SCP-3933-D: Like, half the hotel staff could 
see us the next day, and half couldn't. We'd be 
talking to one of them, and another would 
come along and look at them like they were 
crazy, asking who they were talking to. That 


got uh, that got uncomfortable real quick. Led 
to some fights. Happened a lot over the next 
day. We started avoiding people, but it didn't 
really matter. A couple of days later, everyone 
was the same. We would have stayed at the 
hotel but they gave our rooms to someone 
else. We were expecting the cops to show up 
the entire time to arrest us or at least question 
us or something, but there was nothing. The 
news mentioned a big riot in the city, but 
nothing about us. 


Pennings: Neil said that you visited your 
parents after the hotel, is that correct? 


SCP-3933-D: Yeah. Yeah it was... God help 
me. 


Pennings: It's okay, take your time. 


SCP-3933-D: No, sorry, it's okay. Will had 
driven to the hotel, luckily, so we had a car. 
Yeah, we went to my parents. They live about 
an hour outside the city, so it was the closest 
place we could think to go. They... it was the 
same as everywhere. They completely ignored 
me. Their own son. | broke down a bit, | think. 
Started waving around photos of me, but they 
didn't notice that either. Started screaming at 
them, yelling, but it was all pointless. My own 
parents didn't know | even existed. 


Pennings: I'm sorry, that must have been 
rough. 


SCP-3933-D: They say Hell is the absence of 
God. Have you heard that? | think it's from the 
Bible or something. Markus used to say that 
we were bigger than God. What if God heard 
him, and now he's abandoned us? Or maybe 
we died on that stage. Maybe it collapsed and 


crushed us all. Either way, this is Hell. 
(Silence.) 


SCP-3933-D: We're never getting out of here, 
are we? This is it now for us? 


Pennings: We're still trying to work that out. 


SCP-3933-D: Maybe it would be better if we 
were dead. 


Pennings: You won't be mistreated. You'll be 
comfortable. 


SCP-3933-D: You won't let me play music 
anymore, you won't give me a guitar. | haven't 
seen the others since | got here. Being 
"comfortable", somehow that seems worse. 


Pennings: I'm sorry, Brian. Once we have a 
better handle on what happened, maybe 
something can be arranged. Let's continue. 


The remainder of the interview revealed a similarly repeating pattern 
of events. They ultimately made their way to the residence of 
SCP-3933-A, where containment teams found them approximately 
two weeks later. Interviews with the other band members contain 
corroborating details of the incident. 


Addendum 1 

SCP-3933-A was found dead in its cell on 28/04/1980, having died 
from blood loss due to a self-inflicted injury. It is now believed that 
no new instances of SCP-3933-1 can be produced. 


Interview 3933/17-C 

Periodic interviews with the members of the band have revealed 
some behavioural concerns with SCP-3933-C. Transcribed below is 
its latest interview. 


> Show Interview 3933/17-C 


Interviewer: Doctor Jerry Harper, resident 
psychologist at Site-129. 

Interviewee: SCP-3933-C 

Notes: Interview conducted on 11/06/1985, 
approximately five years following initial 
containment. 


Harper: Good morning, 3933-C. 
SCP-3933-C: [Unintelligible] 

Harper: Pardon me? 

SCP-3933-C: | said, my name is NEIL. 


Harper: Of course. And how are you feeling 
today? 


SCP-3933-C: Oh, just fucking great. Only four 
of the idiots in what you laughably call the 
"entertainment room" tried to start shit with me 
this week19, and | haven't seen the two people 
here that | can actually stand in months. 


Harper: From what | understand, it was you 
that instigated each of these confrontations. 


SCP-3933-C: Oh yeah, who told you that? 
Your neckless security drones? What the fuck 
do those brain-dead pricks know about 
anything? All they do is stand there. 


Harper: That's their job. To keep you safe. 
SCP-3933-C: Keep us locked up, you mean. 
Harper: We've been over this 3933-C - 
SCP-3933-C: Neil. 


Harper: -even if we could be sure that you 


state, now filled with extremely thick smoke. All humans in SCP-509- 
A at activation are no longer present within the structure, but are 
replaced by an equal number of cured pig carcasses. These 
carcasses exhibit no anomalous properties. 


SCP-509-B is a brick smokehouse located near Hesdin in northern 
France exhibiting similar anomalous properties to SCP-509-A. 
SCP-509-B is believed to have been built circa 1750, though it too 
functioned normally until 1995. 


Whenever one or more cleaned but uncured pig carcasses are 
placed into SCP-509-B, it ceases to produce smoke and instead 
produces steam. Six minutes after the addition of the last pig 
carcass, the interior of SCP-509-B becomes inaccessible in a similar 
manner to SCP-509-A. After twelve minutes, SCP-509-B returns to 
its inactive state. 


Any pig carcasses present at time of activation are replaced by living 
humans. These humans speak fluent English, and claim to have just 
been at a sauna. Physical examination reveals no anomalous 
properties and dehydration consistent with approximately twenty 
minutes in a sauna. Under questioning, these individuals 
demonstrate functional knowledge within standard parameters, but 
have no recollection of life before recovery from SCP-509-B. No 
records have been found of persons recovered in this way. 


Experiment Log 509: 


Experiment 509-005: 

Date: 9/21/1995 

Head Researcher: Dr. Samuel Chou 

Procedure: D-35475 was instructed to enter SCP-509-A 
fifteen minutes after activation. Subject reported that he 
was unable to open the door, and so was given tools to 
remove the door from its hinges. With assistance from 
research staff, D-35475 was able to remove the door. 
Instead of its interior, SCP-509-A contained an empty 
white room substantially larger than the exterior of 
SCP-509-A. D-35475 was ordered to enter SCP-509-A. 
On doing so, he reported that it contained a large 
quantity of pigs. When questioned regarding the 


wouldn't be a risk to others, most of the world 
wouldn't even be able to acknowledge you. 


SCP-3933-C: Yeah, so you say. Awfully 
fucking convenient for you, isn't it. Our 
message finally starts to reach the masses, 
and suddenly no one knows who we are. 


Harper: And what message is that? 


SCP-3933-C: That the government is full of 
pricks like you, and you should all be 
overthrown!"1 


Harper: We've been over this too, we don't 
work for the government. 


SCP-3933-C: Yeah, yeah, your precious 
Foundation. Keeping the world safe from 
music and people who refuse to forget all the 
fucked up shit they've seen you do.1!2 


Harper: You've been increasingly agitated 
lately, why don't you just tell me what the 
problem is. 


SCP-3933-C: The problem? The fucking 
"problem" is that I've been locked in this hole 
for five fucking years, you never let me see the 
others, and the only entertainment I've got is 
some trash written by an idiot who thinks cars 
are scary and a book about purple! 


Harper: The book isn't actually ab- 


SCP-3933-C: Who gives a shit, you poncy 
twat! I'm a musician, do | look like | care about 
books? So yeah, | tried to start some crap with 
the other poor bastards you've got locked up 
here. Nothing else to do. Maybe I'll get lucky 
and the guy with four eyes will start shooting 


lasers out of one of them, put me out of my 
fucking misery. 


Harper: | understand that you're frustrated, but 
there's no reason your life here can't be 
fulfilling. If you'd just work with us- 


SCP-3933-C: It wasn't supposed to be like 
this. 


Harper: What's that? 


SCP-3933-C: Life. It wasn't meant to turn out 
this way. Stuffed underground in some box, 
forgotten. Five fucking years, gone. I'd say 
wasted, but it doesn't matter. We're never 
getting out of here, are we? 


Harper: |'m afraid it's unlikely, yes. 


SCP-3933-C: | was someone. | spent the first 
15 years of my life with people telling me I'd 
never amount to anything, but | made it. All 
those sad little people with their sad little lives, 
and | was king of the fucking world. | sure 
showed them. 


(Silence.) 


SCP-3933-C: Sure showed them. And now, 
here we are. You've already killed one of my 
friends, and it's been so long since I've seen 
Will or Brian that for all | know you've killed 
them too. 


Harper: Your fri- 


SCP-3933-C: Shut up, Harper. Just shut the 
fuck up. I'm done. Send me back to my box. 
I'm done. 


Doctor Harper's recommendation following this interview was more 


frequent meetings between SCP-3933-B, C and D, and a more 
tailored entertainment regime. Permission is pending. 


Addendum 2 

On 19/01/1995 SCP-3933-C died from liver failure resulting from 
liver disease, presumed to be caused by significant abuse of drugs 
and alcohol prior to containment. 


Addendum 3 

On 23/12/2005 SCP-3933-D died from pneumonia, caused by 
complications resulting from Huntington's Disease, with which it was 
diagnosed 16 years prior. 


Addendum 4 

SCP-3933-B has been diagnosed with lung cancer, and has an 
estimated life expectancy of two to three months. For the sake of 
posterity, a final interview was conducted. 


> Show Interview 3933/67-B 


Interviewer: Senior Researcher Amaleen 
Sacaran 

Interviewee: SCP-3933-B 

Notes: Doctor Sacaran has been the Senior 
Researcher assigned to SCP-3933 for 11 
years; due to the specific nature of SCP-3933- 
B, a level of informality exists between them. 
Due to his condition, SCP-3933-B suffers 
frequent bouts of coughing and shortness of 
breath; for the purposes of readability, this 
transcript has been edited to remove those 
disruptions. 


Sacaran: How are you feeling today, William? 


SCP-3933-B: You know how it is. Can barely 
walk, barely breathe. Other than that, peachy. 


Sacaran: Let me know if | can do anything to 
make you more comfortable. 


SCP-3933-B: Don't you worry about me, Doc, 
I'm not going anywhere just yet. And hey, at 
least I'm still pretty. 


Sacaran: Heh, indeed. So, truth be told, we 
almost never do interviews like this. It's rare 
we have someone like yourself in containment 
for so long that they... pass from natural 
causes with some forewarning. 


SCP-3933-B: Yeah, | getcha. Even locked up 
in my little room for nearly 40 years, I've seen 
some of the shit you people get up to. That 
thing with all the eyes that busted in here a few 
years ago during one of your containment 
breaches? | thought that was it right then, but 
the damn thing just stood there and stared at 
me. 


Sacaran: Unfortunately these things do 
happen from time to time. We don't live ina 
perfect world, as you well know. 


SCP-3933-B: Yeah, yeah. So, do you have a 
Standard Issue List Of Questions Form 28-B 
you need to ask me? 


Sacaran: No no, nothing like that. Much less 
formal. | wanted to ask you, you've been here 
for 38 years now, near enough. | wanted to 
know how you felt about that. 


SCP-3933-B: Youch, dive right in why don't 
you. | dunno, that's a tough one. 


(Silence.) 


SCP-3933-B: | guess... | mean I've been here 
longer than | was ever out there in the real 
world at this point. | was what, 29, 30 when 
you brought me in? And yeah, | was angry 


about it, for a long time. A long time. | more or 
less made peace with it after Neil died, though. 
| guess if things were different, if that shit with 
the song hadn't gone down, yeah, I'd want to 
be out there. Hell, maybe it's been long 
enough that | could go out there right now and 
interact with the world properly but at this point 
I've been away from it so long, it'd be like 
visiting an alien planet. I've kept up with music 
as much as you lot will let me, and I've seen 
the odd movie here or there, but | doubt | could 
even speak the same language as the people 
out there right now. 


Sacaran: Yeah, you might be right about that. 
Even | have trouble keeping up these days. 


SCP-3933-B: So how do | feel about it? I'd be 
lying if | said there wasn't a little bitterness, 
and I'll hate every one of you for however 
many days I've still got left for not letting me 
have a guitar, but other than that. You lot are 
alright by me, Amaleen. Food sucks, though. 


Sacaran: Hah, you're right about that. 


SCP-3933-B: It's the things I've missed that 
bother me the most. My parents, | mean, I'm 
not an idiot, they must be dead by now or 
they'd be over 100. And you lot never told me 
what happened to them, or when. And the 
others, we haven't been together as a group 
since the night you brought us in. Even after 
Markus died... still, too late for that now, | 
guess. 


Sacaran: I'm sorry about that, William, | truly 
am. But we never did work out why that 
specific song had the effect it did, and we 
couldn't risk something else happening. 


SCP-3933-B: | get it. | do. But we were going 

to conquer the world, the four of us. We would 
have been remembered for the rest of history. 
Legends. 


(Silence.) 


SCP-3933-B: And now no one even 
remembers we existed. 


Sacaran: If you could do it all over again, 
would you? 


SCP-3933-B: | was thinking about that the 
other day. It's funny the things you start to 
remember when a guy in a white coat tells you 
you're going to die. Before we recorded that 
last aloum, that song, we were all sitting 
around, drinking and jamming, and Neil said 
"Do you ever wish we could go back to being 
nobodies? Just be able to walk down the street 
without getting mobbed?" Something like that 
anyway. 


Sacaran: What did you say? 


SCP-3933-B: Nothing. None of us did, we all 
just sat there for a minute, quietly... and then 
Markus made a filthy joke about how he'd miss 
the groupies and we all laughed. But | did think 
about it for a second, what would it have been 
like to have a different life? And | decided | 
wouldn't change a God damned thing. Would | 
do it all over again? Abso-fucking-lutely. 


Sacaran: You were very close to them. The 
others. 


SCP-3933-B: We were best friends. We all 
grew up together. We were playing music 
together since we were teenagers. And God 


dammit, we were good at it. 


Saracan: | know, I've listened to some of your 
er, safer songs. They're amazing. 


SCP-3933-B: Well then, congratulations young 
lady, you may well be the last living 
Tyrannosaurus Flex fan on the planet. 


Sacaran: Okay I've got to ask. Why 
Tyrannosaurus Flex? 


SCP-3933-B: Heh, it started off as a joke from 
when we were back at school. Brian always 
had a thing for dinosaurs. Used to say that if 
he wasn't a musician he would have been an 
archaeologist or something. | don't even 
remember how the joke went, but it was 
something to do with the T-Rex having those 
piddly little arms, lifting weights in the gym. It 
kind of stuck when we formed a band. 


Sacaran: And you kept it? 


SCP-3933-B: Hah! By the time we realised 
how stupid it was, it was too late. We already 
had our first album out. Four idiot kids and 
their idiot band name were suddenly top of the 
charts. 


Saracan: | wish | could have seen you live. | 
suspect that would have been something else. 


SCP-3933-B: Yeah, those shows, | think that's 
as close to being a God as any person is likely 
to feel. Standing on a stage, tens of thousands 
of people screaming your name. They had a 
chant, can't remember how that went either 
but they somehow managed to work all four of 
Our names into a crowd chant. 


Intercom: Doctor Sacaran, please report to 
[REDACTED] 


Sacaran: Damn, looks like our time is up. I'll 
see you soon, William. 


SCP-3933-B: Thanks, Amaleen. Oh, hey. One 
last thing. 


Sacaran: Yes? 


SCP-3933-B: | don't know what you did with 
the bodies of the others. Maybe you cremated 
them, or froze them or some other mad 
science shit. But if you still have them, cremate 
me and put me with others? Chuck us in the 
sea or blast us into space or something.