Here's some SCPs I have on documents. Go nuts.
Item #: SCP-1213
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1213 is to be kept in its original case, which will be contained within a steel box, 30x30x10cm in dimensions, .2cm thick, at the Media Archive of Site 19. Said box case will have a combination lock to prevent unnecessary viewings of the material contained within. During testing, it may be inserted into any VHS player.
There will be a check every week to ensure that the case still contains SCP-1213. If it does not, then an agent will be dispatched to the location where it was discovered ████████, Kansas to retrieve it. That house will be kept under perpetual ‘condemned’ status, with automated security keeping local hooligans and hoodlums from attempting to use the place for any reason.
Description: SCP-1213 is a black VHS tape with no markings on any side. It was originally found in an abandoned home in ████████, Kansas, in 19██, inside a case marked ‘The Addams Family: Episode 65’, which displayed a picture of said TV show’s characters smiling, and is dated as having been aired in 1967, while the tape itself apparently was created in 1979. However, said show only broadcasted 64 episodes of the show, which ended in 1966, and no other episodes were made until a TV-movie holiday special in 1977, long after the supposed airing of the contents of the tape. Said special shows nothing in common with the contents of the tape.
SCP-1213 has proven difficult to contain in the Media Archive, because of an anomalous property it exhibits. Occasionally, it will inexplicably disappear from its containment and reappear in the location of its discovery. No known material has been found to stop it from doing this. The disappearances are generally rare, and the number of times it has been viewed after its most recent disappearance has no effect on when it will next teleport.
When inserted into a VHS player and set to play, the classic Addams Family opening will play. After the fade out and in, the family will be assembled in the manner in the above picture, and will stare intently at the viewer. Should a viewer move, their eyes will shift to follow him or her. Should the viewer meet the gaze of any of the members of the family, the others will slowly turn to look at that member. When the viewer breaks their gaze with said member, they will revert back to staring at the viewer. The tape will run indefinitely like this, despite the fact that it should run out of magnetic tape to run.
Should there be multiple viewers, each viewer will see the family differently, and will be seen as looking at the viewer (until they meet the gaze of a member of the family, to whom the rest will turn). Tests have shown that it is capable of projecting over a dozen different images of the family to different people at the same time.
If one instead decides to look at the (blank) face of the person in the painting behind the family, however, the family members’ eyes will widen, and their faces will take on a grave countenance. After a while, they will begin to shake their heads, and mouth the word ‘No’, though no audio will come. As the person stares longer at the face of the painting, the members of the family will grow visibly distressed, and begin making hand motions indicating that this is a bad idea. The family members’ faces will begin being contorted in fear, and their actions will become more exaggerated as the viewer continues looking at the face of the painting, and though no audio is playing, they will appear to be screaming. Said screams have been identified as saying [DATA EXPUNGED] by lip-reading analysis. Subjects report that the painting’s face grows larger as they view longer, and soon takes up most of the painting.
If the viewer should look at the face of the painting for a full half-hour, the viewer will begin screaming in terror themselves, and will tear themselves away from the video, after which it will revert to the ‘normal’ state if they look at it again, although the family will look markedly sadder than before. This change is permanent to the viewer; if they see SCP-1213 on a separate occasion, the family will retain its sad demeanor. Viewers who have experienced this event often cry uncontrollably for a few hours and exhibit symptoms of PTSD. When asked what they had seen that had so upset them, all viewers reply that they had seen the face of the painting. When asked what this looked like, all viewers will reply that they cannot remember, but will insist that it was utterly terrifying. Psychological analysis has indicated that they have voluntarily repressed this memory out of self-preservation. Attempts to force this memory to resurface have proven successful in one instance; see Addendum 1213-01.
When the subject goes to the bed that they last occupied, however, they will find a small photograph of themselves when they first saw the face of the painting. When this occurs, they will immediately remember the face, and will break down, yelling incoherently through intermittent sobbing. Should they be successfully calmed down, and made to sleep on this bed, they will suddenly exhibit delta brain waves, long before the sleep cycle normally progresses to that point. During this time, however, they will begin screaming loudly and perspiring furiously. Soon their muscles will begin contracting furiously, as if they were being electrocuted, and their head will begin to emit smoke, which will propogate to the point that the face will be completely obscured from any distance. After ten minutes, this activity will cease, and the subject’s face will be completely burned through to the skull. For a period of five minutes after this, an extremely viscous, gray substance will bubble out of their mouth, at temperatures exceeding [REDACTED]. Said substance has been analyzed, and contains [DATA EXPUNGED].
Addendum 1213-01: This is an interview with D-12109, who had seen the face of the painting.
Interviewer: Dr. ███████
Foreword: D-12109 was subjected to SCP-1213 and told to view the face of the painting. Viewing was normal for those who had viewed the full half-hour. During this interview, the repressed memory of the face of the image is resurfaced.
<Begin Log, 2/7/20██, 18:12>
Dr. ███████: Tell me now… What did you see?
D-12109: I saw the painting’s face…
Dr. ███████: Yes, right. But what did it look like?
D-12109: It… it was terrifying.
Dr. ███████: I know it was, but what did it look like?
D-12109: I… don’t know. I can’t remember, okay?
Dr. ███████: It’s all right. I’ll help you. Does this jog your memory?
D-12109 is shown a still image from the tape.
D-12109: Um… yeah? I think that I… hmmm…
Dr. ███████: Now, what did the face look like?
D-12109: The face? The face? Ah… the face of the painting… well, I think it… Oh my ███████ god, get it out! Get it out of my mind! I CAN SEE IT AGAIN! ████! NO! Please, dear lord, make it go away! Get that thing the ████ out of my head!
Dr. ███████: I will help you, butyou must tell me what it looks like!
D-12109: The… the teeth! And the eyes! And… its tongue… and… DEAR JESUS WHAT IS THAT COMING OUT OF ITS NOSE?
D-12109’s begins yelling incoherently, with intermittent gagging.
Dr. ███████: Stay calm. Describe it to me.
D-12109 closes his eyes tightly and begins sobbing uncontrollably, hardly able to speak coherently.
D-12109: It… no… I can’t…
Dr. ███████: Tell me!
D-12109: I… I can’t remember any more… and thank god… that was horrifying.
<End Log, 5/7/20██, 18:18>
Closing Statement: Little information was gleaned from D-12109, but some of the more disturbing points of the face’s anatomy had been pointed out. Due to the disturbing nature of this face, only D-class personnel have been allowed to view the tape since this incident. Dr. ███████ declined to doing any more work involving SCP-1213. D-12109 was subsequently terminated.
Item #: SCP-1340
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1340 is to be kept in its original position, as all attempts to move it have failed. A small compound has been set up around it in order to keep it secure and prevent anybody from wandering into it, and signs indicating the presence of nuclear contamination are used to dissuade visitors. Only personnel who have passed a psychological evaluation may interact with SCP-1340, and only then conversations may only last 10 minutes. After this mark has been passed, personnel in conversation with SCP-1340 will be removed.
Description: SCP-1340 is a huge head inside a structure, discovered in ████████ County, Vermont. The head has been found to be made of marble, but all attempts to move it or the structure have met with failure. It is 3 meters tall and 1.2 meters wide, and many appendages, resembling spider silk, bind it to its structure. Its eyes have no visible pupils or irises, and as such it is impossible to tell where it is looking.
SCP-1340 can speak, but its mouth does not move, and the source of the sound is yet unknown. The voice itself is very solemn, and of indeterminate gender. When asked for its name, SCP-1340 refuses to give one, though it has grown to accept being called SCP-1340. When asked for its intentions, it will usually mock the asker, and will often make a snide comment about a personality trait of theirs. This comment is always true.
SCP-1340 will only speak to one person at a time. Any others present will be unable to hear their conversation for unknown reasons. People who engage in extended conversations with SCP-1340 report feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and begin to doubt anything that they are told that is not sourced from SCP-1340. Subjects begin to disobey orders, and dismiss commands given as empty threats. As they continue to speak with SCP-1340, they will begin to lash out at others.
Subjects willing to talk about their conversation with SCP-1340 indicate that the subject of the conversation is almost always the subject themselves; who they are, what they desire, and who they care about. SCP-1340 seems to find the desires and weaknesses of the subject through this conversation, and exploits them to its own end. Often, SCP-1340 will mention that the subject cannot see properly, that they are blind to some fact that is apparently obvious. The nature of this fact is as of yet unknown, and the only subjects who claim to be privy to this secret refuse to tell, and berate those who ask.
After this stage, however, subjects become extremely quiet, and simply listen to SCP-1340 talk. Attempts to remove them from SCP-1340 will result in extreme physical resistance, far greater than the subject would normally be able to exhibit, but will not say anything. Attempts to drown out SCP-1340’s speech with noise will fail, and they will focus ever-greater on SCP-1340’s words.
Those who have engaged in uninterrupted conversation with SCP-1340 for over two hours will begin to physically change. Their skin will lose color, their irises and pupils will fade, and their facial muscles will begin to atrophy to the point where they can no longer move any part of their faces, and their expression is permanently stuck in the same grave expression as SCP-1340. They are silent, but if removed from SCP-1340 and given proper incentive, they will speak, though their mouths will not open. Strangely, their voices can still be heard clearly, albeit deeper and more monotone than before.
Those who have transitioned to this stage claim that SCP-1340 is the only one who ever tells the truth – the whole truth. They will routinely demand to speak with SCP-1340, and if denied, they will be enraged and physically assault nearby personnel with unnatural strength and vigor. If they are kept from interacting with SCP-1340 for a period of a week, they grow despondent and attempt to commit suicide. Subjects have been known to bang their heads against objects with such force as to shatter their own skulls, and these subjects require intensive restraint to prevent them from self-destruction. Subjects refuse to eat and must be fed intravenously. After one more week, these subjects’ bones will begin to dissolve into an acrid, purple substance, which exits their bodies through their pores. This substance will then moves across the ground towards SCP-1340, and enters into its mouth. This substance can be contained, but it will constantly fight to go back to the statue.
Item #: SCP-1649
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1649 is to be kept in a room with a glass aquarium, of 2 meters in depth and 3 meters in length and width, filled with water with salinity of 32 ppt, with a closed top. It is to be fed small fish, which will be administered through a slot in the top of the aquarium. Nobody who has been administered amnesiacs for any reason is allowed to enter the room containing SCP-1649 due to its nature, unless cleared by Level 5 personnel.
Description: SCP-1649, through genetic testing, has been revealed to be a member of the species Sepia apama, or the Giant Cuttlefish. It is 48cm in length and weighs 9.8kg, large but not unheard of for the species. It was discovered off the coast of ████████ in 199█, making it extremely long-lived for its species. Inside water, it behaves much like another member of its species, though it is prone to staring at things more so than others. Unlike others of its species, it never ejects any ink, even if provoked to do so.
SCP-1649 spends most of its day simply swimming around its tank and staring at anything that may be unfamiliar to it for any reason. It reacts with seeming curiosity to humans, despite its strange effects on them. As such, it is almost certainly unaware of the deleterious effects it has on those that repeatedly approach it. Its tendency to carefully observe new objects placed in the room it inhabits has caused some to suggest that it may be sentient, but so far no hard evidence of this has been found. Further testing on this matter has been suggested by Dr. █████.
Testing has shown that SCP-1649 can survive outside of the water, though it seems to exhibit discomfort. Its camouflaging abilities allow it to stay out of view of those who are not actively looking for it, but it is not considered an escape hazard. Those who view SCP-1649 without being in its vicinity notice nothing remarkable about it, and those who are in its vicinity without seeing it experience its normal properties.
Whenever a person enters a room that SCP-1649 (or when outside, within 5 meters of the creature), they immediately remember something that they have forgotten. Sometimes this will be something perfectly harmless and simple, such as where they have left their car keys, and other times it will be a particularly important aspect of an event. No memories have been recalled from before the subject turned 1, likely due to issues with brain development.
However, those who are repeatedly exposed to SCP-1649 will come to rely on the effect and begin losing their ability to concentrate. If not restrained, they will constantly enter and exit the room in a desperate attempt to remember something specific, trusting SCP-1649 for their memory-based needs. Patients who have been exposed to SCP-1649 over a hundred times in the space of two weeks will spend all day running in and out of the room in frenzied attempts to remember various things. This continues to the point of neglecting to eat and drink, and subjects will have to be restrained for their own safety, though they will struggle violently.
The damage to these subjects has been found to wane to the point of disappearing over time. The amount of time this process takes increases relative to the number of times exposed to SCP-1649, often taking about a day per exposure after the obsession has set in. As such, D-class personnel are the only ones allowed to be exposed to SCP-1649 on a regular basis, although any personnel that have not been administered amnesiacs may enter its vicinity at a strict rate of one time per week.