Item #: SCP-627
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures:
Item SCP-627 is to be kept in a soundproof locked container at all times. Personnel interacting with SCP-627 must be equipped with headgear that blocks all outside noise. At no time should the headgear be removed in the presence of SCP-627. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Personnel are advised to approach SCP-627 in groups no smaller than three persons.
Description:
Recovered from Site 3-A in late 2007. Item SCP-627 is believed to be part of a "training course" for employees of Site 3-A. It is a metallic cube-like object approximately 1.5 cubic meters in volume. Each face is symmetrically patterned with ridges and plating, and a circular bump in the center of each side is decorated with a cardioid emblem in a rose or magenta hue.
Subjects approaching SCP-627 report that it appears to be sentient and capable of speech. Many find it nearly impossible to separate themselves from it and must be forcibly removed from the area. Some subjects are able to recover from this; many are drawn into a sort of depression, as though they have lost a beloved companion.
It is interesting to note that physical examinations of the object reveal no obvious method of phonetic output, and that sound-dampening equipment has proven effective against the hallucinations brought on by exposure to SCP-627.
Showing posts with label Objects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Objects. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Baby Dolls
In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was the bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Call
If you call yourself on your own cellular phone, sometimes you will get an answer. You won’t hear anything other than heavy breathing, so don’t bother waiting for them to speak. If you then say the name of a person you know and a reason that they should die (reasons like “I just want them dead” do work), then they will die a gruesome death within the next 24 hours. Their horribly mangled corpse will be completely unrecognizable, and there is never any evidence pointing to a specific perpetrator so the person(s) that performs this service has never been caught. This was how the infamous Black Dahlia murder was perpetrated.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
SCP-034: Polybius
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-034 is to be left unplugged and confined to a standard arcade cabinet storage crate. The device is not to be plugged in unless being tested in the soundproof laboratory under the jurisdiction of Dr. ██████ ███████. All test subjects, security, and medical staff must be tested for epilepsy as a prerequisite for participation in any data collection. During data collection, there is a minimum requirement of two (2) security and one (1) medical staff member to be present. All attending security and medical personnel must wear protective eyewear and noise canceling headphones. Under no circumstance may any member of staff duplicate the software contained in SCP-034. Any attempts to distribute a copy will result in immediate termination and disposal of all related hard and soft copies. Post-exposure testing should include a full analysis of REM cycle disruption and a series of psychiatric evaluations by Dr. ███████.
Description:
SCP-034 is a plain black arcade cabinet with a banner on the head board of the word POLYBIUS. It was discovered in an abandoned arcade in Portland, Oregon in 1981. It appears to function as a normal arcade game cabinet, and gameplay is similar to that of Tempest. The only clear difference between the two is the background and sound design. The background light and sound patterns of SCP-034 have been linked to unpleasant side-effects, including amnesia, insomnia, night terrors, and even suicide. The device has an immediate addictive effect on the player and any onlookers. All direct exposure victims have been unable to recount any information regarding the machine, and have been diagnosed with Alzheimers. Some secondary exposure victims have recalled incidents with Sinnesloschen employees collecting data and removing machines from arcade locations. This device has been classified as Safe by [DATA EXPUNGED] though its research is currently under the direction of Dr. ██████ ███████, with all interactions with SCP-034 subject to his approval.
Addendum 034-01:
Attempts to contact Ed Rottberg of the company Sinnesloschen, who is allegedly the responsible head of staff on the Polybius project, have failed. Upon further investigation into the whereabouts of Ed Rottberg, no records of his existence have been found outside of the credits in the game.
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-034 is to be left unplugged and confined to a standard arcade cabinet storage crate. The device is not to be plugged in unless being tested in the soundproof laboratory under the jurisdiction of Dr. ██████ ███████. All test subjects, security, and medical staff must be tested for epilepsy as a prerequisite for participation in any data collection. During data collection, there is a minimum requirement of two (2) security and one (1) medical staff member to be present. All attending security and medical personnel must wear protective eyewear and noise canceling headphones. Under no circumstance may any member of staff duplicate the software contained in SCP-034. Any attempts to distribute a copy will result in immediate termination and disposal of all related hard and soft copies. Post-exposure testing should include a full analysis of REM cycle disruption and a series of psychiatric evaluations by Dr. ███████.
Description:
SCP-034 is a plain black arcade cabinet with a banner on the head board of the word POLYBIUS. It was discovered in an abandoned arcade in Portland, Oregon in 1981. It appears to function as a normal arcade game cabinet, and gameplay is similar to that of Tempest. The only clear difference between the two is the background and sound design. The background light and sound patterns of SCP-034 have been linked to unpleasant side-effects, including amnesia, insomnia, night terrors, and even suicide. The device has an immediate addictive effect on the player and any onlookers. All direct exposure victims have been unable to recount any information regarding the machine, and have been diagnosed with Alzheimers. Some secondary exposure victims have recalled incidents with Sinnesloschen employees collecting data and removing machines from arcade locations. This device has been classified as Safe by [DATA EXPUNGED] though its research is currently under the direction of Dr. ██████ ███████, with all interactions with SCP-034 subject to his approval.
Addendum 034-01:
Attempts to contact Ed Rottberg of the company Sinnesloschen, who is allegedly the responsible head of staff on the Polybius project, have failed. Upon further investigation into the whereabouts of Ed Rottberg, no records of his existence have been found outside of the credits in the game.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The Book
Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called "Death". He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of 50$.
However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.
There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$
However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.
There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$
Gjoberdik
In Gjoberdik, a small fisherman's village in the country of Bulgaria, on the dawn of January the first everyone closes their curtains and hold their breath for half a minute. Hours after the craze of midnight's celebrations, children look questioning at their worried parents, but can not help to shiver in the embrace of their shaking parents.
One can hear the sound of bells being struck exactly 25 times last year, in this short timespan. The nearest church however, is over 32 miles away. You will find no one out on the streets in these faithful 30 seconds, and even the birds will stop whistling.
Some have gone out of their houses, roaring boldly in disbelief of this century old tradition. On the first sunset of this year, two people gambled their fate in the very first rays of sunlight.
The next dawn, the bells will be struck 27 times.
One can hear the sound of bells being struck exactly 25 times last year, in this short timespan. The nearest church however, is over 32 miles away. You will find no one out on the streets in these faithful 30 seconds, and even the birds will stop whistling.
Some have gone out of their houses, roaring boldly in disbelief of this century old tradition. On the first sunset of this year, two people gambled their fate in the very first rays of sunlight.
The next dawn, the bells will be struck 27 times.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Envelope
In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.
She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.
And what was in the envelope? “This is the last one I am sending you today.”
She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.
And what was in the envelope? “This is the last one I am sending you today.”
Glasses
When I was 8, I stayed up late at night watching television. My mother always told me never to turn on the television exactly at 4:44 am. If you ever did, you would hear clicks and heavy breathing in the next room; If you do check, a black shadow with red eyes will glare at you.
They also told me if I wore another person’s glasses, I will see that person’s death. It’s true. I put on my mother’s glasses, and since then I’ve always been a little fearful of my father.
They also told me if I wore another person’s glasses, I will see that person’s death. It’s true. I put on my mother’s glasses, and since then I’ve always been a little fearful of my father.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
A Picture
One school day, a boy named Tom was sitting in class and doing math. It was six more minutes until after school. As he was doing his homework, something caught his eye.
His desk was next to the window, and he turned and stared outside. It looked liked a picture. When it was home time at the school, he ran to the spot where he saw it. He ran fast so that no one else could grab it.
He picked it up and smiled. It had a picture of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had a dress with tights on and red shoes, and her hand was formed into a peace sign.
She was so beautiful he wanted to meet her, so he ran all over the school and asked everyone if they knew her or have ever seen her before. But everyone he asked said “no.” He was devastated.
When he was home, he asked his older sister if she knew the girl, but unfortunately she also said “no.” It was very late, so Tom walked up the stairs, placed the picture on his bedside table and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night Tom was awakened by a tap on his window. It was like a nail tapping. He got scared. After the tapping he heard a giggle. He saw a shadow near his window, so he got out of his bed, walked toward his window, opened it up and followed the giggling. By the time he reached it,
it was gone.
The next day again he asked his neighbors if they knew her. Everybody said, “Sorry, no.” When his mother came home he even asked her if she knew her. She said “no.” He went to his room, placed the picture on his desk and fell asleep.
Once again he was awakened by a tapping. He took the picture and followed the giggling. He walked across the road, when suddenly he got hit by a car. He was dead with the picture in his hand.
The driver got out of the car and tried to help him, but it was too late. Suddenly he saw the picture and picked it up. He smiled. He saw a cute girl holding up three fingers…
His desk was next to the window, and he turned and stared outside. It looked liked a picture. When it was home time at the school, he ran to the spot where he saw it. He ran fast so that no one else could grab it.
He picked it up and smiled. It had a picture of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had a dress with tights on and red shoes, and her hand was formed into a peace sign.
She was so beautiful he wanted to meet her, so he ran all over the school and asked everyone if they knew her or have ever seen her before. But everyone he asked said “no.” He was devastated.
When he was home, he asked his older sister if she knew the girl, but unfortunately she also said “no.” It was very late, so Tom walked up the stairs, placed the picture on his bedside table and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night Tom was awakened by a tap on his window. It was like a nail tapping. He got scared. After the tapping he heard a giggle. He saw a shadow near his window, so he got out of his bed, walked toward his window, opened it up and followed the giggling. By the time he reached it,
it was gone.
The next day again he asked his neighbors if they knew her. Everybody said, “Sorry, no.” When his mother came home he even asked her if she knew her. She said “no.” He went to his room, placed the picture on his desk and fell asleep.
Once again he was awakened by a tapping. He took the picture and followed the giggling. He walked across the road, when suddenly he got hit by a car. He was dead with the picture in his hand.
The driver got out of the car and tried to help him, but it was too late. Suddenly he saw the picture and picked it up. He smiled. He saw a cute girl holding up three fingers…
Thursday, October 23, 2008
We Missed You
Normally you sleep soundly, but the thunderstorm raging outside is stirring you from your sleep. You begin to doze, then another crash jolts you awake. The cycle lasts most of the night. So you lay there, eyes open and outward, looking at your room stretching out before you in oblong shadows. Your eyes move from nameless object, to object, until you reach your mirror, sitting adjacent to you across the room.
Suddenly a flash of lighting, and the mirror flickers in illumination. For a scant second the mirror revels to you dozens of faces, silhouettes within its frame, mouths open and eyes blackened. They stare out at you, their black pupils fixed upon your face.
Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you don’t sleep for the rest of the evening. The next morning you remove the mirror from your wall and toss it in the trash. It didn’t matter if the vision you had seen was of truth or falsehood, you wanted to be rid of that mirror. In fact, you scrap every mirror in your house.
Weeks pass and the event of that night falls into passive memory. You are spending the day at a friend’s house and it’s time to use the bathroom. While you are in there the faucet starts to run without you prompting it. Taken aback by this, you do not yet act, trying to reason with your paranoia in your mind. The water starts to steam and a skin of moisture covers the mirror up above. You’re watching intently as words form: “Please return the mirrors. We miss watching you sleep at night.”
Suddenly a flash of lighting, and the mirror flickers in illumination. For a scant second the mirror revels to you dozens of faces, silhouettes within its frame, mouths open and eyes blackened. They stare out at you, their black pupils fixed upon your face.
Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you don’t sleep for the rest of the evening. The next morning you remove the mirror from your wall and toss it in the trash. It didn’t matter if the vision you had seen was of truth or falsehood, you wanted to be rid of that mirror. In fact, you scrap every mirror in your house.
Weeks pass and the event of that night falls into passive memory. You are spending the day at a friend’s house and it’s time to use the bathroom. While you are in there the faucet starts to run without you prompting it. Taken aback by this, you do not yet act, trying to reason with your paranoia in your mind. The water starts to steam and a skin of moisture covers the mirror up above. You’re watching intently as words form: “Please return the mirrors. We miss watching you sleep at night.”
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Kaleidoscope
While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find a sextant, or perhaps an old leather-bound telescope.
A particularly interesting piece caught my eye. It appeared to be a heavy brass flashlight, bearing a worn brown patina but remarkably modern in design. I asked the shopkeeper, but he could only tell me it was found in the same old sailor’s chest as several of the compasses and the sextant also on display. He inquired as to whether I would like to purchase it for five dollars, or perhaps have it for free. “It’s worthless to me, nobody wants it.” When I remarked about the price, he sighed wearily, and then reached into the cabinet and retrieved it for me.
“Here, see for yerself, feller.”
The craftsmanship was wonderful—quite durable and apparently hand-made, perhaps originating from somewhere in Europe. Worn lettering indicated it might be German, or perhaps Austrian, in origin. I twisted the bulb housing and a weak red beam swept out. Poking it into a dark corner of the shop, I was greeted with fantastic monotone swirls, moving and entwining with each other like a pit of eels. As I stared further into this unusual projector-kaleidoscope, my fanciful mind invented ghoulish faces and sinuous, gnarled tendrils.
Shutting the device off, I turned excitedly to the shopkeeper. “Fantastic!” I said. “It must have an oil filter of sorts in front of the lens! I have two Victorian kaleidoscopes, but none that are illuminated like this.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets it. They all come back to return it after a while.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter and I could see that he was breathing heavily and perspiring. “They all think it’s some sort of trick… till they start seeing it when the light’s off.”
“That ain’t no projection, mister. That… damned thing, that light… it ain’t makin’ up those creatures. It’s just lettin’ your eyes see what’s already there.”
A particularly interesting piece caught my eye. It appeared to be a heavy brass flashlight, bearing a worn brown patina but remarkably modern in design. I asked the shopkeeper, but he could only tell me it was found in the same old sailor’s chest as several of the compasses and the sextant also on display. He inquired as to whether I would like to purchase it for five dollars, or perhaps have it for free. “It’s worthless to me, nobody wants it.” When I remarked about the price, he sighed wearily, and then reached into the cabinet and retrieved it for me.
“Here, see for yerself, feller.”
The craftsmanship was wonderful—quite durable and apparently hand-made, perhaps originating from somewhere in Europe. Worn lettering indicated it might be German, or perhaps Austrian, in origin. I twisted the bulb housing and a weak red beam swept out. Poking it into a dark corner of the shop, I was greeted with fantastic monotone swirls, moving and entwining with each other like a pit of eels. As I stared further into this unusual projector-kaleidoscope, my fanciful mind invented ghoulish faces and sinuous, gnarled tendrils.
Shutting the device off, I turned excitedly to the shopkeeper. “Fantastic!” I said. “It must have an oil filter of sorts in front of the lens! I have two Victorian kaleidoscopes, but none that are illuminated like this.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Nobody gets it. They all come back to return it after a while.” The shopkeeper leaned on the counter and I could see that he was breathing heavily and perspiring. “They all think it’s some sort of trick… till they start seeing it when the light’s off.”
“That ain’t no projection, mister. That… damned thing, that light… it ain’t makin’ up those creatures. It’s just lettin’ your eyes see what’s already there.”
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