Description
'The Bunkers' refer to a series of anomalous, localized "safe rooms" that appear as 1960s era bunkers that manifest outside of their primary environment of Level 49.3 or 'The Forgotten War'. These outposts typically appear in stable, industrial, or urban levels as a heavy steel door surrounded by olive-drab sandbags marked with white stars.
+Discovery
Rumors of a "bunker level" spread amongst wanderers, where one could safely gather supplies and rest. Other rumors told of a room that gave wanderers items they needed to survive a dangerous level. Regardless, both rumors had a few constants between them: a bunker with no windows, supplies, and facelings dressed like soldiers.
+Room Details
The exact details of the bunkers seem to vary from each given account though one constant remains unique facelings dressed in 1960s military fatigues that are helpful and friendly toward wanderers.
+Notes
[Redacted]
Documentations
[Handwritten Note Found by M.E.G Explorers whilst visiting The Hub]
"I saw a heavy iron door with a white star upon it whilst wandering the hub and felt that immediate, irrational urge to enter. Stepping through that doorway was like a sensory slap to the face. One second I was in the hum-drum, fluorescent halls of the "Habitable Zone," and the next, my lungs were filled with the pungent but comforting stench of wet tent canvas, stale Lucky Strikes, and high-octane coffee.
The room was the inside of a concrete bunker, maybe 30 by 30 feet, lit by the warm, jittery flames of kerosene lanterns. The room felt solid. Real. The walls were lined with olive-drab crates and barrels stacked nearly to the low ceiling. I cracked one open; it was a goldmine of Almond Water and Military Rations their metal was cool to the touch, stacked alongside many more each filled with varying levels supplies. I even found a crate of those heavy-duty military flashlights the ones with the right-angle heads. I swapped out my flickering plastic one immediately.
But the real shocker? The Facelings.
There were nine Facelings inside. No faces, obviously, just that smooth, blank skin beneath M1 helmets and olive drab fatigues? The vibe was entirely different from the regular ones more militaristic if you will. Two were sprawled out on cots "reading" tattered manuals. Five others were hunched over a card table, silently dealing a hand of what seemed to be poker. They didn't reach for any of the M16s sprawled around the room, when I walked in; one just gave me a casual two-finger salute from the brim of his helmet whilst "Smoking" on a pack of 'Lucky Strikes'.
I’d been carrying a crumpled pack of cigarettes I’d scavenged back in Level 11, and I figured, why not? I sat down at the table and slid the pack toward them.
It sounds crazy, but they "lit up" (metaphorically) though I could feel it as if they had smiles on their non-existent faces. The one leaning against the walls gave me a thumbs-up that felt more human than half the people I’ve met in the Hub. I spent a good three hours there, just existing with them, smoking stale cigarettes, playing cards and packing supplies to go. By the time I was ready to head back out, I felt like I’d earned some type of bond with these strange facelings. Two of them actually followed me to the door, helping me hoist a fresh ruck-sack onto my back it was loaded with supplies they helped me gather, another actually followed me out and around holding one of the M16s I saw strewn about the room though internally I questioned its effectiveness, but the seemingly fearless nature of the faceling next to me placated my doubts.
I walked out with enough Almond Water and Food to last months, a friend and a brand new ruck-sack with non-Euclidian properties being unnaturally deep and extremely light. When the door clicked shut behind me, I turned to look back at it and it had vanished and Infront of me were the wheat fields of Level 10
Best R&R I’ve had in years."
— Miller