you wake up in a little small town as you stand up and look around a stranger walks up to you

???: ah your new here hm?

You nod

???: well this place is called level 200 of the backrooms as Level 200 is the nicest little town you've ever come across. It's not too big, and it definitely doesn't stand out.

There's people here. People just like you and me. About 4,000. You'll know them all eventually. Every single one of them. They're nice enough to overlook that smell of burning rust in your ears, or the faint sound of the breaking of skin coming from the sky you've been traveling, haven't you? We can tell. You look exhausted. Clothes torn, barely fed, skin still on. It's not easy exploring these parts, isn't it?