Info
I love you, may you keep resting in peace.
Why this level was written.
Level 948 isn't really my average page. I didn't necessarily write it out of any inspiration, because I think it's some neat idea, or because I even want it to be well received.
In late 2021, my grandmother was diagnosed with, and later died of, lung cancer. It was a very sudden shock, since over the course of about six weeks she went from being fine and healthy, to being weak and coughing, to being basically unresponsive in the hospital. I saw her about 16 hours before she passed away, hooked up to a machine in the hospital and basically completely unresponsive. I fretted and cried basically the entire night, which continued when I woke up to a message saying she'd passed in the night.
My grandmother loved to make things, it was her job later in life, and that's clearly passed through the generations onto me. Her thing was mainly physical crafts, so beads, gardening, and of course, quilts. She made a lot of quilts, she made ones I never even saw until we were clearing out her home, and loved us using them. She never cared if they got ripped or stained, nor where they went or what they saw, she just wanted us to enjoy them. Not only did she make quilts in general, she made them for each and every close family member.
I received two quilts from her, one when I was born, which is a bluey colour with Winnie the Pooh patterns on it, and one I received around the age of 17-18 which was a more modern design with square shapes that had mostly blue and black triangle shapes in them, with occasional accents of red, too.
The one she gave me, to my knowledge, is one of the final few she ever completed before passing away.
I wanted to write something to commemorate the fact that she passed, and the fact that it was so long ago now. Perhaps it's cheesy to write a fictional alternate universe where the landscape uses edited together pictures of the real quilts she's made, hell I even almost abandoned this work because of the emotions this page puts me through. However, with the passing of my grandmother on my father's side of the family, I've decided to finish this. At the very least, I can feel happy knowing I've done commemorated her, and the fact it puts her great creations onto the world in CC for other people to look at and enjoy.
This page has not been an easy write, but I hope it's enjoyed. It's the closest I'll ever get to a vent piece on this website.
Written by Boring Talkings :')
| Other pages by me | |
|---|---|
| Levels | Level 2 | Level 4.4 | Level 11 | Level 13 | Level 19 | Level 22 | Level 25 | Level 38 | Level 41 | Level 74 | Level 82 | Level 100 | Level 106 | Level 108 | Level 111 | Level 120 | Level 134 | Level 145 | Level 174 | Level 179 | Level 185 | Level 196 | Level 206 | Level 208 | Level 320 | Level 368 | Level 369 | Level 370 | Level 371 | Level 409 | Level 421 | Level 427 | Level 445 | Level 511 | Level 557 | Level 587 | Level 600 | Level 602 | Level 603 | Level 605 | Level 606 | Level 607 | Level 608 | Level 609 | Level 669 | Level 713 | Level 790 | Level 812 | Level 910 | Level 948 | Level 998 | Level 999 | Blue Channel | The Middlesorts | The Frontrooms | PA98 | |
| Entities | Entity 1* | Entity 40 | Hypothetical Creator | |
| Phenomena | Phenomenon 31 | |
| Objects | Object 22 | |
| Tales | A Late Letter to a Late Friend | Case Closed | J. Doe and His Night With Your Mom | Permission Overwritten | The War For Scene-01.1 | |
| The playground | Click me! | |
Level 948 is a peaceful, safe land made of nothing but quilts. It was made for me one year ago today.
Description
Level 948's quilt environment.
Level 948 is an extremely large, outdoor level that greatly resembles natural geography found in the ever-so-tame real world. It has miles of quilted plains that bob up and down to create rolling hills. These hills are contrasted by massive holes and cuts in the landscape akin to sedimentary rock canyons and cliffs. Towering mountains of quilt also dot the level. Unlike the real world, Level 948’s landscape is not formed by logical tectonic movement or climate, but instead it has been stitched exactly as it looks.
This level, with the exception of the thin bubble that separates the land from the outside, is made of soft, enlarged quilts. Each quilt is made of two basic stitched fabrics with a soft and thin cotton between, with these basic quilts being stacked atop of one another for dozens upon dozens of layers. These quilts also come in a variety of colours and patterns, only unified by similar types of stitching or base material. The quilts are also stitched together directly, stopping people from lifting the quilts up at their corners, or them being blown away in the perpetual breeze throughout the level.
A few of the level's quilt trunks.
Although the level is mostly devoid of defining features on top of its terrain, in-part because this level was not entirely finished, it does have large patches of tree trunks which are also made out of lovingly hand-crafted blankets. They are mostly found in the areas resembling rolling prairie hillsides, though they can sparsely be found in patches up the mountain and rarely in the canyonlands. These trees are unfortunately devoid of leaves or even any thinner branches; even any lookalikes utilising a degree of artistic liberty are absent. However morbid, wintery, and cold these dead-looking trees seem to be, the level still exudes a level of peacefulness and love, even without its finer details.
It does for me, at least.
Looking beyond the marvel of the landscape and its one unfinished detail, Level 948 is home to another equally grievous unfinished detail. Occasionally, one can spot little towns made of identically shaped houses, their only difference being the unique quilts that make up their design. Although small, roadless, empty, sometimes dark, and lacking in anything but simple and cartoonishly shaped houses, these little gatherings of buildings still exude a small smile. A bittersweet and mournful one, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless.
With that, the level continues on, stretching forever. It is, and forever will be, in an unfinished state, sitting and drifting about the Backrooms without detail for all eternity, no doubt doomed to slowly fade into obscurity as the years pass and generations descend. Gradually, stories of this unfinished project will become sparser. One day no one will step in it ever again, and for the entire duration of existence itself it will exist in a state it was never even meant to be seen in at all.
. . .
I'm crying again, aren't I.
More hills and mountains.
Level 948 was a gift to me. Sure, it was a gift others had gotten before, but this one felt special, unique perhaps. A hand-made gift in itself is unique, an item made in one specific and organic way that has never been replicated before or since, but mine was different in that I could help with it; decide things for it. I loved it to bits, getting to work with her. Such a simpler time that was. I got to pick the fabrics and the way they were woven together. I was able to decide the landscapes I desired to be in my world, and it was all laid out perfectly. Things could have been great.
The rest of my family never quite got the freedoms I did with my gift, and part of me wishes I didn't. Sure, it was nice getting to pick the little frivolous details, and letting my mind race with ideas with the creativity I'm sure she knew passed through the generations into me, but now I'm left with nothing to show for it. All I have are ideas in my head, fully realised ideas that will never get this level to its ready state. She was the one who knew physical crafts, all I can do is write and ideate.
The study of celestials.
I've wanted nothing more than to see her unfinished crafts finalised, her final piece that was dedicated to me without her even knowing it would be her last. I look at it, and I love what was done. I can't get enough of those hills and houses and mountains I specifically requested, but it breaks my heart to know that this is all there ever will be of my gift. The unfinished and patchwork frames of what could've been, something fantastic to see on its own, but bittersweet when it comes to thinking about it more deeply.
Her study still sits idly, collecting dust in a far off location of the Backrooms that no one else can reach. It's better that way, I feel. That room is too difficult to deal with, to sort through the oodles of work that lay in various states of completion would be a nightmare both physically and emotionally. The least I can do is make sure that no one can disturb it.
Part of me has considered doing the same with this very level, casting it away with her study to forget it even exists. A painful, mournful feeling in my gut is the only thing which stops me from going through with that, as if I can feel how she would react if she knew I would cast her passion away. That feeling is the closest I've ever gotten to feeling her presence, and it's a bitter and upset one.
More of Level 948. It's a pretty place, I'll show it every chance I get.
Level 948 is accessible to the mortals that populate the Backrooms, as much of a difficult choice that was to make. I know what they'll do to it; I can see the damage that they'll cause trying to farm this level, but… this level needs a purpose. She always appreciated her creations being used by her daughters and granddaughters, so much so that the ones they own look almost unrecognisable now. Besides, I don't feel like I can get enjoyment out of this level without that constant tinge of sadness rattling in the back of my head.
If you need to find this level, to perhaps admire it or to make clothes and blankets, it can be found behind a single door in Level 196. It's marked with a quilt, and is extraordinarily hard to find due to just how big 196 actually is, but it is there if you desire it. I didn't want to make it too easy to find, but I feel those who take the time to actually find it instead of coming up with easier methods to find fabric and cotton are going to be the ones with the best intentions for this place.
. . .
I really hope I'm making the right decision here, but I suppose time will tell.
Use my grandmother's work well—I give it to you now.