Experimental storyteller and digital artist Mez Breeze explores the liminal spaces of The Backrooms, a found footage web series which is based on a popular creepypasta of the same name. In doing so, Breeze confronts the feelings of alienation and predation inherent to late-stage capitalist society.
Introduction
Liminality-Echoing through Crumbling Capitalistic Corridors
The Backrooms is a viral found footage series created by Kane Parsons, a Youtuber-turned-traditional-filmmaker. Under his professional name Kane Pixels, Parsons has lifted The Backrooms from its humble beginnings on 4chan as a mere photographic creepypasta into a cultural phenomenon, fueled by viral memes and collaborative online communities (Know Your Meme 2019). Parsons' original 2022 work amassed a significant following by capturing the imaginations of viewers with its unnerving depiction of an endless labyrinthine arena: a sprawling maze of monotonous office spaces and fluorescent-lit corridors [teeming with a discomforting sense of something lurking just out of sight] struck a global audience chord (Grobar 2023). Later incarnations also included habitable [vacant] spaces, laboratories, and various urban structures, with Parsons crafting his first-person ‘narrative’ with deliberately degraded, VHS-style visuals that call to mind early low-budget/found footage-based horror films.
Recent scholarship has engaged with The Backrooms from both a psychological perspective, as in Samantha J. Stephen’s analysis of collective meaning making (Stephen 2022), and a media studies approach as demonstrated by Bradley Earl Wiggins with their work on narrative construction (Wiggins 2023). Both approaches underscore how such visually repetitive, threshold-laden scenes [as witnessed in The Backrooms] can spark communal anxieties and imaginative participation across digital platforms (ibid. 2023). The series draws inspiration from urban legends, non-Euclidean architecture, and the unsettling ambience of isolated office environments - all of which have resonated with online communities and spurred a wave of indie games and memetic reinterpretations (Know Your Meme 2019; Pixels 2022).
Moving past its subreddit fandom and indie game adaptations, Parsons has crafted a viral concept into an iconic series, where analogue mimicry reaches into the eerie realms of liminal spaces to create a new benchmark in environmental horror. The term liminality [derived from the Latin limen (threshold)] perfectly captures the ambiguous nature of these in-between spaces: a fitting metaphor for the disquieting, ever-shifting landscape that The Backrooms so hauntingly portrays (van Gennep 1960; Turner 1969).
Seeking to speculate about this digitally-based environmental horror, an unraveling begins: one where we reflect on a series steeped not only in fear, but in the critique of a society that has commodified every aspect of human existence. The Backrooms series transcends the traditional boundaries of horror to articulate a form of fictionalised digital terror plonked in[to] our ever-expanding consumerist wasteland, where the individual becomes an echo in a vast liminal space.
In the dimly lit corridors of our collective psyche, The Backrooms found footage series acts as on-point commentary on the existential dread and dislocation emblematic of late-stage capitalism. This series [with its never-ending hallways and rooms potentially devoid of human presence] serves as a mirror reflecting the pervasive sense of alienation and the erosion of communal and individual identity that define our times. It is a chilling visualization of the terrain[s] we navigate - both physical and psychological - that are shaped by the forces of crumbling capitalism.
The following reflection-set is structured into four stages: from the atrophy of communal spaces symbolized by the death of the shopping mall, to the chilling production of anomie amidst the rise of divisive ideologies, from the prey-predator dynamic and the paralysing effect of perpetual anticipation, to the acceptance of liminality as a condition of our time, these musings seek to illuminate messages encrypted in the silent, abandoned spaces of The Backrooms.
Corridor One
The Ennui Factory: The Mall's Empty Echo
The descent into the heart of an Ennui Factory begins not with a sudden drop but with a gradual, almost imperceptible decline. Ironically, this is almost contrary to the very beginning[s] of The Backrooms video series, where we witness a cameraperson - who is filming what looks to be an indie production - trip and fall [or 'noclip' in gamer lingo] into an unending set of corridor-like spaces saturated in a sickly yellow hue (Pixels 2022). In the realm of The Backrooms, this Ennui Factory finds its corporeal counterpart in the atrophied husk of the modern shopping mall, a once-vibrant centre of commerce and communal life that’s been rendered into a mausoleum of consumerism's golden age. Here, we invoke the intertwined concepts of ennui and atrophy as they manifest [with]in the liminal and the interstitial.
Ennui - that profound weariness with the world - presents palpably in the echoing vastness of such deserted malls. The atrophy inherent in such spaces is not merely corporeal but also existential: reflecting a society that has shuffled to new modes of consumption, leaving behind these strange consumerist temples. The Backrooms serve as a metaphorical extension of such obsolete realities, embodying the interstitial spaces of contemporary existence[s]. These are the places in-between: threshold spaces now rendered strange and uncanny in their abandonment. In this context, the shopping mall becomes a liminal space par excellence, a boundary between the world of bustling commerce and the silent aftermath of its collapse (Goss 1993). It is here, in the interplay between presence and absence, that The Backrooms find its/their resonance, a reminder of what happens when the engines of capitalism grind to an elongated halt. This phase of capitalistic decay also appears in unique digital explorations that evoke the liminal atmosphere typical of walking simulator games like The Stanley Parable or All the Delicate Duplicates. These titles immerse players in environments steeped in extant dread, a structural echo of desolate passages encountered in The Backrooms.
In the first video of The Backrooms found footage series, the steady, almost hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights and the repetitive pattern of the faded walls create a tangible atmosphere of decay and abandonment. This first video captures a communal space that has been reduced to a sterile labyrinth, with its monotonous design evoking the ruins of obsolete consumer culture. The emptiness of the corridors, with uniform textures and lack of humanity, powerfully symbolizes a society that has lost touch with its shared values and collective spirit (Pixels 2022; Know Your Meme 2019). Like the empty mall, these digital landscapes blur the lines between engagement and abandonment, further underscoring the creeping ennui of threshold worlds.
As The Backrooms unfurls, it reveals not just the death of capitalism's manifest instantiations, but the deeper atrophy of the spirit that once animated it/them. In the Ennui Factory, we confront the truth of our existence: caught between the worlds of what was and what might yet be, navigating the interstitial spaces of a society in flux. Here, in the deserted corridors of commerce and random winding rooms now empty of consumeristic objects, we find a reflection of our own liminality, a reminder of the spaces within and without that define our passage through the world.
Hallway Two
Anomie and Empathy's Eclipse
This hallway t[h]reads us through the concept of anomie: a state of normlessness where social bonds that tie individuals to their community fray and snap under the weight of disillusionment and disaffection. Anomie and Empathy's Eclipse observes the environmental and sociological horrors of a world unmoored from its traditional anchors, highlighting how divisive ideologies contribute to the erosion of societal cohesion.
Anomie manifests in The Backrooms as a pervasive sense of dislocation, a metaphor for the grow[l]ing chasm between society's traditional institutions - schools, workplaces, political bodies, media organizations - and the individuals who increasingly view these structures with suspicion and contempt. This schism is not merely a feature of stark physical environments, but a reflection of a deeper, psychological landscape where the social glue that binds such groups dissolves. This interpretation resonates with the ‘megadungeon’ model proposed in recent media studies, which conceptualizes digital spaces as vast, procedurally generated networks where the inherent repetition and absence of clear navigation evoke both complexity and disconnection (Berti, De Vincentis, & de Seta 2023).
The repetitive, unremarkable corridors in The Backrooms - lacking distinct markers or any sense of human existence - can be understood as a visual metaphor for modern societal fragmentation. These unvarying, almost mechanical passages mirror a condition in which communities become isolated through the deliberate rejection of broadly shared social norms. In this view, the uniformity of the hallways represents the rigid, self-reinforcing thought patterns characteristic of extremist ideologies that deny the value of conventional ties, while their sterile expanses capture the loneliness that ensues when communal bonds disintegrate.
The breakdown of social cohesion is further exacerbated by the contempt these movements harbor towards institutions traditionally responsible for the propagation of social norms. Schools and universities, once revered for their ability to foster learning and socialization, are derided as indoctrination centers; political bodies are dismissed as corrupt and self-serving; corporations and media outlets are vilified, paradoxically, even as they are embraced for their utility in spreading the message of dissent. Such paradoxes highlight the anomie at the heart of these ideologies - a desire for change that simultaneously undermines the very structures capable of facilitating it.
In this climate of distrust and disillusionment, The Backrooms presents as an alarming allegory for societies shaped by such forces. The sense of being lost in an endless maze without exits reflects the existential plight of individuals who, having severed their ties to communal institutions, find themselves adrift in a sea of uncertainty and alienation. The Backrooms with their [ostensibly] infinite impersonal spaces are a digital manifestation of the emotional and societal void that emerges when empathy and understanding are eclipsed by suspicion and division. As we navigate the hallways of The Backrooms, we are compelled to confront the implications of a world where our social fabric is not just frayed but fundamentally unraveling, leaving individuals isolated in their ideological echo chambers and disconnected from a societal heart.
Platform Three
Suspense of Waiting and The Hunt Horror: A Predatory Dialectic
On Platform Three, we wait patiently: pondering the dichotomy between the suspense of perpetual anticipation and the fear that ensues when the awaited finally materializes. Prey animals exist in a constant state of watchfulness, bound by a cycle of waiting to be hunted vs a non-hunted phase. This perpetual anticipation of danger heightens senses while being confined to an existence dictated by the whims of their predators. Predators navigate their environment through biologically-mandated drive[s], their existence[s] defined by pursuit rather than evasion. The Backrooms challenges this clear dichotomy, hosting non-human entities whose motivations and methods of engagement defy traditional categorization as either predator or prey. These creatures [with their enigmatic presence and inscrutable agendas] introduce a new dimension: one where the rules of the natural world are obsolete.
At its core, capitalism mirrors a prey-predator dynamic. The system thrives on the anticipation of profit-driven growth, with individuals and organizations caught in an unending cycle of consumerism. Yet, much like prey waiting for its predator, there is an underlying nervousness about actually attaining what is fervently pursued: whether it be the ultimate fulfillment of desires or the realization of the unknown (Zukas 2020).
This dynamic is embodied in The Backrooms, where those trapped within experience a continuous state of limbo, caught not only in their yearning to escape the in-between, but also in the anticipation of an inevitable [or at least potential] encounter with the elusive entities roaming its corridors. In one of the series’ most heart-pounding moments, our protagonist stumbles upon a mustard-colored wall covered in black scrawls. As the camera zooms in on one of the scrawls [revealing the alarming text “DON’T MOVE STAY STILL”], a terrifying bleating echoes throughout the space, triggering a panicked search from the protagonist to find what’s causing the horrific sound. We then spot [at the end of a menacingly-dim corridor] a tall, spindly silhouette lurking to the left at the far end, its elongated limbs and slightly off-kilter stance reinforce the unsettling sense that it is neither fully human nor merely a shadow. Overhead, fluorescent lights [which flicker and hum with an almost mesmerizing persistence] accentuate the creature’s angular form, sharpening the viewer’s perception of its uncanny outline and triggering an immediate flight response in the protagonist. The tension escalates into a relentless chase: as the camera captures the protagonist’s hurried escape, another [perhaps the same?] indistinct figure briefly appears at the periphery of the frame. Its amorphous shape and erratic movement create an atmosphere charged with predatory intent. This unsettling encounter is marked by distorted, bestial sounds that heighten the viewer’s sense of vulnerability. The scene effectively embodies a dual metaphor: the creature[s] representing both the literal threat within The Backrooms and the abstract, predatory forces inherent in a capitalistic system that dehumanizes and isolates its subjects (Wiggins 2024).
The creatures found in The Backrooms largely serve as symbolic figures: their true intentions remain ambiguous, leaving open the question of whether they are indeed chasing those who find themselves teleported into the maze-like rooms. Could these predator-adjacent beings actually be indifferent to the people they encounter? Could such entities in fact be responding to any stimuli within such stark liminality, slavering for engagement or interaction? Such questions amplify the horror of The Backrooms, creating a platform where the anticipation of a threat is just as terrifying as the threat itself.
Such ambiguity surrounding the creatures in The Backrooms echoes the unpredictability of economic frameworks where forces that drive the market can seem just as inscrutable [and potentially capricious] (Zukas 2020). For individuals trapped within this system [much like those wandering The Backrooms hallways], they find themselves in a state of constant hypervigilance, wary of market fluctuations and the possibility of suddenly becoming prey-like in terms of the vagaries of the market.
In both the found footage series and The Backrooms indie game variations [of which there are many], the psychological torment of being trapped waiting for the inevitable horror-shoe to drop juxtaposed with the existential dread of confrontation is a constant. The anticipation of danger and encounters with[in] The Backrooms highlight complex drives centering on fear [anticipation/avoidance/management] and desire satiation, cyclically driving pursuit and evasion that characterizes both evolutionary ordering and capitalistic constructs (Wiggins 2024).
Stairwell Four
Embracing the Threshold: Leap-Frogging Beginnings and Endings
The concepts of liminality, context-displacement, and transitive spaces that exist on the margins of our perception [such as fire escapes, empty hotel lobbies in the dead of night, maintenance tunnels, unused offices, abandoned shopping centers, old construction areas] all dwell in [and on] this Embracing the Threshold stairwell. These are spaces that [by their very nature] hover between the conventional and unconventional, standing as neither fully public nor entirely private, and embodying the transient, the in-between. Such environments serve as a metaphor for the liminal state: not just in physical terms but as a reflection of inner states and societal shifts.
After the tense predator-prey scene detailed in Platform Three, the footage shifts into a quieter [though equally weighty] moment. The protagonist spots a jutting staircase descending from hidden darkness into a vast, cream-tinged area. Panting and on edge, they sprint toward the stairs, gasping as they continually scan their surroundings. After sprinting up the stairs in a state of panic, the protagonist quickly spins around at the landing. At that moment, we watch and hear a light switch being toggled repeatedly - off, on, off, on - until it settles on off: with the final dark patch in the sequence serving as a bridge between distinct realms within the labyrinth. During this sequence, the illumination of the architecture itself blurs the boundaries between escape and entrapment, suggesting that every passageway offers both a departure from one state and an uncertain entry into another. This interplay of beginnings and endings underscores the fluid nature of both space and narrative that’s conveyed in The Backrooms: a recurring theme that challenges viewers to consider how liminal environments continuously reshape our understanding of connection and progression.
The resonance of such liminal spaces is far from purely contemporary in nature: it extends to more traditional art and literature, where visual artists like M.C. Escher [with his impossible constructions and infinite loops] (Escher 1993) and Giorgio de Chirico [and his eerie, dream-like cityscapes] (Dupêcher 2017) embody boundary-bouncing between reality and perception. Similarly, the book House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski delves into the concept of a dwelling with impossible geometries, a narrative labyrinth that mirrors the psychological and existential liminality experienced by its characters. Another example is the 2023 film All of Us Strangers, with two of the main characters residing in a barely inhabited liminality-drenched building (Searchlight Pictures 2023). Such explorations underscore a dual disquiet/fascination with the notion of liminal spaces, echoing a collective yearning to understand thresholds. The Backrooms epitomizes a more viral/meme-worthy notion of liminality, where sprawling mazes filled with nondescript spaces devoid of obvious linearity serve as a stage where such spaces [familiar yet unnervingly off] thrust occupants into a state of disorientation and perpetual transition.
Conclusion
Navigating the Liminality of Our Times
In traversing this reflection-set, it becomes apparent that The Backrooms and late-stage capitalism align in significant ways: the decay of once-vibrant communal spaces, the emergence of a profound sense of disconnection amid divisive ideologies, and the unsettling interplay between expectation and dread [emulating predator-prey dynamics]. Such ideas highlight how contemporary societies are grappling with the relentless forces of late-stage capitalism and the pervasive influence of digital communication on societal cohesion and the self. Amid this shifting tableau, a collective longing for connection and meaning persists. The Backrooms stand as a prominent allegory here: a realm that is simultaneously omnipresent and elusive, encapsulating the disquiet and disorientation of societies adrift.
By consciously disrupting narrative norms [including conventional beginnings, middles, endings, foregrounding(s), denouements], The Backrooms variations capture the essence of short video formats that now shape internet aesthetics, such as TikTok and YouTube Shorts. Such short-form formats lend themselves to a delicious narrative-snapping by allowing viewers to project their interpretations and ambiguities onto [and often through] the proffered content. This technique effectively bypasses aspects of conventional storytelling via engaging the viewer in a direct/visceral/interstitial experience. Just as the corridors of The Backrooms stretch endlessly [devoid of a final destination and definitive narrative arc(s)], so too does capitalism perpetuate an interminable cycle of economic and environmental uncertainty.
The impending transition of The Backrooms from a digital short to a cinematic experience demonstrates its ongoing cultural impact. A24 [a production company renowned for its support of distinctive narratives] has embraced Parsons' creation, offering a platform for his directorial debut. The collaboration between A24 and Parsons, alongside producers from Atomic Monster, Chernin Entertainment, and 21 Laps, are poised to bring the unsettling universe of The Backrooms to a more mainstream audience (Grobar 2023). While details of the plot remain secret, the anticipation surrounding the feature film adaptation of The Backrooms underscores how digital horror is evolving. It also highlights an appetite for short-form stories that muddy the boundaries between reality and the surreal. The Backrooms - with its unique blend of bite-sized existential dread and ambient horror - embodies this shift, promising a cinematic experience that is as thought-provoking as it is terrifying. In transforming The Backrooms into a feature film, Parsons and his collaborators will [hopefully] capture and convey concepts of the liminal [where the familiar becomes terrifyingly unfamiliar, and the boundaries of our reality are endlessly negotiable] in a remarkable way. With any luck, the lure to entertainment-package The Backrooms into a more capitalistic-centric format won’t taint the overall project’s potential [and digital platform origins] to redefine our collective understanding of what liminality can convey.
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