In the center of a crowded art gallery stands a man, surrounded by 
aficionados and critics alike, showering him with praise and 
attention. They marveled at his latest masterpiece, a sculpture of a 
woman devouring her partner. Riveting, they call it. A true work of 
art, near lifelike in its detail and complexity! The man smiles 
outwardly, but inside he feels hollow. To him, this was not art. This 
was a paycheck. This had less meaning than the back of a damn 
cereal box. The man remembers a time when paintings made you 


think, when sculptures said more than what they were made of, 
when the artist was more than just a hack with a brush, but a god in 
their own right. He gazes at his creation, and for a brief moment 
believes he sees it move, sees it take on the life he desperately tried 
to give it during those long days in his studio. But it was just a trick 
of the light, and he's reminded again that art, true art, is dead. 


There are many like him, you know. They lived in a time when art 
was as real as you or |, but now their offspring stand still, forever 
bound by a normalcy they never asked for, and any message these 
creators had now silenced by the forward march in time. This is the 
price they pay. This is the price we pay. 


SCP: SCP-821 (Original Post) 


Mr. Funland sat down and let out a heavy sigh, his decision placing 
a huge burden on his mind. He still couldn't believe that after all 
these years he simply had to shut down the park. That park was his 
dream, his legacy! What was he supposed to do from now on? He 
knew he was going to eventually go back into business, but for 
what? 


Another park? Maybe in the future, but right now it doesn't seem 
likely. 


Books? Eh, he's never really been one for writing. 
Toys? 


...actually...that's not a bad idea. The toys were one of the most 
popular elements of the park. Even the most jaded and stoic kids 
cracked a smile when they laid eyes on a Funland Fantasy Figurine, 
even if it's charm existed only in their imaginations. 


Funland stood up, confident he was on the right path now. Yes! He 
would start making toys! But not just any toys, oh no! He'd make the 
most wonderful, most unique toys this world had ever seen, possibly 
even this universe had ever seen! They would invoke the most 
basic, most primal elements of whimsy and fantasy into the hearts of 


children, just as his beloved park once did. 


But he couldn't call himself Mr. Funland anymore. It wouldn't flow 
well on toy labels, and frankly it was just another reminder of a 
shattered dream that would always drag him back to the past. No! 
He had to start fresh! He would have to think of something better, 
something unique. A name that invoked feelings of wonder and 
entertainment. 


Wonder...entertainment... 


SCP: SCP-208 (Original Post) 


And so the vain pharaoh Unas, jealous that this "Bes" was loved 
more than he, called for the so-called healer to be executed and his 
body to be chopped to pieces, encased in stone and buried next to 
the Nile. That night, Bes was taken by Unas' guards to what was 
going to be his tomb: a large block of granite with a hole carved to fit 
the body parts of the great healer. The guards, however, found they 
could not carry out their pharaoh's orders, for they loved Bes far too 
much. They had quite a dilemma on their hands: they could not kill 
Bes, but they could not return to Unas without having killed Bes, for 
if he found that they had lied he would have them executed. 


The kind and wonderful Bes did then have a suggestion, one radical 
enough to ease the guards' concerns. He would allow himself to be 
entombed in the rock entirely, save for a single foot to stick out from 
the top, giving the impression that he had been chopped to pieces. 
He would then be buried next to the Nile, just as Unas had ordered. 
Despite Bes' assurances that he would not be harmed, the guards 
were still hesitant to bury the beloved healer, and only after a great 
deal of coaxing from Bes did they finally agree. Even so, they could 
not stop the tears from flowing as they dug the hole to bury the man 
who healed their friends and families for as long as any of them 
could remember. 


At the dawn of the next day, the guards reported back to Unas that 
they had completed their task. Knowing the great love his people 
had for Bes, Unas went to the Nile himself to confirm that the deed 


had been done. Sure enough, when taken to the burial site, he 
noticed Bes' foot sticking out from the sand. Convinced that the 
great healer was no more, Unas laughed triumphantly, for now no 
one else would stand equal to him, the great god-king Unas, who 
would one day proudly walk with Ra himself, who would be 
remembered for all of time! 


And so it came to pass that Unas, last pharaoh of the Old Kingdom, 
despite all his claims of magnificence and grandeur, had no sons to 
continue his legacy, and his bloodline ended with him. 


Forum Post: Are veiled references in other media 
allowed? (Original Post) 


"Hey," says a bright young idealist, eager to share his favorite 
creepypasta series with the world, "what if we published a book 
about the SCP series? It'd be amazing! What do you guys thi-" 


The hopeful youngsters words fade away as a sound emanates from 
the forum. It is one faint voice at first, nearly silent, but as the 
seconds pass more voices add to the mass, growing louder and 
louder until the forum is almost shaking with the snakelike hiss of the 
seasoned veterans of the SCP. They repeat the same words over 
and over, an empty rage fueling the noise. 


"Creative Commonsssssssssssss! Creative Commonsssssssss!" 


The fresh-faced writer is taken aback by this response. Surely these 
people wanted their community to succeed! Why were they 
resisting? "B-but don't you guys want people around the world to 
share in your stories?!" 


"Creative Commonssssssssssss! Creative Commonssssssssssss!" 
"But what about fame, about notoriety? Surely THAT interests you!" 
"Creative Commonsssssssssss! Creative Commonsssssssssssss!" 


"Money, then! What about money?!" 


Without warning, the hissing stops. The empty silence is amplified 
as the young poster sits and waits nervously for the response. Did 
the prospect of profit change their minds? 


Like lightning, the community strikes! Hundreds if not thousands of 
venomous bites are delivered as the poster writhes in agony. How 
DARE he suggest something so obvious! Of COURSE we've 
thought about money! Of COURSE we've thought about fame, about 
making this wiki profitable! But this...this insect doesn't understand 
what we've gone through! The attacks continue on and on until 
finally...silence. 


Nothing left of the naive newbie, save for a single finger pointing at a 
hastily etched note of regret: 


"Creative Commons" 


Forum Post: A lifted veil (Original Post) 


"Ladies and gentlemen, | am pleased to announce that R&D have 
finally located the source of the toys made by this "Doctor 
Wondertainment". It's taken years of hard work and hard money, but 
the demands of the consumer must a/ways be met! Our new plan is 
simple: we find whatever it is that makes these things tick, and we 
reverse engineer them and sell them at marked up prices! Over 
time, we will figure out the most popular product lines (the ‘Little 
Misters' we keep finding seem especially promising) and turn them 
into entire franchises all their own, with movies, TV shows, hell, 
even Happy Meal toys! Of course, we're not stupid, we're not going 
to just send these off with the Wondertainment logo still stamped on 
them, nor are we going to completely overwrite it. After all, if the 
actual Doctor Wondertainment shows up and finds we've been 
selling his products, | imagine we'd be in for a very...intense legal 
suit. No, our boys in Marketing have been working on that too, and 
they've come up with a solution. To the consumer, we make the 
toys. To the creator, we are the distributor of the toys, and we will 
create a brand name that combines our names to ensure we mean 
no ill will to the original producer. Ladies and gentlemen, | present to 
you... DISNEYTAINMENT TOYS!" 


Forum Post: A lifted veil (Original Post) 


someone says "Right, enough of this" and just blows up 
every hipster coffee shop in the country. 


And finally, after several years of relative obsurity to the U.S., the 
anomalous absolutist deconstructionist art movement "Right, 
Enough Of This" (or REOT) made themselves known to the 
American people by planting coffee cups with their "slogan" written 
on the side that explode when all of them are filled with coffee. The 
remnants of Are We Cool Yet? either defect to this new group, or 
decide that art isn't worth their lives and abandon the idea entirely. 
The British Ministry of Abnormal Occurances, desperate to keep the 
United Kingdom out of war due to these post-postmodern nihilsts, 
send all the information they collected over the years about REOT to 
the Bureau of Unusual Incidents, and (thanks to a previously 
established connection made before the "great unveiling") said 
information gets passed on to the Foundation, who take measures 
to keep an eye on this new group of interest. 


Forum Post: Deleted SCP entry (No Original Post Available) 


The reality bender grinned as he entered the middle of the ring. 
These were the fights he /ived for, the fights he loved to organize. 
Most of the time, it was just animals vs. inanimate objects or 
something stupid like that. This time, though, things were different. 
The stadium was packed with entities of all shapes and sizes; just 
from a quick glance, he could see a couple of Sl'thans, a few 
wayward humans in lab coats (those damn Foundationites, he was 
going to have to have a word with them after the show), a Vampyr 
Countess, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say the fellow with 
the gaping maw was an emissary of the Pattern Screamer. Tonight 
was going to be a good night. 


He turned on his microphone before speaking. "Ladies and 
gentlemen! Welcome to the Battle of the Beasts! Tonight, we have a 
very special fight lined up for you all, a matchup that happens only 


SCP-825: Helmet of Disturbing Visions 


Item #: SCP-825 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: At least two Foundation 
members must be present for any interaction with SCP-825. One 
member must be designated Monitor and remain at least 2 m from 
SCP-825 at all times. If accidental application occurs, the Monitor 
should notify the security team. The Monitor must not attempt 
removal of SCP-825 without supervision. 


It is recommended that test subjects should not have SCP-825 
applied for more than 180 minutes. Any experiment involving longer 
application must have security team present for removal, as test 
subject may behave unpredictably. 


Description: SCP-825 is a standard-sized helmet of medieval 
design. The degree of wear is consistent with this dating, provided 
SCP-825 has been well cared for. This is entirely probable, as it was 
liberated from [DATA EXPUNGED] despite frequent use [DATA 
EXPUNGED] how long the group had been in possession of 
SCP-825, as the only surviving members were not present when 
[DATA EXPUNGED] and has itself been designated SCP-_ . Efforts 
are still in place to track down anyone else involved in the incident. 


SCP-825 has the property of inducing visions in any who wear it. 
Testing indicates that SCP-825 does not need to be worn on the 
head, but that insertion of any part of the body within the volume 
enclosed by the helmet will count as application. Upon application, 
the subject will be unable to move any part of their body below the 
neck until SCP-825 is removed. During application, the subject will 
be unable to see, feel, or otherwise sense their surroundings, with 
the exception of sounds which the subject will hear as muted and 
distant. The subject will also experience highly convincing visual, 
auditory, olfactory, gustatory, tactile, and nociceptive hallucinations. 


once every few decades! For this night, you will all be present...for a 
sentient humanoid fight!" 


The stadium shook with the uproar of cheers as the reality bender 
waited for the noise to die down. "Yes, yes, now allow me to 
introduce you to our combatants!" He walked a few paces to a 
corner of the ring, where a strange looking lizard man was being 
held by two burly captors. The reptilians hands and feet were bound, 
and he had a muzzle over his mouth. He looked very angry. "In this 
corner, hailing from the east side of the Gamma Quadrant, we have 
the last living warrior of the extinct species known as the Reptiliax! 
His speed and power are matched only by his ruthlessness, here to 
perform for you tonight, give it up for Vileskar the Destroyer!" 


The crowd erupted again with a combination of cheers and boos, all 
of which agitated Vileskar significantly, fiercely pulling on his 
restraints. The reality bender walked to the opposite corner, where 
another humanoid golem sat, being restrained almost exactly the 
same way as his opponent, a cold fury found in his unblinking eyes. 
"And in this corner, hailing from the planet Terra, we have a unique 
example of a human experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong! This 
creature's skin is as hard as his strength is high, ready to prove its 
existence to you all, put your hands together for Specimen 1265!" 


The reality bender walked back to the center of the ring as the 
crowd's insane cheering reverberated throughout the stadium. The 
reality bender motioned for the restraints to be removed, snapped 
his fingers and rematerialized in his box seat, his final words still 
echoing around. 


"Let the fight...BEGIN!" 


Forum Post: What is your least favorite type of SCP? 
(Original Post) 


a keyring dongle soldered to the inside of O5-13's bum 


"...and in closing, | humbly accept this position you have bestowed 
unto me. | will do my best to perform my duties as well as my 


predecessor." finished the newly-appointed O5-13, secretly 
overjoyed that his hard work has finally paid off. Though the position 
was infinitely more stressful than his previous position, and he knew 
there was absolutely no reason to celebrate considering where he 
was and what he was working with, he had to find small pockets of 
joy somewhere, and pride in his work was one of his best sources. 


"That was quite a speech, 13!" said O5-7, shaking O5-13's hand 
with only the vaguest hit of a smirk on his face. "It's good to see 
you're still enthusiastic about the position despite what rumors you 
may have heard about what we O5's have to deal with on a day-to- 
day basis. Of course, it's not as though you had a choice about the 
position anyway!" O5-7 laughed dryly at his own little joke, then 
cleared his throat. 


"Ahem. Now, you have one last thing you have to do before you can 
begin your duties as an O5. You see, your position is...unique 
among our ranks as you yourself will be part of one of these objects' 
containment procedures. Specifically, SCP-XXXX's containment 
procedures." O5-13 looked at his colleague with mild surprise. As far 
as he knew, O5s weren't allowed access to any of the SCP objects, 
and he hadn't even heard of this "SCP-XXXxX". Still, he swore to do 
his duty with honor, and he intended to uphold that no matter what.