Level 603
rating: +13+x

Before this, you may have entered an old factory in 11, passed through an odd door in 20, or maybe noclipped through a floating pylon in 61. However you got here, you now have a new landscape presented before you. One filled with hills, plains, rivers, roads, towns, and most noticeably, hundreds of thousands of power lines.

Many levels are in the outdoors—with elements of human habitation—but none are as monotonous as this place. Power lines all seem to go in one direction, and a turn of the head reveals the hills bend down and inwards, ending in a sky-coloured void. The power lines themselves emanate a soft hum, acting like a magnet to ones ears, acting as a faint distraction to the sun which already feels as though it is beating you with its heat. With nowhere else to go and curiosity on your side, you walk the only direction you can, following the lines.


Class 2e - Environmental

  • Unsafe
  • Secure
  • Non-Entity Hazards



A pair of power lines passing over a pasture.


A much older photo of Level 603, right in the heart of a small neighbourhood.

Level 603 is a large landscape filled with various geographical and manmade features found in multiple western countries. The level’s rolling countryside contain mountains, valleys, and flatlands adorned with farm pastures, forests, prairies with rivers, and cut-outs that carve their way across. The level—lacking physical variation in its landscapes—feels incredibly monotonous, only having geographical landmarks—like rivers, orchards, valleys or mountains—exist in close proximity to the hundreds of power lines across the level. These pylons have interstate roads and dirt pathways running parallel to them, never seeming to deviate from being under or nearby them.

These power lines all point towards the centre of the level, Most follow these power lines in order to properly navigate, as the landscape itself becomes nothing more than hard to navigate. Occasionally, new power lines will merge into larger powerlines, gradually becoming more industrial. These power lines are also some of the tallest things within Level 603, sometimes larger than their Frontrooms counterparts. Because of this, they are always visible regardless of where one is in Level 603—a fact aided by the constant mechanical, yet simultaneously melodical humming that emanates from the live electricity surging through their cabling.

After spending a handful of hours within the level, you began to understand the way the level works. Not only do the roads follow the wires overhead, but the entire level's geography seems to do so too. The further you step away from one of these seemingly sacred upholding's of electrical cable, the simpler and more disorientating the level becomes. It feels like a setup, a trap, but also feels like the clearest route forwards. Despite the background screams of your better judgement, you continue to follow them.


A smaller collection of buildings within Level 603.


One side of one road in one of Level 603's blocks, looking incredibly simplistic and repetitive.

Although only lookalike impersonations, structures do sometimes appear in both isolated areas and in grouped formations that vaguely attempt to resemble settlements. Buildings exist close to the pylons, which can always be seen outside in the settlement streets. Despite their proximity to the power lines, these village-sized groupings of buildings are usually unnoteworthy. Their road layouts follow basic and simple block formations, and many buildings show up multiple times, often even within the same village.

The towns can become disorientating due to their repetitiveness, a feeling that can be subdued by using one of the distant pylons to regain a sense of direction. The basic block formations of the towns share the exact same detailing and blemishes, down to roads copying pot-holes or pavement cracks that rarely have details beyond a line of trees or lampposts. The same level of mediocre uniformity carries to their interiors too, with all houses being completely unfurnished inside. The most these buildings contain are tiled, wooden, or carpeted floors, and a basic coat of paint on the walls.

At first, the towns began to feel like a breath of fresh air, or at least just something unique and different from the occasional empty barn or farm house. Stepping through the first street seemed fine, as did the second, third, fourth, and fifth. Yet gradually they began to blend in with each other, being almost impossible to discern which streets you had and had not walked down. That feeling only felt compounded when you finally looked inside a handful of these buildings, only to be greeted with an empty interior. Everything felt disorienting, samey, empty, and the roads all looked the identical. That was, however, until you looked up and saw a power line off in the distance.

These power lines were always visible, acting almost as a compass to get back on track for whatever the level wants to guide you to. Within the towns, there were no tools, no weapons, no technology, and no food. Staying in these seemed impossible long term, making the power lines an inevitability to follow. As such, with a reluctance in your heart ignored only by a rumble of your stomach, you succumb and refollowed the pylons.


The drier, more arid land of the deeper parts of Level 603.


The almost dead landscape of Level 603's epicentre, almost fully coated with power pylons.

The further one travels along Level 603, the more arid and uniform the level becomes. The varied geography and topology gradually gets replaced by a basic and flat desert, only occasionally permeated by bushes—most of which are either dead or on the cusp of dying. The amount of power lines also drastically increases as the pylons from other parts of the level all begin to converge on the epicentre, filling the air with an electronic hum-buzz and a general feeling of heavy industry.

By the time one reaches the epicentre—usually after a few days or even a week—it is likely one will feel incredibly parched and starved. The increase in temperature and humidity may feel like torture as they press on to follow the power lines, only doing so at all because there are no other avenues to follow. Upon getting deep enough, it may feel nearly impossible to reach where they all converge. However, when one no doubt reaches it, they will be met with a large ring of pylons lined side-to-side incredibly tightly. These pylons form a circle around an expansive factory — wires slowly kiting down to the megastructure. The humming emanating from the wires becomes louder upon disembarking from the pylons themselves, inviting weary folk towards it.

By now—after having walked for what felt like days under an unmoving noon sun—the landscape was beginning to change, although certainly not in a way you expected. The luscious, varied, and almost beautiful terrain that accompanies the power pylons had begun to die miles back, becoming replaced by a more heartless and battered environment. A mixture of dirt and sand laid under your feet, possibly the remains of the same biome you were in prior, this time only burned and buried beyond recognition. Even more strangely was the fact that this landscape was uniform everywhere—not just close to the pylons.

It felt as though the level was disregarding its own rules, making the pylons feel less special and significant in the process. At least, that's how it felt on paper. In reality, the change and its connotations had barely even registered. Your legs are were weak, your stomach empty, and you already knew that anything behind you wouldn't change that. Perhaps this was by design, perhaps you were in too deep for the level to care about your needs, or perhaps it didn't matter either way. You had to survive, and following the pylons seemed like your best bet.


The incredibly industrial entrance to the factory.


Deep into the middle of the factory.

Beyond a perimeter wall of mesh chain-link fence lies an incredibly complex factory, specifically an amalgamation between an oil refinery, fossil fuel power plants, and other general industrial spaces that emit greenhouse gasses. The sound of whirring machines replace the hum of the cabling, feeling almost melodic as they guide weary wanderers between walls of pipes and containers of biodegradable materials. These large contraptions all connect to the handful of buildings in the dead centre of the factory, all of which are built from a mix of prefab materials and metal.

The interiors of these buildings are just as complex as the factory's exterior—filled with tight hallways, catwalks overhanging machine-packed atriums, and other indescribable industrial clutter. Despite the chaotic medley that is the interior furnishings, wanderers follow the route predetermined to them, following the confusing floorplan sometimes for days or weeks on end. No matter how unintuitive the interior layout is, however, the corridors do eventually lead to a kind of solace. One signalled to wanderers by an incredibly mellifluous, yet mechanical melody.

After walking deep within your fated factory for long enough, you feel a sudden pain shoot across your body. Your mind was oblivious to where you were going until its last moments, trapped in thoughtless autopilot. The last things that met your eyes before darkness takes you is an industrial, cylindrical device that made a constant, deep pitched and sharp noise than the other machines. Bones crunch, tissues tear, and consciousness snaps away while you're fed into the factory. You could have fled to 62, 80, or even 113, but you did not. The level had snagged you from the start, guiding you to its stomach from the very first pylon you saw.

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