Wednesday, January 19, 2011

You have 50 years

    In a private terminal at the Port of Boston there is a houseboat. This houseboat has been anchored there, permanently, for at least 50 years. The eccentric owner has maintained all fees and taxes and is in good standing with the Port Authority.

    Still, even if the owner wasn't finacially responsible, no one would ask them to depart. Despite the owner's friendly, hospitable, if odd nature, there is a persistent air of unease around the boat and the area of the Port surrounding.

    Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale:

    When you step into the houseboat, it's as if you're sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television recieves live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

    Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn't surprising if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

    All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren't for one additional detail.

    Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

    When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat.

    Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

    The letter simply reads, "You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell.

    The clock is ticking. Get to work."

Spot of horrors

Look behind you. What do you see? Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that lines up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but makes sure you are clear on where this particular spot is. That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked. what do you do when this happens. You check behind you, that’s what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you. Check the spot. Nothing again, huh? That’s because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this "negative spot" resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake. You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck. Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversary of the spots destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears. The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker. After you go totally blind, don't ever turn your back on that spot again. That is if you can still tell where it is.

Greater than Human

A young prodigy grew up in a loving home. His parents were kind, but not overindulgent. Strict, but fair. The boy grew up in a very well-balanced environment.

The boy, Nathaniel Zimmermann, discovered his taste for blood perhaps as early as seven years old. Only coincidences connect him to the horrifically mutilated animal carcasses that were always found six hundred sixty-six paces into the forest. Animals were found splayed open, organs neatly cut and dissected, eyes and mouths opened wide, illustrating the unspeakable pain in their last moments of life.

Nathan, on top of being a genius, also had incredible cunning. He kept his bloodlust under absolute control. He had no interest in friends, and he was spectacular at mimicking human emotion. He feigned a healthy contentment with life so that his parents wouldn't get suspicious.

Nathan graduated medical school with top honors, and decided to become a surgeon. His handiwork was precise and efficient. His surgeries often ended in record time. Then his cover was blown.

Nathan's sadism was eventually exposed. It was discovered that in addition to tampering with anesthetics (explaining his absolute contempt towards anesthesiologists), he sometimes replaced a person's painkillers with snake venom.

Nathan's medical license was revoked, but he found his niche in being a torturer-for-hire.

His only stipulation was that the victim was to die immediately following the torture, as any pain they felt after the torture would be almost pleasurable. Nathan so hated when people felt happy.

Nathan has murdered countless people, almost always torturing them first. It is rumored that when one of his victims was unable to feel pain, he simply started cutting off her extremities until she was immobile, then he shoved a screwdriver through her skull.

Oddly, it is not known whether he is a virgin. His arrogance seems to preclude him from any sexual contact, as he considers himself greater than a human. What is frightening is that he may very well be right.

The Corner

If you stand alone at the corner of Church St. and Market St. in Charleston, South Carolina at 3 AM, you see a man coming down Church St. wearing a black hat and black cape with stringy white hair and weathered skin. He'll stop at one of the two corners directly across from where you are standing and start to walk the corner directly opposite from where he is standing. When he reaches about halfway (dead center of the intersection) and nobody else has arrived, he'll stop, turn, and look directly at you.
If you do not blink for roughly 20-30 seconds he'll tip his hat to you and walk along his way, disappearing into the dark shadows of the trees that line the streets. Nobody knows what happens if you follow him.
If you do blink before he tips his hat, the very first thing you will see is the man standing directly in front of you. He'll grin maliciously at you and draw a blade hidden in the shaft of the cane and slash you across your throat, but you will not feel a thing. You will, however, pass out and remain in a comatose state until the sun rises over the horizon.
For the next six nights, you will have a recurring dream of the man walking down the street, appearing suddenly before you, and slashing your throat. On the seventh night, the events will replay the same up until he stops in the middle of the intersection. At this point, he'll say, "It's been fun playing with you, boy, but now it's time for you to go. Don't ever let me see you again." He'll then tip his hat and walk away before you wake up.
Nobody knows what happens if you visit the corner a second time.

Hotel Mario: The 13th Hotel [CDI game]

[I thought it was going to be a normal day... I was just dumping the Hotel Mario's source for future uses, but I never expected... I'd find that...
One of the files dumped was a level, the 13th Hotel, which had an unique cutscene. I was so excited to test it, I used my emulator to play it the quickest as possible. The opening cutscene begun: It was the original intro, but Mario was alone. There was a really creepy music in the background. The next scene was the place where Bowser was suposed to stay, but he was not there. Instead, his right hand was still over the rock, but bleeding. In his place, there was what looked like a huge stack of metal, bleeding. I was utterly scared at that point. The next scene was the place where Mario and Luigi walks talking about the picnic, but noe one was there, not even Mario. That huge red mushroom which was suposed to be there was broken, and there was blood. The skies were gray all the time. Mario reached the front door of the kingdom. The board was blank, with huge marks of claws and blood. Mario didn't say nothing, just picked up the letter. The next scene was really unsettling. It was Mario in close up, reading the letter. His eyes were completely black, and the skies changed. Mario was talking in a kind of demonic enchant. In the next scene, I was shocked. He looked to Luigi, who was dead in a iron stack, and said some glitched noises. Mario kept looking at Luigi with an amused glare at the eyes for around 8 seconds. The next scene was the "Condemned" board. But instead, it was written "YOU ARE Condemned", there were claws marks and lots of blood around the bricks and over the soil. Mario comes up, faceless, with white and black clothes, holding his bread box, which was blank. The background was some sort of red board of demons. Two messages blinked in a frame in the bread box: "13th Hotel" and "HELP ME". The next scene was the princess waving over the pipe, she kept doing that, with the scene blinking sometimes. Then, suddenly, she disappeared, and there was blood over that pipe. Mario came up, with a messed up red color with a hellish style, with static in the BG, saying more demonic talking, in whispers. Then, Ludwig's ruined castle appeared. The scene was looking abandoned, with mist around the place. Mario appeared again, pointing up, like in the final frame of the Intro, but his eyes were black, the BG was different and it was glitching up. For a short moment, he had red pupils facing me. Next scene: Mario walked like in the Toast cutscene, it was completely black, all what was there was the dead Luigi. Mario stayed like that for a few seconds, and then, a closeup. His right eye was popped and hanging out of the place, and he was stabbed on the belly. A demonic voice said "MARIO IS DONE FOR", and static came up. My game froze.]


This is the video that I could record, before the game crash, along my entire emulator:




Zelda 3D

When I was a child, one of my favorite games was the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Anyone who's played it can probably figure out why, even if they don't particularly find it their favorite. Naturally, as a very popular game, it spawned a lot of rumors and legends, especially back in the day when communication through the Internet wasn't as common. Most of these legends are false, but sometimes a surprising amount of truth can be found in them.
A while ago I had read an article about early versions of Zelda 3D (as it was called in development), and apparently these early versions were incredibly different than the released version. It was modeled after the original Legend of Zelda rather than A Link to the Past, and as such was a lot more free roaming and adventurous than the one we got. At the time, it sounded awesome, and I even found myself wondering why they had abandoned the project. I concluded that it was probably due to the technical requirements of such a feat. Still, one thing that especially stuck with me were the pictures. Some were nondescript, nothing special, but one showed a large expansive desert environment. There was a palm tree and a small oasis near a much more primitive-looking Link, as well as some enemies. Past that, however, was just sand, stretching to the horizon. The thoughts of what might lay beyond that desert seemed to stick the image to my mind.
After that we skip several years. The article was only a vague recollection, nothing important. I was hanging out at the local game shop with one of my friends. He's telling me about his day, and tells me how some guy came to sell his missing son's old video games. He showed me them and they were all normal games. A few Wii games, a few Gamecube games, and a lot of Nintendo 64 games. Still, the only one that really caught my eye was a red cartridge with no label, except a piece of tape with the word "ZELDA??" written over it in marker. Naturally, this got me curious. My friend didn't share my curiosity, but he didn't think he could sell the game and just let me take it home for free and indulge myself. Naturally, I did.
The moment the game started, I realized it wasn't the Zelda I was used to. The title screen was nothing but a nondescript "The Legend of Zelda." No subtitles, no fancy font, no music, just those words in black bordered lettering. The background wasn't from OoT or MM either. It was an overhead view of what could only be called ancient ruins. They looked very sinister and grotesque, similar to something from Majora's Mask, only without any hint of the mystical atmosphere that accompanied any Zelda game. They were simply unnerving. Still, this didn't stop my curiousity, it only kept me going.
As soon as I press start, the game begins. It skips over any file screens and dumps a blocky-looking Link into an empty black environment. And when I say black, I mean black. There was nothing separating ground and sky. Just blackness. The only thing that let me notice that the game even worked was a temple in the distance, similar to the one in the opening. Moving still seemed to work fine, suggesting that something probably glitched with the textures of the ground and sky. Still, it seemed strange that nothing happend to any other textures. Entering the temple was my only choice, so I took it.
One thing that is worth mentioning is that the game started with no music, just deathly silence. However, the closer you came to the temple, the more music was available to hear. Well, it wasn't really music. It sounded like moaning, similar to the ReDeads in OoT, but more tinny and badly recorded. Every once in a while some sobs could be heard, but they were quickly stifled.
Entering the temple made everything seem more like a Zelda game, but something caught me eye. Rather than the textures being worse than those in OoT, they were better. There was more detail in everything, but it was all dingy and rotten-looking. Extra polygons only served to make things look more grotesque. The random blood splatters didn't help anything, either. It didn't take long for me to realize that the entire "dungeon" could hardly be called Zelda-like. Puzzles usually only consisted of pulling a lever or pressing a switch. In fact, there weren;t even any sliding blocks. There were no enemies, either, but the blood splatters on the walls soon served to be warnings of booby traps. Some become inescapable, and simply send you back into the darkness again. Others are escapable, but still extremely creepy and...depressing. The dungeon was riddled with the low-poly remains of dead adventurers. and sometimes they even gad items on them. The items could be picked up, but the inventory screen seemed unfinished, and the game only auto-equipped the first three items picked up since there was no accessible inventory screen. After several gruesome deaths and retries, I find my way to a door marked with a scratched-on eye, similar to the ones on the Lens of Truth and various other objects. Entering this door reveals a boss battle.
The music by this point had changed, and I only realized it by the last room. The moaning had never looped once, but still seemed to change according to the mood. A discordant violin melody started playing, but the rest of the sound remained nothing but moans, sobs, yells, and weird scratching. It was never enough to rise past the level of "background noise" but it still remained unnerving, almost as if it wasn't music at all, but monsters that were wandering somewhere in the temple.
When I said "entering the room revealed a boss battle," I was not entirely honest. It could only be called a boss battle by the most generous standards. It featured an empty room with the same textures on the walls as the rest of the temple. The only out-of-place aspect was a giant face on the other side of the room, colored as gray as the walls surrounding it. Its skin seemed stretched over its head and lined with the wall, so it looked as if the wall was growing a face. Moss seemed to be growing over its closed eyes and cracks were apparent everywhere on it. Still, the door I came in was locked, and the only thing to do was approach. I did so, carefully, making sure nothing was waiting for a surprise attack. I went up to the point where I was nearly in contact with the face. Nothing. It was still there, with its sunken eyes and cracked lips. I attacked it with my sword. The sword went through, and made an incredibly vulgar flesh-ripping sound, but nothing happened. It remained there. I attacked some more, and still more, until eventually the music stopped. Soon the cacophony of violin music became even louder and the moans started up even stronger, and then something happened. In one movement, its eyes opened, staring at me with dry, souless eyeballs. And then...nothing. The music was still louder, but I continued to attack the face with no reaction, until it simply had enough, ripped to shreds, and fell away in a fire, in typical Zelda fashion, revealing a door. The music had stopped. There were no more moans, screams, anything. I went through the door.
What a fool I was. That was only the tutorial.
The screen was replaced by a white screen, followed by a moment of extremely loud static. I jumped, but it was over almost instantly. The white screen was replaced by endless desert. The one from the image. I was in shock. By that point, I was creeped out enough to turn the game off. Still, that respite didn't last long, I had nightmares of the game. Normal nightmares, nothing weird about them (it was, after all, a pretty creepy game). However, what frightened me the most was something I skimmed over while I played and realized afterwards. The game chamged each time I started over. When I tried to take the same path through the labyrinth, I always ended up lost and confused. By the time I finished, I was relying on instinct.
I kept going the next day, stopping only to eat and go to the bathroom. When I turned it on, I was still at the desert, even though there was no file screen. This time it was night, I walked. Sometimes I would walk for 20 minutes only to find a half-sunken obelisk, or the ruins of what looked like some village hut. Other times there would be a skull or a few bones, but nothing more noticeable than that. Other times I would see great expanses of oasis and tropical forests. I found my first enemies here. They were similar to tektites, only with larger bodies, mostly containing their large eye. They had thin, long legs and would still attack by leaping. only when they hit you, they would pin you to the ground and attack. Soon the sun rose, and I continued walking. Sometimes I would find small tombs. These were almost always similar in style to the first dungeon, only without the moaning and no bosses.
What I did find was information. Runes scribbled onto the walls that could be read. The description would almost always be vague, with phrases like, "...and knowledge shall guide...way to heavens..." Sometimes they would be followed by other comments, but most writing seemed glitched and unintelligible. It seemed to be a history, though. The maps I'd sometimes find confirmed it. I simply explored, and after a while, I learned to let instinct guide my way. Soon I found the next dungeon, a large pyramid rising out of the desert...upside-down. Over it, straight up to the sky, was another large upside-down temple. It stretched so far I couldn't see the top. But I couldn't keep going. I needed sleep again.
The next day came, and I entered the dungeon. It was like all the small tombs I would find, only a bit more perilous. More bottomless pits. chasms, spike traps, and monsters this time. Long arms that would grab you from out of the wall like wallmasters, only these simply threw you into the traps, killing you. What probably used to be ReDeads and skeletons. At the end of this dungeon, I found a large spiral staircase. I followed it up and up until I reached what seemed to be the top. It took two hours of climbing, but the time seemed to fly by. The top was merely a platform with a large, ornate arrow pointing off an edge. Since there was nowhere else to go, I jumped. The screen again flashed white, and I was in a new area.
This went on for the next few weeks. There were many places to visit, and at times I could find the borders where one locale met another. I started to name the locations I had been to, but although I started knowing all the places intimately, there never seemed to be an end to new locations. Sometimes I would go through one door and come out on the other side of the world. Places didn't behave by constant rules of space, but it became easier to find my way regardless. Each time I revisited a place, it was rearranged in a different, more navigable setup. From every corner though, I could see the tower in the distance. I quickly realized that I had no reached the top, only fallen into one of many traps. In fact, I still have not reached the top.
In the few times I went about the real world, I could feel that the game was different. It changed itself. It seemed to react to me. I was sure that a game like this should not have been able to be created. But then, they were going fot a free-roaming experience more similar to the original Zelda. What if they succeeded? They created a world one could always roam. And they really did create a world. I had learned of many gods in that land. The three goddesses who had created such a perverted, physical world. The god He Who Sees, who decided to cleanse it. I still don't know my own route, but I felt that if I simply followed my instincts, I could find my goal.
That's why I'm writing this now. My instincts still tell me where to go. But it's not here. It's not in the game. I have to leave, and I will do it. But before I go, I feel I have to leave this message for someone to find. I should warn you though, it may be a game, but it knows you are playing.

Zelda: Link's Awakening

Zelda:Ocarina of Time

A few months ago, I noticed a small classic video store that has seemingly popped up out of nowhere on a street I walk by quite often. I'm always on the lookout for older, hard to find games, so naturally I went inside. It was a very small shop, about the size of a bedroom, with wooden walls that were bare except for several video game posters on them. The posters looked like the kind you got in issues of Nintendo Power, but they weren't exact matches. There was an Earthbound poster of a frightened looking Ness staring at the background that shows up when you fight Giygas, a poster of Sonic in the drowning position in a very dark underwater city, and several others.
Sadly, the game selection wasn't very good. They covered systems going all the way back to Atari 2600, but they only had 10-20 games for each, most of them common ones everybody has, or those crappy games no one wants. I didn't find anything I was interested in and was about to leave, when something caught my eye. It was a gold Zelda: Ocarina of Time cartridge. I already had the game of course, but I had to examine this cartridge because of how beaten up it was. The cover was almost entirely torn off, the plastic was cracked and chipped in many places, and there was something that looked like a burn mark on it. The cart was only $1.99, and for some reason I felt drawn to buying it. The clerk didn't say a word to me, he just took my money and I left with the cart.
After leaving the store I started to wonder why I had bought a copy of a game I already owned in such horrible condition, but since I had it, I decided I might as well see if it actually worked. I put it in my N64 and turned it on, and was immediately greeted by Redead shreiks against a solid red screen. I turned off the system, took the cart out, put it back in, and tried again. This time I saw Zelda's character model lying face down, slowly rotating, while Ganon's laugh played. I tried once more, and actually got the intro screen this time, but I couldn't get the game to respond to the controller, and a slowed down version of Hyrule Castle Town's music was playing.
Cartridges were capable of some rather odd effects when they were broken or tampered with while a system is turned on. I had heard about cart tilting with Nintendo 64 games, and since I wasn't going to be able to play my new cart, I decided I might as well try messing with it. I put the game in one more time, getting some glitchy character models while what sounded like cymbals clashed repeatedly. I started bending the cart, and to my amazement, this actually made the game start the intro screen, with normal music, and my controller was working. Two of the files already had saves on them, so I selected the third and started the game.
The game started with the Deku Tree's monologue, but the text was different.
Death is the only thing this cursed land is good for. The cruel goddesses created life only to toy with it, and laugh at the pain of those they gave it to. I wish for death.
The last sentence repeated itself several times, filling up six text bubbles with it being said over and over. The game finally switched to Link, having his nightmare. It happened pretty much like the normal game, but Ganon had Zelda's face. Link woke up, there was no Navi, he simply screamed as he awoke from his nightmare, and got up on his own. I had control of him, and went to Kokiri Village. There was no other characters there, I couldn't go into the houses and the hole you crawl through to get the sword was missing, Since Mido wasn't there, I simply went to the Deku Tree.
No cinema happened, but the dungeon was open, so I went inside. The dungeon looked nothing like the one in the game, it looked like the inside of a castle. There were no enemies and I didn't have any items, so I just explored. As I went from room to room, the sound of children laughing got louder and louder. I finally dound a sword, it was stuck through the ribcage of a skeleton, as if he had used it to kill himself a very long time ago. I picked it up and the item text said, "You got the Hero's Sword. Will you be wise enough to use it for the right purpose?" At that point, a Majora's Mask style wizrobe appeared, the old man kind. He didn't move as fast as the ones do in MM, and I was able to kill him with the sword. He slumped over instead of exploding or fading like you'd expect a Zelda enemy to do and said,
"You have taken my life, but I will be avenged. My pet will deliver my vengeance."
The doors to the room locked, and I heard growling and the sound of heavy feet running. This went on for at least 20 minutes. I was getting scared, more frightened than I should be for a video game character. Finally, a gigantic wolf enemy burst into the room. I tried to fight, but my sword had no effect and he mauled Link to death, leaving a bloody corpse behind. The game froze on a shot of Link's corpse, there was no game over screen. I tried to play the game again, but no matter what I did to the cart, it would never display anything besides that final shot of Link's death.

Found in a backpack.

Thanks to E/x/it's blog











The message

Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out…
Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well, let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold… stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.
Behind all the fun, though, there’s a more serious aspect. We aren’t supposed to go in our own lifetime, and we are NEVER allowed to contact our past selves. Let me tell you, I’m breaking that rule right now. Yes, kid, you’re talking to yourself. Your future self. I’m going to be executed for this, but you know what? I accept that. I’m preventing something by talking to you that is WORSE than death. I can’t tell you outright what to do, because the filters would catch it. This is the closest I can get, trust me. I can, however, send a little message.
You should probably read the first word of every paragraph, now.

Do Not Read This, I Beg You

You must trust me, I have one piece of advice and you must follow it without question: you must stop reading this and go straight to the last paragraph. Do so without reading any other paragraphs and do it now. Please...trust me.
What happens next is entirely your fault. You failed the test and now you're in danger. I didn't write this. They made me write it. It's my fingers on the keyboard, that's all, and your eyes on these words. Whatever happens, do not look away from these words. Keep reading until I tell you otherwise. And when I tell you otherwise, do exactly as I say. For if you do not read this exactly how I tell you to, you will die. Listen carefully. First, you must skip the paragraph that follows this one. Whatever you do, you must never read the paragraph following this one. You must ignore it completely, casting your eyes down to the paragraph that follows it. Promise me, for the sake of those you hold dear. This is your only chance to redeem yourself for not trusting me earlier. Skip the paragraph following this one, and do so now.
The Forbidden Paragraph: You had to do it, didn't you? They knew you would. Nothing you do now will make any difference. If there are people you love, call them. Tell them whatever people tell their loved ones when they know they're about to die. Settle any scores. Make your final arrangements. From this moment on, you will stay alive only as long as you can stay awake. The next time you fall asleep will be your last. They're watching you. They're listening to your thoughts. They'll wait for you. And when you fall asleep, they'll come for you. You should have trusted me.
If you skipped the paragraph above, you've done well. But your troubles are not over. For placing your trust in me at the second asking, you have given yourself a chance to live. This is what you need to know. They're watching you. They're listening to your thoughts. They're waiting for you to make a mistake. When you do, they'll come for you. To stay alive, you must draw blood from someone you love. A drop, that's all, and place it on your tongue. That's what they want. That's what they need. They're inside you right now. And they're waiting. If between waking up and falling asleep you fail to deliver the blood of a loved one, you will never wake up again. Follow this advice. And never, never go back and read the forbidden paragraph. Trust me.
If you followed my advice in the first paragraph, well done. You can stop reading now. But never, never be tempted to come back and read the paragraphs you skipped. You must trust me. And please wish me luck. I'm tired. So tired, you just can't imagine...

Snuff Film (2)

Of course nobody believes in Snuff films. It's just too sick to be real, right? Nobody in their right mind would actively produce evidence against them like that, let along make money off of it. Al Goldstein, publisher of Screw magazine, has a standing offer of one million American dollars for the one who can find a real, commercially sold Snuff movie. The offer has been in place for years and nobody has claimed it.
And for good reason. I mean, you don't buy a carton of cigarettes and then sell it for half or a third of the price, do you?
Besides, as far as I know, nobody has ever taken one of these films home, seeing as they aren't sold as everybody thinks. That's too much of a risk. You pay to view a screening of it. Nobody ever held a copy of these films, except of course for the few people who make money off of them. As far as I know, there are only three, all male. Actually, the only females involved in these movies are the victims. Not all movies contain rape or sex of any kind, but it's not uncommon, especially with the few starring children as victims. This all may sound a bit odd to a lot of you, but of course it does; it involves something that just can't exist, right?
It is, though, very hard to get to attend one of these screenings. You need to be invited, and everyone who's ever been invited have been invited by personal mail, i.e. not via the postal office. The letters are apparently drenched in some chemical that makes the paper dissolve after a certain amount of time outside the envelope, possibly in contact with air or light - I don't know. All I know is that these people are clever and they take their measures. If they knew who I am, they'd surely kill me, maybe even make me into movie star. Then I'd be shown in their little cinema. It's quite a dark place, seeing as the only lights are candles situated around the screening room. The entrance to the Snuff cinema is that of a decrepit, old factory, reminiscent of a slaughter house. The letter would have short instructions as how to get to the screening room. The projector itself, apparently hooked to a recently bought DVD-player, is powered by a car battery. I've been told they used to use a small gas engine back in the 30s. The 'chairs' are the same old tables that were once used as slaughter benches. As soon as the screening is over, all the guests, maximum 10 or so, are threatened to leave immediately through 3 different exits with 30 minutes intervals. The exits are different from the entrance, as they lead to underground tunnels, probably old sewers, that lead to back alleys in different parts of the city. The crew, i.e. the people with the films, quickly vanish, probably through a fourth exit. If you manage to find the screening room after a screening, you wouldn't know it was ever used for anything like that. It just looks like a walk-in-freezer with white walls, meathooks still in the ceiling, and of course the tables, still with obvious marks of old, dried blood. There are about 120 Snuff films to be viewed in just this one cinema (and there are probably more throughout the world), each categorized by victim, method of killing, whether sex is involved (and whether it takes place pre- or post-mortem) and by "level of brutality." At least one film is of young, blonde women being choked to death while performing an unwilling blowjob. Another of a young child being cut open while drugged just enough to not move, but enough to still audibly and visibly be awake. Yet another is of a man hung upside down on a meathook, then having his testicles removed with a machete and force-fed them before he dies from bloodloss. I could go on and on about these movies as I've seen a good portion of them. Why not? I have the money for it. The goriest film I've seen was that of a middle aged dark haired woman having her hands, feet, arms and legs amputated while drugged, then sewn them crudely back on at the wrong extremeties. The next cut showed her wriggle in terror as she tried standing up on her arm-feet until she collapsed and vomited. A door behind her opens and a male figure swings an aluminum baseball bat at head. On impact, the head bent and she let out a gurgly cry before going limp and silent. The angle of the camera changed and the man hit her head again, this time bursting it open with debree of brainmatter. A crying child was then shown eating her eyes. It was the most satisfying movie I've ever made.

Snuff Film

You ever seen someone die on camera? A snuff film is a recording of the actual murder of human being that is subsequently passed around for entertainment purposes. Suicides and accidents don’t count. According to the MPAA, the FCC, the FBI and the ever-lovin’ Snopes.com, there’s no such thing as a snuff film. Yes, this includes Faces of Death. Anything you think might count is faked, falsified, or not made for that purpose, such as those tasteless videos you find on shock sites. This is a lie.There are, as best as anyone can tell, between 30-40 snuff films floating around out there. The earliest is a silent film on decaying nitrate celluloid, simply titled La mort d’une fille, and bears the date of 1896.The latest, judging by the hairstyles and the presence of a “Frankie Says Relax” t-shirt, was probably made in 1983 or 1984 and is on Betamax.The films vary in violence, but they all include seemingly ritualized sex, followed by the slaying of a girl with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes who appears to be around 19 years old. Every film has the exact same girl in it.

Moonlight Films

In many stores and establishments that provide videos of a less than savory manner, a business card is kept. Some stores keep it well hidden, locked in a safe, and will deny its existence. Others will show you if you ask for it by name. None will have it displayed in the open.
On this card is a name, "Moonlight Films", and a contact number. It is always a local number. Go to any payphone in your city and dial the number. The answer will be prompt but all you will hear is silence. Wait thirty seconds. Then you will be served.
A dry, monotone male voice will ask you a question: "Is the road from life to death dark?" The correct response is: "It is moonlit."
If you answer with anything but the correct reply, he will hang up on you. If you fail the first time, I'd suggest not trying again. But if the question is answered properly, the man will say one address in your city and then hang up.
Go to this address and you will find that it is a small, dingy apartment. The carpet will be dirty, the wallpaper flaking and wrinkled, the windows cracked. It will smell of tobacco smoke and decay. On the stained old coffee table there will be a paper bag. On this bag your full name will be written in red sharpie.
Open the bag and you will find an unlabeled video tape. Take it and place exactly $10.99 in the bag then leave.
You can watch the tape if you like, but you don't have to. I warn you: it's not pleasant. You will see a room or chamber papered in dessicated skin, the furniture will be crafted from flesh and bone. The tape will last approximately 32 minutes and will depict the murder of a person and the subsequent crafting of their body into furnishing -- lampshades made of skin, tables made of bone.
After renting the tape for one week, you must return it to the apartment by sliding it through the mail slot when the time is up. After that, never return to the apartment and definitely don't call the number ever again.
I'd also suggest you not keep the tape more than a week. The owners will not be satisfied with a mere late fee -- and you know, a good home can never have enough accessories.

Super Mario 64

I always liked Super Mario 64 when I was a kid. I remember playing it at my aunt's house all the time. Well, one day a pop-up appeared out of nowhere as I was watching gameplay footage on Youtube. I was a little startled, and was about to close the window, until I realized that it was a website showing of a mint condition copy of Super Mario 64 for sale. There was a picture and everything. I usually don't trust these things, but the feeling of nostalgia overpowered me, and I wanted to buy it.
The whole business was peculiar, seeing as how the owner of the game wanted the buyer to send an envelope containing $10 to and address on the site, instead of using something like PayPal. What made things even more strange was that when I tried to gain access to the website (I wrote down the URL) after encountering...problems with the game, the page was nowhere to be found.
A few days after the $10 was mailed, I got a package containing the new copy of the game. The first thing I noticed when I opened the small box was that the "official sticker" with Mario flying in the air was apparently peeled off or something. In it's place was a piece of duct tape with "Mario" crudely written on it in permanent marker. I felt a little ripped-off, but as long as the game worked, I didn't care.
I got out my Nintendo 64 and put the cartridge in. The screen turned on with the familiar Mario face that you could stretch and twist aimlessly. I remembered laughing all the time at the results as a kid and decided to mess around for old times sake. I moved the cursor over to Mario's ear and pulled it to elven proportions. I was going to do the same to the other ear, when the TV suddenly produced loud static. Mario's whole head started deforming and twisting in ways that I didn't even know were possible for the model. Random sound effects from the game started playing along with the static. As all this was occurring, I could hear a faint voice whispering in Japanese. The voice was stammering and whimpering.
I immediately shut off the game and tried again. I didn't bother with the Mario head this time. Just selected a new file and started playing.
When I selected the file, the game skipped the opening monologue by Peach and the courtyard outside. Mario was just placed right inside the castle. Creepier still, Bowser didn't say anything either. I tried to ignore it and played anyway. However I also noticed that their was no music. Just dead silence. Their weren't even any Toads around to talk to. The only door I could enter was the Bob-omb Battlefield. The other doors wouldn't even respond to my button commands.
The portrait to Bob-omb Battlefield wasn't the usual picture. It was just a stark white canvas. I was still trying to convince myself that these were just minor glitches, and that they wouldn't effect the gameplay at all. Once I entered the portrait, the image suddenly went from a blank canvas to the Lethal Lava Land painting. You know, that slightly unsettling image of the flame with the evil smile? Yeah, that's when I started getting really suspicious.
The mission select menu came up, and yet another weird detail was present. Instead of "Big Bob-omb on the Summit", the mission was called "TURN BACK". I have no idea what drove me to press A, but I did.
The level seemed normal. Everything was how I remembered it. I thought I could finally enjoy my favorite childhood game. But then I saw him. Luigi. I was absolutely shocked. He was never in this game. His model wasn't even a Mario palette swap. He looked like a completely original model. Luigi just stood there until I tried to approach him. He started running at unexpected speeds. I followed suite and went through the level. Strange things happened as I pursued him. each time I picked up a coin, the enemies and music would get slower, and the scenery would look darker in color and more morbid. It kept gradually getting worse until I collected a 5th coin. Then, the music just stopped. The enemies laid down on the ground like they were dead. I was seriously freaked out, but I kept chasing Luigi.
I went up the hill. No cannon balls rolled down trying to knock me over. I really wasn't surprised at this point. Luigi was always just out of my sight as I ran. Once I reached the summit, I saw yet another object out of place. A small cottage was all that was seen on the top of the hill. Luigi was nowhere to be found. The cottage was certainly od looking for a Mario game. It was old, plain, and broken down. Regardless of my fears at that moment, I had Mario enter the cottage.
As soon as the door closed. A disturbing picture of a hanged Luigi immediately popped up along with a very frightening scare chord. It sounded like a violin screech accompanied by loud piano banging. Mario fell to his knees and sobbed for roughly 5 minutes, then the screen irised-out.
I returned to the castle. Mario just slumped out of the painting. The image switched from the Lethal Lava Land portrait to the image of Luigi hanging himself. The room was different this time. It was now a small hallway. Toads with blank expressions and white robes lined the sides of the hallway. Their was another painting at the opposite end that just completely and utterly scared me. It was a picture of my family It wasn't even a photo from the time Super Mario 64 was released. It was a very, very recent photo. I remembered posing for it last weekend.
I reached for the on/off switch on the N64. There was no way I was going to play this anymore. However, when I flipped the switch, the game was still on. I flipped it back and forth, but to no avail. I tried unplugging the whole system, but it never left the screen. I was even still able to control Mario. I couldn't just leave it on forever...so I kept playing. I went to the photo of my family, and jumped in. Only one mission was available, of course. This one was called "Run, Don't Walk". I selected the mission. 'Let's-a-go'...
The level started in a flooded hallway with platforms floating on the water. Mario landed on one of these, and the camera turned to show what was behind. A silent black void was slowly approaching Mario. It didn't look like anything. It didn't even look like finished graphics. Just a giant, blocky, black blob. I started jumping from platform to platform. With no goal in sight, I kept running, the darkness slowly but surely gaining speed. This kept going on for what felt like hours. I was really doubting there would ever be an end. Mario was just going in circles. Finally, the black blob/void/thing caught up with Mario, and enveloped him in darkness. He didn't scream or resist at all. It just consumed him.
Mario fell out of the painting and back into the castle. I lost one of my 3 lives. The room was different now. Some of the Toads were gone, and the painting looked different. My family and I were in the same positions, but our bodies were partially decomposed. It looked too real to be photoshopped. It looked more like someone just took our dead bodies and posed them.
Regardless, I jumped into the painting again. Mario was in an small room. There was still only one mission available. It was called "I'm right here." spelled just like that. I selected the mission and prepared for the worst. Mario landed in a small, dark room. There no visible way out. The room was empty except for a piano in the corner. I knew what that meant. i was stuck in there with the Mad Piano. I approached it and it started chasing me as always. There was no way to damage it, so I had no choice but to let Mario take damage.
When he lost all his health, the usual death animation didn't happen. Mario just got mauled by the piano. He fell as his blood and guts spilled on the floor, and the camera panned to a top down view of his corpse. A distorted version of the merry-go-round music from Big Boo's Haunt played as the screen slowly transitioned from the in-game shot to a photo-realistic sketch of Mario's dead body in the same view as the shot. It was very unsettling. I was crying softly as I gazed upon the image. I lost another life.
The photo of my family was shown again. We were even more rotten then before. The view zoomed into the painting, like I was warping again. I was greeted with a shot of Peach's castle from the outside. The castle was crumbling in ruin. The fields were on fire. The sky was pitch black. Bowser's laugh played on a loop in the background as children mockingly chanted "You couldn't save her!". This went on for a long time, until, a close-up of of Peach's face accompanied by an extremely loud screech interrupted the loop without notice. Peach's mouth was wide open as if she was screaming, and her eyes were empty, black holes.
Suddenly, I was back in the hallway as Mario was once again ejected out of the painting. Now all of the Toads were gone, and me and my family looked positively repulsive. Maggots were wriggling around in holes in our flesh. Guts were spilling out of our bodies. My dad's eyeball was hanging loose from its socket. It was too much to bear, but something still urged me to trudge on. I jumped into the painting, with only one life remaining.
This time, there was no name for the mission. Just a blank space where the title would be. I selected the mission, and Mario landed on a very small island in the middle of the ocean. There was a solitary sign. It only read "DIVE". I did just as it said and entered the water.
The ocean was dark and empty. There were no fish. I wasn't even able to see anything in the water besides Mario. I swam downwards. I kept going for quite some time, yet Mario never ran out of breath. I counted roughly 10 minutes of swimming until I decided to go back up. Just as I turned Mario around, it came. A huge, and I mean huge Unagi the Eel came out of nowhere and swallowed Mario whole. I was dumbfounded. It went by so fast I wasn't even sure what I saw. The Game Over screen didn't show up. All that happened was a fade-out.
The photo of my family and I was shown again. We were plain skeletons now. Once again, it looked very real. I couldn't move the camera at all. It just stayed focused on the picture. I shut off the game and turned it on again. I chose my file, but it just went to the skeleton photo of my family. I tried this about 3 more times before giving up. I desperately wanted to stop, but some force kept me from walking away. I decided to select the only other saved file. The camera once again focused on the skeleton picture, but this time they were in a different position. As if they were a different family.

Another Portal pasta

Regarding the game Portal

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Little Teddy's Stamp Collection

During the war a soldier faithfully wrote his mother every week
so she would know he was all right, until one week she didn’t
get a letter and immediately began to worry. Within a couple of
weeks she got a letter from the Army saying that her son had
been captured and was being held in a Prisoner-of-War camp, and
they assured her that they had no reason to believe the American
prisoners were being mistreated in any way. A few weeks later
the woman finally received another letter from her son, it read:
“Dear Mom, Try not to worry about me, they are treating us well
and I’ll be released as soon as the war is over. Make sure that
little Teddy gets the stamp for his collection. Love you, Joe”
The woman was overjoyed to hear the news, but was confused
because she had no idea who “little Teddy” was. She decided to
steam the stamp from the envelope and have a look. When she did
she saw that written on the back of the stamp were the words:

“They’ve cut off my legs”.

I Wish it Would Stop Gnawing

Since before I could remember, I’ve wanted to be a mother. It seemed my whole
childhood and teenager years were spent yearning for a child of my own. By the
time I was nine, I had names–and color schemes for the nursery–picked out. All
I needed was someone to make them with. But college was disappointing. I went
through a whole string of bad boyfriends and bad father material. Getting on
with my career didn’t seem to help much. I realized, though–when I was
twenty-seven, and there were no suitable prospects on the line–that,
technically, I did not need a man to have a child with. Just a very particular
product of his. I found a sperm donor bank, chose the best prospect they had,
got out my turkey baster and… well… hoped for the best.

I was overjoyed when my first pregnancy test came out positive. My doctor was
surprised to see me coming in sooner than he’d expected. Before I was four
weeks along, I had the nursery painted, and the furniture set up. Toys and
diapers, bottles and books, bibs and coveralls. I had everything a new mother
would need.

I couldn’t explain all the weight I was losing. I kept getting
thinner–everything except for my belly. My friends all joked that it had to be
at least twins. Or the biggest baby they’d ever seen.

I got weary of the kicking somewhere in the third trimester. And the scratching.

Just one more week until my due date.

I just wish it would stop gnawing.

Unit 232

In a nondescript rural corner of the American midwest, in a long row of units
at one of the many dilapidated mini storage businesses that dot that dreary
landscape, is a unit, Unit 232, with barely-noticable scratches in the
concrete in front of the sliding door.

Upon closer inspection of Unit 232, the careful observer will note a few
things: the frame around the door to the unit is dinged and bent up along its
entire length, to the point that the door cannot be slid open even an inch;
the door itself is curiously warped (some describe it as "pinched") at the
center, though not badly enough to see at first glance; the brown-tan paint
covers up several much older layers that can be observed where chipping has
occurred. An even more careful observer will discover that the entire row of
units in which 232 is contained is of an older architectural style than the
other rows, indicating that it alone has remianed in place possibly since the
inception of the storage facility.

The owner, of course, has a story about Unit 232, although he doesn't like to
tell it. When he was much younger, someone rented the unit--he doesn't recall
who--and then disappeared after that, never paying the next month's rent. Such
things, the owner will say, happen often in his business, for all kinds of
reasons, and so he and his boys clipped the flimsy lock from the unit along
with several other unpaid lots a few weeks later, intending to sell its
contents at blind auction and recoup some of their losses. Unfortunately, even
with all three of them grunting and heaving at the door, it would not lift at
all. Angry, the owner hired out some heavy machinery to tear the door down instead.

-----

Behind the door, the owner says, was nothing but a solid wall of dull steel.
The small backhoe tore the flimsy aluminum door out easily, but barely made a
scratch in the metal. Exploratory cuttings elsewhere around the unit revealed
that the same metal pressed against every wall. Whatever it was, it seemed
practically bolted into the concrrete.

The next revelation was the discovery of a large, plain keyhole set into the
block--which, the owner supposes, must actually have something else inside of
it--on the side that faced the back of the unit. A locksmith was hired to examine
the keyhole, but the moment he began feeling out the hole with his turning tools,
he fainted clean away. When he came to an hour or so later, he was in such bad
shape that his eyes would not focus and his tongue would not form words, and he
was eventually committed to the county mental health ward (back when it was still
called an asylum, the owner will say) where he managed to hang himself with a towel
a few months later.

Having had quite enough of these goings-on, the owner called in a full-scale
demolition service to take out the unit with a bulldozer, but when the vehicle
arrived, the engine cut out and could not be started again until it had been towed
some miles away. Spooked because of the story about the locksmith, which caused a
small local media sensation at the time, the driver decided against trying a second
time, and when word got round to the other heavy equipment companies in the area,
the owner was left with no one to try and finish the job.

-----

Naturally, he will say, he decided to rent the equipment and have one of his
employees take care of it for him instead. But this is where he trails off, every
time, and if you press him for the story of that worker, he will say nothing, only
staring off out the window of his office as though you are not there at all. In the
end, he will say, clearing his throat, he carefully re-paneled the walls, attached
a new door, welded it in place and banged up the frame as an added precaution. The
"pinching" at the center of the door, he will tell you, seems to happen on its own,
but he has learned to stop asking questions about whatever is locked up inside that
huge steel box.

Of course, every lock has a key somewhere in the world that fits it. What is inside
the cube in Unit 232? Whoever has the key might know; more likely it has been passed
along from attic to attic and rummage sale to antique shop so many times that whoever
has it has no idea what it is for. Check your garage, basement, attic or junk
drawers: almost everyone has a few big, old keys lying in a dark corner somewhere
that he or she cannot recall the purpose of. Perhaps one of yours fits the lock
hidden inside Unit 232....

The Necronomicon

You've heard some of the crazy things the US soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan
have been finding, right? Like, stuff from the palaces, stuff in old caves,
stuff in bunkers, like golden swords, big honkin' vases, expensive jewelry,
thousand year old lamps and stuff?
They found something big, just recently.
Some... marines, I think, yeah, marines, were poking around in an old cave,
and they found this chest, and in it was a collection of remarkably preserved
scrolls written on what seemed to be flesh.
Who here is familiar with the works of Abdul Alhazred?
Yep. They found a genuine first edition copy of his number-one best seller,
Al Azif.
You might know it better as the Necronomicon.

Rasper

This is a nice picture pasta that will give you the creeps...
Thanks to E/x/it's blog























Portal Purgatory

So, has anyone thought about how Portal is a giant allusion to Purgatory?
There is (seemingly) no reason to be putting Chell through these horrible experiments - it's for GLaDOS' sadistic pleasure.
But what if it's REALLY a test?
Not a scientific test, but a test of character and determination as to redeem oneself? Perhaps GLaDOS' taunts of, "All your other friends couldn't come either because you don't have any other friends because of how unlikable you are. It says so right in your personnel file: 'Unlikable. Liked by no one. A bitter, unlikable loner whose passing shall not be mourned...' It says you were adopted. So that's funny too," isn't just pointless mocking but a reminder of Chell's former life?
It's also heavily implied that GLaDOS could possibly be a much more knowing being as some kind of tester for Purgatory. Quotes like, "Speaking of curiousity, you're curious about what happens after you die, right? Guess what? I know."
Quotes like this have a much more significant meaning when thought of in this context.
"I feel sorry for you, really. Because you're not even in the right place."
"This is your fault. It didn't have to be like this."
"You're not a good person, you know that, right? Good people don't end up here."

Peripheral vision

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye? A simple movement caught in your peripheral vision. Most will simply dismiss this as a shadow brought about by a flickering candle, or perhaps a pet jumping down from a piece of furniture. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, these people are right.
But then there's that one elusive sight. It can easily be explained by the above conditions, but something feels wrong about it. A chill down your spine, a slight pain in your side. Maybe even a complete blanking of your mind, only to recede moments later.
Should any of these symptoms be felt, there may be cause for worry. Our peripheral vision is designed to catch motion, even in the dark. This was used to defend against predators in our early days, and as with many aspects of our human nature, it has remained, but weakened.This view out of the corner of our eyes still alerts us to danger, and although predators have dropped on the list of dangers we may face today, they still exist. Should you ever feel that queer chill in your back, try not to focus on that shadow you saw in the corner of your eye. It might be better not to see.

The Gallery of Henri Beauchamp

If you go into this one tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, and the right bartender is behind the counter that night, you might be able to see a very exclusive gallery show of the lost works of one Henri Beauchamp. But, to get in, you have to prove you're a devotee of the artist to get in.
You'll be asked, in clear and perfect English, "What would like to partake of this glorious night?" Answer "absinthe", no matter what. Any other drink, from whiskey to water, will kill you as you sleep.
The next question will regard the type, and you MUST answer one of two things: "The stuff that Man himself could not bear to take," or, "The good stuff. The best stuff." If you ask for any other absinthe, in any other way, you will be plagued by nightmares for 13 days. Each night's dream will be more horrible than the last, until, upon the thirteenth dream, your nightmare will follow you, every moment of your waking and sleeping life.
Don't try and cheat the barkeep: the door locked behind you. You have to drink what he gives you, doom or not. That such a powerful man granted you audience should be enough. Besides, I've heard that the dying complimented his drinks in their death throes.
If you make it that far before sealing your fate, the bartender will say, "Be sure you handle this with care; this is the finest I have." From here, you may do one of two things: Say, word for word, "I overestimated my fortitude, and I bid you good eve." If the barkeep nods, you may leave the door you entered, unharmed and with nothing gained and nothing lost (except the time spent inside).
Or you can go on.
You will be given a glass with a seven-sided rim, with each side twisting ever so delicately around the basin until forming a sleek and simple handle. You will also receive a very, very, very special absinthe spoon, in the shape of a key; the holes at the key's top serve as the draining point for the alcohol to pour over the sugar cube. And, of course, an unmarked bottle, stripped long ago of its label, scraps of paper sticking to its sides, covered in the rot of the decades past.
The spoon is completely flat, but has two distinct sides: one with a groove along the shaft of the key, and one without. Turn the shaft down, so its groove will be face down. If you attempt this face up, your absinthe will taste foul, your nose will burn, and your eyes will shrivel in their sockets with unspeakable horrors not of this world.
Now, if your spoon is the right way up, begin preparing the absinthe as one would (put the sugar on the spoon, and pour the alcohol over so it gains its color and "special qualities").
Say "cheers" to your friend, the barkeep, and bottoms up. If you don't, the absinthe will burn every innard it touches with the power and pain of sulfuric acid.
If you've done it right, the already dim lights will go off, and darkness will consume the bar. Don't be afraid; the darkness is the cue that you've been approved for the exhibit. Wait out the darkness, and keep silent as the dead, lest the bartender decide to make you so.
Eventually (not too long, two to three minutes), a green floodlight will shine brightly on a door on the far wall of the bar. The bar will be bathed in green, and not just from the floodlight. Little luminescent spheres will gently drift through the room, and the barkeep will no longer be there...nor any other unassuming patron inside before.
There's no danger by this point...consider it a safe point. If you didn't finish the absinthe, you don't have to, but you might need the alcohol. Either way, take the spoon and put it in the keyhole of the green-lit portal's doorknob. It will fit perfectly, and reach the end of the keyhole with a resounding click.
Inside is a small elevator, with the most beautiful woman any mortal eyes can imagine, bathed in the green glow in just such an angle that the light refracts beyond her into the shape of wings.
The Green Fairy herself will ask you, "Going up?”, and considering all the trouble you went through, it would only make sense to say yes.
Now, you have one more hurdle to clear. She will ask you, as you cross the line from the bar to the compartment, "How would you compare Beauchamp's surrealism to that of, say, René Magritte?" For your reply, you must say, "I've come to see more than art tonight."
If you don't, the green floodlight will blow out, the doors will slam shut, and the elevator will plummet through a seemingly infinite blackness before a red light grows brighter as the elevator nears the very depths of Hell.
Now, if your elevator begins to go up, the green light will also fade, but in its place will be the cool glow of the moon. But, before you even recognize it, the elevator will reach the top of its...well, let's call it a shaft to not get too intricate.
Now, I'm not as sure about this as the rest, but I've heard that, if the Green Fairy kisses you on the cheek as she leaves the elevator, you will always be blessed with a creative inspiration: a permanent, ever-changing muse. You can't ask her, you can't kiss her; she has to do it of her own volition. If not...well, nothing, but no reason to do it anyway and anger the woman who is responsible for keeping the Beauchamp paintings safe for so many years.
You will enter, from the elevator, a turn-of-the-century parlor, with a large poster of Henri Beauchamp on the left side of the opposite wall; on the right is a door.
Taking the time to read the poster is a fairly good idea, as it explains the very significance of Monsieur Beauchamp. You see, he was a struggling surrealist in the 1920's, always making art to try to be free of all premeditation, and managed to do so. You see, after one night in a tiny, dingy one-story bar in Paris, he began to paint...patterns.
First it was geometric patterns. Then complete fractals. Then images that would be in the newspaper the next day. Then next week. Then from fifty years ago. One hundred years in the future, two hundred years in the past...
Then, on his last night of life, he kidnapped three young girls from their homes at night, murdered them, and painted his finest masterpieces in reds and yellows with the blood and bile of virgins.
He committed suicide immediately after painting exactly 13 of these.
These are behind the door.
The first six, from the left, show, from left to right: the genesis of the universe, the only true visage of God as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Jesus Christ, the sprawling clouds of Heaven, every Pope from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of Jesus' appearance in his Second Coming.
The other six, on the right, show, from right to left: the cataclysm of the universe, the only true visage of Satan as viewable to the eyes of man, the true image of Judas, the sprawling flames of Hell, every human-embodied demon from the first to faces not yet recognizable, and a portrait of the Antichrist in his Second Coming.
Now, six and six makes twelve. But what of the thirteenth?
This thirteenth painting is turned around on its wall pin, the image facing the wall. The space around it is roped up at a very wide diameter, and under the flipped image is a sign, in three languages. The top is in the scriptures of the Seraphim, the bottom in the runes of the highest demonic orders, and in the middle, in Roman letters.
DO
NOT
TOUCH
Now, like the kiss, I can't say this part with as much certainty, but all the same...I heard that, somehow, as he died, Beauchamp flayed his skin, his organs, his very soul, into some sort of collage. How he took his dead body and created such a horrific masterpiece, I could never say, nor would I ever dare to.
So...if you make it, maybe you can flip the canvas over and tell me sometime? You can tell me about it over a drink.

Hotel California

They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there's a certain small motel on the side of the road.
When you go inside, it's decorated in very common hotel decor, with the ornate paneling and old-fashioned key-lock doors.
The thing is, there's a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule.
Some say that the song "Hotel California" is based off this motel, though you *can* leave this particular motel. I wouldn't advise looking at a mirror for at least a month after doing so, though.

Herobrine- A minecraft creepypasta

I had recently spawned in a new world in single-player Minecraft. Everything was normal at first as I began chopping down trees and crafting a workbench. I noticed something move amongst the dense fog (I have a very slow computer so I have to play with tiny render distance). I thought it was a cow, so I pursued it, hoping to grab some hides for armor.

It wasn't a cow though. Looking back at me was another character with the default skin, but his eyes were empty. I saw no name pop-up, and I double checked to make sure I wasn't in multiplayer mode. He didn't stay long, he looked at me and quickly ran into the fog. I pursued out of curiosity , but he was gone.

I continued on with the game, not sure what to think. As I expanded into the world I saw things that seemed out of place for the random map generator to make: 2x2 tunnels in the rocks, small perfect pyramids made of sand in the ocean, and grove of trees with all their leaves cut off. I would constantly think I saw the other "player" in the deep fog, but I never got a better look at him. I tried increasing my render distance to far whenever I saw him, but to no avail.

I saved the map and went on the forums to see if anyone else had found the pseudo-player. There were none. I created my own topic telling of the man and asking if anyone had a similar experience. The post was deleted within five minutes. I tried again, and the topic was deleted even faster. I received a PM from username 'Herobrine' containing one word: 'Stop.' When I went to look at Herobrine's profile the page 404'd.

I received an email from another forum user. He claimed the mods can read the forum user messages, so we were safer using email. The emailer claimed that he had seen the mystery player too, and had a small directory of other users who had seen him as well. Their worlds were littered with obviously man-made features as well, and described their mystery player to have no pupils.

About a month passed until I heard from my informant again. Some of the people who had encountered the mystery man had looked in the name Herobrine and found that name to be frequently used by a Swedish gamer. After some further information gather, it was revealed to be Notch's brother, Minecraft's developer. I personally emailed Notch and asked him if he had a brother. It took him a while but he emailed me back a very short message:

"I did, but he is no longer with us."
~Notch

I haven't seen the mystery player since our first encounter, and I haven't noticed any changes to the world other than my own. I was able to press 'print screen' when I first saw him. Here's the only evidence I have of his existence:
 

It's your move now

I don't know where Lumberton is, or if it's by a church, but me and a friend found an abandoned house in......late August, I believe. You could tell the damn thing had been abandoned for quite some time, but only a matter of years. Damn place had rusty old school busses in it's yard and shit, and was hidden off the main road in some small woods. Some of the trash on the ground, outside and in, seemed to imply that some people had occasionally used it as a drugs/alcohol hangout. We went in there and found some retarded stuff.

Under the one bed (In what appeared to be the daughter's room.), was a boy with sex toys and shit, all of which were covered in some unidentifiable crust.

They had some nice shit though, a pool table and a bunch of those beer company lights in the basement, among other thing.

Initially, we were trying to clean it up and hold a party there, and we did clean the living room (lol @ stuffoutwindows), and while my friend took over cleaning, I looked through a desk, and found all these old tax papers and the like, which I took, so we could find out who used to live there. On our way out, we noticed that this place was rich in copper piping, so we cut off all the pipes and left them in a pile inside, because my friend had to get home.

Well, later that night, he calls me all freaked out, saying he went back there with two other people. When they got there, there was some shit blocking both driveways, so they freaked and left, and said that they all threw away all the stuff they had from the place, and he begged me to throw away the folder with the papers I had,(Which was the only thing I'd taken.), so I complied and threw it over towards my garbage cans outside at night, since I was outside at night on the phone to avoid being listened to.

The next day, him and me go back up there, park a while away, and creep over to the house, walk past the cone in the one driveway, and we go over to the front door.

A door, don't know where it's from, was sitting in the stairway leading to the basement door. (The way we had gotten in; it was unlocked.)And, even better, there was spray paint on the side of the house right above that stairwell and on the door.

"THIS HOUSE IS BEING WATCHED STEP INSIDE AND GET SHOT" (Wall)

"IT'S YOUR MOVE NOW" (Door)

Needless to say, we haven't gone back to that damn place since, and we've cursed ourselves up and down for not taking the copper when we prepared it. And, even worse, when I got home and looked over, and through, my garbage cans, the folder was gone. The only thing I can think that happened to it was that the assholes who live next door stole it or something.

Also of note though, I talked to my Dad a while back, asking if he knew anything about the house, and, as it turns out, one of his friends is watching the place.

I lolled and shat bri/x/ at the same time.

Angel of Death

A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head
out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter
arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to
sit around and make sure everything was okay with the children. Later that night, the
babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because
they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want children watching too much
garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's
room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request… she
asked if she could cover up the angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or
cloth, at the very least close the blinds, because it made her nervous. The phone line was
silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said,
"Take the children and get out of the house… we will call the police. We do not have an
angel statue."

The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call.
No angel statue was ever found

Baby Shaped Bundle

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.

David Lang's Dissappearance

David Lang's two children, George, 8, and Sarah, 11, were playing in the yard when Lang and his wife came out of the vine-covered brick house. He spoke to the children and then started walking out across the pasture. At this time, Judge August Peck, and Lang's brother-in-law came driving up the lane in a buggy. The judge saw Lang in the field and was about to call out to him when it happened.

Lang vanished from the face of the earth.

One minute he was standing in an open field with no trees, stones, or fences. The next, he was simply gone. Lang's wife and the two men immediately ran to the spot to check that he might have fallen through a hole in the ground. There was no such hole. Mrs. Lang went hysterical and was taken into the house. Neighbors were called out to help, scores of people searched the field, but to no avail. A surveyor and geologist examined the field and found limestone bedrock a few feet underground without a single fracture in it. For a month the search carried on. All the Lang servants quit in fear. A year later, the grass where Land was standing had grown high and thick in a circle 20' in diameter. No farm animal would graze there, and it seemed free of insects.

One day in August, 1881, Sarah and George approached the green circle and called out "Father, are you anywhere around?" They repeated the question 4 times. Hearing no answer, they began to walk away...when they heard a faint cry for help from out of nowhere. Quickly, the children ran to get their mother and pulled her outside. They called to their father again. And he answered. For several days, the family returned, and each day when they called, the answering voice became fainter, until finally there was no response at all.