(titled because I worked very hard on this post and I want it to be as high-effort as possible)
DOORS is about many things. A brave explorer assisted by the Architects. A banished, forgotten entity taking refuge in someone’s head in hopes of survival. A horrific monster’s conquest through as many worlds as it can with one goal: Us.
However, if you want to analyze the game from a more figurative perspective instead of a literal one, then I’d like to add my two cents onto all of the game analysis and say that DOORS’ central themes revolve around content curation, consumption, and what happens after it’s discarded.
It’s a very odd claim, but there’s really a lot that plays into it in the game’s lore. I’ll list a few of the simpler examples before I fully explore all of the game’s main elements.
Firstly, the most obvious way the game toys with the concept of creating is with the Architects. They… They Made All of Limbo Dude.
However, as for why, uh… yeah put a pin in that. No, seriously, remember this for later and stab your phone.
Second, Seek’s infection of the Giggles and Grumbles also play with this theme. Seek dedicates itself to infecting Giggles to become Screeches, and does a similar process to a Queen Grumble at the end of the Mines. It creates new entities while destroying pre-existing ones in the process, which is why it’s such a formidable threat.
What’s odd is that the World Lotus seems to do the same thing. Grampy & the Groundskeeper confirm that the World Lotus has a tendency to assimilate many creatures that touches the grass. It’s even why the Groundskeeper enforces its rules and why it bags players upon killing them. These lines from Grampy practically confirm this:
"Y'all keep off the grass, hear? Them vines don't root... they ride. And Sonny don't much care for taxis."
"Say, hoss. Ye ain't been feelin' itchy, have ye? No... leaves... in strange places? Thorns, maybe?"
"Y'all don't take it personally if'n Sonny deems ye a target. He just don't want the vines hitchin' a ride, see?"
Next up, modifiers. Presumably made by Michevious Light, they’re challenges they created solely to spice things up for the player in exchange for better rewards. The modifiers in question are used/applied by the player, and when all is said and done, it’s nothing more than forgotten forever.
It’s a bit dissatisfying, though. Modifiers are supposedly canon and play into this theme very well, but you can simply never acknowledge them at all? Sure, it’s better that way gameplay-wise, but for storytelling, it feels like an afterthought.
If we want to lean WAY more on what happens to things when discarded, however, let’s look at Glitch.
Firstly, it’s the one responsible for all of the Visions and item skins. The Visions are to help the player get better at the game, yes, but the skins are genuinely cosmetic. Even Glitch itself admits it’s quite the artist.
However, what’s funny is that we can reject using item skins or reject participating in visions, but we can’t reject Glitch itself. It’ll be there permenantly, in our heads. And it’s even more ironic, considering Glitch seems to be something rejected by Guiding Light herself, if not all of the Architects collectively.
In some of Glitch’s messages after dying in its visions, it’s able to state the following:
“WHAT WOULD SHE THINK | LACKLUSTER? INCOMPETENT? NONIMPRESSIVE? | DISAPPOINTING? DISAPPOINTING? | I SUPPOSE IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE”
“THE ONE THAT MADE ME | DOESN'T REALIZE | MY POTENTIAL.”
“YOU WANT ME TO HELP YOU | OUT THERE? | I AM NO ARCHITECT”
The first two lines collectively show that Glitch was some sort of outcast or failed experiment, as if someone like Guiding Light tried to sweep behind the mess of a broken entity. The last line, however, is phrased oddly. “I AM NO ARCHITECT” almost seems like Glitch holds a sense of distain or spite towards them, which could likely be because of what they did to it.
And if we want to lean more about the concept of rejected ideas, look no more than the Backdoor.
This subfloor is home to many entities in this game that I hate, but what I want to focus on is the rooms’ visual decay and the existence of the Vaccum.
Along the subfloor, you can spot places like these where walls and even entire segments of a room are just Gone, although luckily blocked off in most scenarios.
These are supposedly in tandem with the Vaccum, a hazard where non-marked doors just don’t go anywhere. They even instakill you if you try going through them.
The only plausible evidence for why these seem to exist is thanks to Curious Light, who states the following:
“The Backdoor is a very old place. No older than The Hotel, but still old. | Somewhat forgotten, too. Some parts seem to be missing entirely.”
Curious Light links “forgotten” with “some parts seem to be missing”, which gives us the conclusion that the decay in the Backdoor stems from a lack of being remembered or travelled through.
And coincidentally, Glitch seems to provide information related to this with the following lines:
“IT'S NICE HERE IN YOUR BRAIN | ONLY PROBLEM IS | SOME PARTS SEEM TO BE | REPRESSED”
“I KNOW THINGS ABOUT YOU | THAT EVEN YOU DON'T KNOW”
“REMEMBER WHAT YOU'VE LEARNED | YOU TEND TO BE | FORGETFUL”
The protagonist’s mind seems to be facing some sort of problem that causes memory issues.
Does our head being “forgetful” mean we’re forgetting more and more about the Backdoor, causing it to decay further? Are there dozens, if not millions of worlds that have been lost?
Hell, the Backdoor isn’t even the only victim. Cheddar Balls’ video on this phenomena (which they have titled Grampy’s Crack (…sure man)) points out that there’s similar instances happening in the Outdoors, the Rift Rooms in the Mines, and even in the lobby with the Mines Elevators.
This introduces the possibility that most, if not every location in Limbo is slowly being forgotten by us. Subfloors (especially the Backdoor) are simply being forgotten at a faster pace.
If so, why us in the first place? Why does our memory of things matter so much?
Now, this will sound crazy, and it will sound like a stretch, but bear with me.
I think we’re so significant because the Limbo was created solely to be content consumed by us, with the Architects acting essentially like a mix of game designers and Gods on a grandiose, impossible scale.
This theory is the absolute culmination of the three parts of creating any piece of content ever. They design floors, subfloors, and entities, let us experience it and face through what it can offer, and then discard the content after we’re done, leaving it to decay.
The main piece of evidence specifically stems from Curious Light’s lines on when you die to entities from a Glitch Fragment:
“Oh… | It isn't supposed to be here… I'm not sure how my… hmm… | I'm not sure how it works… I believe it attacks stragglers, if I remember correctly?”
“There must be a tear… that thing shouldn't be here… | Did it follow you in? | Just… try sticking together more. Got it?”
“Again? I have to fix that… noted for later. | Look. Just stick together. Alright? It's easy.”
To me, this is revolutionary. The way I see it, Curious Light accidentally starts slipping its mask. It reveals that entities are only allowed to be in certain places, and that it’s the one likely in charge of engorcing those rules. It’s much like a sort of zoo-keeper mixed with a game designer, again.
If Curious Light is the one designing all of the subfloors, then it’s not a stretch to think Guiding Light is the head of all main floors. And for Mischevious Light, I’m certain it’s something related to entities or another, more general position, considering the modifiers. And with all of these ideas, it’s likely they made all of this with the intended of being “played” through.
The second piece of evidence I have towards the Architects creating Limbo specifically for us is, again, the way we saw the floors decaying.
The decay coming from us neglecting it is likely both a metaphorical and literal way of showcasing that a piece of content didn’t work, or is at least past it’s prime. It’s similar to how a game needs to be maintained by its developer due to bugs, but the bugs are instead only caused (and solved) by increasing player counts and playtime.
Lastly, I want to back away from my theory and focus more on the themes I proposed, because this final detail ties two things together very neatly.
ln a daily run, whenever you die to a Vaccum, Glitch states the following:
“CAUSE OF DEATH: [THE VACUUM] | THIS IS THE SPACE BETWEEN THE KNOWN AND THE UNKNOWN | THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOU TO GO OUT THERE | I ALREADY KNOW ALL I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT IT | FURTHER EXPLORATION WOULD BE USELESS”
Because OF COURSE it would know. It’s very familiar with being forgotten.
Viewing DOORS while paying attention to these themes is one thing. However, creating a moral, from these themes is entirely different. To wrap it all up, all of this analyzing gives us the main lesson from this persoective of the story:
You can create things for others over and over, but regardless of its reception, it will always eventually be discarded.
Beforetaste: yknow something is bad happening when— dont ask, dont question
CW: tehehe this is the promised psychological horror ;b
WC: ~1,3k | FoC | another chapters: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, b1, b2 | crossposted on my ao3
“Yes please, Pixie!”
Wait.
Are my eyes kidding me or is that literally THE Children of the Messenger THEMSELF??? Aren’t they like busy busy now?? How the fuck are they even here, flying and sprinkling petals near this Phainon dude bro??
“Uhm, Pixie?” Blink, blink, blink— how??
He’s still stuck on THAT??
You are deep in your very important thoughts not until a sudden ‘peep peep’—
“WHOA DUDE WHAT THE HELL YOU CAN’T JUST DO—“
Boundaries?? Personal space?? Divine law?? ANYTHING??
“Oh, sorry. Once again I’m so sorry about my unprofessional behavior Mr. Phainon. I swear to Eros HIMSELF that I, as a senior Cupid here in the Cupid’s Arrow HQ— wait, why did I recite the HQ’s Work Ethic in the first place…?”
Focus. Focus. This is not the time to spiral.
Think fast, child of dream.
“Ah— WAIT HOLD UP!! How can YOU even touch me??? Mortals can’t touch any higher being except when they’re near the gate of the death itself! Which is weird because not even a single peck of Grim is here watching you!!”
This is breaking at least five rules. Minimum.
You’re pointing your index finger once again (looks like it’s going to be your usual habit with this man) to the being with this pair of bright ass blue eyes, then touching your cheek, the place that a literal mortal touched before.
You don’t remember the earlier convo, do you?
… and it still feels weird.
As another book pops into your hand, you quickly open the pages, reading them very swiftly. “I’m not sick, heck even my energy is as the same as before, then why can this mortal touch me?!”
Make it make sense.
Fuck me and this thick ass book…
“In the book section ‘How to Deal with Your Subject’ there’s no such thing.
Section ‘What Kind of Things You Should Avoid’ too.
Section ‘How to Restrain Yourself Before Overjoyed Happens’ too.
‘How to Search the Suitable Other Half of the Subject’ too.
And even fucking section ‘Help Yourself Before Shoot an Arrow’ too!!
What kind of messy thing are you, bro?!” You shoot him a glare, hard.
You’re literally undocumented dude!!
Pang!
You snapped the book shut.
But seriously tho… who the hell made the manual with these random ass pages smashed together?
…
Nah, fuck me.
I’m filling another complaint later.
Now your attention’s on the taller boy, the very magical girl-ish book that you held before slowly turning into glitters, even those cute angels that are now bringing empty mini baskets still flying near him—specially around his head—like when a cartoon hurt themselves until birds flying encircling their petty head.
“I asked you fucking once again, who—or what—you are, dear Mr. Phainon?”
Now he’s stuck with his stupidly handsome smile, “Me?” With his finger pointing at him, nonchalantly, very indeed.
CAN YOU PLEASE STOP RECREATING THAT MEME???
The smile lingered too long.
The air felt—
wrong.
How lively.
And yet,
how fragile.
… heh.
… what?
In a world where the idyllic stories humans once called “dreams” come alive, many ‘creatures’ from this world have agreed to keep this fractured world a secret. For if humans were ever to walk freely beyond the barrier, this world itself would begin to vanish.
In a world that is known as the Daydream World—a broken realm where imaginations from the past to the present linger freely, sustained by fragments of dreams themselves.
In a world, even the simplest dream can be twisted upside down… then descend into a never-ending chaos that—
O, child of man—shall you dream really sweet tonight?
You were born into this world with the role as the Cupid, designated 08-83. You have no past, no memories, not even name that you can call yourself, as if the “you” that exists now was never meant to be real.
Yet still, you remain as the same.
You grew as the clever little duckling— no, a Cupidling.
Pray, tell me, little one—did you truly believe the “you” of now was simply born this way?
Pfft, no. A life is still a life, even within dreams.
You had your childhood.
You passed through the academy.
You even went through a rebellious phase—one that gave your mentor more than a few headaches.
And yet you successfully found a duty that gave your existence a fragment of meaning.
In time, you found your place within the Cupid Arrows Headquarters, where countless Cupids carry out their duties without question. And you, you gave it your all.
O, child of dream—shall you live your life be Overjoyed for once?
You don’t know why, yet you’re so hesitant to ask, even to yourself. As if something deep within you is afraid of whatever answer might slip from your own lips.
“Then, this is my apartment!” The boy in front of you beamed another painfully big ass puppy smile. Fortunately, the cute angels from before had already disappeared into… maybe their home(s), meh you don’t care anymore.
“I suppose my earlier statement didn’t make you realize that I already know all your whole life, including your childhood, Mr. Samoyed.” You deadpan him, with a camera you used before for AHEM stalking for whatever ‘good reasons’ on your hand.
Yeah, recover. Act normal. Professional. You got this.
“Oh, this camera? No, nothing at all! Obviously.” You, still wearing that salaryman smile, pat the camera lightly, as if it were that damn pricey—you can still vaguely remember how you were literally eating acrylics for days.
(You are NOT explaining that.)
Fuck my too-many-fandoms chungus life…
“Ah, no, what I’m focusing on is your angelic features, Pixie! Were you really born like this?” He tried to touch your wings, as your wings shrank with you—until you were small enough to fit in his palm—. Touching them gently, he’s tracing the snow-white feathers you are proud of.
I spent highkey my half salary for my wings plus hair routine, of course they’re high tier, duh.
Examining the pleased expression of the man, you tried to break the silence, “My halo and wings, you mean? Then yes, you wanna see my baby photos? Butttt, of course with a little agreement that you need to tell me who is Cy—“
Ting tong!
There it is fucking again.
The sudden ring on the apartment’s bell distracts both of you, the earlier question that stuck between a thin ice called revelation continues to deepen.
Don’t question.
Yeah. Don’t.
“Maybe it’s my friend. I’ll open the door,” he smiles, his bright eyes shining as he looks at you.
“And as for Pixie, you can sit on my couch.” He gestures his finger to his comfy-looking couch, the same one that has given you some migraines because of the failed nth matchmaking attempts on this man.
“…”
You don’t even know how many mental breakdowns your couch has witnessed, do you?
You pause. It creaks—sounds too tired.
Same, bro.
You look at his imaginary tail for a second too long.
You decide not to elaborate.
Your couch should be in therapy.
You fuckass samoyed.
Aftertaste: i hv a very good feeling that this case will ends w me getting paid
