James A. Hunter
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Backrooms: Delvers and Dwellers - Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2023-07-20 19:57:28 +0000 UTCSeventeen – Gamblers Paradise
Like everything else on level three, thematically the Arcade looked like it had been ripped straight out of an episode of Stranger Things. Neon blazed, painting the walls in a tapestry of eye-searing purples, bubblegum pinks, and loud electric blues. The carpet was a deep navy and dotted with cheesy cartoon planets and distant starbursts.
Rows and rows and rows of arcade games twinkled like digital constellations beneath the garish and disorienting lights, all issuing beeps and bloops. For once, I recognized several of the machines. There were older games like Space Invaders, Pac-Man, Galaga, and the OG Street Fighter right alongside a bunch of systems I’d never seen before, which was saying something. I’d spent a good chunk of my young adult life tucked away inside of arcades not so different from this one, and I’d sure as shit never heard of Pixel Pizza Party or Jungle Jumper Joe.
On top of the arcade cabinets, there were also a half dozen Skee-ball machines, several first-person shooters, claw machines, and a small fleet of racing games, all called Nitro Derby Dash.
“I thought you said we were looking for vending machines?” I asked Croc, making sure not to cross the threshold into the colorful arcade. “You didn’t mention anything about an actual videogame arcade.”
“Why else would it be called an Arcade if there wasn’t an actual Arcade?” Croc replied. “That would be a sloppy and confusing naming convention, wouldn’t it?”
I grunted and waved my hand toward the machines. “Could be I’m wrong, but those don’t look like they give out loot.”
“Yeah, those aren’t loot dispensers, but you can still win prizes,” Croc said. “Most of the arcade games take copper Loot Tokens. If you win big you can earn temporary status buffs that can last for days or even hours. But the drawback is that if you lose, you get nothing. It’s a bigger gamble than the Loot Dispensers, but the benefit is that you know exactly what the payout is.
“The racing machines typically offer movement buffs,” Croc continued, “the fighter games give melee combat bonuses, and the shooters give advantage on ranged attacks. That sort of thing. It’s also theoretically possible to win items out of the claw machine, but I’ve never heard of anyone actually doing it. It’s a waste of time, in my humble opinion. Most of the games are rigged and they’re mostly designed to keep you playing and distracted until something nasty comes along and eats you.”
“I thought you said these places were safe?” I asked, scanning the arcade for signs of danger. There was nothing that I could see, not even with my Spelunker’s Sixth Sense.
“I said there was an eight-percent chance it’s safe,” Croc corrected. “But it’s always best to keep the first rule in mind, and what is the first rule, Dan?”
“Assume that everything, everywhere, all the time is both lying to you and trying to kill you,” I said.
“Exactly. I don’t know for a fact that there’s something waiting for us in there—like I said before, the Arcades are technically neutral territory spawned by the Researcher, but…” Croc faded off. “Well, the Researcher isn’t what he used to be. He can only see so far and do so much. If we’re quick, there shouldn’t be any issues. Best to avoid the games, hit the dispensers, and get out before we attract anything unfriendly.”
“Good enough for me,” I replied.
Pulling my hammer from its loop, I headed through the wide archway that let into the arcade with Croc following close behind. The place smelled like an odd mixture of stale BO, moldy carpet, and sickly-sweet cotton candy. As I padded down a wide aisle flanked on both sides by arcade cabinets, I found my gaze instinctively being drawn toward the pixilated images flashing across the screen.
The effect was eerily hypnotic, and I quickly found myself remembering all of the fun times I’d had playing games at the arcade with my dad. He’d been an old-school Galaga fan, and every week we’d hit up the movie theater and play to see who could go the furthest off a single quarter. I’d never made it past stage 22, as where my dad could regularly hit stage 30, which was when King Galaspark appeared, launching an all-out invasion against the would-be defender of humanity.
I felt something bump against my leg and looked down to find Croc nudging me insistently.
“You just stopped walking,” the dog said. “They all have minor hypnotic properties. Best to get a higher Grit level before you risk any coin on those things. The dispensers are just up ahead.” The mimic pointed with its snoot. “Let’s keep moving.”
I grunted, feeling a little lightheaded, but heeded the mimic’s advice.
We left the bulk of the games behind and found a small, partially separated room, devoid of the blazing neon lights painting the rest of the arcade. A regular white, fluorescent light illuminated several machines, which all looked sorely disappointing compared to the video games situated in the arcade proper. There were two vending machines—one for various beverages, another for food items.
I examined each and was underwhelmed.
They were exactly what they appeared to be.
Plain ol’ run-of-the-mill vending machines. I could buy off-label soda, bottles of water, or the kind of garbage food you’d expect to see at a rest-stop. Candy bars, bags of chips, zingers, and plastic-wrapped cupcakes. None of it was good or especially nourishing, but if you were dying of starvation or dehydration, a vending machine like this would be a literal God-send.
Most of the items cost anywhere between one and three Copper Delver Tokens. On top of having a rarity system—copper, silver, gold, then gemstone—the tokens also had other designations, like Medic!, Slayer, or Elementalist, which were rewarded for completing different types of tasks. The Delver Tokens were by far the most common and seemed to be the generic, default reward tokens.
Interestingly, I did notice it was possible to purchase Lesser Healing Elixirs from the soda machine, but only if you had copper Medic! Tokens to part with. I had several of those, thanks to my near brush with death against the Flayed Monarch, so I spent three of the five, storing the extra Zima Elixirs in my storage space. My stomach was a knight knot of hunger, and even though MediocreMart would have all the food I needed, I didn’t want to go into a life-or-death battle without having anything in my stomach.
Begrudgingly, I purchased two candy bars for a copper Delver token apiece, scarfing one down, and stowing the other for later.
The pair of vending machines weren’t the only dispensers in the room, however.
There was also a boxy, red temporary tattoo machine, filled with cheap, cringey-looking designs that seven-year-olds everywhere thought were the pinnacle of badassery. Grinning skulls and flaming four-leaf shamrocks, a heart with a knife stuck through it and a coiled blue and orange cobra ready to strike. There were also several more girly designs—brilliantly colored flowers, elegant butterflies, and a majestic unicorn.
The machine had a large coin turner that accepted copper, silver, or gold loot tokens of any variety.
“What in the Kentucky fried fuck is this thing?” I asked, hooking a thumb toward the temporary tattoos.
“The Temporary Buff Machine,” Croc replied enthusiastically. “This is the alternative to playing arcade games. You put a token in, turn the nob there, and out pops a temporary tattoo. You apply it to your skin and the bonus lasts for as long as the tattoo does. You’re guaranteed to get something with the temporary tattoos.
“The effects genuinely last much longer—especially if you don’t shower—but they’re always much weaker and you never know what you’re gonna get. Unless you use something other than a Delver token. If you put a Medic! Token in, you’re guaranteed to get something related to health regen or damage reduction. Could be passive resistance as well,” the dog added after a second.”
“And what about these things?” I asked, crossing the tiny room in three long strides and placing a hand against the bank of white Gashapon machines, which filled the majority of one wall. They looked like fancy toy vending machines that stood chest high, with bright blue Japanese writing across the sides. Each had a clear plastic case, which displayed a small army of small capsules, all with colorful lids and tiny bobbles contained within. There were four different toy dispensers, one for each of the various Token rarities.
Copper, Silver, Gold, and Gemstone.
It took two Copper Tokens to earn a prize from the first machine, but only one silver, gold, or gemstone token for the others.
Curiously, I fished two more Copper Tokens from my dwindling supply and fed them into the machine, turning the crank with an audible click and a clack. A mechanism gave way inside the machine and one of the plastic capsules dropped into the vending slot. I retrieved it from a circular hole at the base and held it up, examining the item within. I looked like a tiny, G.I. Joe-sized set of binoculars.
I pried the lid off the top and let out a strangled gasp. Screw me left, right, and sideways. The inside of the capsule was a self-contained spatial pocket, two-feet squared in size. I tipped the capsule over and a set of cheap, but perfectly normal-sized binoculars fell out into my opposite hand. I’d half-expected them to be Artifacts, but they weren’t. Just the kind of thing you could buy on the cheap at a Walmart. Or a Walgreens.
“Yeah, it’s a bit disappointing, I know,” Croc said, glancing between me and the binoculars. “But that’s pretty much what Coppers will get you. No Artifacts, just basic survival equipment. Same rules apply when using specialty tokens. A couple of Medic! Tokens will likely get you Band-Aids or a tourniquet. You could wind up with a knife if you had some Slayer Tokens.
“Honestly, most of the folks who have survived down here for a while, use the coppers as a kind of trade currency more than anything else. But these other ones”—the dog fixed his gaze on the next three machines in the line—“are generally worth the price of admission. Silvers will usually earn you Common Artifacts with Empty Effect Slots or One Off items. With Gold you have a chance of earning Uncommon Artifacts or Sigils. No idea, about the gemstone ranks, but I’m sure they’re even better.”
I had three silver tokens—Delver, Medic!, and Elementalist—one Gold Ambassador, another Gold Weaponsmith, a Dimond Sentinel, and one Ruby Warlord.
I stowed the binoculars, along with the tiny pocket dimension capsule they came in, then popped the Gold Weaponsmith token into the third machine and cranked the dial. I pulled out a second capsule, though this one had a plastic gold lid. I opened the container, revealing an even larger interdimensional pocket space. This one was almost three feet squared. Not that the item inside needed that much room. In the bottom was a smooth red stone, about the size of my palm, with an odd glyph carved into its surface.
Bloodletting
Uncommon Sigil
Type: Weapon Sigil
Fact, victims rarely die from stab wounds—they mostly die from the resulting blood loss. Fact, bloodletting will make sure they die SO much faster.
Bloodletting deals 5n points of additional bleeding damage per minute, for two minutes where n is equal to sigil skill level. Bloodletting can stack up to five times by dealing multiple stab wounds and each additional instance of Bloodletting will refresh the effect’s duration. What the hell are you waiting for? Go bananas and get to stabbin’!
Restriction: Must be affixed to a weapon that deals piercing damage.
I stared at the bloody stone with what must have been a combination of pure shock and ecstatic joy etched into the lines of my face. Wait, so I could just pop this thing into one of my tools and anything I stabbed with it would just spontaneously bleed out for two minutes? Oh hell yeah. There were so many things that I wanted to stab.
Obviously, this wouldn’t work for my hammer, since stabbing things with a hammer is tough—though, admittedly not impossible—but it fit my demolition screwdriver like a glove.
I slid the bulky screwdriver from its customary pouch and turned it over in one hand. Truly, there was nothing special about it. It had a clear plastic handle engraved with the word Craftsman in blocky white text, and a long heavy metal shank with a flat tipped head, slightly dulled by years of hard use.
There was nothing pretty about it and I’d picked it up from Lowe’s for twelve bucks, but the most dangerous weapons rarely looked fancy. This thing was the definition of form follows function. This bastard wasn’t built for turning screws, it was built for stabbing things and I was gonna put it to good use. Intuitively, I took the bloodred rune and pressed it against the length of metal. The tool heated up, vibrating steadily against my palm, and a prompt appeared.
Would you like to add Bloodletting to the Craftsman Demolition Screwdriver, filling one of two Empty Effect Slots?
Since this is your first time using a Sigil, be advised that once a Sigil is bound to an Artifact it cannot be reclaimed without destroying the Artifact.
Proceed? Yes/No?
Some small portion of my enthusiasm dwindled as I read over the warning.
Unlike my Spatial Core, it seemed I wouldn’t be able to swap sigils freely. If I did this, it would be for keeps—no redo’s if I didn’t like the way things turned out. If a new and better Sigil came along in the not-to-distant future, would I be pissed about this decision?
I only considered the question for another second, before proceeding. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine a better fit for the screwdriver, and the effect would even scale as I level the skill through use. There was no point sitting on something this awesome.
There was a bright flare of white light as the red stone melted into the screwdriver, staining the metal shaft a bloody red color.
Achievement Unlocked!
Evolve from Monke
Look at you, fashioning and enhancing rudimentary tools to better kill things. This is like that scene out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, except more pathetic somehow. Still, your hairy, primitive, knuckle-dragging ancestors would be proud. And for the record, I’m talking about your Uncle Jed.
Reward: 5 x Delver Copper Loot Token
I absently dismissed the achievement and examined the screwdriver in closer detail, conjuring its item screen. Sure enough, the first effect slot was now filled by the deliciously gruesome Bloodletting ability. I gave the tool-turned-weapon a little twirl then took a couple of practice jabs—enjoying the way it felt in my grip—before finally stowing it back in my toolbelt.
If that had been Gold, what would a Ruby Token get me?
Instead of dicking around with the Silver and Gold Tokens, I pulled out the Ruby Warlord Token. I’d never been one of those patient kids who liked to save the best gift for last on Christmas morning. I always went in for the kill straight away, picking the biggest present under the tree, then tearing the paper away like a feral honey badger raiding a beehive. I plunked the Ruby Token into the last Gashapon machine in the line and waited with hungry anticipation.
The contraption once more gave a mechanical whirl as I turned the dial and another capsule emerged in the prize slot, this one with a metallic ruby-colored lid.
Excitedly, I popped the top—revealing a capsule space big enough to store a large dog—and dumped the rather small sigil onto my palm. Unlike the last, this stone was pure, inky black, and had a gleaming, bone-white symbol carved into its face. Upon closer inspection, a tag appeared, that read Gavel of Get Fucked – Rare Sigil. My eyes skipped past the rather colorful flavor text and landed on the sigil’s effect.
Activate a Power Attack, costing 20 Stamina, which inflicts additional damage equal to 20% of the opponent's existing Health (250 Max Damage). If the opponent is already below 15% total Health, Gavel of Get Fucked lands a Killing Blow, instantly slaying the target. Landing a Killing Blow triggers a follow-up effect, Wave of Justice, that applies the Gavel's primary effect to all enemy combatants within a twenty-foot radius around the Gavel's wielder. Gavel of Get Fucked has a cooldown time of 5 minutes.
Restriction: Must be affixed to a weapon that deals blunt force damage.
I just stared, completely thunderstruck.
Ho-lee shit.
Not only was it a Rare Sigil, but it only had a single restriction: it needed to be bonded with an Artifact that was classified as a Blunt Weapon. But that wasn’t much a restriction at all, considering my hammer was the best weapon I had anyway. True, this would take up one of the two remaining Effect Slots, but I highly doubted I was going to find something better suited for me any time soon.
I pressed the sigil against the blunt metal hammerhead and quickly breezed past the confirmation prompt.
As sigil and hammer became one, the handle turned from plain brown hickory to a black so deep it seemed to eat the light. The head practically burned silver against the inky handle.
In a word, it was awesome.
I slipped the hammer into its customary loop and pulled yet another token out, this time the Diamond Sentinel Token. But then I paused, the coin extended halfway toward the vending machine slot. I caught a strange sound, so soft I almost missed it at first. It was like the rustle of dry, fall leaves rubbing together. I lowered the token and glanced back over one shoulder at the seemingly empty arcade.
“Did you just hear something?” I asked Croc, feeling a thin thread of worry rear its ugly head. “’Cause I could’ve sworn I heard something.”
“No, I heard it too.” The dog’s body was canted away from me as the mimic peered into the strobing neon chaos beyond. “There’s something in here with us, alright,” Croc confirmed, though it never took its eyes from rows of neatly lined videogames.
That certainly didn’t leave me full of warm and fuzzies.
“Care to elaborate?” I asked, then froze as I heard the sound again. Only much, much closer…
