rating: +9+x

Entity Classification

Aggressiveness 3/5 Vulpids, like many baseline predators, are skittish towards people but may attack if cornered or starving.
Frequency 2/5 These creatures prefer to lurk in dark, claustrophobic environments that wanderers traditionally avoid.
Intelligence 3/5 Vulpids are naturally cunning and curious, much like their terrestrial cousins.
Pritoria Index 2.666/5 While grotesque at first glance, Vulpids are simply animals and should be treated likewise.



A wild Vulpid instance.

Skulking around forlorn, isolated areas of the Backrooms, Vulpids are seldom seen but often heard. These large, mangy vulpines are distinct in their ghoulish features, being emaciated fusions of festering flesh and old radio technology. From a glance, it may prove difficult to even determine said creature alive and not simply animate, a line blurred all too often amongst the loneliness of limspace.


Vulpids are opportunistic omnivores, feeding on anything from mold to corpses, oftentimes preferring to remain unseen. However, they are also sly and efficient predators—even to humans in certain circumstances. Though most Vulpid attacks are not predatory in nature, as humans are difficult prey. More often than not, Vulpids target smaller creatures such as insects, small Rollers, and Voltaic Urchins, only attacking larger predators like humans when startled or desperate.

Vulpids use radio waves to hunt, navigate, and communicate, a feat made possible by the technology embedded in their flesh. They can both transmit and receive these signals, and oftentimes vocalize them in the form of sound. The noises may resemble garbled static to the untrained ear, but the control a Vulpid has over them is second to none, as even modern equipment fails to deliver such accuracy. A clear example is the articulated sounds used while hunting. The harsh static tones confuse and frighten prey, allowing the Vulpid to strike with an insidious killer: a septic bite. Afterwards, the Vulpid retreats, waiting patiently for the hunted to succumb to severe infection over a period of time.

Vulpid radio vocalizations accent nearly everything they do. From sleeping to socializing, they are an integral part of both the animal's identity and survival.

Example Vulpid vocalizations:

Sometimes, a Vulpid’s transmissions can be disruptive to technology. This becomes especially apparent when hunting Voltaic Urchins, where the frequency used to disorient the colony behaves much like an electromagnetic pulse. This anomalous frequency also arises when the entity is startled or especially excited. In severe circumstances, whole rooms may lose power for extended periods of time due to a Vulpid disturbance, and nearby devices may be damaged permanently.

While usually skittish and solitary, Vulpids are also very social creatures, especially when one becomes accustomed to life as an outpost scavenger. These ‘urban Vulpids’ are much more docile than their isolated counterparts and even express curious, often mischievous behavior around their human neighbors.


Vulpids share similarities to many baseline fox species, being especially similar to that of the red fox, though larger, reaching nearly thirty inches at the shoulder. They are undeniably corpse-esque, having milky eyes, agape jaws, and a benign decay that blooms across their form. Entangled in their coarse, copper-colored pelts are interlaced wires connected to strange radio devices that vary in appearance but function identically across instances. This technology, while human in appearance, is alien. The circuitry, external elements, and designs are often nonsensical at a closer glance, and by all laws of electrical engineering, should not function. Despite this, they work anomalously, perplexing researchers with their aberrant operation.

The organic biology of a Vulpid is much more understood than their mechanical biology. Their large eyes are primed to perceive both infrared and radio waves, along with visible light, to a limited extent. This allows for navigation in complete darkness, assisted by echolocation and their excellent hearing. Their eyes are also lidless, instead covered in a clear antiseptic membrane that must be cleaned from time to time of debris. As a result, the paws of a Vulpid are surprisingly delicate and smooth yet still able to handle the unforgiving Backrooms environment.

“Like light refracted by water, Cartesian Valleys bend radio frequencies from countless fluorescent bulbs into themselves. If you so happen to have a radio, you may even be able to hear the nearly imperceptible interference caused by it. Though not utilizable by us, this forms navigational routes to the teaming oases only Vulpids can see. They certainly have us beat in that capacity, we're astray across infinity and foreign to this place in a way unfathomable.”

- Alexander Stelhart, UNCB Cryptoradiologist

Many speculate a link between the machinery and rot that covers a Vulpid’s body, creating a myriad of theories. Some speculate the machinery itself is the cause, citing it may be a design flaw in an unknown manufacturing process. Toxic and acidic Carpet Fluid is often present in native Backrooms technologies, and the bulky augments may hinder blood flow. Others suggest the rot is a natural evolutionary advantage, acting as scavenger bait or as adhesive used by the Vulpid. This would allow the entity to assimilate scavenged technology manually into their own body comparable to a hermit crab scavenging a shell, though this has never been observed.


Vulpid pelts, while not particularly thick or comfortable, may be usable as insulation for clothing that nullifies electrical currents. The desperate or deprived nomad may also find them potential candidates for hide tanning. The thin, mummified material is weak but may work as a shoddy replacement if no other substitute is available. Though structurally poor and unfit for traditional leatherworking, tanned Vulpid hide is edible without ill effects. Those unlucky enough to resort to this foodstuff describe it as a revolting, flaky mass that reeks of ozone and tastes of burnt decay—a last resort to stave off starvation.

Their flesh, however, is toxic. The tissue is interlaced with heavy metal fragments, electrical wiring, and a sickly rot that proves nigh impossible to remove. Blood present also contains trace to moderate amounts of Carpet Fluid. Thus, the meat in any state is not suitable for human consumption. Even if one were to succeed in such a culinary feat, the resulting cut of putrid muscle would certainly not be appetizing, no matter the preparation method.

Crafty individuals may find scavenging materials from a Vulpid's augments bountiful, but the treachery of doing so would leave them mistaken. The heavy metal masses, though rusty and corroded heavily within, still house volatile machinery that remains active long after death. Electrocution, mercury poisoning, and tetanus are all common fates that might befall such a scavenger. Tampering with Vulpid apparatuses is heavily advised against, no matter the intention, as they are not of human origin and pose a massive safety risk when handled.



An urban Vulpid instance.

Over time, researchers dedicated time to the cataloging of these quaint creatures and their quirks. Some even entertained the long, tedious process of furthering the entity’s domestication. This process is still largely incomplete but is showing signs of success. While wild, Vulpids used to life as settlement dwellers lack fear of humans. Instead, urban Vulpids express very high sociability with people. Like dogs, they have even shown readiness to form deep emotional bonds with specific people or groups, creating mutually beneficial scenarios and lasting companionships.

Below are the personal writings of Dr. Alexander Stelhart, an individual largely responsible for our current understanding of Vulpids and their nature.


Vulpids eluded proper documentation for a long time. Because of their sly nature, only traces hinted at their existence, largely brushed off as a product of the Backrooms as a whole. Hopelessly lost wanderers spoke of eerie calls leading them astray. Many followed the sounds, few returning mortally septic and delirious with fever.

These bedridden souls were the only line of information regarding the entity for decades—incoherent ramblings of the ill that were often disregarded. Until the development of larger outposts and subsequently the emergence of urban Vulpids, the rare attacks and sightings were often mislabeled as lone Hound encounters and promptly dismissed.

Survival Guide

While fascinating, Vulpids are still animals that can be extremely dangerous. It is important to take care when interacting with them in the wild, as one mishandled encounter may escalate from amusing to fatal very quickly.

Vulpids are shy and easily frightened when approached. Their excellent infrared vision and hearing will usually keep them from being caught off guard, which means one will usually notice you before you notice it.

A Vulpid may express curiosity towards you, especially if you are actively using a radio device. If you are approached, act sensibly. Partake in the rare interaction if you so choose, but be mindful that you are dealing with a wild, unpredictable creature.

If you get into a scenario where you are facing an aggressive Vulpid, move slowly and make a lot of noise. If you seem too imposing of a target and the animal deems it does not have the upper hand, it will flee.

If you are attacked, defend yourself by any means. Vulpid bites are deadly and can lead to septic shock in as little as 24 hours if the wound is not treated.

A Vulpid will never maul a victim, only aiming to deliver one or two bites before switching to stalking behavior. If you have been bitten, let the Vulpid retreat and seek medical care immediately.

“Really, they’re not too different from baseline wolves or coyotes when it comes to predation. To them, you’re a daunting target that, for a lack of better words, terrifies them. Monsters exist in limspace, but so do wild animals. Sometimes it can even be hard to tell the difference, but that distinction must be considered.”

- Alexander Stelhart, UNCB Cryptoradiologist

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