Written by Jonathan Wojcik

DECEMBER 28: Bogleech's Favorite SCP's, part III!

   More Foundation fun, following my first and second rounds! This will probably be the last "Halloween 2" update before the big one - the full Creepypasta contest library!

SCP-910: "Immortality."

   When is an immortality serum a biohazard? When it only prevents death, completely and absolutely. Not pain. Not sickness. Not aging. Not any injury to any hideous degree. The worst part is the agent who requests termination, which in the Foundation entails complete incineration of a body. The expunged data tells us the result isn't pretty.

SCP-583: "Choke and Die."

   Similar in some respects to the Lightgun from my first review page, SCP-583 is supposedly a video recording of Sesame Street on Ice in which, contrary to all other known recordings of the same night, every performer clutches at their throat, one by one, and dies of asphyxiation. Unsettling enough, but worse for anyone who watches the tape to its end; never again can they enjoy a film, a book, a comic strip, even a single narrative joke without seeing, hearing or reading how every last character chokes and dies.

SCP-857: "Human Based Ecosystem."

   Its title doesn't sound all that exciting at first glance, but by "human based ecosystem" they're talking "body organs and bones acting like different animals." They had me at the picture of an intestine fish, but they really had me at the words "heart" and "leech."

SCP-1000: "Bigfoot."

   The winner of an internal write-off for the first quadruple-digit SCP, 1000 epitomizes both the ridiculous and terrifying extremes of the foundation, because it isn't just Bigfoot; the entire Bigfoot mythos is only perpetuated as part of the Foundation's cover. I won't even begin to spoil how absurd this one gets, but it's those final three lines that bring in the creeps.

SCP-763: "Human Beowulf Cluster."

   I guess I'm a little biased towards tumorous masses of things, as if you never noticed, but this one is just too damn good. A huge mass of human tissues and organs, a ring of brains at the center that seem to be communicating a hell of a lot of information. What are they "talking" about? The only way to find out is to let the cluster absorb you, into their secret brain-club.

SCP-764: "The Obscene Puppet Show."

   Who likes creepy puppets? I sure do! What could be worse than puppets who quite literally tear apart their own puppeteer, other than nobody caring, including the victim? Audience members even willingly take his place to keep the show going until its conclusion, which always ends on the same bizarre lines.

SCP-918: "Baby Mill."

   I don't mean to be filling this list up with humorous ones, but maybe this one isn't so funny to more well-adjusted people. It's called the Baby Mill and it employs Storks, or at least things that strongly resemble them (the image used is a carrion-eating Marabou stork!) to do the exact opposite of what that implies. You know, stealing babies and turning them into cotton. Hahahaha.

SCP-426: "I am a Toaster."

   While I may appear to be an ordinary toaster, it is impossible for any sapient being to refer to me in anything but the first person. Over time, exposure even convinces my victims that they really are a toaster, and their attempts to recreate my functions with disastrous results! I'm one of the funniest things in the foundation, and I still manage to be considerably eerie.

SCP-967: "Infinite Scrapyard."

   A pocket-dimension of pure junk populated by junk-people sounds pretty par for the course by now, but the weirdness skyrockets when we get to part about The Ballet Academy. I especially love the detail that the other junk people are truly afraid of them. They alone understand why...unless they're simply bonkers.

SCP-184: "The Architect."

   One of the site's creepiest inanimate (or is it?) objects, SCP-184 is a strange, hollow metal ball which exponentially expands and "improves" any building housing it. Improves so well, the outside stops expanding pretty early in the process. Once again, the exploration log is the real treat; the steady emotional breakdown of the retrieval unit and increasing logical oversights of the thing's architectural sensibilities are excellently written and truly terrifying.