Item#: 7623

Containment Class: safe

Secondary Class: none

Disruption Class: dark

Risk Class: notice

A caricature of Robert Coates, entitled "Robert Coates Esq. The Amateur of Fashion"

Assigned Site
Site Director
Research Supervisor
Assigned Task Force

Site-126
Dir. Caspar Nilsson
Dr. Antonia Sauer
MTF μ-83 "Hot Potato, Orchestra Stalls"

Special Containment Procedures: The skeleton of Robert Coates is to be stored in an anomalous object storage locker; the room said locker is contained in is to be soundproofed. Personnel who encounter SCP-7623 are advised to ignore its presence entirely. Experimentation with using SCP-7623 to distract or otherwise incapacitate anomalous threats is ongoing.

Description: SCP-7623 is a Level-2 Humanoid Apparition1 which manifests in the vicinity of the skeleton of English amateur actor Robert Coates. SCP-7623 takes the form of a translucent apparition of Coates, dressed in various elaborate stage costumes. The apparition will perform extracts of Shakespeare's plays to passersby (with a particular preference for Romeo and Juliet) at high volumes and with intense displays of emotion, interpreting all responses to its performances as being positive.

SCP-7623 is noteworthy for its involvement with an anomalous incident associated with SCP-2264-B, the extradimensional empire of Alagadda.

Addendum 7623.1: Biographical Background

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Portrait of Robert Coates

Robert Coates (1772-1848) was a Regency-era actor, infamous for his inept performances of Shakespeare. Captain Rees Gronow, who attended Coates' 1809 performance as Romeo in Romeo and Juliet, wrote that Coates wore "a cloak of sky-blue silk, profusely spangled, red pantaloons, a vest of white muslin, surmounted by an enormously thick cravat, and a wig à la Charles the Second, capped by an opera hat".

Gronow added that the production suffered from many other problems: Coates' too-tight pantaloons split, exposing his underwear; he paused his performance to offer snuff to the audience, and concluded the play by repeatedly performing Romeo's death scene until the actress playing Juliet interrupted him.

Coates' self-financed performances became well-known and infamous for his poor acting and gaudy costumes, though Coates appeared entirely oblivious to how he was ridiculed. He died in 1848 after being struck by a hansom cab.

Addendum 7623.2: Historical Documentation

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The following excerpt of a letter, sent from Lady Caroline Glenarvon to her sister Helene in March 1813, refers to the first incidence of anomalous phenomena related to Robert Coates.

…moreover, there was a most singular guest at a masquerade-ball the last Sunday hosted by Mme Lefroy. He was an Italian lord in a yellow robe and mask, with the arabesqued fabric strangely bearing a texture like a beetle's shell. He was introduced as Count Ysbrand of Athulf2.

This Count gravely indicated that he was seeking, at short notice, to hire "the most famed actor in England", to perform a play to greet an Ambassador. He was thronged by suggestions of "Kean!" and "Kemble!", until Mr Heddon made his suggestion:

"Why, the only choice would be that Robert Coates! I saw his Romeo, and try as I might, I cannot forget it!"

The Count, seeing our laughter and agreement, swiftly withdrew before any of us could puncture the joke. One must hope that Mr Heddon's famous wit does not prompt a diplomatic incident!…

Coates' spending records after this point indicate that he was lavishly paid by the Count Ysbrand to organize a production of SCP-701, also known as The Hanged King's Tragedy. Coates was to play the lead role of Antonio.

Addendum 7623.3: Anomalous Event Documentation

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The performance of SCP-701 was scheduled for ██/██/1813 at London's Grafton Theatre, a date on which an astrologically significant conjugation of six stars was to occur3. The Count's intention was evidently to stage SCP-701 such that its concluding human sacrifices coincided with the narrow window of time when the conjugation's anomalous properties were at their apex. Properly performed, this ritual would have opened a stable, long-lasting two-way portal to Alagadda4.

The Unseen Order of St. Jude5, having been notified of Count Ysbrand's arrival in London, dispatched three agents with the intention of terminating Coates or otherwise disrupting the performance.

One anonymous agent composed the following letter, translated from Italian, recording his experiences at the performance.

It did not matter that we had poison and knives. When we were near the Theatre we had no control of our actions. We sat down (the audience was a motley of people from the street, all transfixed in the same manner), and I saw the yellow-robed Count in a box seat, glancing down with what must have been amusement.

The curtain rose. I remember noticing, despite my panic, how excellent Gonzalo's actor was; his first monologue was delivered with regal pathos. But then came Antonio's arrival at the conclusion of the first scene—dressed in an oversized black-and-gold slashed doublet and silver hose, with a ruff around his neck almost wider than his shoulders, Coates looked so bizarre that, despite my transfixed state, I choked out a laugh.

I soon realized that Coates was, quite unintentionally, disrupting the Count's ritual. The cast had to be killed at the right moment to coincide with the position of the stars. But even when compelled by the play's mesmeric power, Coates remained a singularly poor actor—awful enough that he was disrupting the ritual's careful timing. When Antonio was to kill Isabella in Act III, Coates stopped mid-murder and repeated the entire preceding monologue in an even more tearful tone, in an attempt to accentuate the pathos of the moment. It was at least five minutes before he mercifully ended Isabella's life and the scene.

As the play went on, the scenery began to flicker, the back wall of the stage opening up into a world of dark towers and torchlit castles. At the conclusion of Act V, a noose descended from the ceiling to hang Gonzalo and complete the blood-sacrifice. I remember how the spectre of the Ambassador of Alagadda was standing before the throne, its presence painful to look at. Gonzalo was placed in the noose, and Coates picked up the knife to slit Gonzalo's stomach. By now the stage was like a churning vortex, the lights of Alagadda searing into our world.

But then Coates fell to his knees, dropping the blade, and began beating at his chest in what must have been an attempt to portray regret and guilt. He rampaged up and down the stage, wiping away floods of tears with his lacy cuffs. He would pick up the knife—then his nerve would fail him, and he would fall to the floor weeping again, though these paroxysms of torment did not prevent him from carefully dusting off the floor before kneeling on it.

With minutes of the conjugation of stars left, the hooded spectre of the Ambassador finally strode forward, gripped Coates' shoulder, and thrust the knife into his hand. But Coates, enraptured in his own performance, shushed the Ambassador and waved for the spectre to go away.

Evidently, even mighty demons can be surprised. The Ambassador or the Count were sufficiently amazed by the actor's insolence that they hesitated—just long enough for the conjugation's power to pass. And as I watched, the smoldering spires of Alagadda began to fade from the stage. I came to a few hours later, to learn that the Grafton Theatre had collapsed in on itself. Coates, though dazed, had retired to a nearby pub for a celebratory round of drinks.

Information traded from the Wandsmen of Kul-Manas indicates that, for the failure of the ritual and the insult to the Ambassador of Alagadda's dignity, Count Ysbrand was sentenced to perpetual torture on the planet Melveric. Upon Coates' death, the Unseen Order collected his remains for further study, and thereby discovered SCP-7623. Coates' remains were stored in a soundproofed crypt until they were transferred to Foundation ownership in 1993.

Addendum 7623.4: Incident Report (██/██/2023)

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On ██/██/2023, the same conjugation of stars as on ██/██/1813 occurred. At the time the conjugation began, Dr. Antonia Sauer barricaded herself within a wing of the research facility, and began to read from an illicitly-obtained copy of SCP-7016. MTF Mu-83 was dispatched to terminate the ritual.

The transcript of MTF Mu-83's exploration log is included below.

Alpha: Command, we're headed down the corridor—just passing Anomalous Object Storage.

Foxtrot: Down the hall—watch out!

A procession led by Dr. Sauer moves down the corridor. Her expression is vacant as she reads from SCP-701. She is flanked by an individual in yellow armor and a mask, subsequently identified as the Chevalier-Alchemist Ziba. The procession is composed of researchers and anomalous masked individuals.

Alpha: Shoot! Shoot, damn it!

Dr. Sauer pauses in her recitation. The Chevalier performs a thaumaturgical gesture; the weapons of MTF Mu-83 disintegrate in their hands, and the team members are forced to their knees. The Chevalier draws a dagger.

Ritual dagger used by the Chevalier-Alchemist Ziba

Chevalier: There's merriment in death, slit throats and out-gushing red life. All, all slain tonight…as dark rot kills the tree, slain shall you all—

A faint light appears. SCP-7623, dressed in an elaborate stage costume, manifests as a translucent apparition.

Chevalier: What fiend or fool is this?

SCP-7623: Good sir! You resemble my erstwhile patron—tell me, how is the Count? He left my performance abruptly, but I can only suppose he was satisfied. All of my audiences are.

The Chevalier glances back and forth at the members of their procession in seeming confusion.

Chevalier: I care not what you are. Begone, on pain—

SCP-7623: Even if you may not know my voice, surely you'll recognize that of the Swan of Avon?

SCP-7623 grips the Chevalier by their shoulders, and recites in a loud and passionate tone.

SCP-7623: "O my love, my wife! Death that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath—"

The Chevalier pushes SCP-7623 aside violently, dropping their dagger in the process. Mu-83 Foxtrot catches the blade and leaps forwards, stabbing Dr. Sauer through the throat. Immediately the Chevalier and the masked members of the procession begin to become incorporeal.

Dr. Sauer: Thank you. Thank you.

Dr. Sauer collapses. The Chevalier and their entourage demanifest completely.

SCP-7623: "—hath had no power yet upon thy beauty! Thou art not conquer’d! Beauty's ensign—"