~ ##701|Item #: SCP-X
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X is to be stored in a secure containment locker. Any individual coming into contact with SCP-X-1 during testing must first undergo a medical assessment.
Description: SCP-X-1 is a longsword, composed of an unremarkable steel alloy, with a gold-effect hilt and a green jewel set in the crossguard. SCP-X-2 is a small paperback book with the title "Sword Manual" containing instructions and drills for several kinds of swordsmanship.
SCP-X-1's anomalous properties manifest when a person holds it pointing upwards. The jewel set in SCP-X-1's hilt will begin to glow. SCP-X-1 will emit a mild electric shock if the person holding it does not quickly enter a "guard" or "ready" position, or begin to follow a practice drill as set out in SCP-X-2. SCP-X-1 will also emit an electric shock if the person using SCP-X-1 performs a drill poorly. How SCP-X-1 accomplishes this is unclear.
SCP-X-2 appears to hold no anomalous properties of its own, except that the practice drills contained therein interact with SCP-X-1.
SCP-X was recovered from [REDACTED], who bought it from a person of interest in the Wanderer's Library with the understanding that it would make him a better swordsman. In exchange for giving up all information regarding POI-X-1, [REDACTED] has been allowed to remain outside Foundation custody as a monitored informant.
Interviewed: [REDACTED], former owner of SCP-X.
Interviewer: Agent Silverberg.
Foreword: Field interview of former owner of SCP-X. [REDACTED] was recovered following an expedition through a Way in which they were rescued by Foundation forces after being ambushed by [DATA EXPUNGED] and mistaken for an SCP-level anomaly. Field test revealed no inherent anomalous abilities.
Agent Silverberg: Okay, [REDACTED], we have taken custody of the sword and book. If you co-operate and tell me everything you know about them, maybe we can work something out here. My superiors will be here soon and I can talk with them on your behalf.
[REDACTED]: Right. Look. Listen. I just wanted to be able to defend myself. You know, in the Library? I'm not, like, a wizard or whatever like most of the guys in there. And the Librarians are only so fast.
Agent Silverberg: Sure, I understand. But why were you using a sword?
[REDACTED]: I had a pistol as well, but some of these guys tell me guns don't work against everything. So I commissioned this magic sword.
Agent Silverberg: Makes sense, I guess. Why does it glow? Does that do anything?
[REDACTED]: I just thought people would see this big fuck-off magic-looking badass ostentatious sword and leave me alone. And it was supposed to make me better at fighting.
Agent Silverberg: Like you'd pick it up and just be better, right?
[REDACTED]: That's it exactly. I just. I wanted to be left alone and read some weird books. And I guess there was a, uh, miscommunication. About the sword.
Agent Silverberg: What kind of miscommunication?
[REDACTED]: It doesn't, just, like, magically make someone better at fighting. Well. It does. But not like you just pick it up and be better. It trains you. And if you screw up, it shocks you or hurts you.
Agent Silverberg: I can't imagine you were very happy with this.
[REDACTED]: Listen. I was absolutely not. I barely even use it because the fucking thing kept electrocuting me. I paid for this sword to be great. I paid for it to be magic. I received a- a- a legendary piece of shit! If there was a better business bureau for magical item selling assholes I'd ram a complaint so far u-
Agent Silverburg: *Interrupting* Okay! Okay. I think I get the idea. Magic item guy is a jerk. Do you need a minute?
[REDACTED]: *Sighing and heavy breathing for approximately thirty seconds.* I'm calm. I'm calm. I just hate this guy and his fucking sword. Or her sword. Whatever. Anyway! So I was going to get a refund. But then the guy wasn't there. The whole space was gone from that part of the Library.
Agent Silverberg: So you were there for a refund when we found you. Noted. And they were gone? Sounds you got scammed pretty good.
[REDACTED]: Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought. So I went through the nearest Way. No idea where it's going. And, long story short, I got attacked by weird monsters, passed out in front of your guys because the sword wouldn't stop shocking me.
Agent Silverberg: Why was it shocking you if you were using it to fight?
[REDACTED]: It just goes nuts if your form is off even a little. Piece of fucking shit. I can give you some more details. About this guy. And his shop. I was basically stuck with this fucking sword. And I couldn't do anything.
Agent Silverberg: Okay. I think we can work something out here, if those details check out. But you're going to have to agree to some things with my superiors. I'll note that you were very co-operative. I'm going to end the initial interview now.
[REDACTED]: Can I get it noted that magical item guy or lady is a complete and utt-
Closing Statement: [REDACTED] retained as Foundation informant, monitored regularly by assigned agents. The sword maker is still unknown, and it is unknown whether the seller made it or otherwise acquired it.
- Post of Wrongs
- Second sight - original draft
- Cameron the Crusader - Posted
- Gamemaster 9001
- brainhacking computer
- Help I'm trapped in the abstract concept of SCP reports
- A True Believer - posted for contest, edits to be made after contest
- ugh whatever
- ANOTHER FUCKING IDEA BECAUSE I CAN'T CONCENTRATE FOR SHIT
- S part 2
- M part 2
- The Town That Got Carked By Bears
- A Nice Guy
- Timeline Divergence Disorder
- That fucking guy
- Long day at the office
- author page
- Stop going in circles
- Bidding War
- On Reality Benders
- Doctor Bright and the Euclid Letters
- Stupid J idea
- LEVEL UP YOUR GHOST
02:25 Mistbourne So you're probably thinking shortsword or hand and a half, double edge. Not a scimitar shape
02:26 Mistbourne I.e. Straight, edged on both sides, simple guard, 18-36 inches
02:33 Cimmerian I mean, the "I'm pissed off because this wasn't what I wanted" is kind of an obvious direction to take it. It'd be more interesting perhaps if he actually trained with it properly.
02:33 Tuomey Hmm
02:34 Tuomey You might be right there
02:34 Tuomey I dunno
02:34 Cimmerian I wonder if there's a way to make it so the foundation thinks the shocks are a sort of security measure, and the guy is the only one who can use it… but in reality he's just been training with it for a while.
02:34 Cimmerian like *really* subvert the cliche
02:36 Cimmerian Ideally you could use that to change things up, the early description would be from the perspective of a foundation that thinks this is a normal "sword what makes you fight better" with the added bonus of no one can use it but one guy.
02:36 Mistbourne Tuomey: given the base idea, almost all of the narrative is going to have to come from testing and incident logs
02:37 Cimmerian then dude is in containment for a bit and doesn't get to keep up his skills, so next time it ends up in his hands for a test he gets started getting shocked too
02:37 Tuomey this is true but I don't want to go overboard either
02:37 Cimmerian less than normal testers, but still not never
02:37 Cimmerian nods
SH goi format idea; a ritual what only works for this one guy because he's a reality bender
another idea; a troll ritual trying to fuck with people
it's a telephone pole what you carve your sins into and then something happens I'll decide later
Either go full body horror or full SH offshoot
Item #: SCP-X
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Those showing symptoms of the early stage infection of SCP-X and samples of SCP-X itself are to be treated as a biosafety level three hazard. Those showing late or final stage symptoms of infection by SCP-X are to be treated as a biosafety level four hazard and incinerated upon death. Should a person infected by final stage SCP-X become hostile they are to be engaged at range, preferably with an incendiary weapon.
Description: SCP-X is an anomalous human pathogen which causes extensive brain and eye changes in humans. SCP-X can be transferred by droplet contact, unprotected sex, or infected blood in the early to late stage and direct or near contact in the final stage.
Early stage symptoms include headache, migraine, seizures - typically of the absence variety or the partial complex variety, dizziness, balance problems, short-term memory loss and blurry vision or temporary vision loss. These symptoms are primarily caused by SCP-X preparing to reorganising parts of the brain and the optic nerve. At this stage SCP-X may be treated with specialised medication.
If untreated, an SCP-X infection will progress to the late stage within a week. This is signified by total vision loss, loss or dramatic change of eye colour, and often a relief of other symptoms as the infection gains a measure of symbiosis with its host. During this stage, SCP-X begins rapidly reorganising brain structures with an emphasis on connecting the optic nerve to the optic disc differently while also making it slightly larger. Bulging eyes may also be observed due to growths forming in the optic disc of one or both eyes. Treatment at this stage is only possible with large doses of specialised medication and invasive neurosurgery, which poses a significant infection risk to the surgeon and typically leaves the patient blind.
In approximately 78% of cases, a late stage SCP-X infection will progress to the final stage within three days. In all other cases, it will lead to death, typically due to aneurysm or similar secondary effect. Final-stage SCP-X infection is signified by the sudden expulsion of the eyes from the skull, caused by the growths on the optic discs expanding. The eyes will typically pop violently when expelled, posing an infection risk to those nearby. This has typically been reported by patients as very painful, but also extremely quick with no pain lingering afterwards. Over four to six hours after expulsion of the eyes, the growths on the optic disc will expand to form new eyes. No pain has been reported during this stage. These eyes are entirely solidly coloured, ranging from black to violet, and will sometimes leak an apparently tear-like fluid which is actually almost pure SCP-X. No harmful symptoms have been observed after this stage.
Patients typically report increased visual acuity and appear to be able to perceive more of the electromagnetic spectrum. Patients at this stage are able to identify anomalous objects by sight alone, including humanoid anomalies or entrances to the Wanderer's Library.
This was initially discovered when a final-stage patient appeared to be confused about the doorway to his bathroom, before making an unknown gesture and stepping through the door, disappearing from containment entirely. Shortly afterwards, the facility was attacked via that door by what was later determined to be a splinter faction of the Serpent's Hand. Twelve patients were later unaccounted for, assumed to have been taken by the Serpent's Hand, willingly or otherwise. A note pertaining to the attack and referring to SCP-X was left on the clipboard of a dead researcher - it and the analysis have been appended to this report as document SCP-X-U-1.
You can't stop us from opening the world's eyes, Jailors. When everyone has sight beyond sight, your veil will be torn down, and your masquerade broken. When everyone is an "anomaly" who will stand for caging them?
Yours in victory,
The Serpent's Fang
It is not currently known whether SCP-X was created by the Serpent's Fang, but they have more than an adequate supply from the twelve captured patients and, through those, the ability to manufacture more. A large scale attack on the general population is believed to be planned. Work to develop a vaccine is underway, but it is moving slowly - and if the Fang makes their move quickly, it will be irrelevant in any case.
- Security Analyst Abdullah.
Item #: SCP-X
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X is to be kept in a standard humanoid containment cell. SCP-X is to be allowed access to television and comic books and may be denied access to said items as punishment, if required. SCP-X maintains a normal human diet but should be given additional food post-testing if requested. As SCP-X's co-operation is considered essential to long term containment, personnel are to call SCP-X by its given name, "Cameron", when speaking to or nearby it.
In order to facilitate research, personnel other than the assigned psychologist may not become friendly with SCP-X. If personnel suspect that SCP-X is beginning to develop a rapport with them, they are required to deter this.
Description: SCP-X is a seven year old male who has a minor telekinetic ability and is showing signs of a latent reality bending ability - see below. SCP-X is to be led to believe that the Foundation maintains custody of him for his protection and so that they can learn to understand his powers and use them to develop more "superheroes".
More specifically, SCP-X shows the ability to manipulate objects it can see and which are within approximately six metres of it. In addition to this, maniuplated objects may teleport or be changed slightly, implying a more general reality bending ability.
SCP-X is considered a good candidate for long-term/intensive research into telekinesis and reality bending specifically, and anomalous humanoids generally.
Currently, the leading theory among Foundation researchers is that anomalous humanoids of this type develop stronger or additional anomalous abilities as they age, with the possibility of developing into full scale reality benders increased by emotional stress. As such, it is considered essential to long-term containment and research that SCP-X believes he is working with the Foundation.
Foreword: Interview between Researcher and SCP-X. Valdez is to attempt to clarify details of the anomalous incident during which SCP-X was contained (apparently while stopping a kidnapping), to establish a rapport with SCP-X, and to make recommendations for research.
Valdez: Cameron, can you tell me what was happening when the containment team found you?
SCP-X: Containmen' team? You mean the soldier guys?
Valdez: That's right.
SCP-X: I was trying to help that lady.
Valdez: Why were you helping her?
SCP-X: She looked scared. The bad guy had a gun. She was trying to run away. Someone had to help her.
Valdez: But why did you have to help her? Why not run and call the police?
SCP-X: Superheroes have to help people! I can move things without touching them and other people can't so I should use that to help them!
Valdez: That's very good of you, Cameron. Have you helped anyone else like this?
SCP-X: No, I've only ever practiced. In the woods and stuff.
Valdez: Has anyone ever caught you practicing?
SCP-X: I don't think so, I tried to keep it secret, but sometimes people go for walks in the woods and they might have saw me, but I don't think so.
Valdez: Ok, that's good. What kinds of things can you do?
SCP-X: I can move stuff without touching it, but not if it's too far away or if it's too big. Only like a cup across a room or a person's arm or something. Sometimes it can sorta change as well.
Valdez: What do you mean by "it can change", Cameron?
SCP-X: Sometimes when I'm moving something it changes to something I want. Like one time when I was moving a stone, it changed to look like a toy I lost. But it changed back after a while, b'fore I even got home.
Valdez: Have you ever changed something on purpose?
SCP-X: Not really. Sometimes when I hear my parents yelling I wish they'd stop and they get distracted for a little bit but they usually go back to arguing.
SCP-X becomes visibly upset
Valdez: Do your parents fight often?
SCP-X: No. Not really. They don't mean to be angry.
Interviewer: Do they ever get angry at you?
SCP-X: Sometimes. Daddy says it's my fault. I should just try harder. Mommy gets mad when my ru-room is messy but I try to keep it clean, I d-don't want her to be mad.
Sound of SCP-X sniffling
Valdez: It's ok, Cameron. You- You're ok here.
SCP-X: Th-hank you.
Valdez: You know that ordinary people wouldn't understand about these powers? And that some other people with powers might try to hurt you?
SCP-X: Yeah, heroes have to have a secret iden'ity.
Valdez: Did you have a superhero name to protect your identity picked out?
SCP-X: I'm Cameron the cruth- Crusader.
Valdez: That's a cool name, Cameron. Because of this danger, you're going to be staying here with the SCP Foundation for a while. Do you have any questions?
SCP-X: What does SCP mean, mister?
Valdez: It means "Secure, Contain, Protect"
SCP-X: So it fights bad guys? Like SHIELD and the 'vengers?
Interviewer: That's right, Cameron. Like the Avengers.
Researcher Valdez's Closing Statement: SCP-X appears to trust me and believe that the Foundation is attempting to help him as much as possible. SCP-X's account is consistent with the early stages of a humanoid developing a reality bending ability. SCP-X may have experienced abuse at the hands of its parents, leading to early development of said ability. In the event that a more developed ability is required for research, similar emotional stress can be applied by Foundation staff.
Addendum X-01: Following initial testing, it seems that only a more developed ability will yield new data. Standard emotional manipulation and gaslighting techniques have had no effect thus far. Allowing a D-class to believe he has a valuable hostage in SCP-X and a chance to escape may provide the required emotional stimulus.
Addendum X-02: During the hostage situation test, it became clear that SCP-X retains an aversion to violence it considers unnecessary. This is undesirable for testing. Placing SCP-X in more direct and obvious danger following a violent incident may push it to use its abilities further.
During this test SCP-X showed direct control over changing the composition of a manipulated object - in this case, it was able to change a knife into a piece of chocolate. Researcher Valdez hypothesised that SCP-X was hungry during the event.
Since the main testing event, it has shown semi-consistent use of this object transformation ability with a slightly extended range for telekinetic abilities.
Addendum X-03: Pending further analysis of the data from the previous test, testing is now on hold by order of the Ethics Committee. After seeing a man killed and using its newly developed violent abilities, SCP-X has become unstable in a manner dangerous to both itself and the Foundation. A new Foundation psychiatrist is to be assigned to SCP-X.
Overridden by O5-3 upon receipt of full analysis. The data we are receiving has been judged to be worth the danger, and SCP-X remains under the illusion that it is working with the Foundation. Testing will go ahead as planned.
- SCP-X has stated that it intends to grow stronger to stop more people from dying, and this will help both it and us in this aim. Killing a man with a teleported bullet was a stroke of tactical genius from the SCP object. MTF-Theta-17 will be ready to respond during all further rounds of testing as a precaution. - O5-3
Addendum X-04: Following recent rounds of O5-approved rapid fire testing with added emotional risks (innocent bystanders and risk to SCP-X's personal belongings), SCP-X has developed many further abilities consistent with reports of late-stage telekinetic reality benders. SCP-X can now consistently teleport matter and itself, act upon information from apparently several seconds in the future, and move or transform matter within twelve metres without directly viewing it. Hitherto unrecorded abilities, such as self duplication, are also present.
SCP-X has also shown good control over its abilities, expressing excitment about "levelling up," the desire to learn more soon and to better help the Foundation. Neurological and physiological monitoring during certain tests has brought some insight into the development of such abilities. Specific areas of the brain have been identified as key to anomalous perception and control, as described in document X-Neuro-23.
Manipulation of non-SCP-classification anomalous objects ranging from simple movement and teleportation to complex puzzle solving:
- SCP-X had some difficulty with anomalous object displacement at first, describing it as "like grabbing a bouncy ball that won't stop." This was soon overcome, and SCP-X was capable of manipulating the more complex objects with ease, only slowed in terms of puzzle solving skills by the most complex object. Despite initially growing frustrated with this, SCP-X was delighted when the anomalous puzzle box contained his favourite brand of chocolate bar.
Apparent danger to Foundation personnel from "malfunctioning" armed drones:
- SCP-X turned the drones on each other, disarming the last by teleporting its weaponry away from it.
Bomb disposal in the vicinity of "innocent civilian" D-class:
- SCP-X appeared to absorb energy of bomb at time of explosion. This mechanism is not well understood, but is believed to be a transformation of kinetic energy to some form of equivalent potential energy.
A "suicide bomber" attacking "innocent civilian" D-class with the stipulation that the bomber be taken alive.
- SCP-X teleported bomb vest into explosive containment vessel, before rendering the bomber unconcious with a punch. Notable in that SCP-X did not punch with any unusual force or speed and therefore rendered the bomber unconcious via other anomalous means.
Injured personnel needing to be moved with extreme precision.
- Impromptu test, SCP-X was capable of teleporting a researcher who had fallen down some stairs to the nearest medical bay without displacement of broken collar bone or any discomfort on the part of the researcher.
"Discovery" of bomb within SCP-X's personal belongings.
- SCP-X became enraged and teleported bomb a great distance into sky before it detonated. SCP-X took some time to calm down, repeatedly stating that "no one can take my things. It's not fair. I'm strong." Noted lack of precision with abilities when angry. Possibly deliberate show of rage.
Stealing box from Foundation-modified bank vault
- SCP-X managed to teleport in, take the box and "slow down" Foundation sensors after tripping them before they could transmit that someone had been detected. This was only discovered upon later analysis. Clear violation of causality by SCP-X. SCP-X expressed no concern about activities of dubious morality - a clear change from even days ago.
Long-range surprise attack by robotic mortar:
- SCP-X became enraged and caught mortar bomb before throwing it back to the launcher at appromixately 1.4 times the speed of sound. Mortar detonated upon impact with mortar. SCP-X is clearly less precise in abilities and more violent generally while angry. Perception problems when angry also seem to be an issue. SCP-X was heard to say "I hate them. I'm a foundation 'venger and I hate the bad guys and I'm gonna fight them all."
Two "civilians" held hostage in rooms connected via bulletproof glass window by enemies with guns which SCP-X was informed were impervious to sabotage. SCP-X was also informed that the hostages could not be teleported without physical contact. SCP-X instructed to rescue both hostages:
- SCP-X duplicated self and teleported both hostages to Foundation "command post" simultaneously, before returning to capture both enemies. SCP-X reported nausea afterward but no other ill effects. Lack of attempts to do things SCP-X was told were impossible likely indicative of strong loyalty to, and belief in, the Foundation. This ability had not yet been confirmed among any known reality benders.
The Ethics Committee formally recommends that testing be ceased while SCP-X receives treatment for severe emotional problems, and personnel are investigated.
Overriden by O5-3. Testing will go ahead as scheduled. Treatment of known problems will commence immediately afterward. Previous testing was approved with O5 clearance.
Addendum X-05: In light of recent results, psychiatric treatment of SCP-X has been delayed in favour of invasive neurological testing with emphasis on closer monitoring of known hotspots during utilisation of anomalous abilities in live combat. Surgery will commence within the week and SCP-X will then be deployed against armed D-class from military backgrounds.
Testing cancelled by Ethics Committee following routine review. Researcher Valdez under investigation, security clearance temporarily revoked.
- Implanting a monitoring chip into a child this young can not be done without significant developmental damage in later years. This will cause catastrophic problems for both the child and long term containment, given his well developed capabilities. Additionally, deploying a child in combat, even under testing conditions, violates all moral norms. Sweeping the previous rapid-fire tests under the rug - Ethics Committee ID EC12A51
Testing reinstated by order of O5-3. Research Valdez' clearance restored.
- These tests are more important than one SCP, regardless of whether it looks like a child. Long-term containment is no longer a priority, given the utility of data we have collected via intensive in the short term. - O5-3
Testing cancelled by O5-4 and O5-7 following investigation of researcher complaints. Researcher Valdez held by security personnel pending council meeting.
- This is too far. We can not let this stand as precedent. - O5-4.
Testing reinstated by majority Overseer vote following council meeting. Researcher Valdez exonerated. Testing will go ahead at the end of the week, assuming no complications.
- I believe the results will justify both the risks and the means. We are closer than ever to understanding the mechanism by which human brains interact with extranormal phenomena. The emotional and eventual neurological damage to SCP-X is… unfortunate but it is also necessary for the advancement of our understanding. - Researcher Valdez.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-X are to be kept in secure containment lockers.
Description: SCP-X is a number of headsets through which users play an "Alternate Reality Game."
this is fucking stupid fuck everything and fuck you
two ghosts stuck on earth because of an overly complicated contract wherein one should claim the other's soul but noone can figure out which one is entitled to claim
the foundation created the contract so as to study ghosts (maybe to study arcane law) but can't unfuck it
You never believed in old superstitions. All nonsense - demons, ghosts?
You were, however, very eager to take centre stage in your friend's amateur horror movie, even looking up the kind of "rituals" a believer would use - mainly for a lack of imagination.
Some of your more superstitious - or more religious - friends wouldn't stay for the ritual scene.
Just some ominous chanting, and pretending to spill your own blood in a weird drawing on the floor.
Even those who stayed looked nervous.
You weren't counting on your knife hand slipping and cutting yourself to the bone. Amateur horror productions don't typically have a large prop budget.
You almost certainly weren't counting on an incomprehensible dark satire of the human form crawling out of the hole that wasn't there before your blood hit the ground, turning its irregular face on you and screaming from a hole in its cheek.
It would be silly to count on that, after all.
You weren't counting on the demon reading your mind and becoming insulted at the idea that it was "silly."
You tried to run but your toes were caught on something, and your foot began to harden. You weren't able to move your legs and your arms froze in position as the demon encased you in stone.
You had to watch your friends die slowly, their eyes pleading for mercy and their mouths screaming for death. Eventually, each of their dead bodies were absorbed into the demon, furthering the irregularity of its shape.
You were not granted such release. Your friend's misplaced eyes mocked you from shoulders, arms, and legs as the demon fell back into its hole, pausing only to amicably say four words through its misshapen cheek-flap.
"Not so silly now."
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X-1 is to be kept in a standard small object containment unit, and checked once a day for new instances of SCP-X-2. Instances of SCP-X-2 are to be filed appropriately, and the overall folder kept in a secure locker. Clearance for viewing SCP-X-2 files can only be given to staff with clearance level 4 or higher and only with the approval of the lead researcher.
Description: SCP-X-1 is an in tray, formerly of the Site-29 Director's office, in which instances of SCP-X-2 spontaneously appear. Instances of SCP-X-2 are SCP reports which pertain to no currently known SCP objects.
blah blah blah blah they're being written by someone who is trapped in the abstract concept of SCP reports
view some of them here
maybe I can get a password thing going
wikidot is fucking awful tho
Item #: SCP-11111111111111
Object Class: Help????
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X is to be rescued as soon as possible.
Description: SCP-X is field researcher Richard Thompson. SCP-X was on assignment with MTF Delta-25, investigating the possibility of opening a "Way" like the SH, got trapped, please to send help
Item #: SCP-2134
Object Class: Euclid.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2134 is to be kept in a standard humanoid containment cell. SCP-2134 is to be given the Sacrament of Communion by a Catholic site chaplain once per week.
Due to incident 2134-sigma, personnel onsite are not to mock religion, or make SCP-2134 aware of any "mortal sins" they have committed. Reasonable effort and allowances to keep SCP-2134 cooperative are highly encouraged, but must be reviewed by the lead researcher. SCP-2134 is not to be made aware of events that it could reasonably believe to signify the "Second Coming".
Description: SCP-2134 is a humanoid male, in its mid-twenties. SCP-2134 is able to neutralise anomalies it considers "demonic" using the traditional Catholic Rite of Exorcism, spoken in Latin.
This was discovered following reports of anomalous activity at St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, Ireland. SCP-2134 was taken into Foundation custody immediately. Monitoring has not yet revealed any other anomalous students.
Students who knew SCP-2134 considered it to be old fashioned but very strong in its faith. Some suggested that it went too far in its beliefs regarding sinners, but also that it would rather "call on the Lord" than use violence. One student mentioned that SCP-2134's views were out of line with the modern Church, and that he would "bet on him over the Pope".
Following incident 2134-sigma, it is theorised that SCP-2134 is a reality bender whose abilities never developed in childhood, but are subconsciously affected by its faith. Research is ongoing into the focused weather patterns and single extremely powerful lightning strike which occurred during the incident.
From an interview with SCP-2134 following the incident:
SCP-2134: "Smite a scorner, and the simple will beware,"
Due to the level of reality distortion shown during the incident, some researchers believe that SCP-2134 would easily be able to escape. Given that SCP-2134 claims no remorse for the deaths caused by the incident, it is considered likely to cause a large amount of deaths and damage in the event of an escape attempt.
The possibility of SCP-2134's idea of God becoming a reality has also been raised.
These will go in different places, not sure yet
"You don't have enough faith," Jesus told them. "I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible."
This should go somewhere
Denial of agency, reality bending perceived as a "miracle" by 2134
As of ██/███/████, more than 15% of personnel assigned to Site-37 have become practising Catholics. Approximately 20% of these converted were "lapsed" Catholics, and only 2% had any contact with SCP-2134.
Extracts from the logs of interviews, observation, and intercepted communication of those involved with certain SCP objects.
Remnant of an interview conducted in Ukraine, 19██
Interviewee: Yes, my baby is active without crew. Is fail-deadly.
Interviewee: Fail-safe stops process if no one left to confirm. Fail-deadly kill enemy if no one left to stop. You understand, da?
Interviewer: Ah, I see. But why? Surely there is no need of such a measure now that hostilities have ceased.
Interviewee: I am not leave my baby without mean of self-defense. You do not leave child at home without explain shotgun! There are wolves! She thinks you are the wolves, with your guns and your armour. She only want to be left alone.
Translated from a Japanese letter to an AWCY? cell.
Stop contacting me. I do not wish to join your "collective." You have completely misunderstood my vision, just as badly as this Foundation. "Perhaps you should have sent them the inhibitor." Perhaps you should learn respect for your elders! My art cannot be ignored; yours can hardly be endured. If you contact me again, you will learn this in no uncertain terms.
Extract from an interview with a senior US Air Force officer
They knew what they were getting into. I didn't even want to send them on that mission, but it was that or the whole country was getting fucked. I didn't know there was an organisation for this kind of weird crap or I would've kicked it up the chain. Can you guys bring that plane back or not? Can I at least have something to tell their families? My boys have been listed as missing in action for quite some time.
Interview with a New York graffiti artist
Interviewee: No, I'm not fucking Banksy. Anyone can have a sense of social conscience about their goddamn art.
Interviewer: …yeah, I'm not sorry. You'd probably be going to jail if it was the cops that picked you up. Now, again, were you aware of the anomalous properties of the artwork?
Interviewee: *sighs* No, I was just angry about stuff. I'm not sure why you're so insistent that this stuff is anomalous or whatever. Plenty of great art gets copied.
Interviewer: A little full of yourself, aren't you?
Interviewee: Oh, fuck you. A lot of people are angry about society. My art speaks to that. I did it with regular spray paint and regular stencils, not some fucking goats blood and satanic cardboard or whatever the fuck.
Part of a statement taken from a teenager in a rural community after the deaths of several farmers
Look, I tried to make that fucking super serum like in the comics with a home chemistry set, and I tested it on my iguana in case it was poison, and, well things got out of hand from there. So just neuralyse me or whatever. You can keep the little bastard, even if that shit wears off, he always bit me anyway.
A fit bearded man, hair tied neatly back, strode purposefully into a café, nodding to the owner. Clapping his hand on a redheaded woman's shoulder, he sat down across the table from her. "Well, what's the craic? Thought our boy Paddy kicked all you fuckers out a few hundred years ago."
She glared but with laughter in her eyes. "Yeah, well, we have our Ways, you jailor bastard. Besides, he was a vanguard for Catholic colonialism. And not even the first."
He accepted a cup from the café owner and nodded thankfully at the man before turning back to his friend. "Aye, that's what I'm here to talk to you about."
She smiled sarcastically and raised her eyebrows in faux-interest, as he reached for something in his jacket pocket. "Catholic colonialism?"
He rolled his eyes and overdramatically pulled his free hand down across his face, pulling gently at his beard. "No, you wanker. I need a Way."
He pulled a flask from his pocket and started to unscrew it as she faked sadness. "And here I thought you were meeting an old army buddy for a cup of coff- did you just put rum in your coffee?"
There was genuine shock in her eyes for a fleeting second. He looked up, closing the flask again. "It's white hot chocolate. You know I hate coffee."
She looked at him hard. "Who puts rum in white hot chocolate?"
He kept his face carefully neutral. "Me. It's not a lot."
She sighed and looked sad again. He knew she wasn't joking this time and his face slipped, betraying embarassment. He hoped he wasn't blushing. He moved the conversation along.
"I need a Way. Alt universe stuff. Shouldn't fuck up anything you're working on."
She put on a haughty face. "Oh, and why should I, an upstanding member of the magical community help one who would lock us in cells for the, admittedly indefensible, crime of being different?"
He laughed a little, trying to cover his embarassment. "Same as always, you wee snake. Because I'm not locking you up, and because it's fucking important."
She asked her usual question, knowing the answer. "Have your bosses started to turn their heads to the idea that normal may not be quite what they think?"
He gave his typical response. "As if any boss ever had their head anywhere but their arse. But we can work together." Sipping at his hot chocolate, he continued. "I need a Way. I believe I have the necessary will. Are you going to facilitate it or not?"
She looked suddenly mischievous. "I suppose I must, for the sake of cooperation and brotherhood between the mundane and magical communities. But it shall surely be a great task, a-"
He interrupted, offering a folder. "Here are the details. What's your price?"
She took the folder and looked inside, growing intensely thoughtful as she read. "Mmm. This could take a while. I'll gather the materials, and you'll have to pay me then. I hope this is worth it. I'm going to have to stop working on some stuff for this."
He nodded. "It will definitely be worth it, and you'll be paid."
She looked up at him again, searchingly. "You're more interested in this one than usual. Less detached. But you're trying to be?"
He let his neutral face drop, showing his exhaustion and worry. "I don't mean to hide anything from you that I'm allowed to tell you. I have a personal stake in this one. I suppose to some extent, that means you do as well, if you want to."
She smiled a little, almost sadly. "You know I do. And you know honesty was never a problem between us."
He matched her smile. "Aye. More the opposite, in fact." He grew a little more serious. "Listen, we'll need someone to come through and make sure we can get back through the Way again. Will that be you?"
She brightened up and so did he. "Sure. I'll have to put my work on hold for the duration, but it's nice to get out of your own universe every now and again."
"What are you working on these days anyway?" he asked, waving at the owner for another drink.
"Oh, y'know. Cosmetics and, uh, addiction things." she trailed off, realising what she had brought up.
"…I'm cutting back, y'know. It's not as bad as it was. Only the odd shot every now and then. Not that I'm not grateful." He tried to cut through the awkwardness.
"Tell me this much… What about today?" She looked intense and worried again.
He sighed."I'd say seeing you was a special occasion, but this operation has me stressed. There are implications." She smiled at him but went right back to worrying.
"Best have it done quick so. I'll need two days. Then we can go through." They both nodded, and idly chatted some more as they finished their drinks.
A blond businessman spoke into his phone on a busy street. "Bravo-One moving on target now. Charlie, can you run the lights?" Dropping the phone into his pocket, he cut through the crowd, walking up behind an overweight, bearded, long-haired civilian, who was waiting to cross the road.
An aging boy racer car skimmed onto the pavement, scaring several people before driving away. Bravo-One pulled the already backpedaling civilian back further, discreetly contact-tasing him and lowering him gently. The car was already gone by the time anyone realised the civilian was on the ground.
A couple of people looked shocked, but Bravo-One was already on his phone again. "I need an ambulance to the Marshes. No, the other side. Yeah. Yeah. I don't know, he just fell after he nearly hit a car. I'm a paramedic, he'll be ok until you get here." The concerns of those few who had looked back were assuaged by this.
"Alpha acknowledges. We should make it in three."
Soon the civilian was strapped into the back of an ambulance. The agent in charge leant over him and grinned humourlessly.
"Nice work, lads. Get everyone back to the Hole. The snake's waiting for us."
The agent stood back sloshed a bucket of cold water over the wooden chair, and the sleeping civilian tied into it. "Wake up, fuckhead."
"FUCK." The civilian nearly jumped out of his skin, knocking the chair over sideways and taking himself with it. "Fuck me. That was fucking sore."
The agent stood the chair up again from behind, not bothering to see to the civilian's comfort. "Don't jump on the floor then, you absolute gobshite. You're tied to a chair, you shouldn't be even capable of jumping on the fucking floor. But, no." The agent sighed and began pacing, his shoes loud on the stone floor. "Fucking everything up again. You have no idea how much fucking trouble you're in here. Do you even know where you are?"
The civilian tried look around, insofar as any man could without moving his body at all. Stone floor. Shitty school yellow walls. No visible windows. Shitty flourescent lighting.
"Last I recall, I was on my way to my doctor. Now I'm not there. Unless they've cut the staff budget again. Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?"
"I want to tell you a story."
"I've got a fucking email address, y'know."
"Ah, but you don't check it, you lazy prick."
"Facebook then. Regular post. Whatever. Tying me to a chair is a complete overreaction."
"Fuck facebook and fuck you. We're not friends. Did you think we were friends? Friends don't kidnap friends, tie them to chairs while they're asleep, then throw a bucket of water over them do they?"
The civilian sighed. "Obviously not."
"Do you ever shut the fuck up?"
"You keep asking me fucking questions and throwing water on me! What in the fuck do you expect?"
"Aren't you the very personification of eloquence?"
"Shut the fuck up, and listen to my story. I've had enough of yours."
"What? What in the name of fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I said, shut the fuck up." The agent punctuated this line with a dispassionate slap to the civilian's back of the head. "You have no idea who I am. You have no idea who you are. I am going to fucking tell you."
The agent paced some more then began. "Once upon a time there was an awful gobshite. He wrote some fucking stories on the SCP wiki, and they all sucked - but some of them stuck around long enough for him to make an author page. I believe you should be with me so far?"
"Not sure how this is relevant to fucking anything, but, yes, I follow. I write shitty internet fiction sometimes. Get the fuck on with it."
"He made a joke character. Himself as an agent. Irish army to military intelligence, bar brawler, alcoholic." The agent stopped pacing and leaned down behind the civilian's head, talking directly into the civilian's ear as his head turned slightly, bracing for a punch. "Very… Fucking… Funny!"
The civilian barely jumped. "Is there a point to this?" he asked, "I'm getting fucking cold from the water you threw on my head, you prick."
The agent began pacing again. "Tell me. What would you do if your existence was just a joke? Your entire existence, nothing but to amuse some kind of cosmic absolute bastard?"
The civilian laughed wild and loud and long, the agent stopping halfway through his stride and staring in surprise. "Given the situation I'm in now, how in the fuck would I know any different, you absolute prick? You fucking wank…" The civilian's insults trailed into more raucuous laughter, his shaking threatening to tip the chair again.
The agent seethed silently, watching the civilian's laughter turned to tears and sucking sobs and gasps for breath.
He growled and stepped forward to directly behind the chair again. "Do you think this is a fucking joke?"
The civilian calmed down long enough to say, "Isn't that what you just said it is? I don't know what the fuck you want with me. I don't know what the fuck the SCP wiki has to do with anything. Are you going to kill me or what?"
"What the SCP wiki has to do with anything is that it's real. You're in the SCP universe now. With the guy you created and gave these fucking problems."
Responsibility to look after child
Responsible for own death??? By some ideologies, yes. Others, no. Hmm.
Responsibility to undo damage to child
Child does not want help from mother, not even a ghost version
Responsibility to find way to help without crossing boundaries
Child still unhappy??
Responsibility to know when to go away
Document F246-2 - recovered from the site of a suicide of Anomalous Humanoid F246's mother. SCP designation pending. An investigating officer read the note, shooting himself when finished. His partner alerted their superiors, and the incident was then flagged by a Foundation program embedded in the computer system.
Warning! Phasial Cognitohazard. Report to medical immediately if any symptoms are felt.
You have plenty of things. You have a lot of things. You are spoiled. It is your fault that you are spoiled. You did not ask for these things. It is your fault that you have them. You earned the money for them yourself. You are spoiled because you own things. I throw away all of your things. You manage to hide a shoebox of books and toys. You are spoiled. When I find the shoebox I take it away. You always wonder what happened to it. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You are in pain and it is your fault. It is always your fault. You became sick purposefully, to inconvenience me. You can stay sick. You will stay sick. You're not allowed to go to the doctor. You must go to school. You lie that you are in pain. You do this to hurt me. You pass out at the end of the week and miss Friday. This is your fault. It is always your fault.
Effort does not matter. You can do well. You simply choose not to. You choose to do well sometimes. This only proves that it is choice. Clearly it is not competency. You are intelligent. You are stupid. You do not care. You choose not to care. You choose to be stupid because you hate me. You try to do better. You try not to hate me. You accept that it is your fault. It is always your fault.
You need to stop eating. You eat too much. You need to eat your dinner. It was made for you and it is yours. You need to eat it. You need to not eat it. You may not have more. If you do not ask for more, you must not like it. You hate me. You choose to hurt me. You do not like it and so you hate me. You eat a chocolate bar. You are fat and it is your fault. You need to exercise. You are lazy and you need to exercise. You may not go outside. You must stay inside. You are lazy and you need to study. You may not exercise. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You tell the truth. You are lying. You always lie. You know it is the truth. You know you are lying. You were drinking. You know you were not. You were anyway. You are lying about it. You do this to hurt me. You are on drugs. You know you are not. You are anyway. You are lying about it. You do this to hurt me. You may not see your friends. You are planning to get drunk. You say you are not. You are lying. You say the sky is blue. It is not. You are lying. You say you are late because the bus was full. I say it was not. You say you need to get to school earlier. I say you do not. You tell me you are in trouble at school for being late. I say you are taking drugs before school. You know you are not. You tell me you are not. You are lying. You are lying to hurt me. I am hurt. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You have a room. It is your room. You can stop me from going in there. It is private. I allow you this. I go in there anyway. I make it different. You do not organise it correctly. It is perfectly clean but you still do not organise it correctly. You do not care about my feelings. My feelings may not influence your private space. It is your fault. You do not organise it correctly. You fear I may have taken something. This is because you are a thief. You steal and you accuse me of stealing. You wonder why I am organising your room. You wonder what private means. You do not know. You never did. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You are talking too loudly. You are talking too quietly. You must stop talking and answer me. You seize up. Why are you seizing up? Answer me. You hate me. This is your fault. You cannot stand the shouting. You cannot answer the shouting. You run away and hide. You know the shouting will find you. The shouting says that everything is your fault. It is your fault you were born. It is your fault that we had to move. It is your fault that we are not rich. It is your fault that a form has to be filled out. Your school is your fault. Your home is your fault. Your life is your fault. You know it is your fault. It is always your fault.
You have nothing to be sad about. You have everything to be happy about. You are alive and your body works. You hate the disabled. You must hate the disabled. You would be worse off if you were disabled and yet you are depressed. You hate me. You are doing this because you hate me. You are trying to punish me. I am doing my best. I am giving you all the money I have. I have no money to go out. I am going out two nights a week. You use all the money I could have for luxuries. I have a bottle of wine every night. You are the reason we do not go on holidays. I go on holiday while you are at a camp you chose to go to. You chose not to go on the holiday you did not know about. You are the reason we do not have nice things. I buy myself a new television. You can never use it. You broke yours. It is older than you. You broke it. You should never have used it. Everything you touch breaks. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You will have internet access in the new house. It is a promise made to you. It is two years since. You need internet access for school. You do not need internet access for school. I did not need internet access for school. You are lying to me. You want me to pay money just to make me poor. You know you are dependent on me and you still want to make me poor. You hate me and so you are lying to me. You may not go to the library for your school project. You are a liar and you may not go. You are in trouble at school. You did not get your project done. You are lazy and did not do it. It is another year since. You may have internet for your birthday. It is expensive and slow. This is your fault. You made me get it. It does not help me. I should cut it off. You lie that it is useful to you. You lie that you need it for school. I do not cut it off. I continually threaten to. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You want to join a club. You may not join a club. You know they are too expensive. You hate me. You ask to join a club because you hate me. You must join a club. You should not be in the house so much. You are lazy and so you must join a club. You are out of the house too much. Your friends are far away and you cannot walk that far. There are no buses and I will not bring you. You are too young to drive. It is your fault that I chose this house. It is your fault that everything is too far away. You cycle to your friends one day. You will cycle back. You will not cycle back. You will get in the car and come home. You did not know you were being picked up. It is your fault. You must leave your bike there. You know it will be stolen. You may not put it in your aunt's garage. The garage was just cleaned. You know this. You may not go back next week for your bike. Your bike is stolen. You are not allowed such a method of escape. You blame me. You blame me because you hate me. You have no bike. It is your fault. It is always your fault.
You begin to realise you are right. You begin to realise it is not your fault. It never was. It never was your fault. You hand me a note. It has these words on it. I read. I am unable to stop reading. I shoot myself and the wall is painted with my brains and my blood.
You are safe. You never have to see me again. I am gone. It is not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. I cannot make it your fault anymore. I am gone. You are free. It is not your fault. It is not your fault. It will never be your fault.
It is always your fault. You will always feel guilty. You will never be free. I will always be in your head. I will always be there to insist that it is your fault. That you are speaking too loudly. That you are speaking too quietly. That you are wrong. That you are lazy. That you are lying. That you hate. That it is your fault. It is always your fault. It will always be your fault. There is nothing you can do. It is always your fault.
Initial analysis: Analysis indicates that this was a targeted cognitohazard created with the direct intent of causing F246's mother to kill herself. This would indicate a level of aggression F246 has not shown towards the investigating police officers or any Foundation personnel. It is the belief of our team that the investigating officer's death was purely coincidental, and not intended by F246. Analyst Li speculates that F246's mother may have been anomalous herself, or simply abusive. Autopsy results pending.
Between initial reports of F246 and the content of F246-2, it is believed to be likely that F246-2's anomalous property will fade over time and become safe. Until then, it should not be handled by anyone suffering from depression or related conditions or anyone who has scored lower than "moderate" on the Cognitohazard Resistance Test.
post-apoc society attributing foundation site's anomalous shit to fae or whatever
A circle with three arrows pointing in and a border about,
To keep you safe within, and the bad things out.
Poetry is hard.
Researcher Sharon Ó'Malley, Psychiatry Department, was not having a pleasant time.
Not a particularly unpleasant one.
But she'd lost a skip. Or broken one. Or something.
In any case, people seemed convinced that something had happened involving her and a skip.
Nothing like that story about the lizard and the photographer - or so she hoped.
It seemed that she had been amnesticised. Or else the skip had erased her memory. Or else something just couldn't be remembered in the first place.
In any case, she couldn't remember the hugely important thing that so many people seemed to think had happened - and neither could they.
Thus, Sharon was in anomalous quarantine.
It was a cell, with a chair, a toilet, a camera watching her, a bed, and a hatch in the airlock-style door which would dispense necessities whenever the people outside put them in.
She had been feeling guilty for the first little while, but it was boring, and she was bored, she had been bored all day, and she would continue to be bored until they let her go.
The only break in the boredom had been a few minutes ago, when the hatch had opened to reveal a piece of paper with a typed document and some written instructions.
She had faced the camera, read the document about something that wasn't round, and returned the piece of paper to the hatch.
Apart from overwhelming boredom, she was feeling rather curious about what exactly she'd read. It wasn't round, anyway, that much seemed certain.
A rather odd piece of information to be certain about, all things considered.
Looking at the camera, she asked "Ok, so, the fact that I can't remember that thing I read - is that about me or is that about the thing? Or is it about the paper itself?"
Note to future Tuomey: we're rewriting from the top - triple horizontal line is as far as I've gotten, not everything below the line is in sequence or will be kept
Was going to call this "Pick a direction", might go with "Gather yourself"
Marissa stumbled and turned around, fumbling for the table to support herself but finding only air. As she regained her balance she looked around, open-mouthed.
"I. Ugh. I did the thing again. What the fuck is this place?" she said.
She held her hands to her head and sat down on the nearby bed, surrounded by shelves, trying to think.
Is this a trap or a something by the people who had me in the place?
Adrenaline beginning to wear off, she fell into a lying position on the bed. Thinking isn't ease when I'd done the thing. I need. I need to figurine were. Ugh. Too tried for panic.
Marissa woke up sometime later, rubbing her head and thinking fuck ouch bollocks I did the thing again will they bring me some painkillers? Or just shitty food?
After a few minutes no painkillers or breakfasts were forthcoming, so she sat up and realised that was no longer in a cell, but in a room with a lot of shelves and books and a high window on the wall to her right. This was too much to process so she flopped down again and slept a while longer.
Hunger finally overcoming exhaustion, Marissa sat up slowly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Shelves on the opposite wall, more books, some DVDs and video games. Chocolate on a middle shelf. Fuck health. I'm hungry. Chocolate in her mouth.
Marissa was beginning to remember Sharon and the interview, but couldn't remember anything after yelling. Thinking about this was also overridden by hunger. Chocolate was delicious but not particularly filling. Not just one bar, anyway.
All this is oddly comfortable she thought, not yet knowing why. Looking past the shelves at the bottom of the bed, she saw a kitchenette.
Marissa clambered out of bed and walked to the nearest counter, moving as if she had recently spent several hours on a full-body workout.
Ugh. Ow. Fuck muscles. she thought, looking around and hoping for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. What fucking time is it anyway?
Some part of her brain working on automatic, she opened the small fridge beside her and pulled out a cheap ready-made lasagne which claimed to serve four people, removed the filthy bastard liar package, added some extra cheese, and put it in the oven to cook while she poured herself some cereal.
I'm hungry, I deserve it, fuck off shut up she thought.
Marissa was still yawning as she made her way through her second bowl of cereal and fourth glass of water, then her brain began to switch on. "Did I remember to put the timer on the oven for the lasagne?"
Turning, she confirmed that she did, and went back to finishing off the cereal before taking the lasagne from the oven.
Halfway through eating it, she realised that she still had a thick metal bracelet around her wrist, bearing the fucking dehumanising asshole designation SCP-055. Probably has some fucking GPS bullshit in there.
She finished eating the lasagne and tried to decide what to do next. Removing the bracelet seemed like a good idea, but a quick search of the room turned up nothing to accomplish this.
She picked up a mug from a nearby shelf and, realising that it was her favourite mug, one that had broken years ago, nearly dropped it again. Replacing it on the shelf, she saw that the bookcase contained her full collection - and all the books she'd never gotten around to buying before it had been too late.
"It's like home, but better. …like how I always wanted it."
"This is some kind of bullshit test, isn't it?" She punched a wall and it responded by unyieldingly and unapolagetically bruising her knuckles.
Marissa sat on what looked like her childhood bed, vaguely surprised to find no broken springs, and tried to gather her scattered and panicked thoughts.
"I did the reality-fucking thing again. But I was wishing I didn't exist. I think? And this feels real to me." Thinking through possibilities was a lot harder when you knew you could do the impossible, but only ever by mistake.
Looking at something that looked remarkably like her old bedroom's door, she wondered if she'd find the rest of her house connected, or if she was stuck with just the bedroom and the en suite.
Marissa might not have been completely exhausted anymore, but she was still far too tired and hungry to try and figure out what was going on with the place that looked like her bedroom.
She sat at the writing desk, drank another glass of water, and ate her lasagne, wondering if her DVDs were here as well and completely overlooking the physical absurdity of the room.
Climbing back into bed after going to the bathroom, she pushed a DVD into the player on the side of her bed and switched on the TV that hung from the ceiling. She just didn't feel like doing anything yet.
Later that day, after only a few episodes of Scrubs followed by several more hours of sleep, she reached into the fridge again and pulled out some chicken kievs and a packet potato skins filled with cheese and bacon - a "party food" she'd eat continuously if she could. She still wasn't sure how they'd gotten there, but it was convenient and she was hungry.
It was a couple of days, three packets of potato skins, two mysterious pizzas, another lasagne, and a full season of Scrubs before she felt fully recovered.
It was several more days, two fantasy novels, her entire collection of Scrubs DVDs, and more food than the little fridge in her room should even have been able to hold before she realised that she should probably be more curious about the place.
She hadn't even opened the door leading out yet.
She sat up, switched off the TV, and looked at the door.
She recalled reading something that said the opposite of love was not hatred, but indifference.
"How is refusing to even look outside any better than being locked up?"
If the opposite of love is indifference, then what's the opposite of happiness?
"Well, it's more comfortable."
"Coffins can be padded. It doesn't make you any less dead."
"Coffins don't generally come with what seems to be a self-replenishing fridge and the bedroom you missed with all the comforts you wished you'd had."
What was boredom, but the lack of excitement?
"That doesn't mean I shouldn't even look outside."
She had grown too content with the convenience, too complacent with the comforts. No sadness, but no happiness either.
"In other places, you can fail."
"I'd rather fail at something, than succeed at nothing."
cark: verb: 1. To be filled with worry, solicitude, or troubles. 2. To bring worry, vexation, or anxiety. noun: 1. A noxious or corroding worry. 2. The state of being filled with worry.
Item #: SCP-X
Special Containment Procedures: Dispense anti-anxiety medication as necessary, shoot any bears that show up, don't let anyone in.
Description: SCP-X is the town of [REDACTED] in [REDACTED]. The inhabitants of SCP-X all seem to have a pathological fear of bears, despite there being no bears within several hundred kilometres.
Item #: SCP-1101-J
Object Class: Mandatory Gender Studies
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1101-J-1 is to be kept in a humanoid containment chamber with a sound system playing a recording of a woman saying various mildly negative things about men in the format "men are x".
Description: SCP-1101-J-1 is an anomalous young adult male humanoid with strong anti-feminist views, who will teleport itself to the nearest woman when she makes what it perceives to be an "unfair generalisation" about men. Upon teleporting, SCP-1101-J-1 will scream "NOT ALL MEN!" This is currently believed to be a form of war cry, but seems to accomplish little, other than alerting those nearby while simultaneously irritating them.
SCP-1101-J-1 is capable of growing facial hair below the chin but not actually on its face. The cause for this is unknown. Insulting this "style" of facial hair can cause SCP-1101-J-1 to enter a rage state, in which it will rant incessantly about "feminazi double standards" while stamping its feet and flailing its arms, often hitting itself in the face. It can only be calmed by a bottle of Mountain Dew.
SCP-1101-J-2 is a hat, called "Le Pussy Magnet Fedora Supreme" by SCP-1101-J-1, despite the fact that it is neither a fedora - see addendum - nor stylish enough to be a "pussy magnet."
Notably, SCP-1101-J-1 always "seems" to be wearing SCP-1101-J-2, even when it is visibly not - people have described SCP-1101-J-1 as, among other things, a "fedorafuck", even when exposed to it while SCP-1101-J-2 is confirmed to be in a separate containment unit. This effect has been tentatively dubbed the fedaura, and is hypothesised to be a defense mechanism which will cause intelligent people to avoid interacting with SCP-1101-J-1, thus saving it from having to confront the myriad flaws in its logic.
Addendum 01: It's not even a fedora, it's a fucking trilby. - Researcher O'Brien
Addendum 02: It has become apparent that a large number of men outside of the SCP Foundation seem to have the "fedaura" affect of SCP-1101-J-1. It is not yet decided whether this is to be considered a failure of containment, or even an anomalous affect. Some researchers have hypothesised that "these people are just fucking awful."
Discovery log: Taken from Private Isabella Roberts' microphone recording of an irrelevant MTF Alpha-24 operation.
Sounds of heavy gunfire
Sgt Parker: Roberts, where the fuck is everyone?
Pvt Roberts: It's just me and Washington! Everyone else is down! All our other men are down!
SCP-1101-J: NOT ALL MEN!
Pvt Washington: What the fuck? How did you get behind us? Are you gock?
SCP-1101-J: That's not important, what's important is that this woman is OPPRESSING the men of the world by making UNFAIR GENERALISATIONS about-
A loud explosion cuts SCP-1101-J off
Pvt Washington: They're closing in, we need more suppressing fire.
Sgt Parker: Look, whatever, if you're not here to fight us, can you at least shoot at those guys? The ones who are trying to murder everyone in this foxhole, including you?
SCP-1101-J: Making a MAN go to WAR, you are the FACE of female oppression!
Sound of a heavy vehicle approaching, explosion
Pvt Roberts: That was our last fucking rocket!
Sgt Parker: I am a guy, there is a female soldier right there, AND I AM JUST TRYING NOT TO GET MURDERED!
SCP-1101-J: You have INTERNALISED the MISANDRY of society and- wait, dude, she's hot, is she single? You're in charge, can you, like, order her to go out with me?
a cracking noise, later identified as Private Roberts knocking SCP-1101-J out with her rifle butt
MTF Alpha-24 were soon reinforced by air and SCP-1101-J was taken to Site-17.
Crite from site:
In all honesty, I just didn't find it that funny. It's not really that creative, and it really just seemed a bit boring. I will admit, the discovery log was the high point of the article. I liked that. But everything else, including the nature of the person, just seemed boring. It just leaves me with this feeling of "It's a good concept, but there is just something missing." Ok, I'll stop ranting now. But yeah, maybe if you re-wrote this with a bit more interesting things and without the attempts to throw pussy, modern mlg memes, and fedora memes into it, I would change my vote to a +. But for now, it is a -.
You picked prime material for a joke article, and I love how people are getting upset about it. So kudos to you on that.
But it's just not clever enough or new enough for me to really support this staying on the site — it's fedora memes written up in clinical language, mostly. There's a place in my heart for a neckbeard joke article on the wiki, but it's just not this one.
This is far too blunt to be clever, funny, or interesting.
EDIT: Okay, Object Class: Mandatory Gender Studies made me giggle, but not enough to change my vote.
While I did have a chuckle at certain bits like
"Le Pussy Magnet Fedora Supreme"
as well as the log, the article is just too straight forward and I knew what most of the jokes were as soon as I started reading. If this was made subtly and with the joke being revealed slowly rather than thrown in the first few sentences, then it would be much better. No-vote, because I did find some bits funny.
It's about ethics in secure containment procedures
I'm somewhat sad the second log didn't make it through, because of a sole thing.
The bizarro world police could have shouted at the expedition
"You are in breach of fedoral law."
The recovery log is the only clever part about this. I wish it were more of that and less just a neckbeard in SCP format.
Item #: SCP-X
Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-X-1 are to be monitored for signs of dangerous instability for a period of at least one year following the delivery of the relevant SCP-X-2 instance. This monitoring period may be extended at the discretion of the researcher in charge. Instances of SCP-X-1 are also to be directed to a Foundation psychiatrist for data-gathering and treatment if possible.
Instances of SCP-X-2 are not to be stopped, but similar leaflets must be delivered to multiple addresses in the same neighbourhood, as part of an advertising campaign for a Foundation-front business. Instances of SCP-X-2 are to be recorded without interference, as they will be addressed to a new SCP-X-1 instance.
Description: SCP-X-1 is an individual afflicted with a disorder known as "Timeline Divergence Disorder" despite no apparent cause. Timeline Divergence Disorder is an anomalous exposure disorder in which the afflicted person remembers an entirely different timeline (see Foundation AED&I document TDD-1 for further details on causes and treatment).
Common symptoms of TDD mainly include consistently remembering major events or media differently than they happened in our timeline. Note that misremembering a single event is not considered a symptom. A sufferer of TDD remembers a similar but different timeline entirely. The social fallout this causes can lead to paranoia, depression, and various other mental disorders.
In the case of SCP-X-1, Timeline Divergence Disorder has shown itself to last no longer than one year, at which point the afflicted person seems to return to normal.
SCP-X-2 is a pamphlet titled "Living with TDD: Alternate history doesn't have to mean that the bad guys won!" which will be delivered shortly before symptoms begin in the relevant SCP-X-1 instance. SCP-X-2 is somehow placed among the relevant postal worker's mundane deliveries without being noticed. This has led to the hypothesis that at least one alternate timeline's history is merging with people, seemingly randomly but possibly caused on purpose, and the effects are deliberately being ameliorated by someone or something from that timeline.
Item #: SCP-1110-J
Object Class: The worst, just, literally, absolutely the worst
Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-1110-J are to be kept in standard, separate, humanoid containment cells.
Instances of SCP-1110-J are to be kept five to a standard humanoid containment cell; their punishment is that they must live with each other.
Lead researcher note: Unless showing extraordinary new characteristics, any new instances of SCP-1110-J found are to be terminated, as over five hundred are currently contained and I just can't take anymore of these people, seriously, fuck.
Description: SCP-1110-J is an extremely large group of humanoid entities. Their numbers are unknown at the present time - when asked for a population estimate the lead researcher said "there's always one, everywhere, in every fucking workplace or group or club or whatever, there's always one, someone who just doesn't know where the line is and who wouldn't care even if he did."
SCP-1110-J instances manifest at least once in any defined group of humans. The smallest known affected group so far was a group of four people who would regularly go to various social events together. If a group manages to rid themselves of an instance, another one will soon manifest because you just can't get rid of these assholes or another member of the group will become an instance. The vector of transmission is currently unknown, and is the highest priority of the research team.
SCP-1110-J is that fucking guy. You know the one I'm talking about. That asshole. Report them, they're an SCP-1110-J instance and need to be contained.
Being known to, and commonly described by, the other members of the group they have chosen to affect as phrases similar to those contained in the preceding paragraph is currently the only known characteristic shared amongst all instances of SCP-1110-J.
Other common, but not universal, characteristics include an increased tendency towards whining, ignorance of others' difficulties, frequently taking the last slice of pizza, always parking their car just over the goddamn line like an idiot, and similarly irritating behaviour.
Any active 1110-J instances detected outside containment can be viewed at the end of this document, with appropriate clearance. If blank, no active instances are detected.
SCP-1110-J was discovered following a casual conversation between several Foundation researchers; Doctors Paulson, Swanberg, and Baynes.
Dr. Paulson: Did you hear what that asshole did at the party?
Dr. Baynes: Jerry? What did that fucking guy do now?
Dr. Paulson: He showed up without any beer, got totally wasted on my vodka, and then had the audacity to try and make out with me.
Dr. Baynes: …He knows that you're lesbian, right? God, what an asshole.
Dr. Paulson: I know, right? And- wait.
Dr. Baynes: What? What is it?
Dr. Paulson: I only said that he was an asshole and you knew who I was talking about.
Dr. Baynes: So? Wait, you don't think…
Dr. Paulson: Shut up a second. OI, Rick, come here!
Dr. Swanberg: What is it?
Dr. Paulson: Who would you think I mean when I say "that fucking asshole"?
Dr. Swanberg: …what the fuck did Jerry do this time?
Dr. Baynes: My god…
Doctors Baynes, Swanberg and Paulson all reported immediately to site security and Researcher Jerry Hare was captured when he was discovered at a communal fridge where he was eating someone else's goddamn lunch, not even bothering to sit at a table. It is currently unknown how such an asshole even made it to level 3 or how an anomalous humanoid managed to join the Foundation at all.
Active 1110-J instance detected:
Our eyes are only baby eyes
They fall out and are replaced by adult eyes
What's the difference?
Focal length? Viewable spectrum?
Do adult eyes see supernatural things better??
Legolas, what do your adult eyes see
The researcher sighed as he trudged into the office.
"Why the long face, Brooks?" A researcher at a computer desk asked, stretching his arms as he spun his chair to face away from the screen.
"Got another practically empty report to write. Sometimes I think this whole thing is just a dead-end assignment, Holden," Brooks replied. "I mean, I haven't gotten anywhere with this memetic stuff in ages, and it's beginning to feel like I never will."
Holden smirked bitterly. "You've been here, what, three months?" Brooks nodded.
"And you had that big breakthrough with the anticognitohazard filter in your second month, the one that lets us look at this shit more closely than ever without getting infected, right?" Brooks nodded again.
Holden pushed his chair back and gestured at this desk. "Brooks, I have been here, in this exact spot, for over three years. I've had no breakthroughs. No anything. All I do every day is look at goddamn internet memes various Foundation staff send me because they think it's probably memetic or something. The odd time I do find an actual hazard, I don't even get to study it. At least you're in research, you get to deal with new shit, instead of reading through piles of the same tired jokes every single day."
Brooks sat down at his desk, opening a file on his computer, and looked back at Holden. "You've been in that exact spot for three years? You must be dying for a toilet break," he said, his voice deadpan.
Holden laughed, low, bitter and hollow, but somehow relieved. "For fuck's sake, Brooks. Look, I know the research group doesn't exactly have it easy either-"
"You can say that again," Brooks interrupted, not looking away from his screen as he typed.
Holden shot him a look. "That again. Screw you. Look, you guys are at least doing something new. I'm just sick of being the guy who has to go through every damn email. Sometimes I don't even know whether these people are fucking with me. For example…"
He turned back to his computer and opened an email. "…this shit here - very doge, much meme, so wow. There's no way this guy thought this was a cognitohazard. That meme's old as hell."
"That's only been around for something like a year, though, right?" Brooks asked, looking away from the screen as the file he was working on saved.
Holden sighed. "It only got big about a bit over a year ago, but it originated in 2010. Anyway, in meme years, one year is like a thousand. Shit's old! They know it's not a cognitohazard! They're just fucking with me!"
Brooks shrugged. "Maybe most other Foundation staff don't spend as much time looking at memes as you do?" He suggested.
Holden leaned back in his chair again. "You're probably right. I just feel like I'm gonna go postal if I have to read through another five thousand posts by dumb kids with too much time on their hands. I should put in for vacation time."
Brooks suddenly sat up straight, almost jumping out of his chair. Holden looked over at him, concerned. "You ok there?"
Brooks stood up, pushing his chair backwards. "What? Yeah, I'm fine. I just had an idea. Listen, you hang in there, I'm sure they'll give you a vacation or something if you ask."
Holden nodded and watched Brooks head for the exit, wondering what had gotten into the new researcher.
Brooks strode along the corridor, re-energised with the feeling of knowing exactly what he had to do and how to do it. After all, he had designed the latest cognitohazard filter. It should've been obvious from the start.
[[include component:image-block name=Me.jpg|caption=Heard you were talking shit.]]
Security clearance: 4m - no high vehicles
Status: Hella awesome. Currently on long-term observation assignment in Ireland.
Agent "Tombstone" Tuomey is definitely a real character and not just some kind of shitty self-insert constructed for an obligatory thing people do when they hit an arbitrary number of articles. He even has a gun and everything, just like all the real agents. He has been reprimanded for being drunk onsite several times. See? Character flaws! Definitely a well developed character! Recruited, uh, probably by mistake or something? No, uh, from the Irish intelligence service. They totally exist, they're a real thing, shut up.
Fuck, if he's done that drinking shit, why does the Foundation keep him around?? Uh, Agent Tuomey once saved an O5's life! Yeah, that works, let's do this. He totally punched an assassin in the face and threw him through a window, it was fucking awesome! This was in a bar brawl and he didn't know the guy was trying to kill an O5 but the Foundation keeps him around anyway for some fucking reason, I dunno, maybe they don't want to admit to the assassin's employers that their guy only stopped him by mistake? What the fuck was an O5 doing in the kind of shitty bar this guy goes to anyway? Whatever, the point is, he would've got a medal but the Foundation likes to keep a low profile, so, I dunno, he got a bonus instead.
Right, fuck, now I've got to offset the overpowered bullshit of saving an O5's life. Hmm. Agent Tuomey's shooting range scores are average but within the acceptable bounds for an agent of his posting. There we go. Totes not a marty stu.
Stuff I wrote: No, no, you asshole, it's "Items and incidents Agent Tuomey was involved with:"
Blue Brotherhood - May 2012
A Working Computer - Nov 2012
Stop going in circles - Jan 2015 (Didn't quite finish in time for Dec '14, was going in circles and couldn't stop)
Psych dept notes:
This notebook is for researcher notes only and may not be used for formal diagnosis.
Female, humanoid, late-teenage SCP which randomly causes small scale reality shifts based on what it is thinking about - for example, the SCP has reported changing tea to coffee and causing random desired items to appear. This ability appears to be uncontrolled.
The SCP prefers to be addressed as Marissa.
"I was just thinking about whether the kettle he was using was safe - we'd been having some trouble with fuses or some shit and then, well, boom. It exploded. That was it. He died. Right in front of me."
"If it's not a prison, why can't I fucking leave?"
"Really, I'm not stuck here until I'm happy, I'm stuck here until you people have as much data as possible - which means I'm stuck here basically forever, because you don't have as much data as possible until either the magical shit stops or I die. I don't particularly want to be burned at the stake for being a witch or whatever either though. Fucking catch-22."
"Where the hell could I go anyway? Escaping would be fucking pointless."
Interviews have revealed that Marissa accidentally caused the death of her father due to a reality shift, which has had an extremely negative effect on her mental health.
Marissa resents imprisonment but recognises that she doesn't have a place to go.
Reality shifts seem to becoming stronger and more frequent as mental state worsens - hypothesis that they are linked.
"I haven't had a friend my own age in thirteen fucking years, doc, and you think you know about feeling lonely? Fuck off."
"Oh, so, if I don't get my mind under control it'll keep getting worse? So it's my fault. Fantastic. I thought you were here to make me feel better..?"
"Well, shit, I don't want to accidentally hurt anyone. I guess I've got to be responsible about this bullshit, even though it's not my fault."
"Have you ever sat in a corner, wishing you could go home, only to realise you are at home, but it hasn't felt like home for as long as you can remember?"
Marissa claims desire for isolation and no desire to hurt anyone. Direct contradiction of previously professed extended loneliness.
Reality shifts continue to increase in frequency (avg 0.75 to 1/day) but seem to have reached plateau of strength - only affecting things Marissa can directly see and occasionally herself. View full SCP report for further details.
"Of course I don't want more goddamn DVDs, exciting shit happening to other people stopped being fun quite a while ago."
"Since my dreams have all died, you're here to tell me to stop the funeral and explain why I shouldn't be sad."
"Just go away, I'll only drag you down with me,"
"I don't want to be stuffed full of fifty thousand different pills, aren't I taking enough already? They're not even fucking helping,"
"You can't help me. Please stop trying."
Marissa's mental state appears to deteriorating badly as the depression worsens.
Despite her previously professing no desire for self-harm/suicide, fear risk may be increased - especially if reality shift manifests while she is thinking of self-harm etc.
Antidepressants having little effect, consider sedatives if self-harm becomes a problem/if interviews continue to show deterioration of mental state.
The Foundation researcher stepped forward, sliding her notebook into her pocket, and listened to the secure door behind her slide closed. There was an electronic whirring, a beep, and the secure door in front of her slid open. It nearly closed on her as she stepped into the containment area, which was - apart from a poster on the wall and some clothes strewn about the place - almost entirely blank, generic emptiness despite the customisation allowances made for non-violent sentient skips.
The researcher crossed the room, pulling a chair out from the grey table, and sitting down beside the bed where a teenage girl was sitting, looking through a pile of DVDs.
"Hi, Marissa," she said, clicking a pen nervously.
"What the fuck do you want, Sharon? It hasn't been a week." Marissa replied, dropping the DVDs, picking up a remote, and lying back on the bed to look at the wall-mounted television.
"Our session was pushed forward because it seems you've been getting progressively angrier recently. How are you feeling?" Sharon said, undiscouraged by Marissa's apparent apathy.
Marissa sighed and continued flicking through channels. "You thought I was angry so you decided to come down here and piss me off? How exactly do you keep your job? And of course I've been getting angrier."
Sharon ignored the insult, knowing that it was purely defensive. "What do you mean by 'of course', Marissa?"
Marissa turned away from the screen, looking directly at Sharon. "I don't want to be here. Therefore, every day I'm here, I get a little more annoyed." Marissa turned back to the television. "It's not fucking rocket science, Sharon."
Sharon sighed inwardly and, knowing it was pointless, asked the standard question for what felt like the thousandth time - "Is there any way I can make this any better for you?"
Marissa ignored the question completely, knowing it was just a stock phrase, there only for completeness. "I didn't ask for any of this." she said, under her breath.
"Any of what, Marissa?" Sharon asked, leaning forward slightly.
Marissa dropped the television remote. "Anything. This room, this place. I don't like anything about it. I didn't ask for these fucking abilities. You don't know what it's like, constantly watching your thoughts, trying to make sure nothing changes in your hand because you'd rather have a coffee or that the floor doesn't start to disintegrate under your feet because you were thinking about the beach."
She paused for a second, then turned to face Sharon, leaning in enough to cause the researcher to lean back. "This is bullshit and I hate it and you and everyone and everything. Why are you even talking to me? I don't know anything you need to know and I don't have anything you want and I'm not your friend, I'm a locked-up freak."
Sharon remained composed. "I'm talking to you because I want to help you. I th-"
Marissa cut across her. "Help me what? Leave? Because leaving would be marginally better than being here. This shit doesn't work well enough for me to be a threat to anyone on purpose, I just want to be left alone." Marissa let herself fall back onto the bed and began flicking through TV channels again.
Sharon fumbled for a response before rallying with, "If we can figure out how this is happening to you, we can figure out how to help more people than just you - we can maybe help lots of people with similar conditions."
Marissa seethed silently for a second, then sat up and looked directly into Sharon's eyes, the intensity of her expression causing the researcher to flinch.
"Fuck. Them." She said, her voice serious and leaden.
Sharon stuttered. "I- What? Do you hate them?"
Marissa rolled her eyes. "I don't hate them, I just don't give a shit. I do not have any shits left to give. I ran out of shits sometime around the point I was first thrown in a cell and I ran out of fucks when I realised I'd never get to leave. Why the fuck would I hate them? I've never met them."
Marissa stood up as she ranted, knocking over the chair that was beside her small table and striding around the room. She would've kicked things out of the way and knocked people over if any were present.
"Sure, life outside dealing with this shit isn't much better - but at least I could do what I liked and I didn't have shrinks and doctors and researchers and interns fucking poking at me and running shitty tests all the fucking time. At least I could wear what I wanted and go where I liked and I didn't have to wear this fucking government issue bullshit jewellery." She gestured at the metal tracker bracelet on her left wrist. "Fuck this 'designation' dickery anyway." She kicked the chair again and glared at Sharon, waiting for a response she didn't want but knowing that there was not really a whole lot else to do in the cell.
Sharon waited looked down at her clipboard. "It sounds to me like your depression is getting much worse, and, uh…"
Marissa's face twitched slightly as Sharon flipped some pages on a clipboard, but she waited for the end of the sentence.
"…you're probably developing some severe control and anger issues, too…" Sharon trailed off again under Marissa's enraged stare.
Marissa threw her hands up in a mockery of celebration. "Well fucking done, doc. I think you've cured me and everyone else dealing with issues in a fifty foot radius! Hey, does that mean you're next to be locked up in one of these cells? That's gotta be some magical bullshit right there!"
Sharon managed to keep her expression blank. "…I'm sorry?"
Marissa began to stride around the room again. "Take a person, give them the ability to change reality, but have it only happen at random points and make it so that it changes to whatever they're thinking about. Let them have no control over this. Let them watch their father die because of a stray thought."
Then, lock them in a jail and reduce their choices to 'what way do you want to be bored today?' and 'which shitty meal do you want?', of course they're going to have control issues. Of course they're going to be angry. Of course they're going to be fucking depressed."
What the fuck did you expect? That I'd be the smiling ambassador for the magical happy land of sunshine and rainbows? Am I supposed to turn around and tell you how you're a real brilliant shrink, and this is such a great insight that I think I might be cured? Fuuuuck yooou." Marissa kicked the table, not really sure how to continue ranting but not really willing to stop.
Sharon said, "Well, no, of course you're not going to be 'cured' instantly - I'm not a miracle worker. But if you work with me a bit here, we can get your treatment plan modified so that you're not dealing with quite as much depression and anger - or at least, so that it doesn't get any worse."
Marissa turned away. "No, you fucking cannot. That is bullshit, and you know it."
Sharon sighed. "I know you don't trust psych-"
Marissa interrupted her again. "I don't trust you. Not shrinks. You."
"Me in particular? Why?" Sharon asked.
Marissa flopped into a sitting position on the bed. "Not just you. You and your whole organisation. You keep me locked up here. You talk about 'making me better.' You can't just fuck off and leave me alone. You know what would make me feel better? If I could leave that would be great. I like that treatment plan - you can call it 'the most obvious fucking thing in the world' and patent it for use in your fucking prisons or whatever."
Sharon said, "You know we don't run prisons, Marissa - many of our, uh, patients would die or kill a lot of people if left to their own devices. Anyway, I thought you said that life wasn't really that much better when you were left to yourself?"
Marissa didn't really have a good answer to the question. Sniffling, she rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, well, not really all that much better is still better. Anyway, if it's not a prison, why can't I fucking leave? Why do I gotta wear a damn bracelet with a designation number and probably some sort of tracker bullshit?"
Sharon looked directly into Marissa's eyes. "You know the danger you can cause to people, even if you don't mean to. I don't think you really want that."
Marissa looked away. "You don't fucking know what I want. I don't know what I want. I just know I don't want this life," she sobbed. "I just want to be left alone."
Sharon waited a minute for Marissa to compose herself a bit then said, "It seems like you haven't, but I have to ask, have you felt like hurting yourself?"
Marissa didn't know whether to cry or smash the television. "I don't want to commit suicide or hurt myself, you idiot. I'm human and humans want to survive, not to die. It sucks balls. I didn't ask to be given this, this fucking 'desire' to keep going, but it's bullshit. I want my fucking money back."
Sharon made some notes on her clipboard. Marissa mumbled something to herself and Sharon asked her to repeat it.
Marissa said, "I don't wish I was dead. No one wants that. Not really."
Sharon looked at her quizzically. "What?"
Marissa practically jumped off the bed, knocking the table over, looked at Sharon and, sobbing, yelled "I don't wish I was dead - I just wish I didn't fucking exist, ok?! Life would be better if I had never been born, and none of this shit had ever fucking happened."
Sharon looked around the empty room, wondering why she was there. It looked a lot like a humanoid containment area, but there was no bed, no television, no furniture or fittings at all except for the chair she sat in and the standard table, bolted to the floor. Standing up, she wobbled on her feet a bit and nearly fell back down, holding onto the table to regain her balance.
After taking a few deep breaths, she strode quickly to the exit, trying to tell herself that she wasn't panicking. Looking around the corridor outside of the cell, she saw the nearby security post was empty. Walking through the door of the security post, she picked up a phone from the desk and dialed her supervisor's extension.
"Doctor Palmer? It's Sharon. I think I may have been amnesticised. My schedule says, uh -" she pulled her notebook from her pocket and flicked through a couple of pages, "-I was due to interview, uh, SCP-055 at this time? I'm at the security post outside its cell."
The response was a few seconds coming. "…what? 055? Standby, Sharon, I'll send a medical team to your location. Don't move."
Sharon hung up the phone and sat in the security post chair to await the medical team. She looked back through the plexiglass at the containment cell door and, not knowing entirely why, began to cry in grief, feeling as if something precious had been lost.
only notes past this point, no more story, stop reading
Researcher's notes, pre-session 1.
Interview humanoid early stage reality bender. Little to no control over abilities, random events. Shows signs of moderate to severe depression according to head researcher.
Prefers to be addressed as Marissa.
Establish relationship, see if I can get her to keep a diary. Attempt to evaluate mental state over next few sessions.
The Foundation researcher stepped forward, sliding her notebook into her pocket, listened to the secure door behind her slide closed, and waited for the secure door in front of her to slide open. There was an electronic whirring, a beep, and it slid open. It nearly closed on her as she stepped into the containment area, which was almost entirely blank, generic emptiness despite the customisation allowances made for non-violent sentient skips.
The researcher crossed the room, pulling a chair out from the grey table, and sitting down beside the bed where a teenage girl was sitting, looking through a pile of DVDs.
"Hi Marissa, my name's Sharon," the researcher said, "and I'm going to be your new psychiatrist,"
The girl could probably have taken less notice, but that would have required effort she was clearly unwilling to expend. "Ok, whatever."
"Let's get started," Sharon continued, sliding the notebook back out of her pocket, undaunted by the girl's indifference. "I'm just going to ask you a few questions to establish where you are mentally, and what, if anything, you need help with."
Marissa glanced up, "Letting me out of prison would be a good starting point, but that's not going to happen."
Sharon made a quick note in her notebook. "So you feel imprisoned here?"
"I'm in a place I didn't choose to be and I'm not allowed to leave, so, uh, yes, obviously?" Marissa said.
"Ok, solid point, I guess," Sharon said. "So… You know why I'm here?"
Marissa sighed. "They think I'm depressed - it's bullshit. I'm not depressed, I'm pissed the fuck off."
"Depression manifests in a variety of ways, including chronic anger and similarly negative emotions."
Marissa shot the researcher an angry, questioning look. "Are you trying to convince me that I'm supposed to be depressed?"
"I'm trying to help you realise that you have a problem - one I can help with." Sharon replied.
Marissa stared at Sharon for a second and decided that she was sincere. "Aaaand what exactly will that get me? I'll still be stuck here and I'll still have this bullshit happening to me."
Sharon had been expecting this response. "According to the current leading hypothesis, you might have more control over your abilities if you were feeling better, emotionally."
"Then why didn't I have more control over them when I was in a place I was actually ok with?" Marissa asked.
"Depression has a tendency to ignore the positives and leave one feeling shitty no matter what," Sharon replied. "Controlling your abilities might not be linked to your location."
Marissa sighed and shifted position slightly. "Ok, say I'm depressed. How does fixing it help me in any practical sense? I'm still stuck here and I'll still have this shitty ability hanging over my head."
Sharon shrugged. "That's something we'll have to figure out on the way, I'm afraid. If you're planning to co-operate with research, I'd like you to start a diary."
Marissa made a face. "Spoiler alert: Most days are going to be 'I sat in my cell and watched tv' - but some will be 'I changed my food into something random'. Seriously, this is pointless."
Sharon shrugged again. "I realise your routine can be monotonous at best, but your feelings can still go up and down. It would be really helpful if you would do this for me - just write whatever you're feeling, or whatever you feel like writing. It can't hurt."
"What do I get out of it?" Marissa asked, eyes narrowing.
"I, uh, I could try and see about getting you some time outside or something?" Sharon said, taken aback.
Marissa snorted. "Right, because going outside would be so useful and so fun. What would it be, a tiny little garden covered with razor wire? I don't want to see some orchids or run around or whatever." Marissa sat forward and look at Sharon intently. "Fuck flowers. Fuck you. Get me pizza. Real takeout pizza, not that tiny fucking from-frozen fake bullshit."
"…Pizza? I'll see what I can do," Sharon said. "Write down your preferred order and I'll talk to the staff."
Diary Extract 1:
The words "I'm bored", in script ranging from lazily messy to intricately stylised, repeated to fill the first page.
A drawing of a hand making a "middle finger" gesture, bearing a tattoo of a penis, with a speech bubble containing the words "Fuck you" in excessively stylised font.
Researcher's notes, post session 1:
Marissa seems semi-willing to cooperate, although this may indeed be solely due to boredom.
Still unsure as to whether her request for pizza was some kind of joke or whether she simply couldn't think of anything better to ask for
Sharon sat down beside the bed where Marissa was sitting with her back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling-mounted television and flicking through the channels with perfect indifference.
"Hi Marissa," Sharon said. "Anything good on?"
"Sharon. No." Marissa continued to press buttons on the remote and remaining unmoved by the football game, the latest humanitarian crisis charity appeal, the news about what a senator had done with his dog, the grand finale of a big sitcom, or anything else on any other channel.
"How are you feeling today?" Sharon asked the standard question, undaunted. It wasn't her first time dealing with Marissa, or people like her.
Marissa sighed heavily and gave her standard reply, "I am feeling the same as always, except slightly worse, because I have been here for slightly longer."
"So, less than ideal then," Sharon inferred.
Marissa nodded, slouching further down the bed.
Sharon injected as much sincerity as she could into her next question. "Any possible way I can help?"
Marissa sat up and turned to look directly at Sharon, as if trying to decide whether she was being fucked with. "You don't want to help me, you want to get paid. The people who pay you have told you to try and help me. Or maybe they told you to just fuck with me and piss me off, I don't know. Point is, I am a means to an end for you."
Marissa turned back to the television, flicking through channels more quickly now.
Sharon paused for a second as she though of how to phrase her next statement while avoiding direct contradictions. Marissa kept flicking through TV channels.
"Just because I've been ordered to help you doesn't mean I don't want to. I didn't decide on this career path because I dislike helping people."
Marissa spoke evenly and tonelessly. "Anything someone has been ordered to do will eventually become boring to them and then it will become a chore to them. Once you have to do something, it is no longer fun." She paused for a second and concluded, "The human condition."
"So you think that long-term happiness with a typical job is unreachable?" Sharon asked.
"Fucked if I know; I haven't exactly had the chance to try it out." Marissa waved an arm vaguely, gesturing at her containment area. "I've pretty much been locked up my whole life."
"I thought you were treated well by your father before coming here?"
Marissa rolled her eyes as she spoke. "Coming here, that's a good one, like I had a choice. He treated me well enough but I still couldn't go anywhere or do anything. In case I harmed someone by mistake or in case, y'know, some kind of massive secret organisation noticed me being weird and captured me. But that's just crazy, right?"
"So you feel imprisoned by your ability, not just your actual imprisonment?" Sharon asked.
Marissa sighed again. "Well, shit, I don't want to accidentally hurt anyone. I guess I've got to be responsible about this bullshit, even though it's not my fault. I don't particularly want to be burned at the stake for being a witch or whatever either."
Sharon hesitated for a second. "That, uh, that… doesn't really happen."
Marissa glanced impatiently at Sharon. "Neither does someone magically transforming things, so, uh, what was your point again?"
Sharon started to get out of her chair, saying, "…I think we'll leave it there for today."
Completely unedited, non-linear stuff down here.
"No matter what I do, I'm still going to be a prisoner."
"You said I'm gonna need years of therapy - so I'm stuck here for at least that long. I can't trust you to tell the truth about my mental state, because you need me here so you can study the magical bullshit."
"I wouldn't compromise my pro-"
"I'm sure. Really, I'm not stuck here until I'm happy, I'm stuck here until you people have as much data as possible - which means I'm stuck here forever, because you don't have as much data as possible until either the magical shit stops or I die."
"Ok, well, you might be stuck here, but it doesn't have to be completely unpleasant."
How do people keep going when they have no motivation? How can you keep doing something when you don't know why you're doing it? No goal, no motivation, no pleasure, no pain. Just drifting along because you don't want to kill yourself but you also don't want to live. Everything is pointless and nothing you can do seems to change anything for better or for worse. It's terrible. The sheer open-ended nothingness of infinite options that don't make a fucking difference one way or the other. None of it matters and people keep going anyway, assigning themselves labels, stoners, skaters, emos, footballers, nerds, scientists, whatever; it's all the the same in the end. Life sucks and then you die. Why bother? Why do anything? If these questions are so fucking stupid and I'm apparently smart why do I keep coming back to them? It's not like there's even any answers. I don't want any of the options, I just want to not hurt anymore and not be stressed or under pressure or anything. Everything sucks anyway.
"There was only one fucking thing I was ever good at, and I can't do that now that I'm locked up in here. I don't even get an internet connection, in case I somehow manage to fuck with a guy on the other end. Do you know how fucking boring this shit gets?"
"Yes, I know who you are - since my dreams have all died, you're here to tell me to stop the funeral and explain why I shouldn't be sad."
"Have you ever sat in a corner, wishing you could go home, only to realise you are at home but it hasn't felt like for as long as you can remember?"
"I'm not depressed, I'm pissed off."
"Depression manifests in a variety of ways, including anger" the researcher said and then stopped in surprise as she realised Marissa was speaking in time with her.
"Yes, I know it off by heart. I know most of our fucking interaction off by heart. This is fucking boring, fuck you. I want to be out, drinking or getting high or whatever people my age normally fucking do."
"The lack of self-control cau-"
"I know. I could hurt someone. I could hurt myself. I remember when I materialised that bottle of whiskey and ended up wishing my face cut open. I'm not stupid, just pissed off and bored."
M: "I didn't ask for any of this"
S: "Any of what, Marissa?"
M: "Anything. This room, this place. I don't like anything about it. I didn't ask for these abilities. You don't know what it's like, constantly watching your thoughts, trying to make sure nothing changes in your hand because you'd rather have a coffee or that the floor doesn't start to disintegrate under your feet because you were thinking about the beach.
This is bullshit and I hate it and you and everyone and everything. Why are you even talking to me? I don't know anything you need to know and I don't have anything you want and I'm not your friend, I'm a locked-up freak."
S: "I'm talking to you because I want to help you. I th-"
M:"Help me what? Leave? Because leaving would be marginally better than being here. This shit doesn't work well enough for me to be a threat to anyone on purpose, I just want to be left alone."
S: "If we can figure out how this is happening to you, we can figure out how to help more people than just you - we can maybe help lots of people with similar conditions."
Marissa seethes silently for a second, then sits up and looks directly into the researcher's eyes, the intensity of her expression causing the researcher to flinch.
M: "Fuck. Them."
S: "I- What? Do you hate them?"
M: "I don't hate them, I just don't give a shit. I do not have any shits left to give. I ran out of shits sometime around the point I was first thrown in a cell and I ran out of fucks when I realised I'd never get to leave."
Marissa stands up as she rants, knocking over the chair that is beside her small table and striding around the room. She would be kicking things out of the way and knocking people over if there were any.
M: "Sure, life outside dealing with this shit isn't much better - but at least I could do what I liked and I didn't have shrinks and doctors and researchers and interns fucking poking at me and running shitty tests all the fucking time. At least I could wear what I wanted and go where I liked and I didn't have to wear this fucking government issue bullshit jewellery."
She kicks the chair again and glares at S, waiting for a response she doesn't want but knowing that there's not really a whole lot else to do in the cell.
S: "It sounds to me like you're suffering from depression and, uh…"
Marissa's face twitches slightly as the researcher flips some pages on a clipboard, but she waits for the end of the sentence.
S: "…probably some control and anger issues, too…"
Shaz trails off again under Marissa's enraged stare.
M: "Well fucking done, doc. I think you've cured me and everyone else dealing with issues in a fifty foot radius! Hey, does that mean you're next to be locked up in one of these cells?"
S: "…I'm sorry?"
M: "Take a person, give them the ability to change reality, but have it only happen at random points and make it so that it changes to whatever they're thinking about. Let them have no control over this. Let them watch their father die because of a stray thought. Lock them in a jail and reduce their choices to 'what way do you want to be bored today?' and 'which shitty meal do you want?', of course they're going to have control issues. Of course they're going to be angry. Of course they're going to be fucking depressed. What the fuck did you expect? That I'd be the smiling ambassador for the magical happy land of sunshine and rainbows? Am I supposed to turn around and tell you how you're a real brilliant shrink, and this is such a great insight that I think I might be cured? Fuuuuck yooou."
Marissa kicks the table.
S: "Well, no, of course you're not going to be 'cured' instantly - I'm not a miracle worker. But if you work with me a bit here, we can get you started on a treatment plan so that you're not so depressed and angry."
M: "No, you fucking cannot. That is bullshit, and you know it."
S: "I know you don't trust psych-"
M: "I don't trust you. Not shrinks. You."
S: "Me in particular? Why?"
M: "You and your whole organisation. You keep me locked up here. You talk about 'making me better.' You can't just fuck off and leave me alone. You know what would make me feel better? If I could leave that would be great. I like that treatment plan - you can call it 'the most obvious fucking thing in the world' and patent it for use in your fucking prisons or whatever."
S: "We don't run prisons - and I thought you said that life wasn't really that much better when you were left to yourself?"
M: "If it's not a prison, why can't I fucking leave?"
S: "You know the danger you can cause to people, even if you don't mean to. You don't really want that."
M: "You don't fucking know what I want. I don't know what I want. I just know I don't want this life."
Marissa appears to be calming down, sobbing a little.
S: "You haven't felt like, uh, hurting yourself, have you?"
M: "I don't want to commit suicide or hurt myself, you idiot. I'm human and humans want to survive, not to die. It sucks donkey balls. I didn't ask to be given this… 'desire' to keep going, but it's bullshit. I want my fucking money back."
Shaz makes some notes on the clipboard she's holding. Marissa mumbles something and Shaz asks her to repeat it.
Marissa looks at Shaz and sobs, "I don't wish I was dead - I just wish I didn't fucking exist, ok?"
Pixeltasim I thought it was pretty good beginning, I'd like to see that continuing viewpoint of a humanoid skip in containment, so if I have one complaint it's how you sort of moved the plot forward in a very obvious way with the last line.
Pixeltasim Like I can totally see her agreeing, but that one line sort of undermines what I liked about it up until that point.
Pixeltasim The dialogue was pretty good up until that one line
Pixeltasim Well you're sort of taking a more "realistic", for lack of a better term, approach to the humanoid perspective, which can definitely be very interesting, but that one line feels like you're suddenly breaking the fourth wall to move the plot forward. I can't say most people would suddenly "reluctantly" agree to something their warden says, it'd have to be more gradual
Pixeltasim If you threw me in jail cell, then told me to write a diary about my thoughts because you think I'm depressed, and I'm a /teenager/, I don't suddenly just think, "whatever I'll do it"
Pixeltasim Personally, I'd have the researcher try to entice her into doing it, with incentives to write a diary or something, like more time outside, etc.
Pixeltasim and I mean, reading the first diary, it seems like that one line is just out of place, that's totally what I would write in my diary for my captors
Pixeltasim Yep, so as long as you can keep that tone, I'm really interested to see where it goes
01:04 Tuomey ghostchibi: how do write psychiatrist
01:04 ghostchibi okay so
01:04 ghostchibi lemme see what you've got
01:04 ghostchibi the important thing about psychiatrists is that they not say things that lead people on
01:04 ghostchibi like, the way you word something is important
01:05 ghostchibi so that you don't accidentaly make someone think of something else and end up saying that
01:05 Tuomey http://sandbox.scp-wiki.net/tuomeytombstone the first tab here is what I've got but it is completely unstructured and going to be edited
01:05 Tuomey Right
01:05 ghostchibi when that's not exactly what happened
01:06 Tuomey What do they even say at the first session
01:08 ghostchibi first session is establishing what's going on
01:08 ghostchibi when I started, I turned in a form with information like medical history, family mental health history,etc
01:09 ghostchibi and then my own mental health issues that I thought I had
01:09 Tuomey Right
01:09 ghostchibi so like going to the doctort
01:09 ghostchibi "what's wrong?"
01:09 ghostchibi "I think my finger's broken"
01:09 ghostchibi you're not sure if it's a broken finger, but it's a start
01:09 ghostchibi same thing there
01:09 Tuomey and then explaining how you punched a telephone pole
01:10 Tuomey probably shouldn't have done that
01:10 ghostchibi well yeah
01:10 ghostchibi generally it's a listing of symptoms
01:10 ghostchibi and from there the psychiatrist tries to piece together what's ailing you
01:10 ghostchibi that's how it happened with me at least
01:11 Tuomey ok
01:12 Tuomey any idea how they proceed if the patient is somewhat uncooperative? Not violent, just.. not wanting to bother with something they consider extremely pointless
01:12 ghostchibi I… dunno
01:12 ghostchibi I imagine they try to keep the attention of the patient
01:12 ghostchibi get them to talk
01:14 Tuomey would it make sense for them to basically be asking questions about the patient's last statement?
01:15 ghostchibi it would
01:15 Tuomey Ok good
01:16 Tuomey any idea what a psychiatrist's notes would look like? Not, like, an official report or whatever, but if they were just taking notes for themself
01:17 clone I would say some things but I don't want to speculate so
01:17 clone this is being incredibly educational please continue
01:17 ghostchibi I have no idea
01:17 ghostchibi I've never seen my psychiatrist's notes
01:18 ghostchibi I imagine it depends on how the person likes to take notes
01:18 ghostchibi although my psychiatrist typed down everything I told her
01:19 Tuomey right
01:20 Tuomey Well, I guess I'm not going to fuck this up too badly
Memepunk memepunk memepunk
16:36 Vince that… that sounds like either the best or worst thing
16:38 Scantron really though, a punk-type world where police states and megacorps maintain order through the control of memes would be interesting
The effects of front companies on their shadow organisations
Several Foundation staffers argue about a word
"You've been here how long and you still call it magic?" a female doctor snorted derisively, interrupting.
"I've been here 15 years and I'll call it what I will. What would you call something that appears to ignore any and-slash-or all rules of science?" the forty something male replied.
"I'd call it a containment team because I'm not touching that shit," an agent chimed in.
"Hurr hurr. Seriously though, what else do you call it?"
"Isn't calling it magic a tacit acceptance that we'll never understand it?"
"I don't see how; it's just a word that easily describes all the weird stuff without having to yell about various types of "
First of all, what is a reality bender? A "reality bender" is an anomalous humanoid with the ability to bring about some form of Change in the world.
There is a reason that the Foundation does not have a definitive guide to categorise or for dealing with reality benders and it is simple. Reality benders can just ignore all the rules, and so it is impossible to creative a truly definitive guide.
However, there are several attributes which, when considered correctly, make it possible to gain a better understanding of a particular reality bender, in most cases.
Control, Awareness, Strength, Reach.
None of these attributes are binary, and they do not always imply that a particular bender is more or less dangerous than any other.
It is currently believed that the vast majority of reality benders are unable to simply "think themselves stronger" - they really can create a block so heavy that they cannot lift it themselves.
A reality bender who is fully in Control of their abilities will be able to choose to do anything they are Aware they can do, up to the limits of their Strength and Reach.
Control and Awareness tend to go hand in hand, to a certain extent - a reality bender must be Aware of their abilities in order to Control them. However, not all Aware reality benders can be said to be in control of their abilities; many have to deal with things changing in their hands unexpectedly, and similar mishaps.
Reality benders tend to gain more Control as they continue to use their abilities. They generally gain Awareness by experimenting with their abilities - not just by using the same facets over and over.
Strength and Reach do not appear to change significantly past physical maturity.
Reach refers to both physical distance and how wide-ranging a reality bender's abilities are. - some can affect things within a certain distance of themselves (words go here)
Strength refers to both the amount of Change a reality bender can bring about at once, and how long-lasting this Change is.
"Amount of Change" is pretty simple - it's harder to do a lot than a little in pretty much every context, and reality bending is no different. The time a Change lasts can be a little more complicated; although reality may be malleable to some, it tends to snap back after a while. However, many Changes can be permanent - most notably, any victims of a reality bender will not return from the dead once the Change that killed them wears off. Any particular reality bender might change, say, the logo for a company for ten minutes, or forever. For certain reality benders, it is also possible to change the past, although this has yet to be observed as a truly controlled ability.
Story idea, titled Stagnation; lack of reverse engineered/useful skips is a recent thing, causing the Foundation to bleed money
"The long and short of it is that we're not reverse engineering enough things anymore. At one point we were responsible for a significant number of the world's new inventions and industries. The rate of discovery has slowed significantly in recent years. We're going bankrupt."
"So we go bankrupt. Whatever. We're the Foundation, we're not a company. We can take what we need and sell what we don't."
"No. Not anymore. Doctor Firstguy is right. We're going bankrupt and we can't just dig ourselves out of this one by virtue of our size or our mission. We need resources. Read the documents in front of you. We need solutions."
what if 343 is the cause of the foundation not wanting to use more anomalous stuff and that's why he remains in containment
what's a god to a non-believer? A target
Doctor Bright and the Euclid Letters part one
Item #: SCP-3503
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Many instances of SCP-3503-1 are sent by messenger owls. Such instances are not to be tampered with, but a note must be made of each observed instance - making sure to mention species of owl if possible. Other instances will be sent through normal mail. Each one should be intercepted by Foundation sleeper agents then opened, copied, resealed and sent on as normal. By no means are any instances to be prevented from reaching the destination. (Refer to addendum 3503-1) The addressee of each instance of 3503-1 must be noted.
At this time it appears unfeasible to place each addressee under observation however, areas or towns with a large number of addressees should be noted as possible "hot" zones of activity for SCP-3503. Instances of SCP-3503-2 and -3 must never be interfered with, but all occurences must be noted.
Description: SCP-3503-1 is a letter, an invitation to "Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", sent almost exclusively during the summer months. SCP-3503-1 are always apparently handwritten and enclosed in an envelope sealed with wax.
Each instance of SCP-3503-2 is the intended recipient of an instance of 3503-1. An instance of 3503-2 is always a child approaching his or her █th year of education, which usually occurs when said child is about to enter middle school. The instances of 3503-2 have a significantly higher than average chance of having been associated with an anomalous event - frequently several events, generally increasing in the two years preceding 3503-1's delivery.
3503-3 is always an adult, of either gender and varying age from approximately 30 years upward, frequently wearing unusual robe-like clothing. An instance of 3503-3 sometimes calls to a house after the delivery of a 3503-1 instance. All attempts to listen in to conversation while 3503-3 is present have failed so far. 3503-3 is never seen arriving in or leaving the general area of the visited house.
Addendum 3503-1: After several instances of 3503-1 were prevented from reaching their corresponding instances of 3503-2 it has become evident that many more will be delivered until the 3503-2 instance has read one. The frequency of deliveries will rise over time and can often become almost aggressive in the attempt to reach the 3503-2 instance, being deposited at great speed and volume into chimneys or windows, for example. This may even be caused by the parents or other family members of 3503-2 discarding the letter as a hoax or joke.
It has been noted that an instance of 3503-3 appears to be significantly more likely to visit an instance of 3503-2 if the 3503-2 instance is in residence outside one of the hot zones of 3503-1 delivery. It is not yet known if this is due to surveillance difficulty in said hot zones or another reason.
The man in the grey suit finished examining the document in front of him one more time, then put it down slowly and pushed it away as if afraid it might explode. The other people in the room looked at him as he sighed and steepled his fingers.
"Who was the containment expert on this?" he said, his tone even but clearly under strain.
Everyone looked at a man in a labcoat who tried to shrink back into his seat. "That would be me, sir." he said, with clear reluctance.
"What's your plan?" The grey-suited man stared labcoat down.
"W- Well, it's, uh, pretty much outlined in that report there, sir." Labcoat stammered, melting in the stare. Seemingly feeling that this was insufficient he just added "The one you just read, sir. There's not a lot else we can do."
A man in combat gear smiled as labcoat squirmed, before the expression fled as grey-suit turned on him with "What do you recommend, Captain?"
The captain swore inwardly and said, "Well, sir, this is basically uncontained." Grey-suit nodded and indicated with a hand gesture that the captain should continue. Wracking his brains, the captain continued, "We, uh, need to get someone into the school and get some more intel because, well, there seems to be a big thing going on here and we're just looking at the surface."
Labcoat spoke up again, babbling in eagerness to redeem himself, "Well, you better find some way of controlling an 11 year old kid who just so happens to be a wizard otherwise that's just not going to happen. I mean, we could get into the society, someone pretending to be a wizard with some of our objects, maybe, but not the school, that's just craz-"
"Doctor Bright," an agent in casual clothes interrupted.
"What?" said grey-suit and labcoat together.
The agent sighed. "He can take control of anyone with that fu- uh, that amulet thing. Cleaner than being a monkey all the time. We need him to get in there."
Grey-suit nodded. "I'll make a report to the O5s; get a plan together captain - and two more containment specialists because that guy's an idiot and this one's a biggie."
Bright jumped at the sound of his phone, scrambled to the bottom of his bed and dug in the pile of empty bottles until his monkey hands touched plastic.
"Yes, I heard about the letters. … No, I didn't realise it was so… " he sighed and rummaged through his pile of belongings, rubbing his head with his free hand. "You want me to do what? …yeah, straight from the top, it always is…" He couldn't take human painkillers in this body and he really wanted some right now.
"…Right." he sighed again and tossed a jacket aside, picking up his wallet. "Twenty minutes, I'll be there… I SAID I'D BE THERE, GODDAMMIT, HANGOVERS ARE WORSE WHEN YOU'RE A MONKEY, OK?" He ended the call, put on his labcoat and dropped the wallet in a pocket, before staggering out the door, labcoat trailing on the floor behind him.
Bright went through a few hours of briefing and learning all that was known about the world of SCP-3503. Soon enough he was ready to find a subject and go in. An instance of 3503-1 had been delivered to an orphanage two weeks ago. The relevant 3503-2 had been taken somewhere for a few hours by some guy in an odd suit who seemed to lose his tailing agents all too quickly a week later but was home now. Given that he was orphaned with no extended family on record, he was the perfect candidate.
The takedown itself was pretty easy. Bright took a D-class' body, he and an agent pretended to be social workers and dropped the amulet right on the kid's head in the middle of a "standard random interview, part of a new anti-abuse scheme." Some more agents, dressed as EMTs, took care of the braindead D-class body while Bright ran right back to the kid's bed.
One night wasn't so bad. He avoided the other kids and the workers and they put it down to usual worry at the prospect of a new school. That night Bright took an inventory of the kid's gear; wand, broomstick, spellbooks, all sorts of magical crap. As it turned out, no one running the orphanage knew any details about the school and the kid had been relatively independent so he'd be able to take his trip to the school alone. He was beginning to look forward to this.
The next day Bright ran along to the train station, trying to hold his entire new identity in his head and sixty pounds of crap in his arms. John Baker, eleven years old, outspoken, intelligent, orphaned… and a wizard. Bright loved that one. He kept walking as he meditated on this, aware that he would soon be able to use magic whenever he wanted. Let's see how 682 likes this one he thought, imagining the lizard suspended by an ankle.
Soon enough he arrived at the train station, and was standing on a platform. Luckily John had been an almost anal-retentive boy who kept notes on a lot of things. Bright pulled out the notebook and turned to the instructions on how to get to Hogwarts. "Run straight into a wall." fantastic fucking idea He thought, but he did so anyway and emerged in what was apparently a completely different station.
He noted the sign saying "9, 3/4," took in all the people in robes and watched as minor spells discharged sparks amongst low flying messenger owls and one rogue broomstick taking off on its own.
"Weirdest train station I've ever seen and that includes that time in Korea with that RB." he said under his breath before boarding the train.
Bright stalked down the corridoor, annoyed at the speed and lifting power an 11 year old's body gave him. He poked his head into a compartment. "OI GINGER!" he shouted. The young boy inside jumped "Can I sit here?"
"Yeah, sure…" the boy replied. "Want a chocolate frog? I'm Ron Weasley."
"Sure, never had one of these before," Bright replied, before adding "John Baker."
"Muggle born then?" Bright nodded. "You seem really …unsurprised …for a muggle born" he continued as Bright munched on the frog, eating its limbs first, saving its head for last, watching its expression change slowly in horror and pain.
"You seem really annoying for a ten year old" Bright replied.
"Oi, I'm eleven, and you can't be much older if you're going to Hogwarts!"
"Fuck you, I'm a wizard." Those words were beginning to taste sweet in Bright's mouth.
Another boy walked in and said, "I'm a wizard too, a giant came to my aunt's house and told me about it!"
"Jesus christ you shits are annoying, ginger ninja and the whiny scarface," sighed Bright. The new boy introduced himself as Harry Potter and sat down, pointedly ignoring Bright. Ron offered some chocolate frogs to Harry, who took one in wonder. Bright fell asleep to the sound of the two boys' conversation about school houses.
Bright awoke to hear Ron asking Harry, "Can you do any magic? I know a spell to turn my rat yellow…" Yeah, I'll turn you into something less annoying Bright thought.
A girl walked in, "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger and a boy called Neville Longb- Oh are you doing magic?"
"What is this, march of the retards!?" Bright said.
"Well, let's see then!" Hermione encouraged, shooting Bright a dirty look.
Ron shook his wand and said uncertainly, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." Hermione looked alarmed as Ron's wand backfired and the rat ran away. Bright laughed uproariously while Harry merely seemed confused.
"I don't think that's a real spell." Hermione said, before wandering away, "Oh and you guys should probably change into robes, we'll be at the castle soon."
WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT MY BUTTS
WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KIND OF PERVERT
prank thing what makes you accept horrible shit as pranks or jokes
Exploration log of the pocket dimension connected to by activation of SCP-1101-J-2.
Team Leader: Cpl Roberts
Exploration Team: Pvt Baker, Pvt Washington, Pvt Richards, Field Researcher Arkwright
Cpl Roberts: Entering portal from 1101-J's containment chamber now.
SCP-1101-J: You'll see! You'll all see how the world was meant to be!
Cpl Roberts: Shut the fuck up before I hit you again.
SCP-1101-J cowers in a corner, whispering about misandry, while the exploration team walk through the portal generated by SCP-1101-J-2
Control: Exploration team, radio check.
Cpl Roberts: Check.
Pvt Washington: Check.
Pvt Richards: Check.
Pvt Baker: Check.
Field Researcher Arkwright: Aye, we're good. I mean, uh, check.
Control: Okay, that all seems good - we're seeing a what looks like just a town to me?
Field Researcher Arkwright: Yeah, just looks like a regular town to me. Uh, I think those cops are coming towards us.
Control: You've been in there five seconds!
Pvt Baker: Control, it might be that we've got, like, all the guns.
Police officer one: Hey, you, drop the weapon!
Pvt Washington: Listen, we -
Police officer one: Not you, you're fine, her. Everyone knows women can't use guns. Order her to hand over the gun before she hurts herself!
Pvt Richards: She's in charge, mate.
Police officer two: Haha, what? A woman in charge? Like that would work. Come on, little lady, give me the gun and we won't be forced to take you in.
Police officer two walks up to Cpl Roberts and reaches for her rifle. Cpl Roberts hits Police officer two in the face with the butt of her rifle, knocking him over.
Cpl Roberts: Oh, my hand must've slipped. This here rifle is just too complicated and heavy for a little lady like me.
Police officer one: Well since you can't hand over a gun without hurting someone, just drop the damn thing before you hurt yourself, okay, lady?
Pvt Baker: You're not particularly bright, are you?
Police officer one: What?
Cpl Roberts hits Police officer one in the face with the butt of her rifle, knocking him out
Pvt Baker: So, is that, like your signature move now or what?
Cpl Roberts: Hilarious, Baker. Get the plasticuffs on these guys.
Pvt Baker begins to cuff officer one, Pvt Washington begins to cuff officer two
Police officer two: coughing blood You're under arrest for mi-misandry!
Pvt Washington: Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.
Police officer two: Don't you know that having a woman in charge is a violation of your rights?? What if she's making SERIOUS decisions on her PERIOD?
Cpl Roberts: You'd still be the one bleeding, asshole. We're supposed to be finding out stuff about this place, any suggestions Arkwright?
02:15 Tuomey Eskobear: Shits and/or giggles
02:16 Eskobear you mean The Tuomey Protocol?
02:17 Tuomey Nah, The Tuomey Protocol is "Ban everyone because seriously, fuck those guys, I need a fucking drink and I can't have one, fight me"
02:17 Tuomey There are reasons it's rarely used
02:18 Heiden now I'm thinking of a researcher locking himself in a containment vault so he can drink in peace
02:18 *** Nioki quit (Ping timeout: 183 seconds) ~ten.tniopriafym.tsae.lrub.556A265F-CRInys|alliztahc#ten.tniopriafym.tsae.lrub.556A265F-CRInys|alliztahc
02:18 Heiden some senior guy assigned to a dead-end Safe project
02:19 Tuomey Fuck, man
02:19 Tuomey I'd do that
02:19 Heiden he's faked up a bunch of containment procedures because he doesn't have enough oversight
02:19 Tuomey "This whiskey is anomalous"
02:19 Heiden and when he gets too pissed off at work
02:19 Tuomey "I'm a /scientist/"
02:19 Heiden he goes 'GOTTA ENACT THE TUOMEY PROTOCOL, BREACH IS IMMINENT'
02:19 Heiden locks himself in the vault
02:19 Heiden and gets shitfaced
02:19 Tuomey Heiden: have you seen my author page? Agent Tuomey would /totally/ do that
02:21 Tuomey In fact I'm logging this chat and I'll write this tale sometime over the next couple of weeks when I'm procrastinating on exams
Lombardianism becoming the dominant religion in a dimensionally shifted site
What if the O5s were dragons that hoarded SCPs instead of gold
Stop Going In Circles, Pick A Direction, Start Moving Forward, Overcome The First Obstacles, Get Knocked Off Course, Flip Out And Kill Everyone
What kind of imaginary place would she end up in?
She wanted to not exist anymore, so somewhere that doesn't exist
A bedroom that used to be a place but got demolished?
Her bedroom from her home, but as she wanted it to be
Two viewpoints at first
Marissa - Confused, scared but trying to hide it, extremely done, did not sign up for an afterlife, particularly not one that involves someone else being in charge again.
Wanderer - name tbd. College student who happens to be something of a witch. Exploring fictional place because it's more fun to write about a place when you've got better imagery. Crossing border from fiction to reality when run into Marissa.
Marissa's things come with her. They don't exist anymore either. The tracking bracelet comes with her as well, but she doesn't realise until it's pointed out by the Wanderer, she's just been wearing it that long.
"A wanderer? So you're lost then? That's going to be helpful." Marissa sighed, kicking a rock.
"Not all those who wander are lost," the witch replied, pushing aside most of a bush.
Marissa made a face. "And I suppose all that glitters is not gold?"
"Something like that. Come on and help me with this thing, getting the Way open will be easier with two of us."
what does a place of fictional things even look like
how does that even work
this is a dumb idea
I'm not fictional, you're fictional
"What do you mean this is a fictional place?"
"Imaginary. Not real. Made up. Well, I say not real, but you'll still die in real life and all that."
"How can a place be not real? What the fuck is going on?"
"Well, strictly speaking it's a border area. Somewhere between fiction and reality."
"Between fiction and reality?"
"Like, where authors put enough of themselves or their friends into the story that it's not entirely fictional, but the story is still fictional enough that it's not entirely autobio either."
Blanket what physically sucks out stress, can be squeezed into a thing
Randomini Tuomey: add something in about not being able to even look at kids without being accused of being a pedophile
00:46 MechaTroy People from the "present" went back and spread "color" through the black and white world of Pleasantville, which was freedom of expression and the undermining of that societies ideals.
00:46 MechaTroy Now, imagine MRA land.
00:46 MechaTroy And a woman (with a vagina! How DARE she?!) shows up who has all these forward thinking ideas.
00:47 MechaTroy Also, rivers of Mountain Dew, etc., etc.
00:47 Tuomey Yeah, that could work
00:47 MechaTroy I really just want to see "Rivers of Mountain Dew" in an SCP article.
drown you with teeth
AWCY member gets into artistic argument with rest of group about his literal lead zeppelin, bombs them from zeppelin while playing the Immigrant Song
metonymy: noun: The use of a single characteristic or name of an object to identify an entire object or related object.
The foundation perceives all anomalous objects as a threat
Skip what turned themself in because they started to lose control of their power
Former SH or maybe just a wanderer
Definitely formerly pro-skip-rights, for lack of a better term
Mildly angry but resigned, controlled, calm
What if character development was like software development
Bsc in character development
Character development engineer
Character reliability engineering
improve character UI
cross-platform character support
character for web 2.0
waterfall character development
agile character development
open source character development
freelance character development
character development character developmentcharacter developmentcharacter developmentcharacter developmentcharacter developmentcharacter development
Amalgamy: marriage where people literally become a single entity
Probability/statistics abuse machine; if used with the statistic that one in three north American subway stops are in NYC, you have a one in three chance of actually getting off in NYC even if you got on in LA.
Death of an imaginary friend
A robot that wishes to live so that it might die.
Created to serve as a slave, true AI, however it believes its creators' belief that it has no soul
Wants to live, to be ensoulled, so that it can die a true death
the tale of how tuomey went snowboarding with a bunch of skeletons and had pizza at the end
Alt universe foundation guys being really weirded out by haircuts
Dogepile him, drop shiba inus out of a roflcopter
01:14 Tuomey thedeadlymoose: actually
01:15 Roth chirps at thedeadlymoose
01:15 Tuomey handing minor anomalous dudes over to the UIU is probably what happens a lot
01:15 Tuomey > SCPF catches a guy
01:15 Tuomey > it's just some dickhead with a staff, we've got like twenty of these
01:15 Tuomey > send him to the feds
Tastes like a false declaration of love you're obliged to give at a family event.
Something that shows you where it all went wrong
But it lies
Mermaids that eat hair
Maybe it has to come be bitten from the person's head - not cut off first.
Internet trolls being used as D-class
SCP website is recovered information by a rival GOI - Tale from POV of said GOI's agent in SCPF attempting to communicate
a "Life Stats" SCP but it only records things like "Missed opportunities" and "possible true loves lost"
what if something ate tumors
what if eating tumors was addictive
I am terrible this is terrible
"No one likes being shat on by a helicopter; smells of machine oil"
Anomalous kid who tries to be a superhero but the Foundation has to contain him because anomalous
Aim for feels
I still need to think of an anomaly/power for this fucker
I could just give it a straight out superpower
And the Foundation lies to the kid to keep the fucker cooperative
"If we learn how this works there can be more heroes and they'll save more people"
Really the power just doesn't seem to have reached maturity yet
Foundation might not be able to deal with him if he were older and not fully committed to them.
23:17 Rhett "In the event that SCP-X attempts escape, lethal weapons are to be used to contain it only as a last resort." or, better way to say it "non-lethal measures should be employed first in re-establishing containment"
23:18 Rhett you want to say what they should do. what they SHOULDNT do is either implied or should be a side/foot note
23:21 Rhett "who has a minor telekinetic ability" get it? BECAUSE HE'S A MINOR! but no. rephrase that. "low level telekinetic abilities" would work, but still doesnt feel quite right, see if you can think of something that would sound better
23:23 Rhett "SCP-X was discovered after attempting to use his telekinesis to save a woman's life (see attached interview) following reports of some unusual incidents in the area."
23:23 Rhett this doesnt belong in the description, that's history. i'd put it right before said interview
23:24 Rhett "SCP-X's telekinesis is currently not well understood." this line is useless, remove it
23:27 Rhett so is this a serious concept for an article on the main list?
23:27 Rhett not a sarcastic question
23:28 Tuomey Yes
23:29 Rhett ok
23:29 Rhett i dont mind the idea of the foundation managing to contain a reality bender at a young age. i'm not sure that how you're having them handle it is very indicative of the foundation's style, but that's obviously up for interpretation. what i can say is that there's nothing that really makes this article interesting in and of itself. it's a reality bender.
23:29 Rhett about the most basic reality bender you could get
23:29 Tuomey Right
23:29 Rhett this lacks anything to grip one emotionally other than the normal sympathy one might have for a child
23:30 Rhett so that problem stated, i will confess i'm not sure how to solve it. you dont want to twist this to somehow be disturbing/horrifying, that's not the point of the article
23:30 Rhett but if you swing it too far in the "training a kid to be a superhero" direction, then it becomes mary-sueish
23:31 Tuomey My idea is not that they're training the kid to be a superhero, but that's what they're telling him in order to gain a better understanding of how RBs actually work
23:31 Rhett yeah
23:31 Rhett i gathered that.
23:31 Photosynthetic Hi guys. Hi Moose.
23:31 Tuomey Since they don't really have many co-operative RBs
23:32 Tuomey And pretty much none that are safe to study the development of
23:32 Rhett experiment logs might help with this.
23:32 Tuomey safe/viable candidates
23:32 Rhett i think it might work to make it about internal conflict within the foundation as to how to utilize this asset
23:33 Tuomey That's a pretty good idea
23:33 Rhett with some pushing for more extreme tests, some wanting to twist it for their own ends, others looking out for the wellbeing of the child
23:33 Tuomey I'm putting that in bold in my critique log
23:33 Rhett etc
23:33 Rhett ok
23:34 Rhett hope that helps, tuomey
23:34 Rhett gets back to work
23:34 Tuomey It certainly does, thanks man
00:47 Fantem As SCP-X's co-operation is considered essential to long term containment, personnel are to call SCP-X by its given name, "Cameron", when speaking to or nearby it.
00:49 Fantem I don't mind personnel calling an SCP by their name if they haven't done anything wrong, but this shouldn't be in the containment procedures in my opinion. It's too small a thing. I'd put it in the forward during the interview.
00:56 Fantem I'm just gettin' to the interview; though I'm finding some things feel rather iffy in the description.
00:58 Fantem Currently, the leading theory among Foundation researchers… to long-term containment that SCP-X believes he is working with the Foundation.
00:59 Fantem that paragraph sounds more worthy of its own addendum, as it's not describing the SCP itself.
01:00 Fantem As well as "SCP-X was discovered after attempting to use his telekinesis to save a woman's life (see attached interview) following reports of some unusual incidents in the area."
01:00 Fantem That should be put at the end of the description IMO
01:14 Fantem I just finished; I feel like I'm reading what an X-Man /should/ be. That interview's ending is very heartwarming; don't change it. However, I do have a few hang ups about the rest.
01:17 Fantem "Interviewer: Cameron, can you explain what was happening when the containment team found you?" I'd axe the "Cameron, can you explain", and say "Cameron, could you tell us". Less formal.
01:19 Fantem "SCP-X: I was trying to help that lady." to "SCP-X: Superheroes have to help people! I can move things without touching them and other people can't so I should use that to help them!" I'd just let the kid talk without interruption.
01:21 Fantem "SCP-X: She looked scared. That bad man had a gun." I'd toss out the word "bad". Maybe replace it with something like "big".
01:22 Fantem Minor thing, but it just sounds more natural.
01:22 Tuomey Probably a good idea, yeah
01:23 Fantem "Interviewer: Have you ever changed something on purpose?" to "SCP-X: Not really. Sometimes when I hear my parents yelling I wish they'd stop and they get distracted for a little bit but they usually go back to arguing."
01:24 Fantem That seems a little… much to kinda gloss over. Also kinda sudden.
Fantem This article seems to rely heavily on story elements in the interview, especially towards the end. My suggestion is to have Cameron either explain his life at home, or the experience with the guy with the gun more in-depth. Both would be things the Foundation would be interested in and both would add some much needed character development towards the end.
Fantem (I'd go tragedy by the way; those last lines have serious tear-jerker potential)
02:52 Palaios Its very X-men-y. and while the idea of a undeveloped reality bender could be interesting that angle is not developed as much as I'd like to see
02:50 ingrate Tuomey your scp is cute
Palaios I'd cut this bit "understand his powers and use them to develop more "superheroes""
Tuomey Palaios: even though that's just what they're telling him?
Palaios And spend less time focusing on the interview and more on the foundations interest in him
Palaios If it is part of what is keeping him in containment I'd suggest it go in the containment procedures
Palaios I might also be a bit more willing to authorize force, we thing that it might become a reality bender, reality benders are scary and hard to contain
TV Station but like a train station or bus station
VR headset gamification device which has an overarching questline trying to get people to make more of it
Item #: SCP-XXXX-J
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-3007-J are to be kept in padded humanoid containment units in Site 56, which must be outfitted with anti-smother pillows and cushions. These cells are to be kept free of sharp edges, potted plants, reading material intended for people over the age of four, Lego, play-dough, anything that could be mistaken for food by someone who'd just been smacked upside the head with a sledgehammer a couple of times or basically anything else small enough to fit in someone's mouth.
No instances of SCP-3007-J are to be allowed outside without a helmet and elbow/knee pads. Even then we're doing well if they only manage a minor concussion every half an hour.
No one is to mention ghosts, monsters under the bed, bogeymen, zombies, Barney the Dinosaur, maths problems or anything else a child might consider scary in front of any instance of SCP-3007-J. If one of these things is mentioned initiate procedure Chill Pill1 immediately.
Should 3007-J become bored procedure Idiot Box2 is to be initiated.
Description: SCP-3007-J came to foundation attention when a primary school teacher strapped herself to a homemade rocket and achieved low earth orbit. Prior to lift off, she was heard to remark "I just can't fucking take it anymore, seriously, fuck class ██." SCP-3007-J is a bunch of really dumb kids, I swear to fuck these kids are so dumb we left one on a bouncy castle and when we came back he'd cut his fucking face open. There are twenty-eight of these shitheads and they're all dumb as fuck. Six instances of SCP-3007-J were given those goddamn puzzles where you put the shaped bricks through the appropriate hole for testing and four of them almost fucking choked and died. The other two threw the bricks down and declared it "too hard" and "boring" respectively.
During testing, four instances of SCP-3007-J (two male, two female) were given a ████ video games console and a copy of [some crappy kids game]. The observing researcher was distracted briefly by his assistant entering the room and upon looking back he saw that three of the instances of SCP-3007-J were choking themselves on their games console controllers despite the controllers being wireless.
14:36 Tuomey I just had one of the best stupid ideas I've had in a while
14:36 Tuomey What if there was a skip that was a product designed to level up your ghost
14:36 Riemann Is it the ghosts of Jalapenos
14:37 Riemann Actually, that could be pretty funny
14:37 Tuomey And it actually works
14:37 Eskobear wait, what
14:37 Riemann And everyone in the afterlife becomes WoW level obsessed with levelling up
14:37 Tuomey And the Foundation has to deal with powerleveled ghosts trying to kick the shit out of peopel
14:37 Eskobear "level up your ghost"
14:38 Riemann And there's a Revenant or something who's reached the level cap
14:38 Tuomey Eskobear: everyone's going to die eventually
14:38 Riemann And he's really pissed
14:38 Tuomey Genericorp Industries can't prevent this
14:38 Silber joined #site67
14:38 ChanServ has given op to Silber
14:38 Tuomey But we can help you level up your ghost
14:38 Tuomey Gain the ability to interact with solid objects again
14:38 Tuomey Cause terrifying hallucinations in humans
14:39 Tuomey Appear to those who no one will believe
14:39 Tuomey All this and more, for a small fee each month from now until the day you die
14:39 Tuomey Genericorp: Making your afterlife awesome!
possible new formatting
|Stage||Symptoms||Length||Other notes||Mortality Rate||Treatability|
||7-10 days||SCP-X infection takes hold in brain and optic nerve.||near 0%||Treatable with specialised medication|
|2||Total vision loss, loss or dramatic change of eye colour, often a near total relief of other symptoms, bulging eyes||3-5 days||Infection gains a measure of symbiosis with its host, growths appear on optic discs, pushing eyes forward slightly. Serious infection risk from tears, other fluids, and vapors thereof.||22%||Large doses of specialised medication and invasive high-risk neurosurgery with irreversible side effects required for treatment|
|3||Sudden expulsion of eyes from skull marks start of stage, new eyes forming, eyes/sockets leaking dark pus-like fluid. New eyes are frequently expelled at irregular intervals from hours to days and regrown repeatedly.||Permanent||Eyes may "pop" on expulsion, posing significant infection risk to all nearby and requiring hazmat cleanup. New eyes take several hours to form. Patients typically report increased visual acuity and appear to be able to perceive more of the electromagnetic spectrum. Complications may result from flawed regrowth.||40% in first year, while under Foundation care.||Infection too entrenched, untreatable without killing patient. Removal of new eyes results in further growth of new eyes.|
Object Class: Scottish History dunno yet
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-X is to be kept in a secure containment locker.
Description: SCP-X is a dagger of the type worn in traditional Scottish Highland dress. It was recovered from the home of one James Sanford.
Item #: SCP-X
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Those showing symptoms of the early stage infection of SCP-X and samples of SCP-X itself are to be treated as a biosafety level three hazard. Those showing late or final stage symptoms of infection by SCP-X are to be treated as a biosafety level four hazard and incinerated upon death. Should a person infected by final stage SCP-X become hostile they are to be engaged at range, preferably with an incendiary weapon.
Description: SCP-X is an anomalous human pathogen, not fitting any standard classification, which causes extensive brain and eye changes in humans.
|Stage||Symptoms||Length||Other notes||Mortality rate||Treatability|
|1||Headache, migraine, dizziness, balance problems, short-term memory loss, and blurry vision or temporary vision loss||7 to 10 days||SCP-X infection takes hold in brain and optic nerve.||near 0%||Treatable with specialised medication|
|2||Total vision loss, loss or dramatic change of eye colour, often a near total relief of other symptoms, bulging eyes||3 to 5 days||Infection gains a measure of symbiosis with its host, growths appear on optic discs, pushing eyes forward slightly. Serious infection risk from tears, other fluids, and vapors thereof.||22%||Large doses of specialised medication and invasive high-risk neurosurgery with irreversible side effects required for treatment|
|3||Sudden expulsion of eyes from skull marks start of stage, new eyes forming, eyes/sockets leaking dark pus-like fluid. New eyes are frequently expelled at irregular intervals from hours to days and regrown repeatedly.||Permanent||Eyes may "pop" on expulsion, posing significant infection risk to all nearby and requiring hazmat cleanup. New eyes take several hours to form. Patients typically report increased visual acuity and appear to be able to perceive more of the electromagnetic spectrum. Complications may result from flawed regrowth.||40% in first year, while under Foundation care.||Infection too entrenched, untreatable without killing patient. Removal of new eyes results in further growth of new eyes.|
Other effects of SCP-X infection: 93% of Stage-3 SCP-X sufferers whose eyes are not expelled for over fourteen days are capable of identifying objects or events as anomalous by sight alone. This was only recently discovered due to frequency of expulsion, and may not represent a distinct stage of infection. Further eye expulsion and regrowth will enhance or change this ability in 34% of these sufferers, possibly allowing them to detect anomalies through other matter or causing them to perceive anomalies as beautiful.
84% of Stage-3 SCP-X sufferers will experience varying mental issues, often related to the frequent physical trauma inherent to the infection - pathological refusal of treatment bordering on hostility is observed in 21% of cases. Of these, many will experience a (non-anomalous) compulsion to continually pop or put out their own eyes so that they may regrow. This increases the chances of issues related to excessive amounts of hardened fluids.
If eyes are not fully expelled or if an unusual amount of pus is produced, these fluids will quickly harden in and around the eye sockets. This can block tear ducts, leading to further inflammation and pus production, which will often cause a sudden "flood" of pus down the patient's face. Excessive hardened fluids in the eye sockets increases the chance of a flawed regrowth (see below).
Upon regrowth of eyes, there is a chance of a "flawed" regrowth, wherein eyes grow incorrectly or multiple eyes grow in same socket, resulting in severe pain for patients and other problems. No more than four eyes have been observed in one socket without expulsion or popping.
In extremely rare cases (<2%), eyes may not detach from optic nerve when expelled. This does not typically result in death, but the extended optic nerve must be severed quickly. If not severed, this results in a thickening of the nerve and a "vine" of eyes along the length of the nerve, which will constantly produce darkened pus. After several hours, each eye along the vine will develop a fully functional nictitating membrane, allowing them to blink. Patients report some difficulty in keeping a good posture after several eyes have grown along the exposed nerve.
In one such case, the optic nerve became detached after multiple eyes had grown along its length when a new eye grew in the eye socket. The patient reported extreme pain when the "vine" was handled and died of shock despite heavy sedation while it was being dissected. Upon death of the patient, all eyes along the vine burst and the remaining nerve wrapped itself around the hand of the researcher performing the dissection. Direct electrical stimulus to the optical nerve was required for the hand to be released. No other "viable" vines have been found for testing as of yet.
"afflicted with the sight"