Also media Hi Sixteenth Minute listeners. Two things. First, if you're in the Los Angeles area on March second, my movie podcast with Caitlin Durante, The Bechdel Cast is having this big post oscar show and general variety show with some of our favorite guests from the past eight years of the Bechdel Cast at Dynasty Typewriter at seven point thirty right after the Oscars. You can get your tickets in the description for this episode, or if you don't live in the area, guess what. We are going to
be live streaming the event. If you can't watch it in the moment, you can watch it for a full week after if you can't watch that day. And yes, we will be wearing costumes from the substance I bought hair extensions. You're gonna want to see it. Second, please stop messaging me. Yes, I know Hawk to a girl. Haley welch that story as developments, But Sixteenth Minute is a show that gives stuff at least a little bit
of space to breathe before rushing to a conclusion. So it is very likely that I will return to Haley's saga, but not this week. But if you're just tuning in guess what you're in luck, there's something completely fucking different. When I was a kid, two things scared me more than anything. The first was these YouTube videos that people sent around when I was in middle school, where you would get like really close to the screen to look at something mysterious.
The audio would be really quiet, and then all of.
A sudden.
He sorry had to The other was the night I went over to my cousin's house to watch the ring, and I spent the next seven days convinced that I was going to die. Like every kid, I liked the feeling of being afraid, but could not physically handle when it actually happened. But like every kid, I did it all the time to show my older cousins that I was just as brave as them, when objectively I was not.
My cousin's family's house is over three hundred years old, and our grandfather had told us all kinds of stories about what had allegedly happened there, like in the eighteen hundreds, a man hung himself in the closet in the front room, a rich man named Charles Copeland was said to have blown his head off. He should have slaves who had escaped from the South supposedly hid in the basement. A maid was locked in a closet and clowed her way out,
leaving faint nail in prints on the door. Countless ghosts were spotted by my aunt's, my mom, my grandparents, my cousins, adopted this dalmatian one year that jumped out of a third story window and died. Did any of it really happen? Well, that last one definitely did and traumatized me. But the point is we thought all of it was true. And this was the house that we watched The Ring in
when I was nine. If you haven't had the pleasure, The Ring is a two thousand and three American remake of the Japanese horror movie Ringu, And while Ringo is technically the better movie, it was not the one that I peed myself during, so we're gonna stick with the American one. It stars Naomi Watts as a woman who
watches a cursed video tape. So if you watch the tape, you only have seven days to live before a little girl named Samara climbs out of a well with her hair draped over her face, all wet, and she climbs out of your TV. That you're playing the tape on and.
She kills you.
It's classic horror technophobia, a movie that makes a popular piece of technology forced nine year olds to pee themselves at their cousin's scary house. But weirdly enough, Ringu and subsequently The Ring was not originally written to scare kids
out of engaging with the VHS technology. It was based on a Japanese folktale that went back three hundred years before Ringu, and originally was a story that followed a samurai who wanted to make his servant girl Okiku, his mistress, which drove her to take her own life and haunt him, crawling out of the well that she drowned herself in, just like Samara climbs out of the well in the movie.
The story was adapted to a novel hundreds of years later in nineteen ninety eight, and it's this version of the story that became a horror hit in the US. And that's kind of the story of horror stories that transform as the ones lucky enough to make the jump from medium to medium survive. By the time The Ring gets to America, it's no longer about a Japanese samurai who wants to rape a young woman in his employment. Instead, it's about a neglected American daughter whose spirit is trapped
in a piece of almost temporary technology. The core anxieties that the story explores are basically the same, but the technology and personal dynamics that communicate them are constantly shifting. Technophobia was a core feature of the early Internet.
One.
I remember my parents and my fellow children with secret MySpace accounts got really scared over were these copy pasta emails that you had to send to ten friends or face certain death.
Every chain has a link. Every link is a life break the chain lose a life, Send this to five people, or death will come for you. You have twenty four hours.
These wouldn't work now, and not just because most of us would welcome the sweet embrace of death. It's that the idea of a haunted email sounds kind of silly now. But chain emails are a good example of Web one point zero horror stories that explore that the idea of a computer or the Internet itself was scary. Like we talked about in our Hawkta series, Web two horror centers
anxieties around social networks. I think my favorite in this genre was probably the movie Unfriended, which takes place on a skype call with a killer who hacks in.
Use.
Who is that I just tried to hang up on them?
Can we get rid of this person? I don't know is here the whole time?
It's just probably a glitch.
Well, the glitch just tight. Web three horror is a hawk Tua era dystopia defined by fears around the blockchain and the decentralized Internet. So a lot of AI anxiety here. My favorite so far is probably the movie Megan, You Gotta Love Megan.
Research shows if you force chilpy vegetables they'll be less likely to chose those foods as adults.
Does that so yes, experts, you can turn off. I thought we were having a conversation. What's consistent in online horror is a fairly straightforward oral tradition. These are anonymous written stories and short films about the corners of the Internet that are terrifying. Since the early two thousands, a lot of these have come to be known as creepy pastas a play on the copy pasta term used to describe those old copy paste forward this email to ten people,
or you will die kind of thing. Creepy pastas have been an online community that's waxed and waned for two decades, but there are consistence there. They're tech based horror stories and their absolute catnip for middle schoolers. And in twenty nineteen, one of the most famous modern horror stories put people in a choke hold, beginning only with a photo, one that had been circulating in spooky online communities for years, but didn't find its foothold in the public imagination until
it was posted to four chan. The image isn't high quality. It looks like it was taken by a two thousands era digital camera, you know, crisp, but a little pixely somehow. Still, the colors are oversaturated and the contrast is a bit too high. The space pictured is lit by fluorescent lights in the ceiling. There's not an inch of this space. You can't see in the queasy sort of way that
fluorescent lights allow. The thing is, there's not a lot to see because what we're looking at is a series of empty rooms, eerily empty rooms, and a space of indeterminate size. From our vantage point, which is a little crooked, as if the image was taken carelessly or when someone was surprised, we can see through at least three empty rooms, all with slightly different off white wallpaper that seems old enough to have faded to this sickly kind of yellow.
There's a number of entrances into this space, but no windows and no doors. The molding is the same in every room. There's electrical outlets with nothing plugged in. The carpeting is a flat brown with what looks like the occasional wet spot. In a previous life, it could have been a painfully outdated office space, or maybe a waiting room. It's vacant now, but you can't help but feel like
maybe you've been here before. Ian stopped the music. If you haven't seen the actual image of the back rooms yet, just pause the podcast and look it up. Okay, assuming you've gotten a proper look now. Audio mediums are tricky because memes are famously visual. But hopefully you see what I mean here. Okay, you can start the scary music again.
This image was posted by an anonymous user in response to a prompt asking for images that were somehow off and on May thirteenth, twenty nineteen, for whatever reason, it clicked. Another anon responded to the photo, soon to be known as the back rooms with the lure that would make it famous.
If you're not careful and you no clip out of reality in the wrong areas, you'll end up in the backrooms, where it's nothing but the stink of old moist carpet, the madness of mono yellow, the endless background noise of harescent lights at maximum hum buzz, and approximately six hundred million square miles of randomly segmented empty rooms to be trapped in. God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it's sure as hell has heard you the back room.
Your sixteenth minute starts now.
I'm not.
Joy stay.
Six Welcome back to sixteenth Minute, the podcast where we look at the internet's main characters of the day, speak to them or this week the people who discovered them, and what that says about us and the Internet. And in keeping with the absolute yawning void that many Americans continue to feel during an absolute brutal start to the year, I hope everyone is doing okay all things considered. Today, I want to explore the world of the back rooms.
A creepy image that off of a few pixels has exploded into multiple communities, a philosophical community, an ever growing horror fiction community, and a real life mystery. Today we're going to explore all three, and I'll be honest, this episode is a little weird for this show because it
revolves around these freaky existential communities. But it's a freaky existential time, right And if you hang with us until the end of this episode, I can tell you exactly where the photo of the Backrooms was taken and the's actual history. So come with me if you dare to. May twenty nineteen, Lewis Varakhan and Milo Uanapolis are banned from Mark Zuckerberg's platforms. How quaint? Remember when he used
to do that? Harry and Megan had a baby, which really mattered to one girl from your high school who was like, the real family is slaying right now, and you didn't have the heart to reminder about colonialism. And after years of random circulation, a four Chan user gave shape to what exactly made the back rooms so terrifying.
If you haven't looked at the image of the back Rooms yet, I encourage you to look at my Instagram give it a like while you're at it, because unlike a lot of Internet horror, the back Rooms picture hasn't been photoshopped to look scarier than it actually is. The eeriness isn't because there's something scary in frame, but it's the tension, the uncertainty.
The God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it's sure as hell has heard you.
Of it all.
And the back Rooms only got more popular as a site of horror. And there's three or so years to follow after it was first posted to four chan in this weird thread, because wouldn't you know it, people were really susceptible to seeing fear in a lonely room that they felt trapped in during the year twenty twenty. Impossible to say why the back Rooms were the right harbinger
of doom that went viral at the right time. But what fascinates me about the back Rooms is just how much this weird picture of a few empty rooms that I can't explain why but I know it smells weird has inspired to the point where I feel the need to explain these separate, opposing camps that devotees of the Backrooms fall into, and they seem to attract audiences at different stages of life. Reading one the slightly older set.
From what I can gather find. The most haunting part of the backrooms is seeing it as a liminal space. We'll call them the liminal backrooms, and I include myself in this camp. The backrooms became the most popular example of this bizarre, familiar but menacing void like image, a perfect example of what many in the late twenty tens
were accumulating and distributing on forums as liminal spaces. This side of the Backroom's fandom appear to agree that there is this feeling of vague danger in this image, but not a danger that implies a monster. What the backrooms are haunted by is absence, the feeling that anyone who spent time there is gone. Now it's mystery, it's nothingness, it's seemingly infinite. Space is where the terror is. And then there is the second camp that younger people seem
to have fallen into during the Backroom's initial popularity. Reading too, this view of the backrooms put overt terror into the space by putting it in a creepy pasta format, so making the backrooms the setting of an extremely online campfire story, sometimes using familiar monsters and story beats from within the creepy pasta community to spin out fan fiction and web series, and almost all of this fan fiction and web series that I could learn about the authors were made by
people about college age or younger. We're gonna call them the Creepy Pasta backrooms. And in the Creepy Pasta Backrooms, you were being pursued through this infinite space by a monster who wants to kill you. You can maybe see why these first two groups tend not to overlap in spite of being inspired by the same blurry picture. One relies on the absence of context in the image, and the other attempts to put something supernatural into that image.
And while there's no definitive view of the backrooms, the Creepy Pasta read is certainly more conducive to internet viral spread. For young creative people. It serves as almost a writing prompt to make something about what you think is going to be lurking behind those walls. But there's a third community,
the lost media backrooms. Unlike the first two, this group isn't interested in the emotions that the backroom's image provokes, but is concerned with finding the location of the actual backrooms. The physical location, a task that takes a lot of patience and diligence, and I'm thrilled to report, Yes, the backrooms have been identified and they're still there, and the
journey defining them was goddamn fascinating. The discovery of the IRL backrooms was a year's long project with hundreds of contributors from the online lost media community and marked one of their hardest spot successes ever. But to fully understand these communities and how they interact with each other, I want to start with reading too the overt horror Creepy Pasta backrooms, which became the most famous space for amateur horror of the last ten years. So what are creepy pastas?
By definition? Their Internet horror folk tales scary stories told from person to person, usually by amateurs, anonymously, and very often both. And while there is now an official creep past A website, the community began in the late nineties into the early two thousands and began pretty decentralized. A number of creepypasta folks would pop up anywhere from boards on four Chan and read it to old school angel
fire sites and blog platforms. The first story to ever formally exist in this space was published online in two thousand and one called Ted the Caver, a series of blog posts that followed anonymous splunkers deeper into a very narrow local cave, who were subsequently driven mad by a supernatural being after discovering new cave passages, higheroglyphics, and start
having nightmares. The story ends with a post saying that the splunkers are planning to bring a gun into the cave next time, and then the blog was never updated again. Part of the appeal of Ted the Caver at the time was the ambiguity to the two thousand and one audience of whether this really happened or not. The story was formatted on an angel fire blog and was updated over a period of two months and included links. It
mimicked the real life blogging craze of the time. It's kind of an internet version of the Blair Witch Project, which came out two years before in nineteen ninety nine.
Can you Believe the O Cult may be involved in the disappearance of your son?
I'm So Scared?
And the movie created intentional confusion when it presented itself as a true found footage documentary. This approach would be replicated in later creepy pastas, but like anything, it really depends on the writer's skill as to whether these stories are actually scary. But I will say, as an adult, the best thing about creepypastas to me is that they're usually written with this kind of uncanny, amateurist style. And the reason that is is because it's mostly kids writing them.
Here's an example of what I'm talking about. This is a very successful creepy pasta story called Jeff the Killer. And what Jeff the Killer is about is a kid named Jeff, and you'll never believe what he does. Here is how the anonymous writer describes Jeff being bullied.
Early in the story, the kid landed and turned back to them. He kicked his skateboard up and caught it with his hands.
The kid seemed to be about.
Twelve, one year younger than Jeff. He wears an aeropostle shirt and ripped blue jeans. Well, well, well looks like we got some meat.
Totally exactly and now thankfully, Jeff the Killer later gets his revenge when he Jeff that kills this bully. Let's hear how he does it.
Something inside Jeff snaps, His psyche is destroyed, All rational thinking is gone. All he can do is kill. He grabs Randy and pile drives him to the ground. He gets on top of him and punches him straight in the heart. The punch causes Randy's heart to stop.
I hate when that happens. There are hundreds of thousands of creepypastas, and they revolve around popular characters or popular ideas like the back rooms, which means that some are going to be better than others. Here's something from one of the backroom stories that I liked more.
I was about halfway done with filling in my information when I slumped back in my chair. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior, and I was exhausted. As I slumped back, I noticed something very peculiar. My head never hit the wall. In fact, it felt like it went in. I got up, quite frightened and looked at the wall. Nothing, not a single hole or dent had been made in the wall by my head. So I reached to touch the wall and my fingers went through it pretty good.
Right, But there are a lot of bad ones. And I'm not knocking the fact that these stories are amateurish, because, to be honest, Jeff the Killer's bullies air apostle shirt and that heart punch probably would have scared the shit
out of me as a kid. But the more I read through these stories, the more it started to connect with me that creepy pastas are a way for creative kids to navigate their fears in the same way that fan fiction is a way for kids to navigate some of their early sexual or just generally out a lesson feelings. The story has depict these experiences of fear and their own bodies that in all likelihood they haven't had yet,
but they think about all the time. For comparison, here is a pull from the classic fan fiction story My Immortal, which was based in the Harry Potter universe, which will become clear very quickly. Here it is.
And then suddenly, just as I Draco kissed me passionately. Draco climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took off my top and I took off his clothes. I even took off my bra Then he put his thingy into my you know what, and.
We did it for the first time. There is so much lore around the fan fiction My Immortal, but the short story is that it was written by a girl in middle school, and she uses these familiar characters and formative crushes in order to imagine herself in a sexual predicament. And so, while the Creepy Pasta and fanfit communities may not have full overlap, they serve similar functions and both have crossed over into the mainstream pretty successfully after peaking
in the mid twenty tens. And while the back Rooms made its debut a few years after peak Creepy Pasta, they quickly became a popular recurring location in the Creepy Pasta space, not because of its emptiness and scariness, but
because of the infinite possibilities for hiding unseen monsters. The most famous of these were made by a then sixteen year old filmmaker named Kane Parsons on YouTube, who short titled The back Rooms Found footage garnered millions of views when it first dropped in early twenty twenty two, going on to inspire about twenty more sh shorts from Cain
after and these shorts are really fucking good. After no clipping out of reality, something that can be prompted by something as innocuous as a stumble, the mean character ends up in the infinite Rooms.
What the hell?
This series places the back Rooms explicitly in the world of the supernatural, and while purists aren't necessarily happy about it, Caine Parsons recently signed a deal with A twenty four to adapt the series into a feature and as with the Creepypastas before it, like slender Man or other longstanding alternate reality spaces online, the back Rooms built out a
ton of lore through series like Cain's. In the series, there's a reveal of a big secret corporation that discovered the realm of the Backrooms, and it's told in the same found footage realism style that made successes of the Blair Witch Project and Ted the caver So. At the time of this writing, as I said, the Creepy pasta interpretation of the Backrooms is far more popular than either.
We're going to talk about later in the episode. But what I think makes it special is that, unlike so much of what we see as necessary to make a footprint on the Internet right now, the scam, the recognition, the desperation, honestly that a companies hoping this moment could improve your life during a time that feels so hopeless. While the story is about the void that feeling really
isn't present in the creepypasta backrooms. The online video games designed to walk through the backrooms you can play for free. Caane Parson's work is free to consume, and much of the built out creepypasta lure isn't even attributed to any one person. It's a community built on passion and connection over a shared interest and I guess a shared fear.
And I think that's really cool. We could talk about the types of monsters one finds in the back rooms all day, but I wanted to talk to a true scholar of the creepy pasta form enter Sarah Bimo, author of The Horror of Networked Experience, which is a full look into how creepy pastas and Web two led to stories like this. Here's our talk.
Hi, my name is Sarah Bimo. I'm a PhD candidate at your university in Toronto, Canada. My research really broadly is about like kind of like effective experiences of digital life, so like sinceations, emotions, like forms of knowledge that are not distinctly rational. Yeah. I love creepy pasta and written a book chapter about it and working on a follow up.
The chapter that you sent a long dev it's so fascinating. It's called the horror of networked existence. But before we get into sort of the contents of your research, I'm curious in your field of study, what first drew you to creepy process.
I'm kind of like was initially and still am like another object of study and of interest for me was the way is that people on social media sites developed like intuitions of algorithms and algorithmic governance.
So you're probably.
Familiar with a lot of these intuitions, like stuff like I'll go speak, you know, where people self censor themselves to avoid like the purview of like what feels like, you know, omnipotent algorithm on.
A live great sort of that line of.
Yes, exactly, gotcha.
Yeah.
So that's one example of things that I see as intuitions, like forms of knowledge about technological systems that are not developed rational and birationally I mean, like necessarily entirely cognitively and through gaining like true information about like the code of the algorithm or whatever, but are developed kind of tacitly and bodily and creepy pasta I see as a similar kind of phenomenon what I classify as classic creepy pasta like written let's say, like before twenty ten or so.
I see it as something that is like kind of the product of maybe like unconscious anxieties surrounding like digital communication that kind of come to fruition and manifest as this new form of horror. And separately, I just like I read it a lot as a kid, and I just like.
I say, were you a creepy pasta kid? As well? You have to out yourself as a creepypasta head, But it feels like incorrect me if I'm wrong. But the only sort of creepy pasta that has ever broken through to the mainstream is the slender Man story.
Definitely.
Slender Man is undoubtedly the most popular in.
The moment, so cynical way possible. It does make sense to adapt creepy pastas because they're of dubious authorship and they've already been focus grouped essentially, But to start, where do creepypastas come from? How do they sort of grow in popularity over time?
Creepy pastas are very interesting, and they've often been compared to like folk tales or legends or myths because classic ones like the ones that kind of came out in the early days of the Internet.
Relatively. By that, I mean like the early two thousands.
Dish are largely anonymous and often kind of crowd sourced so collectively authored, so flour chan is the common source for many of them. I know that slender Man began on the Something Awful forums where a user named Victor Surge posted these like photoshop images featuring these like tall creepy man. But if that's where it started, and then kind of through collective authorship, they the legend grew and
grew and grew. This is very similar to folklore practices, wherein uh there's like a kind of distributed anonymous authorship that allows the stories to develop and morph over time, so that the you know, possibly the most interesting or shocking or like memeable elements of them are able to kind of grow and get developed, whereas the boring stuff maybe gets like left to the wayside, So that way they're kind of like bread to be as maybe like
dynamic and as effective affecting as possible. There's also like the Reddit slash the r slash No Sleep forum, where obviously you cannot be as anonymous as you can be fortune. So I think that this kind of sense of authenticity and of you know, urban legendness is fostered through this like collective role play. The folk tale qualities are fostered through kind of different means.
I think it's also interesting that it seems to sort of rise to prominence alongside fan fiction forums, which I know are their own animal altogether, but the idea that like, yeah, sort of during the web one point zero era, there are anonymous writers that are sort of building these worlds collectively. But as far as the Creepy Pasta world goes, what is drawing people to it? And do you have a feeling of what sort of age range or demographics participate in these groups.
I can't say for certain. My impression is that it's largely younger people. I have that impression just from you know the fact that when I was a Creepy Pasta kid, the intranet was something that like mostly younger people were on. My parents like would never have had any idea, whereas now they're kind of like more on social media and stuff. Also just kind of the quality of the writing. Often, I think the fact that traditionally this kind of practice
of like campfire stories and stuff. It's like it's something really associated with teenagers and young adults. And also I think it's kind of a sense of a kind of coming of age present through many of these stories.
Sometimes that's more ambiguous.
I think there's a sense of being confronted with like the kind of your raucracy and infrastructures of the adult world that.
Is somehow being negotiated in these.
So in classic creepypasta, there's like often like email is a source of horror, So that's one example. Then I'm also thinking of the kind of infrastructural horror ones which like makes strange the process of like driving or like elevators. There needs to be like a sense of wonder and strangeness, making strange of the mundane to you know, be explored like as thoroughly as it is explored in creepypasta. Another really common theme is this kind of nightmares nostalgia of
like childhood TV shows or experiences. So like a big thing is like theme parks that are scary. Handle Cove is about like a kid's TV show that a bunch of people all watched. Within the digesis of the story that turned out to be like demonic and nightmarish. So I just get this kind of strong sense of anxiety of a separation from childhood that is being dealt with or negotiated in some way. People who are full adults are often like probably like more okay with the transition
from childhood to adulthood. You're like more established, And I don't know, it could definitely be like made strange and alienated. It's like a very common topic, but yeah, the particular preoccupation I just a very very teenage, very young adult.
And you're right about this as well of a way of forming the networked self, which you describe as sort of a Web two point zero innovation, but almost as a tool to help form identity and navigate anxieties and fears through this genre. How did you sort of come to that conclusion as you were.
Studying Queepypasta as a genre reflects anxieties surrounding the Web two point oh model of communication, which is marked by like, for example, more interactivity, kind of platformization, you know, social media versus Web one point zero, which was characterized by
like kind of static web pages, less interactivity. The reason I kind of came to that interpretation was because of this common preoccupation with the affordances of Web two point oh, like the modalities of the Internet and the infrastructure of the Internet itself was like the topic of many of these stories I mentioned before, Like email is often deployed as like a narrative element. Smile Dog, for example, consists of like a cursed image that is shared via email.
And I think this praise upon this kind of fear of surveillance and of exterior forces that can reach you no matter where you are, no matter what time. It is the instantaneity of communication, which is like unprecedented in human history. For example, the telephone, like the telegram, letters, like none of these forms of communication are able to do this.
Now that we've moved into Web three point zero, how have these stories changed to reflect more contemporary technological anxieties.
It's interesting, Like I was thinking about how the back Rooms is similar and dissimilar to like classic creepypasta, because I think the Backrooms is the natural inheritor of this tradition and it's also quite popular. Another maybe kind of similar one is like SCP, like a collaborative wiki wherein people post articles about like the SEP Foundation, which deals with like paranorl Moor.
Threats and stuff.
I think that classic creepypasta maybe allows for the possibility of a non digital life in that it's almost kind of like moralistic, where it's like if you spend too much time on the internet, if you're always like on your email, you're more likely to become victim to what
dark forces like animate the web. But there is this possibility of a non digital like natural life, almost and I think that the backgrounds at least no longer engages with that, or it's not really committed to the idea that there is the possibility for a non digital life.
I say this because I don't think there's the same kind of moralizing of don't do this and you'll be safe, but rather there's like the acceptance that this kind of mode of reality, which is conditioned by technology and by the Internet and by digitalization, is completely pervasive and it's
just now a fundational structure of our lives. The source of fear becomes maybe more sophisticated or more complex in that they're now just engaging with kind of questions of appearance versus reality, like more fundamentally like what is reality? There are still these kind of fears of ghosts and demons and forces that haunt web infrastructures, but it's no longer possible to escape them by getting offline. They are
perhaps more and more endemic and more unavoidable. So I feel like the fear is it feels more existential and more kind of deeply rooted. Again, these are This is just kind of you know, my thoughts on seeing like the backrooms posts.
But that makes a lot of sense. Is I think a lot of the anxieties or knee jerk reactions to earlier forms of Internet anxiety is how do I make this go away? Where now it's more like I can't make this go away? How can I navigate it in a way that's comfortable for me? Which is like a pretty major shift.
The backrooms is really like a case of like children yearned for third spaces, because I think that our current moment is one in which public space has been largely like neoliberalized and rendered completely sterile and kind of hostile to forms.
Of identity formation and community making.
And the back rooms in the backgrounds I see a bit of a reflection of this kind of anxiety or feeling that there's the home, there's the workplace. There's the domain of nature and there's nothing outside of that. Because and this relates to the luminality again, these are places you just kind of like pass through. They have a standardized architecture, a kind of deindividualized people. Everyone is rendered
the same by passing through them. So I think this is also a kind of anxiety surrounding late stage capitalism and the effects it has on kind of architecture and space and identity.
Thank you so much to Sarah Bimo. You can find more of her work in the description of this episode. So call me Giata deal a Renis on Halloween, because honey, that was some creepy pasta. Give me some horns. And when we come back, we're switching gears to the philosophical the liminal Backrooms. Welcome back to sixteenth minute. I once got so scared reading a slender Man's story that I had to watch six consecutive episodes of Family Guy to
calm down. And we're returning to the Backrooms to get a better look at the second now vibrant online community that helped launch them into fame and stick around because the true story of the Backrooms comes right after this. But first, more Glorious Weirdness listener the Liminal Backrooms. The liminal space community existed prior to the popularity of the backrooms, but for many, including myself, it was through the backrooms that I learned that this community and this term exists
did at all. So unless you're an ap English expat or just a fan of this genre of weird Internet, you might need a better working definition of what a liminal space actually means. Liminal, according to miss Merriam Webster, is.
Of relating to or situated at a sensory threshold barely perceptible or capable of eliciting a response.
So threshold is the key word here. When applied in a cultural or anthropological space, liminal is something associated with a ritual around a life marker. So think bar Mitzvah's kinsinirez Sweet sixteens, religious confirmations, all rituals associated with adolescents the ugliest, horniest threshold of human life. And the way that this same word is used in the liminal space community doesn't ignore the dictionary definie, but it does clarify
the feeling that accompanies it. If you search liminal space, it becomes obvious that this feeling of transition is present. Liminal spaces are pictures of places that you would only spend time in on your way to somewhere else. Think hotel hallways in the middle of the night, empty airports, waiting rooms, old malls, rest stops, abandoned parking lots, specific spaces that are associated with a passing through. Very rarely
someone's actual home. And what's another way to say that, oh yeah, thresholds Liminal spaces in this Internet community are defined by the uneasiness one gets when looking at them. They're usually empty, always of people, and often of lighting or objects. If you're in the hotel hallway, you're always alone. The mall is more often than not abandoned, and whatever remains of its stores are sparse and feel from a
past decade. There is an implied nostalgia to many of these liminal spaces by extension, and that's one of the reasons I think they appeal to a slightly older audience, because those are people who can summon the image of something they remember that no longer exists, like chunky cheese
animatronic bands. But there is one small controversy within the liminal backrooms interpretation, and that's whether a liminal space can be strictly one that exists in real life, or if a digital space can be liminal too, And this disagreement appears to be microgenerational. People who associate nostalgia with analog technology tend to be purists and say nothing on a computer could be liminal, while people who grew up online have a much easier time seeing this quality in older
digital images. I'm a little bit on the fence about this one, and I tend to find the photos of old malls and hallways scarier than AI generated infinity spaces. But there are some digital images that I find eerie, not just because of their implied void, but because of the nostalgia I get when I look at them. An example that stands out to me is this old screensaver that would loop in countless elementary school computer labs I
went into when I was a kid. The screensaver is this infinite brick hallway that every few seconds turned to corner after corner, and the walls occasionally turn to concrete for no reason. The screensaver was amazed and nowhere, but every once in a while, this translucent smiley face would appear at the end of one of the hallways like almost like it was saying congratulations, you made it, except
you hadn't made it. You push right through the smiley face and take the next turn into the infinite corridor. It never ends. That to me is an extremely liminal space. But there's also the matter of timing. Remember the back rooms became popular shortly before the pandemic lockdown of twenty twenty and would only become more popular through the early years of the decade, culminating with Kane Parsons series in
twenty twenty two. Kane Parsons would have been about fourteen years old during the pandemic lockdown, So the audience and often the creators of this content were people at a liminal place in their lives adolescence, living in this moment in history that also felt very liminal, because what were the early twenty twenties defined by, if not discomfort, forced isolation,
fear and uncertainty. Fortunately things have improved, of course, This still expanding corner of the Internet didn't invent the idea of spaces, but it sharpened the definition and pinpointed the feeling that a true liminal space is thought to evoke. There are plenty of artists who pre date the Internet who have captured this feeling very effectively, filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick with the long, eerie hotel Hallways of the Shining,
basically all of the work of David Lynch. And there's also the cautionary, very vacant feeling cities of techno dystopia movies like Videodrome and Blade Runner. And this aesthetic has inspired a fair amount of YouTube horror, which I'll specify not the creepypasta corner of YouTube. We'll get there, but these videos and stories around eerie, slow moving, empty landscapes, and as time marched on, the kids that experienced these kinds of liminal spaces grew up and began making liminal
art of their own. Yile Edward Ball and Jane Schoenbrunn are horror film directors. They're both born in the late eighties, and their respectively fantastic movies that reference online horror are both influenced by creepy pasta and the movies in film that influence that culture. So just an araboris of backroom
like spaces. Kyle Edward Ball's first feature is twenty twenty two's skin amerink a terrifying found footage movie about two young siblings who find themselves seemingly alone in the middle of the night, and then the doors and windows of the house begin to disappear. It's liminal to its core and just full of this sense of claustrophobia, of a space where you're supposed to feel safe, you're home, but the space is collapsing within itself. And Ball didn't find
liminality by mistake. He got his start by making horror shorts on YouTube from twenty seventeen to twenty twenty one, and I fanesked what will become his signature style in a series called Fite Sized Nightmares, where he would adapt viewers submitted recaps of their own nightmares and translate them into experiment films to post on YouTube. He told The New York Times about his connection to internet horror back in twenty twenty three.
I had a YouTube channel where people would comment on things that scared them. But as I kept giving that answer, I realized there are a lot of things that inspired this movie that I'm not even comfortable to say.
At the heart of.
It is pain and sadness and a little bit of anger.
And then there's the work of Jane Schoenbrun, whose most recent movie is the incredible I Saw the TV Glow.
They also got their start online. Their first project, twenty eighteen's A Self Induced Hallucination, was composed of only found online footage that ended up piecing together a narrative about the history of creepypasta legend the slender Man, and when they moved into films that they shot on their own, we get the mother Load, the best example I've seen of how spaces like the backrooms and Creepy Pasta can shape and define adolescence. Twenty twenty one's We're All Going
to the World's Fair. The movie follows a loner, neglected teenage girl's obsessive journey doing a creepy Pasta style YouTube challenge called the World's Fair Challenge. And for what it's worth, boilers ahead for this movie, so please give ahead a minute or so if you haven't seen it and you want to. It's streaming on Max right now. And while we spend most of the movie thinking that what's happening to her is supernatural, she's flailing in her sleep, she's
smearing paint on her face. It's revealed in a conversation between her and another World's Fair Challenge participant at the end. But this isn't true at all. She's just doing what a lot of teenagers do, usaying her feelings of loneliness and frustration through an alternate reality horror game, something we only learn when the other player worries that she might hurt herself in real life?
How long until I do it? I need to sure, code, I promise you was scared.
I think I need to ask you something.
Sure?
What is it? But when we need to go out of the game first? Is that?
Is that?
Okay? Sure?
What's that?
That's an expression?
It means outside the margins of the game.
World's Fare pinpoints the straddled experiences of the liminal back rooms and the creepy pasta backrooms. For the whole movie, the protagonist, Casey, retreats into the perceived horror of being possessed in order to process the suffering that they're feeling as an outsider during an extremely liminal stage of her life. When you take a step back, the actual liminal space
that the character exists in is her own bedroom. When asked about the Internet's influence on their work in twenty twenty two in Little White Lies, Schonbrunn said, it's driving as much from the dial up wild West, haunted landscape that was my childhood online as it is from twenty twelve era creepy pasta amateur YouTube aesthetics, and I was of that generation where the computer entered the home and slowly became more and more of a magnet. Especially for
me as a queer creative kid. It was a space that was really important for me because it was hard to be both of those things. Where I was growing up, it was viewed as dark or strange, or danger, risks or wrong. I would wait for everyone to go to bed and stay up on the computer, writing and reading fan fiction, lurking on message boards, and aiming with people from school and weirdos I met online. It was something I never acknowledged or talked about in my real life.
That's the dominant experience I was drawing from emotionally and trying to explore with the film. I have a strong suspicion that combining technophobia with the reality of living in a real, three dimensional dystopia is going to dominate horror in the years to come, especially as go to creatives have a closer and more formative relationship with the Internet, and if that art is anything like Kyle and James,
we're in for some good stuff. So I wanted to talk to someone who deeply understood the academic and contemporary definitions of liminal spaces to get to the core of what the backrooms means better. And we're better to look for someone with this very particular set of skills than the Internet. Peter Heft is a philosopher who spent a hell of a lot of time analyzing the way that we interpret space and how it affects us psychologically. I learned so much about how liminality originated in his paper
Betwixt and Between Zones as liminal and deterritorialized Spaces. Here's our talk.
My name is Peter Heft. I'm a doctoral candidate at the Center for the Study of Theory and Criticism at the University of Western Ontario.
What drew you to the idea of liminality and just sort of realizing that, you know, while there's been a lot of writing about space just conceptually, there hasn't been a lot of writing about this phenomenon specifically.
I think there are I guess a few ways to answer that. So on the one hand, right, I was drawn to this topic generally because I was reading the work of HP Lovecraft, and within his work, this idea of thresholds and passing beyond on the known into the
unknown is this kind of recurring motif. And at the time I was also listening to a very interesting podcast called Weird Studies that kind of tackles similar topics from an academic vein, and I realized, I guess that like this question of zones and liminality was talked about a lot in an anthropological register, also in kind of like the weird fiction and weird theory side of things, But the melding of the two was somewhat there, and I wanted to try to fill some niche.
The most basic question I could ask here is what is a classic example of a liminal space of this threshold like space you're describing.
There are a few ways to think about it. The kind of traditional anthropological account, right, is a more personal or subjective accounting, a mental space where someone is kind of excluded from a community for the sake of building themselves up, and then they're reintegrated within the community. And so this is like a space in a sense of like a zone of indistinction where they are kind of part of the community but kind of not. And that's
the traditional anthropological understanding at least. There's also then the kind of Internet account which is quite literally like a space, which would be like an airport or a bus station or things like that, like the copy pasta Reddit post that's like, oh, this is like a scary type of place, right.
At least in the Internet sense. A lot of these limital spaces, Yeah, they definitely look creepy. They're very often very like monochromatic and empty. But the point you made was that there are ordinarily places that you don't stay for very long, rest stops, like waiting rooms, like places where you're not where you're intended to be between doing other things.
One of the things that is interesting, and I was thinking about this last night, is that I think there's a distinction between I guess what I would call an intrinsic or an inherently liminal space and one that is not in transit clear inherently limital, and the former instance, I think it would be like bus stops, airports, train stations, things like that, insofar as they are literally designed to be threshold spaces between a destination and between destinations, right,
And we can kind of see this very literally codified and like the weird legal status of airports, like you're kind of in the country, you're kind of not. It's those are very literally threshold spaces. But I think those are ultimately not all that interesting because they're so rigidly defined, Like they are explicitly defined as spaces in between destinations
are two more codified locales. I think the more interesting instance would be things that are kind of wrenched from their ordinary context, or spaces that are changed depending on how we interact with them. And I think those can become liminal or cease having a level of limonel depending upon how we're interacting with them. And certainly there's more to say on that as well.
But I mean, what would be an example of a space like that?
Yeah, I mean I think a school, I think is an interesting example, right because on the one hand, right, you go to like around any school during the academic year, and there are children running around, and there's like garbage all around, and there's like bells, drinking and stuff like that, Right, But once you enter the school during the winter or the summer. It's the context is very different. There's nobody running around, it's absent. You hear just the tick of
clocks on the walls. But our relationship to this space has changed dramatically, and I think that provides it's one instance of kind of like an unsettling feeling.
Perhaps I wanted to go back a little bit to talk about the anthropological definition of liminality versus what we've seen it sort of evolved into on the Internet, because it seems like the liminality of anthropology is kind of a more psychological state. Could you give me some examples of that, because I know you reference that it's related to feeling like a ritual or a major change.
I can't give like a specific example of a like specific indigenous group where like such a ritual might take place, because I'm not an anthropologist in that context. Right, it's a rite of passage insofar as somebody is not wholly accepted within the group until they complete some certain task or whatever, and that's like this zone of indistinction where they're perhaps still a child, not quite an adult, or I guess we can also think of this in kind
of religious contexts as well. Like in Judaism, right, you're still a child, but you're almost an adult as you're
learning to read the tara for a barmitzvah. Traditionally, like cultural things, the jump to the kind of physical register in the context of the Internet creepypasta sphere has probably just been an appropriation of terms to some extent, insofar as the Latin lineman just literally means threshold, So I would imagine that there's in that sense just an appropriation of terms, but also perhaps kind of this weird recognition that like, once you perhaps enter these odd spaces, you're
somewhat excluded from whatever you had been in previously, Like you venture into the back rooms and you're no longer in the hotel, or you're no longer amongst the living or whatever.
I mean, being thirteen years old kind of does feel like being in a haunted room. It's extremely lonely and a little scary. I can see how people get from A to B there.
You could say that I guess middle school would be a like that kind of threshold space in a weird way.
Cool, Yeah, is there anything else that you'd like to touch.
On the other thing that I was thinking about, I suppose is you were. There's also kind of for anyone that plays video games in your audience, right, there's the phenomenon of no clipping or clipping out of a map, which in the context of video games, right, you are wandering around and given a map that's been created, and you run up against the edge and there's a glitch and you kind of jump out of the map and
you can see the entire world that you're in. And that's an example of I guess this like kind of a weird digital version of of the back room. Is that I think that one who is familiar with video games has probably encountered at some point like the world has not fully been rendered yet.
Thank you so much to Peter. You can find more of his work in the description of this episode. And when we come back, we solve the real life mystery of the back rooms. Welcome back to sixteenth minute. I've rewritten this episode no fewer than three times, because man, does the Internet know how to complicate a series of pixels and buckle in because now that you know the world built around the backrooms, let's meet the rooms themselves.
We're making room for the rooms, if you will. I've seen this week, people are taking the lyrics of defining gravity and really holding space with that and feeling power in that. I didn't know that that was happening. In the final read of the back Rooms, as discovered by the online Lost media community, please meet eight o seven Oregon Street in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Oshkosh nineteen twelve a Wisconsin
city named after a menomine chief. It's a small Midwestern city of around thirty three thousand people by the year that the fictional movie Titanic takes place in It was first famous for being the site of a number of lumber mills, but a great fire consumed most of the
city's businesses in eighteen seventy five. They eventually rebuilt, and by nineteen twelve, their local paper, the Oshkosh Northwestern announces there's a new bomb and calend apartment store that'll be built on the south side of town, and it's completed and opened by the end of nineteen thirteen. The second floor of this location where the eventual back room's photo will be taken, because yes, the backrooms are on the
second floor, not a basement. The second floor is said to be devoted entirely to women's ready to wear apparel, millinery, rugs, carpets, draperies, et cetera. Fast forward to nineteen forty five. The store changes its name to Hirschberg's after it's sold and the building is remodeled panty girdles for only two ninety five Sign me up. The building is sold again in nineteen fifty five and is remodeled, this time as Rohner's Furniture,
who expanded the building again ten years later. By the seventies. They installed the carpet that we now associate with the back rooms and installed drop ceilings, those being the dull gray ceiling portions that those freaky fluorescent lights are installed in in offices. I was curious why these panels and lights are so associated with the seventies to me, and after looking into it YouTuber and would you believe it?
A woman I once shared a desk with at the Boston Globe, Hendre Gaylord, made a wonderful video about why this happened. It doesn't make the drop ceilings any prettier, but it does place the back rooms firmly in the story of twentieth century American architecture. Here's the explanation in her video.
But the other thing that made drop ceilings so popular in the seventies was the increase in oil prices, and this renovation was right in between two big ones in nineteen seventy three and nineteen seventy nine. The lower ceiling can reduce seating costs, and in a big, old building like this, I bet that was very enticing. If you have a drop ceiling in your house or your apartment and you're wondering when it was added, there's a pretty good chance that had happened right in this period.
Eight oh seven Oregon Street was expanded again in nineteen seventy seven and then nineteen ninety. By ninety four, Roner's Furniture went out of business and the space that it used is subdivided to be used by a series of small businesses, and after a short stint as the Miles Kimball Warehouse outlet and as an estate sales space, in two thousand and two the iconic photo of the backrooms was taken, and all of this explains a lot of why the back rooms looks as weird as it does.
By the time that current owner Bob Maza bought the place, eight o seven Oregon had been a department store, a furniture store, and a state scale location, and allegedly had been used at various times for office or storage space. Why are there seven slightly different wallpapers in the backrooms? Well, imagine if a floor of an Ikea was just cleared out. They're intended to look slightly different. They're displays that are
meant to look like somewhat different rooms. It also explains that too many walls and no windows because these weren't real walls, they were separators for furniture departments. And as Kent explains so well, the weirdness of this space is also connected to its many many renovations over the course of nearly a century, leaving this kind of unintentional architectural
charcutery board vibe. When Bob Maza bought eight oh seven Oregon Street and took the picture of what we now call the back rooms, it was on a Sony Cybershot digital camera on June twelfth, two thousand and two, at eight twenty one a m Yes, lost media detectives are that good, and he took the photo with a purpose. He had plans to turn the building into something it
hadn't been up until this point. A hobby store. HobbyTown USA, to be exact, a national chain with about one hundred locations still open today, so the plan for the back rooms were to clear them out and turn it into an RC racer track. If you don't remember, these are remote controlled cars that make this horror flying weird whale
when they move around. That plus RC boats and planes and trains and models were what HobbyTown USA was all about, and Bob's vision was not just to make his location a place to buy stuff, but to have community and really spend time with people who were just as passionate about this stuff. The famous Backram's image wasn't the only
picture he took that morning. While many of them didn't survive, there is still another angle of this same space on the Internet, and you can see more brown carpets some buckets on the ground, but the contrast of this photo is less scary and more normal. These two images are the only ones that survived on the Internet archive. In a blog post Bob made in two thousand and three, which was an announcement that HobbyTown USA Oshkosh was going to include this really cool RC track when it opened,
and in March two thousand and four. It did reopening after Masa's previous location near a Walmart got too expensive with rent, and that HobbyTown is open at eight oh seven Oregon Street to this day, even though the track that was set up in the backrooms is not presently there. From what I could find from video footage taken there over the years, the physical space that the backrooms were used for was actually a space filled with a lot of joy and community where hobbyists spent time together and
you basically know the rest of the story. In twenty nineteen, the backroom's image was posted and one random person on Twitter correctly identified the location immediately, but was ignored. It was ultimately a group of four discord users who found the original backroom's location, almost five years to the day
of it becoming a part of niche internet life. I've been vaguely aware of the Lost Media world for some time because they make these really great annual round up videos basically videos on YouTube that summarize the previous analog or digital media that the group is collectively tracked down and archived within the year. And it seems like there's a pretty wide definition of what constitutes a lost media person.
They can be generalists, or, like the Backroom's folks, can be uniquely honed in on finding one piece of media. Some highlights from the twenty twenty four lost Media video. They found Celebrity number six, a mysterious figure on a two thousands era fabric pattern, finally identified to be an obscure Spanish model, an unaired pilot of the Boondocks, and a previously thought to be lost Bram Stoker short story but no contest. The biggest discovery of the last year
was the physical location of the back rooms. Users named Leon, Semliot, Zarara, and Zaft used a shared discord to organize a series of challenging maneuvers. So all's well, that ends well? Right? Tale as old as time, man takes photo, photo inspires existential paranormal communities, and the image is traced to a shockingly wholesome small business history. But I still had a question.
Did Bob Maza, still the owner of HobbyTown, USA to this day, have any idea that this picture he took on an early morning in two thousand and two had inspired all of this? There is one more chapter to this story. Almost immediately after the backrooms were traced to eight oh seven Oregon Street. Local YouTubers that were either a fan of the creepy pasta or liminal communities started to just show up the HobbyTown USA Oshkosh like they started the next day, what.
The fuck is up, darnn family?
Today, We're actually like, we just like found out that like the original backrooms photos was tooken in our hometown, So we're actually going there like like no joke, being dead ass bro. We were so nervous because we saw in our friend's story.
We were like, what the fuck?
And it started technically like we.
Should do it, prompting owner Bob Masa to ask the what rooms. But he doesn't do what I think a lot of people in his position would have and told these kids to go away.
Here.
He is on local news station WTAQ with a reporter Rob Sussman on June nineteenth, explaining why he bought the building to begin with.
So I started started looking at old buildings in town here, and this old crept thing was available, and thought, hey, I could combine the store, move away from we were out on the highway maybe and if it was popular enough, the racing program could survive in this place.
So Bob explains that the fake walls that inspired so much backroom content was thrown away almost immediately by both him and the volunteer RC enthusiasts who helped him clear this space for competition. He documented the renovation process on an early blog because he was a hobbyist and at the time the Internet was thought of as little more than a gadget. And then over twenty years later, Bob describes starting to get weird phone calls about this picture. He has no memory of.
Oh, it was kind of weird, and I, you know, obviously everybody's done Internet searching and stuff. But we were in the car heading home and my wife got a call and took the call, and it was somebody asked if they knew who Robert was in, which I thought was kind of weird, but they and they must have gotten you know, that cross connection, you know when you look up someone's name and it's affiliated phone numbers or whatever.
And they tried calling.
It, and she answered and they started to explain what it was, and that was the first we had heard about it. And of course then we just went and obviously immediately to the internet and you could find it. It was very easy, and it started to explode right at that point. We get a lot of calls. For the most part, most of them been pretty cordial, some of them pretty weird.
You know.
They'll just call up and and even like just ask some weird question, like you say, like is this the back room or something, and you're like, you know, this is this is hobby town, and they're like at that point, they don't even know what to say, and but yeah, it's it's been a little bit of an annoyance for the store. And but we've been you know, we let people come in and come up and take pictures and
do the selfie thing. You know, we just appreciate that they don't spend a lot of time talking to the people at work here to take them away from their jobs.
Maso would do a second interview with YouTuber Ferrell maguire, who was very involved in the discord that was looking for the backrooms, and the story keeps going. After doing a little searching, Bob would later provide ninety more photos from this original cash of early two thousands Sony cybershot data and backrooms fans freaked out when these dropped, which is extremely charming and also so weird because what they're rooting for is a series of blurry images of an
empty building from before they were born. But the excitement is contagious. There's no denying it. But you can't help but wonder what's in it for Bob. Now there are backrooms teens who were raised on creepypasta and four chan forums who were more interested in the empty room upstairs than buying something from the struggling hobby shop beneath it.
But don't worry. Bob may not be a redditor, but he is a businessman, and he took advantage of the press by star starting a go fundme to fix the roof of the store so that ideally he could help keep the business he loves alive by holding backrooms events. On this GoFundMe, he also shared testimony from people who had been racing our sea cars at HobbyTown over the years and deeply loved the community that Bob made space for.
From the GoFundMe, the store I have nearly rebuilt and cared so deeply for, and that so many online have loved, would be lost forever. I am asking for help, and in return, I am committed to preserving the legacy of both the backrooms and our beloved hobby Store. If the repairs are funded, we will organize and hold some Backrooms day events where we recreate the room where the iconic
photo was taken using removable carpets, walls, et cetera. This will allow us to keep the amazing RC tracks available for use on days that a backrooms event isn't happening.
We would welcome.
Everyone to take pictures and walk around the truly bizarre layout of that old furniture store. I will be working with the fans to make these events something truly special, something that can bring as much joy to them as this place brings to the local community every day.
This go fund me has made twenty thousand dollars a counting, but that is not enough to fix the store. So if you've got a little extra cash, you can donate to Bob's GoFundMe to replace the roof of HobbyTown at the link in the description. I made a contribution to get us started. Bob had no clue that the culture around the back rooms existed, but he does understand what it's like to obsess over a niche interest and build
a community around it. And while the back rooms may have become popular as this site for conquering your fears in a poorly written, creepy pasta and the site of existential horror for the lit middle crowd. In real life, The Backrooms is eight o seven Oregon Street, a small business and a community space, a space that, like so many like it, needs help to survive in a world increasingly hostile to community spaces. It remains to be seen
what happens to the Backrooms. Only time will tell if the new roof will make it to Oshkosh, or if Kane's a twenty four movie is going to take the world by storm. Maybe the Backrooms will be a moment in Internet history, the right symbol at the right time. But for all the horrific elements of the Internet we spend so much time on during this show, this freaky, liminal space does give me some hope. From one blurry photo.
There has been so much creativity, so much community built during a time where real life space is to commune wasn't safe. So backrooms people know clipped and ended up finding each other there and maybe, just maybe they will manage to save an RC club in Wisconsin in the process. The back Rooms your sixteenth minute ends now and for
your moment of fun. From Pharaoh Maguire's Wonderful Backrooms video, which is linked In the description, Bob Maza tells Ferrell about his favorite moments in the back rooms homes HobbyTown, USA.
My favorite memory is and always will be my favorite memories is of all of the racers and RC airplane clubs and even just customers that when I call out back in the day, like twenty years ago, so many people would come and help. Over the years, the amount of the friends and the smiling faces that you see coming through the doors, and you know, kids walk in the store and or you know they're life just awesome and wow, and that's the kind of stuff that really keeps you going.
Sixteenth Minute is a production of Pool Zone Media and iHeartRadio. It is written, posted, and produced by me Jamie Loftus. Our executive producers are Sophie Lichterman and Robert Evans.
The Amazing Ian Johnson is our supervising producer and our editor. Our theme song is by Sad thirteen. Voice acting is from Grant Crater and pet shout outs to our dog producer Anderson my Kat's flee and Casper and my pet rock Bert, who will outlive us all. Bye.