosity, at least at peace with their new purpose and effectively dying as the people they were with dignity. Why did I end up different? What went wrong?
My skin was rubbery and disgusting and I felt compressed by it, as if my old body was turning into remains. Nothing I attempted managed to put a stop to it.
I had to learn everything back from scratch. How to walk with my oversized legs, how to communicate with my mind rather than a mouth, how to recognize and accept myself…
It was difficult, but I pushed through thanks to others who were in my same situation. We met over time, all of us confused and scared. We decided to stick together out of survival, only to start treating each other like a family —our last string that kept us sane.
Even if I knew deep in my heart I was still human, I no longer felt like one. I struggled to believe in that humanity, as every inch of my now monstrous body was tormenting me into forgetting who I was. The inability to hold a pen properly or to cook without pathetically dropping the things I'm holding is one of the most agonizing experiences I had to endure. The fact that I'll never be able to see my expressions in the mirror or even sing a song again is further salt in my wound.
The Backrooms are truly a vile realm, but I will not let it destroy me, even in this new form… I am loved. I have people who want me to keep going and I need to push through for them and for those in my same condition. This is why I'm fighting with all my might to be heard, to have our voices heard by others. I want everyone to know we are still… us, even if this condition is debilitating. Even if sometimes my mind screams at me to escape from this leather skin prison and reach my wife up above. Even if we now are "Frowning Husks".
"Greetings, and welcome to Base Alpha. Pencils and a notebook have been supplied to you in light of this meeting. You may use those for communication, Mr. Reginald, but please maintain a distance between the two of us."
Thank you, Ms. Molly. I'm grateful that you decided to listen to my request and allowed me to come here. What do you think about my proposal, then?
"Writing an article to ease the tension around you all is a great proposal. However, as you may know, we'd have to classify you as entities. Not to mention that we'd need to respect a certain protocol regarding what you choose to write. We will supply you with a computer, but at the same time we will keep a close eye on the writing progress."
Is it necessary for us to be classified as entities? A formal article wasn't in the plans, especially because it may not share our message as greatly as we wanted it to. Wouldn't it be fit to classify this as a phenomenon or another category?
"Mr. Reginald, the others were very clear about the precautions we have to take. Something too personal will lead wanderers to grow far too trusting. Regardless of what you were in the past, what you are now fits the classification of entities. We classify any being as such even if they are almost like human beings. You are aware of the concerns regarding the nature of your proposal, aren't you?"
This isn't a ploy, Ms. Molly. Our safety and dignity is on the line. We are targets of entity extermination groups and are treated exactly like Partygoers. We are not trying to harm anyone, and this isn't a tactic set up by them to hurt more people. We just want to live in peace and be part of humanity again, like we deserve. We want to be treated normally.
"Here is the thing, Mr. Reginald. While I can assure in some way or another that you and others like you are not a threat, that does not leave the possibility that those creatures won't decide to use this newfound discovery to their advantage. They are intelligent and cunning entities who have caused a lot of deaths and problems. What makes you think that they won't adapt accordingly to this situation and not stop carving their mouths as a whole so that you both will be completely unrecognizable from the other? As soon as people begin growing fond of you all, their safety will be on the line. There is nothing we can do regarding how other groups approach the situation aside from trying to monitor you."
"We are charitable, Mr. Reginald. But the safety of people is our responsibility."
Are we not people?
"Not the same as us, no. Your hearts and memories may be those of a human, but your physiology isn't human. Your physiology is those of beasts who are still capable of transforming others, regardless if you are not mentally like them. Not all transformed people are kind. One of them may not have a good nature and they can attack and transform unsuspecting wanderers who were not careful or distrusting enough. This isn't a matter of being people, but it's a matter of the danger posed by malicious transformed people. All of you are unpredictable, regardless of what is said and shown and you will be regarded as such whether you like it or not."
I understand. But at the very least, all we ask is to be able to affirm that we are not monsters.
"I'll take that into account. Do you understand our terms?"
I do.
"Very well then."
This article was posted under the supervision of the M.E.G. and is deemed not malicious or dangerous. Carefulness is still recommended when approaching these entities.
- Agent Molly, M.E.G.
HABITAT(S): Level 231, others
2BXX
"A human being is not recognized by their exterior, but by their mannerisms, their likes, and their heart. A human will always be one, so as long as they maintain the essence of their identity."
Who are we?
A close up drawing on how we typically look like.
We are human beings that have been transformed by Partygoers. However, instead of turning into one of them, we became defective instances of them. While blue coloured Partygoers do exist, in rare instances, we are not the same as them. Our transformation is deemed incomplete and thus we are marked as a sub-species of the regular Partygoers. The M.E.G. calls us Frowning Husks, or simply Entity 68.
Our defective nature comes from the incomplete mental degradation that all transformed humans endure. Our bodies were all successfully changed, but the transformation seemingly came to a halt when it began affecting the mind. While we don't know the reason on why this could have happened, we theorize it must be due to the incomplete development of the Phobic Centipede within our bodies and the incomplete mental connection to Partygoer Zero. The Phobic Centipede and Partygoer Zero both influence the transformed host's behaviours inside a regular Partygoer, but we are not influenced by either. That also means we are not influenced into carving mouths onto our faces in order to imitate the Centipede itself and other behaviours, such as engaging in parties.
Due to the underdeveloped Phobic Centipede, we are incapable of manifesting full balloons like newly created Partygoers do. We are also unable to use quick short-range telepathy between each-other. In order to communicate, we require a lot of effort and time.
We don't know why our transformation had a different outcome than others, as we deem it impossible to research its causes. What most of us theorize is that it had to do with biological anomalies that solely affected blue variant partygoers, which means they are more unstable than the others and more prone to fail a complete transformation upon biting a victim. However, we will never receive a confirmation regarding the truth.
What do we look like?
We all resemble blue Partygoers that lack a carved smile. All of us prefer to wear pieces of clothing that we enjoy, such as dresses or hoodies and wear accessories to better communicate our identity and personality. What we all share is a blue mask with a frowning face that the great majority of us wear, which we use to separate ourselves from regular Partygoers, but also as a provocation against them. We find their actions to be repulsive and our frowning masks symbolize the opposite of their permanent, manipulative smiles. These are the only ways for us to appear different, as our biology and regular appearance is almost the exact same as those of our malicious peers. Always remember, Frowning Husks are only true ones if they lack a carved smile. Partygoers are unpredictable and could attempt to mimic us to lure people to their demise, so please exercise caution.
How do we act?
Unlike Partygoers, we don't instinctually wish to transform others into Frowning Husks, as we still retain our morals and our reason. We don't share the same views between each other, which means that some of us may be malicious, like any human beings can be.
We tend to avoid traveling in groups, as to not make people think we are blue Partygoers. We prefer to wander in solitude, while still reuniting in levels populated by a great majority of us. We like to help each other whenever it's needed. Some of us may be more reserved than others, but we all are trying our hardest to be helpful and positive.
Most of us wish to aid in fending off the Partygoers, as they harm innocent people and represent an everlasting threat to humanity in the Backrooms. We condemn their leader and all instances of them. We pray all to understand this and not believe Partygoer misbeliefs, so as to allow us to exist. Whatever may happen, we will be ready to fight Partygoers at any moment of our lives.
As a last request, all we ask is for us to not be attacked. We are not feral entities who pose a threat to living beings. We wish to be treated with mercy, as much as a regular person would receive it. That is all we request, not as a species but as a group of people who were once human, to please have mercy on us, even if you may fear who we are.
Reginald stepped away from his assigned M.E.G. computer. He found typing on the keyboard to be extremely difficult with his transformed hands, but he was able to push through and succeed at the very least. It was already a courtesy for the M.E.G. to allow them to borrow one in order to write this article, so he couldn't exactly complain. Regardless, it felt humiliating to speak of himself and his companions in such a formal, cold way. He wanted to put words on the pain of being trapped in a prison of flesh. He wanted to plead humans to speak to him and the others. He wanted humanity to call them by their names and not by a species. Yet he was bound by terms and visible weariness from others, unable to speak, unable to scream.
He hoped that this article would ease the aggressivity and fear towards him and other transformed people, even if it wouldn't do so in the way he wanted. He didn't blame anyone for doubting him or his companions, but he hoped the circumstances would eventually change in their favour; that one day they'd be heard like a human would be, even if that possibility felt unreachable. All he could do was behave like a beaten stray dog that could only plead to receive empathy like a wounded man would, or like a bug about to be squished. Its only sin was to exist in a shared space.
With an internal sigh, after a few minutes of silence, he went to report what he wrote to the others.
Level 231 was joyful as usual. The laughter of the children inhabiting it made him feel much more at ease. He saw Nina and Jonas playing with Emily. They clung to her long blue limbs and climbed on her strong shoulders. Even if she couldn't properly express it, she was happy to spend time with them. He saw all the others spending their time doing their favourite activities. Matthew was trying to clumsily cut a few vegetables under the supervision of Ms. Cadence, Jen was reading one of the many newspapers she found with Sarah, and all the others were entertaining themselves with crafting some nice decorations. Their mutation made it difficult to do all these things normally, but it was no longer as big of a problem as it was before.
"Mister Reginald! Come check what we are drawing!" Alana called him from one of the tables. The other kids had joined her in a group and they were all doodling together. With a bit of difficulty, he moved closer and attempted to find a comfortable position.
"What are you making?" He wrote on his notebook to communicate, curious as to why the children called him in such a hurry. Humbert giggled, he was barely unable to contain himself from revealing the surprise. "Humbert! You're gonna give away the secret if you act like that!" Sarah scolded him before returning to her project. Humbert became as quiet as a mouse and added the finishing touches. Once complete, Jonas showed their masterpiece to Reginald.
"It's us! Miss Emily helped us draw you. She's so talented!" Jonas said in a cheerful tone. All the children embraced him quite tightly. "You're the coolest, Mr Reginald. We wanted to make you a gift since you're working so hard to help!" They all tried to say in unison. Reginald almost felt ghost tears dripping from his carved eyes. He embraced the children and held them so close. Despite everything, they were always the ones reminding him of his humanity. These children were his family, treating him exactly how he desired to be treated, like he was one of them.
"Thank you, children." He scrambled to write his gratitude. The others soon joined the hug when they noticed the affection pile. "You deserve it Reggie! You work like hell to spread our voices!" Jen communicated to him through some effort. The embrace felt like an eternity, reminding him of the same way his wife and children would hug him when he returned from work. His heart ached as he prayed that this would last a bit longer. This was a firm reminder of his purpose. He could not afford to let them all down. He could not let the loss of his dignity as a human tear him apart.
Ashley… Mary… and my darling Rebecca up there in heaven… I'll continue pushing through like you'd want me to… For your sake and theirs.