Dr. Sorts: She was within the medical ward when | had 
the other replicas collapse the entrances with explosive 
charges. | believe her ... I'm sorry. | believe the duplicate 
was... the duplicates were destroyed in the explosion. 


[inaudible] 
Dr. Sorts: I'm sorry, | need ... | need another sedative. 


O5- : We'll continue this later. 


Game Day: Imago 


« Imago | BoFA: Inhale | BoFA: Holding It | BoFA: Exhale » 


quietwetsmall 

twitch 
wetsmallernotquiet 
turn 
smallestL.OUDSHINE 
stretch 

tear 


Clem Walsh was having a bad day. 


Months ago, he had lucked out on a cushy assignment watching a 
giant cocoon do nothing for hours on end, giving him plenty of time 
to read. His coworkers teased him about his choices: "Why're you 
reading that crap fantasy shit when you're surrounded by so much 
weird shit?" But he enjoyed escaping into a world where he knew 
there'd be a happy ending. And hey! He had a pretty easy-going 
boss and he wasn't on the midnight shift like on his last assignment. 
So things were doing pretty good. Then the building shook and the 
klaxons went off. 


turnpull 
widenessOUTloudness 
REDBRIGHTSHINE 
rend 

freedom 

rend 

drywetair 

rend 

stretch 

stand 


Clem knew the drill: lockdown the containment chamber first, 
lockdown the observation room second, contact security and 
bossman third. One was easy, just a matter of hitting a button, but 
when he went to lock the observation room door, the damn lock 
wouldn't engage. He propped a chair under the handle as a stop- 
gap and went to the phone to call the boss when it rang under his 
hand. 


redloudfood 

unfurl 

looksmell 
shakeshake 
lookdowninfant 

pace 

smellnosmell 

touch 

airhardslick? 
memory:gasgrassglass? 
lookinfanttalk:lookme 


Clem noticed a motion out of the corner of his eye and turned 
towards the large observation window. 


"Jesus fuck me!" 


Standing on the other side was a... thing that looked like the bastard 
child of an orgy involving a yellowjacket and an octopus, with a little 
extra ugly for good measure. It had one of its... appendages on the 
glass and he could swear the damn thing was looking at him despite 
the one-way mirror. 


infantgoodfollow 
push 
hungeropeninfant 
glasstalk:tastetouch 
soften 
goodsmellinfant 
infant:stayfeed 


Clem scrambled to clear the chair from the door when the glass 
began to bubble and warp under the thing's tentacle-claw-leg- 
thingie. He had just pulled it free when the softened glass broke with 
a "pop" that he barely heard over the klaxon, and then shattered in 
its pane. He looked behind him and took a deep breath to scream... 
then smiled. 


stayfeedgood 
tasteinfanttouch 
caress 
smellsweetsharp 
twine 
looktouchtaste 
tighten 
eatfoodcoppery 
savor 
satiatefullnessdone 
curiosityknow:smellexplore 
infantgoodsmell 
foodseekknow 


« Imago | BoFA: Inhale | BoFA: Holding It | BoFA: Exhale » 


answer is, is kinda complicated, like, the name that 
everybody called me, well, not everybody everybody, like 
not everybody in the world, but, y'know, people in my 
life? Most of the — a /ot of the people in my life, they 
called me [REDACTED], but when | was born, my name 
was — | mean, like, a /ittle while after | was born, my 
parents said my name was [REDACTED], so that could 
be my name too, sort of, and, uh, you guys call me 
D-45951, or that's what you been calling me, maybe 
you'll change your minds later, | dunno, it's up to you, | 
guess? 


Dr. Rensburg: Fascinating. How about... D-45951, say 
"two thousand eight hundred and nine is a prime 
number". 


D-45951: Are you fuckin’ serious? | — 
Dr. Rensburg: Guard? 


D-45951: No! No, I'll — look, | dunno what that m— | 
mean, | know those words by themselves, but the whole 
thing doesn't — | mean, obviously it's some sort of... 
well, OBVIOUS maybe isn't the right word, but | guess 
it's some kind of math thing? Like, | remember hearing 
about prime numbers on the... | kinda remember hearing 
about them, and | kinda think it was on the news, but I'm 
not like a hundred percent sure, oh jeeze, and | was 
never — well, | mean, when | was in school, | wasn't... | 
didn't do that good in math when | was in school, a lot of 
the time, except when | cheated except maybe that's not 
the same as me doing good in math, and, uh, | guess | 
did okay back when | was real little and it was super 
simple? 


Dr. Long: Impressive. How about... 


Dr. Rensburg: Yes, that's a good one: D-45951, do you 
ever lie? 


D-45951: N— | mean... I, |, everybody— | told, | used to 


Game Day Part 1: Preliminaries 


One month before Tempest Night... 


A single brown leaf blew through the long-abandoned corridors of 
Site 17. Skeletons lay in the hallways where they had fallen. An 
alarm blared through the corridors, the person who activated it long 
dead. Horrors of all shapes and sizes roamed the facility. 


For a moment, the wreck that was once civilization was silent. 


Then, a small toy robot appeared. Its neck swiveled around, taking 
in the new and unusual surroundings. It spoke, with a touch of 
uncertainty in its synthesized voice. 


"THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING YOUR VERY OWN ROBO- 
DUDE, MADE BY DR. WONDERTAINMENT. ANY ATTEMPT TO 
OPERATE ROBO-DUDE OTHER THAN IN ACCORDANCE WITH 
THE PRODUCT INSTRUCTIONS, INCLUDING ANY ATTEMPT TO 
OPEN OR SERVICE ROBO-DUDE IS LIKELY TO RESULT IN 
UNPREDICTABLE BEHAVIOR. DR. WONDERTAINMENT IS NOT 
LIABLE FOR ANY DAMAGE, DESTRUCTION OR LOSS OF 
PERSONAL OR REAL PROPERTY, OR FOR ANY INJURY, UP TO 
AND INCLUDING DEATH, TO THE OWNER, THE OPERATOR, 
OR OTHERS WHICH MAY RESULT FROM THE OPERATION OF 
ROBO-DUDE FUNCTIONS. BY INTERACTING WITH ROBO- 
DUDE IN ANY WAY OR BY REMAINING IN ROBO-DUDE'S 
PRESENCE WITHIN FIVE SECONDS FOLLOWING THE 
COMPLETION OF THIS ANNOUNCEMENT, YOU ACCEPT THE 
TERMS AND CONDITIONS DESCRIBED IN THIS 
ANNOUNCEMENT, AS AMENDED AND SUPPLEMENTED BY DR. 
WONDERTAINMENT FROM TIME TO TIME WHETHER BEFORE 
OR AFTER ACCEPTANCE, AND AGREE TO HOLD BLAMELESS 
DR. WONDERTAINMENT, AND EVERYONE AFFILIATED WITH 
DR. WONDERTAINMENT, FROM AND AGAINST ALL LIABILITY 
OR LOSSES RELATING TO ROBO-DUDE. DR. 
WONDERTAINMENT RESERVES ALL RIGHTS AND REMEDIES, 


INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY 
RIGHTS IN AND TO 'ROBO-DUDE'’, 'ROBO-PAL', 'ROBO- 
ACCESSORIES' AND ALL PATENTS, TRADEMARKS, 
COPYRIGHTS AND OTHER INTELLECTUAL PROPERTIES 
EMBEDDED OR EMBODIED THEREIN. GREETINGS, ROBO- 
PAL." 


It stopped and realized it was on its own. For the last few years, 
Robo-Dude could never remember being alone. As a toy, it only 
remembered what happened when it was turned on. And when it 
was turned on, Robo-Dude was never alone. It called out now, for 
the researchers and doctors who had asked it questions and played 
with it before. 


"ROBO-PAL?" 


If toys could be surprised, Robo-Dude would be. For a charred 
corpse was sitting up, burnt flesh replaced with a cold, serious face. 
Its security uniform became a grey suit. It looked at him for a few 
seconds, raising a single eyebrow. 


What? He said. Who are you? 
This Robo-Dude knew! 


"| AM ROBO-DUDE, ROBO-PAL. | AM EQUIPPED WITH OVER 
THREE HUNDRED FUN ACCESSORIES TO MAXIMIZE 
PLAYTIME ENJOYMENT." 


A toy robot? Can robots even dream? 


"AFFIRMATIVE, ROBO-PAL. ROBO-DUDE IS FULLY OPTIMIZED 
FOR NOCTURNAL VIEWING OF CONDUCTIVE LIVESTOCK." 


Alright, fine. There's no time to be picky, | need you to - 
"ENGAGE IN ROBO-DANCE?" 
No, you need to warn - 


"ROBO-DUDE IS NOW ENGAGING IN ROBO-DANCE." 


Thirty minutes later, Robo-Dude had finished its daily ritual. 
However, this man was far too old and far too serious to play with 
toys. Robo-Dude knew that this must be important and stopped 
dancing one minute early. Some things must be sacrificed for the 
greater good. 


"ROBO-DUDE IS NOW READY FOR INPUT!" 
The man smiled with relief and began to speak. 


Alright. He said. In one month, Site 17 will be attacked by an 
enemy force. | can't tell you who they are, I'm sorry, but you 
must warn them, or horrible things will happen, do you 
understand? 


"ROBO-DUDE UNDERSTANDS THIS MISSION, ROBO-PAL." 


Good. Now this dream needs to end. Shake yourself awake or 
somethi - what are you doing? 


Robo-Dude looked up at its new Robo-Pal, its chest open and a 
small canister emerging from within. 


"DEPLOYING ATOMIC GRENADE!" 
Hold on, wait, NO - 


* 


For the first time ever, Robo-Dude activated itself. It had a mission 
now, it had a purpose! And that purpose was...Robo-Dude was not 
very clever. In any case, it is hard to remember dreams. 


And so, Robo-Dude had forgotten. 


Game Day 1: Die Hardest 


Debriefing: Dr. Michael Edison 

Excerpt from Interview conducted by O5- , regarding Dr. 
Edison’s involvement in Incident 234-900- Tempest 
Night-1. 


O5- : Good evening, Dr. Edison. 
Dr. Edison: Good evening, sir. 


O5- : Please, take a seat. | have a few questions to ask 
you. 


Dr. Edison: ...I’m not in trouble, am |? 


O5- : No, of course not. This is simply standard 
procedure. 


Dr. Edison: Oh. Okay then. That’s fine, | guess. 


O5- : Glad to hear it. Now, tell me, exactly where were 
you when the incident began? 


Dr. Edison: Well let’s see... | believe | was in the middle 
of feeding SCP-391 when | heard the blast. Fearing for 
my safety, | fled to the nearest security station only to 
find that the security personnel inside had died prior to 
my arrival. 


O5- : Do you have any idea how they died? 


Dr. Edison: No idea, sir. Everyone had a big gash in the 
back of the head, but it looked like they didn’t have their 
weapons drawn or anything so | guess they didn’t fight 
back. 


O5- : Interesting. So what did you do? 


Dr. Edison: Well, | took one good look at the security 
monitors and quickly realized how [EXPLETIVE 
REDACTED] we all... um, | mean, that we were in the 
middle of a wide-scale Class- containment breach. | 
tried to activate the self-destruct sequence manually, but 
the detonation system was apparently too damaged to 
respond. So | sent a message over the intercom ordering 
all essential personnel to evacuate, and ordering all 
remaining security personnel to enter high alert. 


O5- : And then what? 


Dr. Edison: Well, then | noticed that SCP-353 (who had 
breached containment), was being escorted by a number 
of masked men towards section [REDACTED], where we 
were keeping all the biohazardous materials from Site 
19. So I... um... 


O5- : Well? What did you do? 
Dr. Edison: |... went after them. Die Hard style. 
O5- : ...| beg your pardon? 


Dr. Edison: | mean | went after them. Alone. | ran 
around the site grabbing everything that looked even 
remotely useful, picked off the masked men one by one 
using my superior knowledge of Site-17, and squared off 
with SCP-353 in a climactic showdown inside of the 
decontamination chamber. 


O5-: 
Dr. Edison: ... 
O5-: ...ls there any chance you "forgot" to take your 


medicine that day? 


Dr. Edison: ...maybe? 


Dr. Edison stared at his watch anxiously. He knew there wasn’t 


much time, and the rhythmic clacking of 914 only made him even 
more aware of it. 


And then the clicking stopped. Edison’s heart skipped at beat as the 
tiny bell rang, letting him know that it was time to check on his little 
“experiment”. Nervously, he slid the door open to take a look at the 
results. 


At first, he didn’t know what to think. At first glance, it appeared to be 
an orange helmet, similar in form to the bulletproof SWAT helmet he 
was currently wearing. It even had the kind same “Property Of...” 
sticker that his own helmet was labeled with. But upon further 
inspection, he noticed that the accompanying balaclava appeared to 
be made of rubber, and that there was some form of breathing 
apparatus in the spot where one’s mouth would be should be. 


The doctor scratched his head. “Well, it’s getting there, certainly.” 


Suddenly, the radio Edison was carrying on his belt sprung to life. 
“Hey! You!” it said, “You there! By 914!” 


With a sigh, Edison handed the orange helmet to his assistant, who 
was similarly decked out in SWAT armor. “Please run this through 
914 with helmet 3 on ‘very fine’, will you? | need to take this call.” 


Wordlessly, the assistant accepted the helmet and stiffly carried it to 
914’s input chamber. 


Edison, meanwhile, took the opportunity to answer the radio. 
“Hello...?” 


“What the hell do you think you're doing!?” screamed the man on the 
other end. “We're in the middle of a containment breach and you're 
playing dress up! Does that seem like a good idea to you?!" 


“Hey, hey, don’t worry about me,” replied Edison. “Look, everything’s 
under contro- okay, everything isn’t under control, but you have 
better things to do than worry about some lone-wolf renegade action 
movie star type... thing. You should get out of here before the shit 
hits the fan, because if | can’t stop Vector, we ALL die.” 


“Well I'd love to... but I’m trapped in a security station. The ceiling 


behind me collapsed, so the door’s jammed behind a huge pile of... 
er...” 


“...What? What is it?” 
“‘appleseeds.” 

“What?” 

‘a huge pile of appleseeds.” 


“...’m sorry, | didn’t quite hear that. Did you just say you were stuck 
behind a pile of apple-” 


“YES, APPLESEEDS!” the man screamed. “THE DOOR IS STUCK 
BEHIND A FUCKING PILE OF FUCKING APPLESEEDS! WHY 
THE HELL ARE THERE SO MANY APPLESEEDS I CANT TAKE 
ALL THESE APPLESEEDS AND ALL THE APPLESEEDS DAY 
AND NIGHT AND NIGHT AND DAY AND | CAN’T STAND IT 
ANYMORE WHY WON’T THEY JUST APPLESEEDS 


Edison paused for a moment to let the man cool off. He could hear a 
faint sobbing through the radio. “...nice to see you too, Dr. King.” 


Debriefing: Dr. King 


Excerpt from Interview conducted by O5- , regarding Dr. 
King’s involvement in Incident 234-900-Tempest Night-1. 
O5- : Now, Dr. King. From what I’ve heard, you played 
an instrumental role in directing the flow of information 
during the incident. Can you please describe exactly 
what you were trying to accomplish? 


Dr. King: Well, | was mostly just trying to find something 
to keep my mind off the... the... the you-know-whats that 
were keeping me cooped up in there. | mean, it’s not like 
there was much else | could do other than watch the 
monitors and call people with the radio. I’ve really got to 
hand it to the guys who designed the security system, 
that security system was state of the art! | don’t think 


there was a single blind spot in the entire base. | mean- 


O5-:...Yes, yes, the art of security is a fascinating one, 
but I’d much rather hear about your involvement with Dr. 
Edison’s recent... “adventure”. 


Dr. King: Oh, that... /NOTE: Dr. King appears to be 
visibly distressed at this point] Well... | found Edison with 
SCP-912, making some kind of “Super-Armor’” or 
something using SCP-914. He explained that SCP-353 
was making her way section [REDACTED], and that 
unless he stopped her things would get a million times 
worse. 


O5-: ...| see... and how did he plan on doing this? 


Dr. King: Well... he never explained the whole plan, but 
he assured me it was extremely clever, intricate, and 
well-thought-out. 


“’m going to do something extremely clever, intricate, and well- 
thought-out that’s going to stop Vector and save the world!” Dr. 
Edison said as he continued to sprint down the hallway. “I'll get back 
to you when | know exactly what it is.” 


“Well | hate to burst your bubble, kid,” said Dr. King, “but Vector is 
five stories down, and the insurgents are practically there. You'd 
have to move at the speed of sound to make it down the stairs in 
time.” 


Edison chuckled. “Who said anything about stairs?” He screeched to 
a halt in front of the doorway he'd been looking for, stepped inside, 
and found himself in an enormous white room, whose only feature 
was a small, blue pinwheel, sitting upon a pedestal. 


“Oh no...” said Dr. King. “You have GOT to be kidding me...”