The Baconator's defining decision is that nothing on it is there for contrast: it is a burger built entirely from rich, salty, soft elements with the cool, acidic counter deliberately removed. Two beef patties, two slices of American cheese, six strips of bacon, and ketchup and mayonnaise on a soft bun, with no pickle, no onion, no lettuce. Most burgers use a sharp wet element to keep richness in check; this one refuses that move on purpose, so the entire build runs in a single register of fat and salt. That refusal is the whole identity. It is not a cheeseburger with extra bacon; it is a cheeseburger with the brakes taken off.
The craft is in the stacking and the melt. The two patties are griddled and the American cheese is added while the meat is still on the heat, so each slice slumps into a seared crust rather than sitting on it, gluing the layers and partially sealing the patties against their own juice. The bacon is rendered crisp and kept flat, then layered against the molten cheese so it is locked in place and contributes the one firm, brittle texture in an otherwise yielding stack. The patties are arranged with cheese between and on top so the structure is bonded at every interface rather than sliding apart when lifted. Ketchup and mayonnaise are the only moisture, applied to the bun rather than poured over the meat, and the bun is soft and sized to the stack so it compresses to the load instead of fighting it. The order of assembly is the engineering: every layer has to be sealed to the next or a build this heavy shears apart on the first bite.
The variations are about how far the same single-register idea is pushed. The son-of build halves the stack to one patty and three strips; the triple-patty version pushes it further the other way; the spicy and barbecue treatments add heat or char without reintroducing the cold acidic counter. Each keeps the no-brakes rule and changes the scale, and each belongs to the wider American burger family rather than being crowded in here.