Item #: SCP-700
Object Class: Euclid Safe
Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-700 is immobile, one security team is to be permanently placed at the site, to prevent the entrance of civilians and unauthorized personnel. They are to be equipped with breath masks at all times while inside of SCP-700.
SCP-700-1 is to remain closed all the time. Its hatch may only be opened if all personnel present inside SCP-700 are wearing full-body, non-organic biohazard suits and breath masks, and only for the purpose of running necessary tests. Following Incident 700-1, this part of the containment procedure is no longer necessary. See Incident Log 700-1 for more details.
Description: SCP-700 is a large, abandoned building, similar to a factory in design, located in a rural area of ██████████, USA. It contains █ floors (one being underground), each containing ██ rooms. Many of these rooms are built in a way that does not appear to serve any specific purpose, containing, for example, redundant machinery, sewage pipes that are not connected to any kind of disposal unit, and numerous power cords extended across the room in a manner similar to sash cords.
███ graffiti pictures (designated SCP-700-2) can be observed inside SCP-700's rooms. They usually depict humanoid creatures, although animal figures were also observed.
All instances of SCP-700-2 have shown the capacity to move around the walls of their rooms. Their frequency of movement varies depending on what room SCP-700-2 is located. For example, rooms blocked with iron bars will turn SCP-700-2 mostly immobile, with only slight movements being made at seemingly random periods of time. It is currently unknown if the graffiti are sentient, but as their movement patterns are erratic, and considering that all attempts at communicating with them have failed, it is assumed that they are not.
Inside the central room of the underground floor is a circular hole (designated SCP-700-1). It is 10 meters deep and with a radius of 1.5 m. An iron hatch is connected to the hole. There are ██ 0.3 ml plastic syringes attached to the walls, all positioned one meter above the bottom of SCP-700-1. At the center of the hole's floor is a 1 x 1 m grate that leads into an unlit chamber. Removing the syringes from the wall is possible; however, new syringes will "grow" to replace the lost ones a few moments after their removal.
The syringes at the bottom of SCP-700-1 are constantly producing a yellow liquid, composed primarily of human [DATA EXPUNGED]cluding menses. This mixture produces a fragrance deemed to be "very attractive" to all humans that come in contact with it. If SCP-700-1 is left open, the smell will spread through all the rooms of the building.
Upon smelling this fragrance for a small period of time (usually █ minutes), subjects will begin to unconsciously move towards SCP-700-1. If not stopped, they will throw themselves down SCP-700-1. The fall will usually result in fractured bones, but all observed subjects seemed to be unaware of the fact, concentrating solely on consuming the liquid dropped by the syringes.
After a human falls inside SCP-700-1, the hatch will automatically close, and loud mechanical sounds will be heard coming from an undetermined place within SCP-700. At this point, opening SCP-700-1's hatch will reveal a solid concrete floor instead of the hole, and will also bring the sounds to a halt. Approximately █ minutes after closing, SCP-700-1 will reopen by itself, revealing the hole again, but the human inside will have disappeared. During the tests, all recording devices (like cameras) placed inside SCP-700-1 were destroyed by unknown means as soon as the hatch closed.
█ hours after the disappearance of the subject, a new instance of SCP-700-2 will be found in one of SCP-700's rooms.
SCP-700 came to the attention of the Foundation after various reports of a man called "Mr. ██████" selling "living art" painted on concrete blocks. When confronted by Foundation personnel, Mr. ██████ attempted to flee, and injured one agent before killing himself when it became clear that he could not escape. The coordinates for the location of the building were found at his house on ███████. The Foundation was able to find and destroy ██ of the blocks that Mr. ██████ sold. The owners of the blocks were given Class B Amnestics.
Addendum 700-1: Staff working inside SCP-700 have reported sightings of a featureless humanoid figure silently walking inside SCP-700's rooms immediately after a human vanishes inside SCP-700-1. This entity (designated SCP-700-3) disappears when researchers try to make physical contact with it, and it does not respond when communication is attempted. Thus far, SCP-700-3 has proved to be harmless. Any changes in SCP-700-3's behavior are to be reported immediately.
Addendum 700-2: Recently, █ researchers and ██ D-Class personnel that observed pictures of SCP-700-2 claimed to have momentarily seen the graffiti in some of them moving. Further tests have confirmed that SCP-700-2 depicted in photographs will appear to move only to subjects with a previous history of [DATA EXPUNGED]. What causes this phenomenon is currently unknown.
Incident Log 700-1: On █/██/████, Dr. █████ brought four D-Class personnel to SCP-700 with the intention of discovering the nature of the chamber below SCP-700-1. To achieve this, D-9462 was provided with a crowbar, and was instructed to use it to remove the grate located at the bottom of SCP-700-1. When D-9462 struck SCP-700-1's grate with the crowbar, a loud shriek could be heard coming from all rooms of the building. SCP-700-1's hatch closed immediately after the shriek ceased. Since the incident, opening the hatch will only reveal a solid concrete floor. As of ██/██/████, SCP-700-1 did not reappear. Manifestations of SCP-700-3 have also stopped occurring. As a result, SCP-700 was reclassified as "Safe".

« SCP-699 | SCP-700 | SCP-701 »


SCP-701-1 in a still image from SCP-701-19██-A

Item #: SCP-701
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All materials relating to SCP-701 are to be kept in a triple-locked archive at Storage Site-██. These items currently consist of: the two (2) currently extant copies of the 1640 quarto; twenty-seven (27) copies of the 1965 trade paperback edition; ten (10) copies of a 1971 hardcover printing; twenty-one (21) floppy diskettes, consisting of data seized from raids on [EXPUNGED]; one (1) S-VHS video cassette tape (designated SCP-701-19██-A); and one (1) steel knife of unknown origin (designated SCP-701-19██-B). At no time are any of these items to be removed from the room. Access to the area is to be heavily monitored; absolutely no personnel whatsoever is to be granted access to the archive without the express, in-person permission of Drs. L████, R█████ and J██████.
Description: SCP-701, The Hanged King's Tragedy, is a Caroline-era revenge tragedy in five acts. Performances of the play are associated with sudden psychotic and suicidal behavior among both observers and participants, as well as the manifestation of a mysterious figure, classified as SCP-701-1. Historical estimates place the number of lives claimed by the play at between █████ and █████ over the past three hundred years.
Performances of The Hanged King's Tragedy do not always end with an outbreak. Of the ██ recorded performances, only ██ (36.78%) have ended in SCP-701 events. According to historical records and investigations, these outbreaks generally follow the same pattern:

1 to 2 weeks (7 to 14 days) prior to Event: During the dress rehearsal period, cast members will begin to spontaneously deviate from the published text of the play. Rather than improvisation or gaffs associated with going 'off script,' said deviations will be both orderly and consistent, as if the actors were working off a new version of the script. The cast and production crew will seem unaware of any change, and - if it is brought to their attention - will state that the play has run that way from the beginning.

2 to 3 hours prior to Event: The outbreak generally occurs during Opening Night, or else at the production with the greatest planned attendance (generally falling within the first week after the play's opening).

1 to 2 hours before Event: SCP-701-1 begins to appear on stage in the final scene of Act I, generally in the background or to the side of the main action. It may seem to enter or exit the stage area, but does not appear to ever enter the backstage or off-stage area; it simply disappears when not on stage. The cast does not appear to notice or comment on SCP-701-1, at least at first.

The Event: SCP-701-1 appears fully on stage during the banquet scene in Act V. Here, it will be incorporated into the action of the play as 'the Hanged King.' The cast will either murder each other or commit suicide, sometimes using items that seem to appear spontaneously on stage. Rioting breaks out in the audience, with viewers randomly attacking anyone in front of them, regardless of prior relationship.

Following the Event: If any of the audience members survive the initial outbreak, they may exit the performance space, in which case they will continue to engage in random or opportunistic violence. Victims will generally require sedation or restraint in this scenario; normal personality will begin to return roughly 24 hours after the event. Surviving victims will generally exhibit signs consistent with a traumatic experience; some will have no recollection of the event. Others may be rendered permanently comatose or psychotic.

For a typical case study of an outbreak, see Incident Report SCP-701-19██-1, an analysis of the events leading up to the last uncontained SCP-701 event in 19██, during a high school drama performance in █████████████, ████. For more information on the play's published text, see Document SCP-701-1640-B-1.
In short, SCP-701 is a self-evolving memetic virus, transmitted through unknown means through the text of the play. Dr. L████ has theorized that SCP-701 events may involve [EXPUNGED]. This hypothesis is consistent with a spike in ████ ██████ levels detected via satellite in the vicinity of the 19██ incident, indicating [EXPUNGED].
Foundation agents are under standing orders to suppress any performance or publication of SCP-701 whenever found or detected. Despite our best efforts to the contrary, however, the play remains freely available online, sometimes under different titles. All attempts to detect or isolate the origin of these copies have failed. Suppression of the play's publication has generally been successful, with most copies of a 1971 scholarly edition destroyed before distribution. Nonetheless, copies of the 1965 trade paperback turn up with some regularity in both college and high school libraries. Agents are to obtain or otherwise destroy these items whenever possible.
History: The first known publication of The Hanged King's Tragedy was as a quarto dated 1640. The play's author is not listed. The publisher, one William Cooke, disappeared from the historical record soon thereafter. Strangely, the text does not appear in the Stationers' Register.
The first known SCP-701 event on record occurred in 18██ during a performance of the play in ██████, ██, USA. Other significant incidents include the 19██ performance at a small theater in ██████, ███, ██; the 1964 performance at the University of ███████████, ███████████, ███████; the 19██ performance at ██████ University, the first SCP-701 event successfully suppressed by the Foundation; the 19██ performance by a student group in ███████, CA; the 19██ television adaptation by the ██████████ Broadcasting Corporation (production successfully shut down by the Foundation before broadcast); and the 19██ incident in ██████████████, OH, USA, designated SCP-701-19██-1.
Publication History:

Original 1640 quarto (all known copies in Foundation custody)
1733 folio edition (republished 1790)
1813 Cambridge University Press edition
1965 trade paperback edition
1971 hardcover edition

Agents should note that copies of the play have often been misfiled under different titles or spellings of the title. Furthermore, photocopies of the 1965 text have been found in circulation throughout college theater departments in the continental United States and in the United Kingdom.
Additional:

Given the high probability of [EXPUNGED] in my mind, I again recommend that SCP-701 be upgraded to Keter-class. The SCP-701 memetic virus may very well be the forefront of an invasion scenario. Furthermore, [EXPUNGED]. - Dr. L████, 1237116060.
Denied. None of the current information we have on SCP-701 indicates a XK-class scenario. Until we have additional data, classification will remain at Euclid. — Face facts, Doctor. The cat's been long out of the bag on this one. And in this line of business, we consider ourselves lucky if we only lose a hundred or so people every ten years. - O5-█, 1237197060.

« SCP-700 | SCP-701 | SCP-702 »


Item #: SCP-702
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-702 is to be contained in a crate lined with mundane packing materials. The crate is to be kept in a standard security locker with armed guards at all times. If the crate is breached, under no circumstances are any personnel to touch the SCP without wearing a pair of standard insulated gloves and an insulated coat. The slated destruction of SCP-702 is indefinitely postponed due to the unknown effects on SCP-702-1 and possible containment breaches.
Description: SCP-702 is a simple red vase of unknown design. Human contact with the vase causes an entity (herein referred to as SCP-702-1) to emerge from the vase and initiate contact with the individual coming into contact with SCP-702. The method of detection seems to be thermal in nature, as SCP-702-1 emerges when contact is established through thin, heat-transmitting materials, but does not emerge when contact is established through an insulated material. SCP-702-1 is a sapient gas-based life form that communicates through coordinated vibration of the air around it. A sample has been impossible to gather due to SCP-702-1's tendency to react violently to anyone coming into physical contact with it. Upon emergence, SCP-702-1 greets the subject establishing contact with SCP-702, and attempts to persuade the subject to give it a gift. If the subject refuses, the entity [DATA EXPUNGED] and takes a single object or part from the remains. Some objects are rejected by SCP-702-1, claiming that it "already has one", and demands a new gift, returning the offered object. If SCP-702-1 accepts the offered gift, it returns an object of roughly equal value to the subject and disappears. See Experiments 702-001 through 702-004 for a transcript of successful transactions with SCP-702.
Addendum:
Transcript Log of Experiment 702-001:

Subject D-5567 was issued a freshly sharpened #2 Ticonderoga pencil.
Subject D-5567: So, I just touch it?

Dr. █████████: That's right, D-5567. You have the object ready, correct?
Subject D-5567: Yeah, 's just a damn pencil, don't really see what I'm gonna do with it, though.
Dr. █████████: Don't worry about that, just touch the vase.
Subject D-5567: Alright, alright.
[a sound of rushing air is heard]
Subject D-5567: What the HELL?
SCP-702-1: Greetings, corporeal one! I presume you are here to deal?
Subject D-5567: I, uh, ah, uh…
Dr. █████████: The pencil, you idiot!
Subject D-5567: Uh, yes, sir! H-here you go…
SCP-702-1: Thank you, bodybound! Here is your object. That will be all.
[An intake of air is heard]
Subject D-5567: A… an eraser?
Dr. █████████: Very good, D-5567, proceed to debriefing.

Transcript Log of Experiment 702-002:

Subject D-1699 was issued a crystalline sculpture of ██████████████, procured by the Psychological Ward from a patient.
Dr. █████████: D-1699, proceed.
[A sound of air rushing is heard]
Subject D-1699: Aaaah!
SCP-702-1: Is it time to trade so soon? How delightful!
SCP-702-1: Well, you are clearly the one who bothered me, speak up!
Dr. █████████: Talk to it!
[Subject D-1699 gibbers incoherently]
SCP-702-1: You waste my time, fool. We shall not deal.
[DATA EXPUNGED]
Dr. █████████: Subject D-1699 was killed by SCP-702-1. The sculpture was recovered.

Transcript Log of Experiment 702-003

Subject D-1010 was issued a crystalline sculpture of ██████████████, procured by the Psychological Ward from a patient.
Dr. █████████: Go ahead, 1010, we haven't got all day.
Subject D-1010: No, what's it gonna do? You gotta tell me first, doc!
Dr. █████████: Subject D-1010, I remind you that deviation from protocol will result in immediate termination by Foundation security staff.
Subject D-1010: I… I… fine.
[a sound of rushing air is heard]
SCP-702-1: Your kind again! I do so love new pieces for my collection!
Subject D-1010: Oh God, collection? I don't want to die!
SCP-702-1: I have only a short time, slow one, and you waste it. Do you desire trade, or no?
Subject D-1010: Tra- you want this fucked up statue?
Dr. █████████: SCP-702-1 appears to be considering the statue and is emitting a humming sound.
[Note: Harmonics testing later indicated a frequency associated with deep thought.]
SCP-702-1: How very… interesting. Here is my response.
[an intake of air is heard]
Subject D-1010: A… wow, that's heavy.
Dr. █████████: Proceed to debriefing, 1010.
[long period of silence, recording clicks off and clicks on again]
Dr. █████████: SCP-702-1 issued a two point eight kilogram jar of an unidentified liquid. The jar appears to be made of glass. The liquid is clear, but I am not removing the lid to identify odors. The jar will be sent to the labs for chemical analysis.

Transcript Log of Experiment 702-004:

Subject D-8133 was issued a vial containing a sample from SCP-158.
Subject D-8133: So I touch the vase with this in my hand and give it away if I can?
Dr. █████████: That is correct, D-8133. Please listen to briefings in the future.
Subject D-8133: Awright, doc, don't get your panties in a knot.
Dr. █████████: Just proceed with the experiment, D-8133.
[a sound of rushing air is heard]
Subject D-8133: The fuck?
SCP-702-1: Those of flesh and blood, sinew and bone again! Your kind always has such fascinating trinkets, and trade has never been so brisk!
Subject D-8133: Here, take this and let me outta here.
Dr. █████████: SCP-702-1 is emitting a hum, as in Experiment 702-003.
[Note: Harmonics testing later indicated a frequency associated with fear.]
SCP-702-1: Absolutely not. I am tempted, but I cannot possibly afford that. Good day.
[an intake of air is heard]
Subject D-8133: So, uh, can I leave?
Dr. █████████: Absolutely, Subject D-8133. Head to the debriefing room, and well done.

Addendum: Any further experimentation on SCP-702 is to be appended to Experiment Log 702 in the abbreviated style outlined therein.

« SCP-701 | SCP-702 | SCP-703 »


Photo of SCP-703 taken during initial containment.

Item #: SCP-703
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-703 is to be contained within a standard containment chamber, located in Site 77's Euclid SCP wing. SCP-703 is to be monitored remotely in 5 hour shifts, and two armed guards are to be present within the chamber at all times, operating in 5 hour shifts. Entry into SCP-703 while it is in an active state is prohibited. When SCP-703 resumes an inactive state, a Class-D personnel will be sent in to retrieve the item.
Staff assigned to work with SCP-703 are to be rotated every 5 weeks, and any SCP-703-1 instances produced by SCP-703 related to staff members may be declassified and returned after a 6 week observation period. Instances of SCP-703-1 that are not related to staff must be put in permanent storage.
Description: SCP-703 is a wooden closet, formerly located within a residential home in New Hampshire. SCP-703's interior is painted white, and contains a single light bulb. The bulb is incandescent, and hangs from the ceiling by a wire. The interior dimensions of SCP-703 are 2.5x3x1m. The exterior has been reconstructed and painted to prevent deterioration.
At random intervals, ranging between 2 hours and 14 months, SCP-703 will enter an active state. During the active state, the bulb within SCP-703 will activate. Following that, an instance of SCP-703-1 will appear. SCP-703-1 designates a collection of 452 random objects, retrieved from SCP-703 following the completion of its active state. Instances of SCP-703-1 do not appear to have any relation to one another, and are entirely random SCP-703-1 instances appear to have some relation to their environment and persons exposed to it.
When SCP-703 was originally recovered by the Foundation, it primarily produced objects that young children would enjoy, such as toys, games, and food such as candy, fruit snacks, potato chips, and juice. However, after 2 years in containment, SCP-703 began producing objects of a more scientific nature, such as lab equipment. As time in containment progressed, SCP-703 began producing more specific scientific literature and equipment, eventually producing specialized equipment that could be used to replicate the function of on-site equipment. Following this, SCP-703 was moved to a higher level containment chamber.
Following SCP-703's move, SCP-703-1 instances became specifically targeted at Foundation personnel currently assigned to work with SCP-703, with objects such as lost possessions, misplaced documents, and equipment that had the potential to be used in SCP-703's containment procedures. Due to this, SCP-703 has been classified as a sapient non-organic, and containment procedures have been updated to reflect this change in its behavior. After implementing staff rotation, SCP-703 has produced fewer SCP-703-1 instances related to staff currently assigned to it.
Addendum: On 9/18/2010, several instances of SCP-643 suddenly vanished from their containment chamber. During the ensuing lockdown by security personnel, SCP-703 entered its active phase, and produced the missing instances. Due to SCP-643's mind affecting properties, three researchers were injured and one member of security was killed before they could be recontained. Because of the fact that SCP-643 was being moved to a containment chamber in the same zone as SCP-703, it is theorized that SCP-703 was attempting to assist in this move. Reclassification to Euclid has been granted, and SCP-703 has been moved to a more secure area. As of the time of writing, similar incidents have been observed with instances of SCP-649 and SCP-1317.

« SCP-702 | SCP-703 | SCP-704 »


Item #: SCP-704
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The entrance and exit to SCP-704 are to be closed to the public as a private road. Both the entrance and exit are blocked by a solid steel barrier built to resemble a swing-arm style barrier. The swing-arm is non-functional and the barrier is instead designed to withstand high-speed collisions with vehicles up to the size of a semi-trailer. Armed guards are to be stationed at the entrance and exit to SCP-704 at all times to further discourage attempted entry.
Entry to SCP-704 is not allowed by any wheeled or treaded vehicle, though attempting to do so is, for the most part, its own punishment. Entry is only allowed on foot with previous clearance from one (1) Level Three (3) administrator.
Should a vehicle gain entry to SCP-704, personnel are to wait approximately 2 hours before attempting to recover any bodies or the driver. This is to guarantee personnel safety as the actions of both the driver and SCP-704 are unpredictable during an active phase.
Description: SCP-704 is a loop of winding road breaking off and reconnecting to State Highway 96 in the ███████ National Forest. The loop does not appear on any conventional or electronic maps, and satellite surveillance is made difficult by an inability to focus on the affected area.
SCP-704 has a passive and an active phase. The passive stage can only be observed by those traveling by foot. During the passive stage, SCP-704 appears to be a winding, static road littered with the remains of vehicles. Remains of vehicles are not observed during its active phase. The exact topography and distance of the route remains constant between active periods. After an active period, topography and distance change to a new configuration.
Once a driver has entered SCP-704, it begins its active phase. The active phase has been observed via remote cameras mounted to vehicles entering SCP-704 as part of various experiments. The first sign of the active phase is an increasingly excited disposition on the part of the driver. As the road becomes more challenging, the driver will begin to declare how much fun the road is and prod the passengers to watch his or her driving skills. Passengers show a uniform negative reaction to the road, exhibiting anxiety, paranoia, and fear.
The road becomes increasingly more challenging, with mounted cameras recording the route actively changing in front of the vehicle. Several highly improbable road configurations have been observed including:

A tight circle that leads back to where it begins

A 70° incline

An apparent vertical loop

The general appearance of the road and landscape changes as well, manifesting paved roads and dirt roads of varying degrees of quality. The driver's excitement and the negative reactions of his passengers will increase, until the driver loses control of the car and crashes. A crash has never been recorded on camera, as all recording devices cease functioning before the event.
This crash has consistently resulted in the deaths of all passengers but the survival of the driver. Passengers are generally found close to the crash, with injuries consistent with forcible ejection, although no signs of this are present on the vehicle wreckage. Interestingly, they are also generally recovered fused with local objects at a molecular level. No matter the severity of the crash, drivers will be recovered with nothing worse than scrapes and bruises. Drivers only retain partial specific memories of the time spent on SCP-704, but are always acutely aware that they have just been responsible for their passengers' deaths.
Addendum 704-01: Interior monitoring devices have shown that most drivers begin to speak to the road and respond as though it is communicating with them. The conversation is always about the passengers and usually results in peals of manic laughter from the driver, but has been recorded to produce anger as well.
It is unclear whether SCP-704 is actually communicative or sapient. Due to the personality changes during an active event and partial retrograde amnesia after, all potential interview attempts have failed.
Addendum 704-02: On 04/09/2009, D-4701, a member of the █████ ██████ biker gang, was selected to determine the effect of SCP-704 on a single-occupant vehicle. He was given a motorcycle with a remote-activated kill-switch and instructed to traverse SCP-704. In this case, SCP-704 changed to lead D-4701 directly through the guardhouse at the opposite end, killing the two observing researchers. Future experimentation on SCP-704 with single-occupant vehicles is discouraged.

« SCP-703 | SCP-704 | SCP-705 »


Item #: SCP-705
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-705 requires little security detail nor significant clearance to access, and is to be held in Sector 2 Safe SCP containment with the lid closed. Any access is to be logged when entering and exiting SCP-705's containment, to be reviewed once a month. Misplacement or lack of attendance leading to containment failure is punishable by temporary removal of access. Repeat offenses incur more severe probations. SCP-705 is not to be used in any practical applications.
Description: SCP-705 is normally contained within a 5 oz container of children's modeling compound, commonly known as “Play-Doh”. While properly sealed, SCP-705 exhibits no unusual qualities, or anomalous behavior. SCP-705 was originally discovered within the ██████ Corporation's research labs in █████, ████████ as part of an attempt to create a “self-molding” product. The means by which this was accomplished is still unknown, but the results led to the abandonment of the line and the labs themselves. Retrieved on █-██-████, SCP-705 was originally moved to Site ██, then relocated a month later to its current location at Site 17.
When the lid for the container holding SCP-705 is opened, the soft red material inside will begin to animate. Shapes resembling small, humanoid forms will emerge from the clay, slowly at first but soon numbering in the tens to hundreds. The material comprising the men will sculpt and come into detail, appearing as miniature infantrymen in typical military fatigues, equipped with fully functional automatic weaponry. At this point, SCP-705 comprises approximately 20-100 individual and sentient organisms.
When active, SCP-705 is incredibly violent and militaristic, possessing a highly territorial mindset, and will do everything in its power to overtake what it perceives to be a “strategic” location. Within observed environments, this will be perceived as a lab workstation, a break room coffee machine, or a bathroom sink. Due to the weak composition of each SCP-705 organism, none of these threats can be considered significant, and can be defused with any application of force. Unconstrained, SCP-705 is no more than a minor annoyance, although not for lack of trying.
SCP-705 has been observed to be capable of sentient thought, and audio recordings have revealed that they possess understanding of the English language. Over time, the group that comprises SCP-705 will become more complex, with obvious leadership roles emerging. On several occasions, an extended test of SCP-705 has shown the formation of larger, more complex structures formed from the collective mass, such as tanks, APCs, and even aircraft such as helicopters and bombers. It's to be noted that none of these creations are any more effective due to the use of harmless clay ammunition.
If SCP-705 comes in contact with a similar compound, such as a normal container of Play-Doh, the contacted material will take on the same qualities as active SCP-705. When of the same color, no differences in behavior are noted, although larger and more complex objects will be observed. If the affected substance is of a different color, however, an entirely new “army” is created. If left undisturbed, the original SCP-705 organisms and the new “opposing” army will engage in combat. Multiple colors can be activated in this manner, and alliances will form between the aggressing parties. Said materials will remain active until SCP-705 is once again contained. SCP-705 is fully capable of sustaining casualties amongst themselves in these conflicts, although such losses are mitigated by its amorphous nature.
Addendum 705-D: The first known “attack” by SCP-705 occurred on ██-█-████, when the container had been left unattended on a counter within the break room. In less than an hour, SCP-705 had taken control of the Mr. Coffee machine, declaring independence and control over the region. The assault was routed when Dr. Rights brushed them away from the burner, resulting in massive casualties and a complete rout. Interviews with SCP-705 remark on this day with great fear and resentment.
Addendum 705-F: After gaining approval from O5-6, SCP-705 was introduced to SCP-963. [DATA EXPUNGED] at which point 705 sought out the current holder of 963. When contact was made, the soldiers making up 705 saluted Dr. Bright, and stood at ease awaiting orders. [DATA EXPUNGED] so let's save this for when we really need it.

« SCP-704 | SCP-705 | SCP-706 »


Item #: SCP-706
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-706 is to be housed in a humanoid containment cell at Humanoid Containment Site-06-3 which has been modified with padded walls and minimal sharp edges. SCP-706 is to be provided with 1.2 kg of kaolin and ceramic glaze daily in addition to its regular diet.
Handling personnel are allowed to provide SCP-706 with non-standard items such as vanity mirrors, extra clothing as outlined in Document 706-E, and a paintbrush set with ceramic enamel paint as an incentive or reward for good behavior.
SCP-706 is currently contained under suicide watch procedures and is to be restrained at all times except when undergoing testing. SCP-706 is to be given daily therapy sessions until further notice.
Description: SCP-706 is an adolescent European-American female identified as ███████ ████████, twelve years of age according to local records at time of initial containment. Records also indicate that SCP-706 had been home-schooled throughout its life and that neighbors rarely saw SCP-706 outdoors.
SCP-706 is physiologically normal with the exception of an abnormally high resting body temperature of approximately 38.5°C and that its entire epidermis is composed of porcelain, with the exception of small areas around its joints. This layer is extremely fragile due to its thickness and can crack or break when subjected to impacts or even with excessive movement, a process that is reportedly extremely painful. SCP-706 is capable of regenerating this skin layer at a rate consistent with normal skin growth when provided with and allowed to consume appropriate raw materials. Unfinished materials such as kaolin are acceptable and preferred; SCP-706 has no particular resistance to tissue damage resulting from the ingestion of hardened porcelain.
Unless otherwise directed, SCP-706 will compulsively maintain its appearance, typically involving looking at itself in mirrors and using any available makeup or paint to apply, remove, or adjust its features. SCP-706 will become distressed and uncooperative if not provided appropriate materials with which to maintain its materials or if denied the ability to inspect its own appearance.
SCP-706 was recovered from ████, Texas following a police report involving a violent domestic dispute at a suburban residence. SCP-706 was discovered in a back room of the residence surrounded by a large pile of destroyed remains from several dozen porcelain dolls and multiple sets of fine china dinnerware, with most of the porcelain mass having been consumed. Class A amnestics were administered to responding law enforcement personnel and a cover story given to local media.
Addendum 706-1: Recording Transcript
The following audio recording was taken from a damaged digital camcorder found within the ████████ residence.

(Irrelevant content redacted for brevity.)
Mrs. ████████: Okay, sweetie, one more time, okay?
(slamming sound, presumed to be a door)
Mr. ████████: (slurred) I have had enough of your goddamn caterwauling. Will you two just shut the fuck up?Mrs. ████████: Honey?
Mr. ████████: (slurred) You and your fucking princess shit and your fucking awful music—
Mrs. ████████: Honey, you're drunk—Mr. ████████: (slurred) —and all your goddamn girly bullshit can go to fucking hell.
Mrs. ████████: Honey, please—
(camera is knocked over as the sound of a struggle ensue, no further video is recorded)
Mrs. ████████: Well, what more do you want? (sobbing) You know I can't have—
(sounds of an altercation)Mr. ████████: (slurred) Oh, is that it, huh? You're finally gonna do it, is that it?
Mrs. ████████: (sobbing) Please… please stop…
Mr. ████████: (slurred) You can't give me a fucking son and you're going to pull a fucking gun on me, is that it?
Mrs. ████████: (sobbing) Please, just go away!
Mr. ████████: (slurred) Well do it! Pull the fucking trigger!
(sounds of struggling)
(two gunshots are heard)(single gunshot)(end of recording)

Addendum 706-2: Interview Transcript
Note: This interview was taken shortly after initial containment, and prior to current containment procedures.

Interviewer: Dr. █████████
Subject: SCP-706
Date: ██/██/██
Note: Interview conducted within SCP-706's containment cell. SCP-706 is seated at a table, brushing its hair while examining itself in a vanity mirror.
Transcript:
Dr. █████████: Do you have any idea how this happened?Dr. █████████: Why is that?Dr. █████████: Tell me about them.Dr. █████████: But you wouldn't want to be locked in a glass case, would you? Why did you want to be a doll?SCP-706: …dolls don't cry… they don't need to be fed or cleaned after or taken care of… they just sit, beautiful and perfect…SCP-706: …I just want to go home… mommy… please, just let me go home…
(interview terminated)

Addendum 706-3: Researcher Note

SCP-706 has become increasingly detached and unresponsive to personnel since initial containment. She has also taken to intentionally breaking off pieces of her skin in order to remove undesired features, a practice that is beginning to seriously threaten her health.
A revision to containment procedures to reflect this self-destructive behavior has been filed with site administration and is currently under review.
Dr. █████████

« SCP-705 | SCP-706 | SCP-707 »


Item #: SCP-707
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-707 is kept disassembled in a double-locked secure locker at Site-██. Experimentation may only be performed with prior, written permission from at least two (2) Level 3 personnel. Once assembled, SCP-707 may only be handled by Class-D personnel.
Description: SCP-707 is a matryoshka doll, or Russian nesting doll, consisting of one (1) center doll and four (4) separating outer layers. The doll is painted in a primarily blue color palette, and dating of the materials, while inconclusive, shows that it is approximately ██ years old.
When a living human subject removes one or more layers of SCP-707 from a fully assembled state, its anomalous effect will occur approximately ten (10) minutes later. The severity of this effect is dependent on how many layers are opened:

1 layer - Subject's hair and nails will painlessly and completely fall out. This includes internal hair and cilia, such as that within the nose and ears.
2 layers - Subject's skin will split, separate, and fall off. The loss of skin is painless, but exposed internal tissue has been described as being very sensitive, and even a light touch can cause bleeding.
3 layers - Subject's muscles will detach from connective tissue, including the diaphragm and heart.
4 layers - Subject's organs separate and detach.

These effects are cumulative and sequential, and will occur over the course of only a few seconds after the ten-minute mark. No subject to date has survived the separation of more than 1 layer of SCP-707. However, despite the incredible trauma inflicted by the separation of 2 or more layers, brain activity monitors have determined that subjects are fully conscious and aware of their condition for up to several minutes after the separation event, until the subject expires (typically through blood loss or asphyxiation).
Addendum 707-1: The requested use of SCP-707 as an efficient method of procuring viable transplant organs for Foundation uses is under review.

« SCP-706 | SCP-707 | SCP-708 »


Item #: SCP-708
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-708 is to be stored in a warehouse at Sector-19, pending further research. Keys to the ignition lock of SCP-708 are to be kept in a secure lock-box at Site-19 accessible only by Dr. Lentil, with a spare set in a secure lock-box maintained by Dr. Horrigan. Neither set is permitted to be accessed without the consent of at least one (1) Level 4 Personnel. Personnel attempting to make use of SCP-708 or gain access to either of its keys are to be immediately detained and must undergo a psychological evaluation. Keys are to be used in an alternating fashion, so as not to cause excessive wear to them.
Description: SCP-708 is an orange Toyota Model 7FDU80 7-Series Forklift with a typical lift capacity of 8 metric tonnes. Records indicate it was purchased by [REDACTED] on 7/13/████ and delivered 7/30/████. SCP-708 came to the Foundation's attention when 3 construction workers employed by [REDACTED], while operating the machine, strayed completely from their duties, seeking out objects to lift throughout the city of ███████████, NY. One other construction worker, however, immediately attempted to destroy all members of the crew working at the job site. At this point, the Foundation launched an investigation, and quickly turned to SCP-708 as the culprit, which was proven when Agent ██████ attempted to move the vehicle onto a Foundation transport, and upon starting the vehicle, attempted to lift the transport, instead.
Upon maintaining visual contact with SCP-708 for more than 20 seconds, all subjects are rendered into a state of enthusiasm. These subjects will exclaim joyous remarks relating to “riding the big orange forklift,” not unlike a child. This is often accompanied by high-frequency sounds, and hopping up and down as a child in an excited temperament would. Due to the reported annoying effect of these actions, many researchers are compelled to allow the subject to board and operate SCP-708. If a subject is already engaged in operating SCP-708, then those who were previously compelled to operate it, and those who maintain visual contact with the object, report a feeling of jealousy, wishing to remove the current operator. Restraining subjects who express a desire to operate SCP-708 will lead to continued emotional outbursts such as are common amongst young children. At this point it is vital that any subject with a violent history, criminal or otherwise, be restricted from boarding and operating SCP-708, due to the incident on 4/25/████, which resulted in the loss of █ researchers and █ maintenance crew.
Upon boarding and starting SCP-708, a range of reactions can be observed. Subjects with a violent past express the urge to eradicate anything immediately obvious to them, making use of the heavy lifting capacity of this vehicle, and will do so at the earliest opportunity. Subjects with no violent past, however, express a desire to lift all objects that they notice. This occurs in order, from lightest to heaviest weight, at the subject's estimation. Subjects with a mildly violent past behave initially as subjects with no record of violence but soon tire of this course and seek to destroy objects at first, and subsequently human beings, lifting heavy objects and using the forklift as a makeshift battering ram.
No fuel has been added to the vehicle since the Foundation's acquisition, nor does the vehicle produce any detectable emissions. It has been theorized by Dr. Lentil that SCP-708 may feed on a driver's enthusiasm. This theory is supported by an apparent weariness after the driver has been in contact with the vehicle for more than approximately 1 hour. It has also been recently noted that the vehicle itself does not offer any restraint to the driver besides the driver's own resistance towards leaving the vehicle. Despite the related exhaustion, drivers cannot be removed from SCP-708 without the use of deadly force. All forms of tranquilizer have failed on drivers, presumably due to the amount of adrenaline produced by the driver's body. Attempts to remove the driver by multiple assistants have failed completely, resulting in termination being considered the only option to remove the driver from SCP-708. To date, ██ test subjects have been terminated due to testing.

« SCP-707 | SCP-708 | SCP-709 »


SCP-709 photographed from a nearby tree

Item #: SCP-709
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-709 is currently set up in TA-F2, Sector-28. Any staff member is permitted to access the sphere, provided they schedule the time in advance, so as to avoid conflict. Class D personnel wishing to use the sphere require permission from their direct supervisor.
Description: SCP-709 is a spherical "tree house" assembled from a kit provided by the ███████ company of Vancouver Island. It has been furnished as a small apartment suitable for overnighting. When a person looks out the window for a period of more than three to five minutes, they will begin to see what appear to be alternative versions of the forest and its inhabitants, such as a "four-winged bird" or a range of bipedal cougars walking down a trail. These visions are not consistent between viewing sessions, or between observers during a single session. They can be recorded with conventional video or film equipment, but the equipment will not record the same sights as living observers; neither will different cameras record the same images, even during simultaneous recording sessions.
Addendum: SCP-709 first came to Foundation attention when its owner began to complain to his psychiatrist of hallucinations connected to the tree house. One of our contacts, the psychiatrist, informed us of this anomalous case. After a covert visit to the tree house on █/█/███, Agent Talmor reported that the sphere was, in fact, an SCP candidate. On her recommendation, the psychiatrist encouraged her patient to replace the sphere. Posing as a local rubbish removal company, a team of agents collected the original sphere, and installed it in TA-F2. The original owner no longer complains of hallucinations, and ascribes his visions to simple imagination.
Addendum 2: Personnel who have made use of SCP-709 are encouraged to record their observations in Observation Log 709.

« SCP-708 | SCP-709 | SCP-710 »


Item #: SCP-710
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-710 is to be cordoned off by a perimeter fence with constant patrols and all roads leading in to the site must be guarded with armed checkpoints. All airspace above SCP-710 is considered a no-fly zone, which must be constantly monitored and enforced. Any violations of these security measures by unauthorized intruders can be resolved with the use of lethal force if necessary.
It is forbidden for any Foundation personnel to enter SCP-710 without Level 4 clearance. Only D-class personnel and unmanned reconnaissance vehicles may enter SCP-710 for research purposes. Should containment of SCP-710 fail, immediate airstrike of SCP-710 and the surrounding area in a five mile radius is authorized.
Description: SCP-710 is an abandoned suburban housing development located in ██████████████. However, any and all organic life that enters SCP-710 will eventually disappear without a trace. Exactly how or why this phenomenon occurs is currently unknown, but video recordings of test subjects have revealed several distinct stages.
Initial Stage (Exposure time: none): Subjects show no outward sign of anything wrong. However, there is noticeable anxiety and stress related to a sudden shift to a new environment, as well as the naturally foreboding atmosphere SCP-710 produces due to its abandoned state. Subjects still respond to external stimuli normally.
Middle Stage (Exposure time: 7-8 days): Subjects begin to establish a daily routine through a combination of self-interest, boredom, and orders from Foundation staff. At this point, early symptoms of exposure to SCP-710 appear. Subjects become much more lethargic than normal and exhibit many signs of both physical and mental fatigue. However, these symptoms are light, and are easily countered through specialized medication. Subjects show a decreased response to external stimuli.
Late Stage (Exposure time: 10-12 days): The symptoms shown in the Middle Stage of exposure begin to worsen. Also, the subjects begin to slowly become transparent. However, none of the subjects appear to notice these phenomena. Instead, the subjects will continue with the daily routine they had set during the Middle Stage, with slight variations. Late Stage subjects show almost zero response to external stimuli and appear to be completely unaware of their condition.
Terminal Stage (Exposure time: 14 days): Subjects become completely transparent, with a faint silhouette being the only visual marker of their presence. The symptoms of fatigue increase significantly as shown from the movements of Terminal subjects as well as their unwillingness or inability to respond to external stimuli. Subjects will no longer follow through with their daily routine and will instead wander SCP-710 aimlessly, still unaware or uncaring of their current condition.
Expiration: (Exposure time: 15 Days): Subjects will essentially fade from existence. No physical evidence of their presence remains, and attempts to track their movements and whereabouts after Expiration have so far proven unsuccessful.
So far, there seems to be no way to counteract the effects of SCP-710. Tests with D-Class personnel show that once Middle Stage symptoms manifest, the process is impossible to prevent or reverse. This leaves a small window of only several days for personnel to enter SCP-710 without risk.
The exact cause of this phenomena is currently unknown. All that is known is that SCP-710's ability manifested sometime in 19██, causing the disappearance of approximately ███████ people. The event was covered up as a natural disaster.
Notes: It's no coincidence that SCP-710 manifested so suddenly and randomly. Perhaps it had something to do with the [DATA EXPUNGED] Event? The dates certainly correlate. -Dr. ████
Perhaps, or it's something we haven't thought of yet. -Dr. ████████
We need to get a team in there, and not just a bunch of random D-Class. They're too unreliable. There must be something hidden in that town. -O5-██

After Action Debriefing
Dr. ████: Did you find anything of importance?
Researcher ██: No, but there's only so much ground you can cover in forty eight hours, especially when you have to spend a good chunk of that time just setting up and then bugging out when the timer is almost up. ████████ is a big place, and we need more than half a day to explore any decent portion of it.
Dr. ████: (sighs) Okay, then let's diverge a little. What were your initial impressions of SCP-710?
Researcher ██: There's something monumentally spooky about the place. Probably the fact that it's so hard to imagine such a big town with so many people could just appear abandoned like that. We also ran into Batch 35, who were all in Terminal Stage by that point, which scared the shit out of us when we first ran into them. Plus, it was just so… quiet. I never thought I would actually miss the sound of birds singing.
Dr. ████: Is there anything else that you would like to add?
Researcher ██: That I never want to go back there again. When the birds don't cry, you can hear things that are better left ignored.

Researcher ██ and his team are currently suspended from active duty pending the results of a full psychological screening.

« SCP-709 | SCP-710 | SCP-711 »


Photosynthetic

SCP-711 - Paradoxical Insurance Policy by Photosynthetic

More by this author

Item#: 711

Level5

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
vlam

Risk Class:
notice

link to memo

Special Containment Procedures: Under no circumstances whatsoever is SCP-711 to be operated. Reconstruction, operation, or attempted operation of SCP-711 is to be punished in all cases by the severest and most extreme measures available to the SCP Foundation. Enforcement of this zero-tolerance policy, should it become necessary, is to become a top-priority assignment for all available Foundation personnel.
The current instance of SCP-711 is to be embedded in concrete and stored in a Type 2 High-Value Item Vault at Storage Site-██, secured by at least four multiply-redundant locking systems and guarded by armed Foundation agents of at least Level 2 security clearance. The item should never be stored in operable condition. In any major crisis during which the survival of the SCP Foundation or of any significant (>20%) portion of human civilization is called into question, the item's supervisors are to destroy it immediately and determine a safe time and place for its reassembly. The most recent instance of SCP-711 was destroyed on ██/██/████.
No person capable of operating SCP-711 is permitted to have any knowledge of the contents of String 17 (see below).
Description: Built by the SCP Foundation from plans retrieved [DATA REDACTED], SCP-711 is a device assembled from several highly-modified [DATA REDACTED] high-energy physics equipment. Its primary function [DATA EXPUNGED]: in short, it is capable of sending data into its past and of receiving data from its future. Transmission is strictly one-way. Independent operation of the item is therefore causally impossible: any message it receives will necessarily be sent at some point in its future. All SCP-711 messages predetermine their own existence and content.
To date, exactly 17 messages have been received via SCP-711. The first string was received at 13:00 on ██/██/████ (the day of the item's creation) and sent four minutes later: it consisted only of the characters "test". With successive operations, signal quality has declined dramatically. String 1 was transmitted perfectly, reading precisely "test" both when sent and when received. String 16, when sent, also read precisely "test"; when received, it consisted of the characters "t$3s^f@" followed by 5 kB of meaningless noise. Additionally, over the course of testing, four strings were received which were never sent, and which consist demonstrably (p < 0.001) of nothing but noise.
String 17 was detected [DATA REDACTED] ten years after the object's construction. It consists of 347 characters, either heavily encrypted or [DATA REDACTED]. Within the first fifty characters, however, is sufficient data to establish ███████████ (p █ 0.██) that it will be sent by a duly-authorized agent of the SCP Foundation. Its date of origin is unknown: to date, it has not yet been sent.
Since String 17 will necessarily be sent, and since it ████ ████████ be sent by an agent of the Foundation, the survival of the SCP Foundation and of humanity in general is guaranteed at least until such time as String 17 is transmitted. Transmission of String 17 must therefore be postponed at all costs. The above containment procedures are calculated to ensure that it will not be sent until such a time as the Foundation is too weak to enforce them, in which case the Foundation will have already de facto ceased to exist.
Note: SCP-711 is an insurance policy, of sorts. Until we send String 17, we know we have to survive any crisis — otherwise that string is a BL-class predestination paradox. Once it's sent, we no longer have that guarantee. Yes, we'll have to fail at some point: we did receive String 17, after all. But the longer we postpone it, the longer we know we can survive. Stop that signal, people — our continued existence may just depend on it. — Site Director P█████████████

« SCP-710 | SCP-711 | SCP-712 »


Item #: SCP-712
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: The light-generating apparatus designated SCP-712-1 is stored fully assembled in a secure storage room at Research Site-14. The room's air is to be HEPA filtered and anyone entering must wear a clean room suit to minimize introduction of dust that could interfere with the optics of SCP-712-1. Anyone making adjustments to the components of SCP-712-1 must wear non-powdered nitrile gloves; latex gloves are not permitted as Dr. ███████ is severely allergic. The vibration-absorbing base of SCP-712-1 is attached securely to a 1.5 meter high table that is securely bolted to the floor of the room. The layout of this secure storage room is an "L" shape with the apparatus aimed at the far wall perpendicular to the door. No video recording devices are permitted in the room and all cameras viewing the entrance are to be fitted with one Wratten #90 filter and one linear polarizing filter with the axis of polarization oriented horizontally.
The emitting lens of SCP-712-1 is aimed at the rear wall and optical targets should be kept behind the apparatus except during testing. A SWNT forest panel is in place in front of the emitting lens of SCP-712-1 as a component of the fail-secure system. The rear wall of the room is tiled with SWNT Forest light absorbing panels. 10 (ten) standard 300 watt metal halide floodlights are aimed at the target wall and are to be turned on no less than one hour before SCP-712-1 is connected to a power supply to ensure that the color temperature has stabilized at 5000 K. These floodlights are shuttered as a component of the fail-secure system.
A fail secure system is installed in the room. During operation, the floodlights will be shuttered and the panel in front of the emitting lens will retract. The researcher conducting an experiment must maintain constant pressure on a thumbswitch, and a bite plate will detect jaw clenching that may indicate a seizure. If pressure on the thumb switch is released, pressure on the bite plate exceeds normal limits, or power to the system is lost, the shutters covering the floodlights will drop away and the light absorbing panel will drop into place in front of SCP-712-1's emitting lens.
All personnel and test subjects who are present when SCP-712-1 is powered are to be administered vision tests to measure distance vision, near vision, and color perception before entering the room and immediately after leaving. Unless authorized by Dr. ███████ in writing and approved by a Level 4 staff member, no individual who exhibits any degree of colorblindness is permitted to enter the room. Individuals who exhibit diminished visual ability after an experiment will be held for observation for 24 hours and tested before being released. Any individual who continues to exhibit diminished visual ability after the 24 hour observation period will be prohibited from working with SCP-712 and reassigned to a non-research position for an additional 30 days. Individuals exhibiting diminished visual ability after 30 days will be permanently reassigned. No individual who exhibits any diminished visual ability after 24 hours may be assigned to experiment further on SCP-712.
Research on SCP-712 is coordinated by Dr. ███████.
Description: SCP-712 is a pair of colors designated SCP-712-a and SCP-712-b, produced by the light-generating apparatus SCP-712-1. SCP-712-a is described by test subjects as "reddish green" and SCP-712-b is described by test subjects as "yellowish blue." While prior published research into impossible colors had achieved limited success by projecting one of two component colors into each eye of participants, SCP-712-a and SCP-712-b are each discrete colors. While the colors of SCP-712 can be perceived by human subjects, their wavelengths are expressed as imaginary numbers rather than wavelengths found in the visible spectrum. Specific information can be found in Dr. ███████'s research notes.
Subjects who view these colors report feelings of unease or awe, with neither corresponding to particular post-exposure effects. Approximately 26% of subjects experience no effects after viewing SCP-712. Approximately 74% of subjects experience diminished visual ability after viewing SCP-712; approximately 95% of subjects who initially display diminished visual ability recover within 24 hours. Approximately 1% of subjects who experienced diminished visual ability after 24 hours did not recover.
SCP-712-1 is a light-emitting apparatus that was removed from the laboratory of Dr. ██████ ███████████ at █████████ University.
The apparatus is mounted on a vibration damping base. Components are labeled with stamped metal plates, and a plate at the front of the apparatus is stamped "f=9907mm." A cord with four wires protrudes from the power supply, which is labeled in permanent marker "220v."
The major components of SCP-712-1 are the following:
— A power supply that connects to a standard US 220 V three-phase outlet
— A diode-pumped laser emitter that produces light at ███ nm
— An oscillator-controlled ring electromagnet that surrounds the laser module connected to power by a two-position switch with positions labeled "a" and "b"
— A series of beam splitters that divide the beam into 8 optical fibers of varying lengths and arranged in various geometric patterns
— A set of 8 fluorite lenses that focus the output of the optical fibers onto the emitting lens; each lens is mounted on a unique keyed base and fits into one of two slots labeled "a" or "b"
— A 10 cm lens made from a dense material with a refractive index of [REDACTED]; this element can be rotated around its optical axis by a metal peg attached to its edge that locks into two positions labeled "a" and "b." This is the emitting lens of SCP-712-1
Do not make any adjustments to SCP-712-1 unless you have verified that power is disconnected. If you feel that basic safety rules do not apply to you, I will be more than happy to reassign you to a position in which your risk of injury will be limited to papercuts and writer's cramp. - Dr. ███████
The main switch, keyed lens bases, and emitting lens are connected to a safety interlock that disconnects power to the laser emitter unless all components are set to either "a" or "b."
Common Effects of SCP-712:
The following effects have been observed in subjects exposed to SCP-712:
— Perceived desaturation when viewing colors in the visible spectrum after viewing SCP-712. After viewing SCP-712-1a, subjects perceive desaturation of yellow and blue colors; after viewing SCP-712-1b, subjects perceive desaturation of red and green colors. This is the most commonly reported effect.
— Viewing SCP-712 has triggered severe migraine headaches with visual aura in subjects predisposed to migraines on several occasions.
— Diminished ability of the subject's eyes to focus visible wavelengths of light while retaining the ability to focus SCP-712 wavelengths.
— Temporary complete blindness to the visible spectrum has been observed in two subjects. Both subjects recovered within the 30 day observation period.
— Grand Mal seizures. Before the recovery of SCP-712-1, Dr. ██████ ███████████ appeared to have suffered a Grand Mal seizure. During initial experimentation, two subjects diagnosed with epilepsy suffered seizures.

+ Recovery Log

- Recovery Log

Recovery of SCP-712-1:
The Foundation was alerted to a possible anomalous object when Dr. ██████ ███████████, a respected professor of Physics at █████████ University was institutionalized following a reported nervous breakdown resulting in a fugue state lasting several days. Dr. ███████████ is a highly respected expert in sensitometry and had been expanding on Crane and Piantanida's research into human perception of "impossible colors" for three years prior to the recovery of SCP-712-1.
Research assistants studying under Dr. ███████████ found him unconscious in his optics laboratory on July 02, 2009, after apparently having ripped the power cord of SCP-712-1 from a bench power supply during a grand mal seizure. Foundation investigators posing as doctors with the state's Department of Mental Health interviewed Dr. ███████████'s assistants and found that Dr. ███████████ "had always been obsessive about his work," often working long hours, a tendency that was also reported by former colleagues. Research assistants reported that Dr. ███████████ had recently begun to exhibit signs of severe stress, working around the clock and sleeping for short periods of time in his lab so as to devote more time to his work. Several interviewees noted that Dr. ███████████ had recently begun to make remarks about "doing the impossible" and discovering "the next level of human perception," but that he was secretive about his work and refused to allow colleagues and research staff into his laboratory beginning three weeks prior to his seizure and breakdown.
Foundation staff searched Dr. ███████████'s laboratory and found SCP-712-1 mounted to a table with the emitting lens aimed at an 18% grey optical target placed 9907 mm from the emitting lens. On a desk behind SCP-712-1 were a single page of handwritten calculations describing the two output wavelengths of SCP-712, and a journal of notes. SCP-712 is referred to simply as "The Machine." The contents of the second page detailed observations of SCP-712-1's effects and Dr. ███████████'s personal notes. The content of the pages are transcribed as follows
Page 1: [DATA EXPUNGED]
Journal: [DATA EXPUNGED]
Dr. ███████████'s handwriting becomes progressively less legible toward the end of the journal as he describes growing effects of observing SCP-712. He makes several mentions of protecting others and keeping them away from SCP-712.
After reviewing Dr. ███████████'s writings, Foundation personnel recovered SCP-712. A cover story was presented to Dr. ███████████'s colleagues and researchers explaining that his research into LASER technology had been classified as a matter of national security. All individuals agreed to sign nondisclosure agreements and were subsequently administered Class A amnestics and implanted with false memories; research assistants were paid stipends as compensation. SCP-712-1 was removed and transported to Site-19.

+ Personal Notes of Dr. ███████

- Personal Notes of Dr. ███████

Research notes of Dr. ███████:
09-August-2008
I've run the calculations a dozen times, but I still can't figure out where ███████████ got these variables. Bypass the safety on the magnets and the beams cancel each other at the emitting lens. Rotate the lens to the wrong position and you get a blur. If the lenses don't The magnet is epoxied in place and I can't remove it without damaging it irreparably. As close as I can approximate, the field it generates is [REDACTED] oscillating cleanly from positive to negative at [REDACTED]. Everything should be well within the visible spectrum, but I can't figure out how the magnet does what he says it does or exactly how that lens focuses light at [REDACTED]. I'm submitting a request for human testing.
13-August-2008
I've made no progress on the math and neither have any of the Foundation's other physicists. The emitting lens seems to have a refractive index that varies significantly across the visible spectrum and the plot definitely isn't linear, it's almost asymptotic at certain points. I have a hunch, but I don't have the equipment at this site to test it and I'm going to have to wait at least a few days. Hopefully I'll be able to test it soon. It sounds crazy, but I'm inclined to trust Dr. ███████████'s research; [REDACTED]
14-August-2008
We carried out the first test today. [DATA EXPUNGED]
[The remainder of this log is awaiting declassification]

« SCP-711 | SCP-712 | SCP-713 »


Photosynthetic

SCP-713 - Click Anywhere Computer by Photosynthetic

More by this author

Item#: 713

Level2

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
dark

Risk Class:
caution

link to memo

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-713 is to be kept in a standard Safe-class inanimate-object containment cell at Site ██. Standard positive-action defenses are to remain in place at all times. It is not to be plugged in while stored.
Description: SCP-713 is a desktop personal computer running Windows 95. It bears no external manufacturer's markings, but internal inspection reveals it to be composed entirely of hardware commercially available in the late 1990s. The keyboard and mouse connectors are soldered into their sockets, and there are no ports available for peripherals except the monitor. The computer has no Internet capability. The hard drive contains assorted commercially available software, including [DATA EXPUNGED] office suite, [DATA EXPUNGED] image-editing software, and Solitaire.
SCP-713's mouse may be used to move its cursor off the screen. The cursor does not change size or appearance, remaining two-dimensional (though capable of moving in three dimensions; the scroll wheel controls the z-direction) and resembling a light projection without an apparent source. It may be used to "click and drag" individual items. Dragged objects' size and mass do not seem to impede it: it has demonstrated the ability to exert forces of at least 150 kN. Care must be taken in use of the object, as sudden flicks of the wrist coupled with poorly-timed release of the left mouse button have resulted in damage to the containment room's walls.
The right mouse button does not appear to function when the cursor is outside the monitor. However, when the word-processing program is open on the monitor, left-clicking on a sheet of writing material produces a cursor like that of a word processor. Typing then results in letters, in composition apparently identical to the cursor although [DATA EXPUNGED], appearing on the writing material. They linger as long as the computer is operating, disappear when it is shut down, and reappear upon restarting the computer and re-opening the word processor. The image-editing software's effects are similar, though much broader in scope. The Solitaire game may be played using ordinary playing cards.
Every effort must be made to avoid crashing SCP-713. When the machine locks up, its cursor either disappears immediately, dropping any held object, or [DATA EXPUNGED] consistent with crushing forces of over ████ kN. Other error types have commensurately more damaging results. See experiment logs and incident reports for further details.
Addendum: Writing materials tested to date with SCP-713's word processor include copy paper, college-ruled notebook paper (text conformed to the lines), handmade vellum, tracing paper, [DATA EXPUNGED], a chalkboard, and a blank wall. Testing is ongoing.
Note: I will shoot the next son of a bitch that pulls a lens flare out of this thing. –Dr. █████████
Note: Testing has been suspended after Incident 713-03, in which D-713-233 "dragged" D-713-054 into the "Trash". Until D-713-054's fate has been determined, access to SCP-713 is denied without express authorization from Level 4 staff or higher.
Note: Further testing authorized. See Experiment Log 713 for details.

« SCP-712 | SCP-713 | SCP-714 »


SCP-714 shortly after retrieval.

Item #: SCP-714
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-714 is to be stored in a reinforced, high-security locker that is to be accessible only to Level 4+ personnel, due to several incidents of misuse.
Description: Seemingly nothing more than a green jade ring, SCP-714 has been shown to be able to expand and contract to perfectly fit the finger of anyone who touches it, though this is the least important of its properties. SCP-714 only changes size when touched by a 'new' subject.
SCP-714 has several major effects, detailed as follows;
1) Exhaustion, Compulsion to Rest/Sleep
Within minutes of putting on SCP-714, wearers report feeling worn out - physically and mentally exhausted. Due to this, they will feel driven to "sit down and rest for a bit" on the nearest available furniture, and will likely fall asleep within the space of a few hours. If someone falls asleep wearing SCP-714, the only known means of waking them is to remove SCP-714, at which point they may be roused by anything that would normally wake them up. Exhaustion effects pass within two or three hours of removing SCP-714 if removed from a conscious subject; those that fall asleep wearing SCP-714 report feeling well-rested if SCP-714 is removed, even if they slept for only a few minutes.
SCP-714 extends no 'considerations' towards the needs of its wearer during their forced sleep, though most bodily functions such as breathing continue. If SCP-714 is not removed and the wearer woken up, most will die of dehydration or starvation within a matter of days. SCP-714's impact (if any) on aging remains untested.
Wearers that are tired prior to putting SCP-714 are at serious risk of falling asleep on their feet, possibly falling over in the process. If no furniture or furniture-like object is available nearby, wearers either stand on the spot they donned SCP-714 or attempt to fashion a resting place out of any suitable materials (cushions, blankets, etc.) available.
The drive to sleep can be resisted, but requires formidable willpower and self-control on the part of the wearer. Even so, the following effect makes it impractical for field use.
2) Slowed Reactions, Sluggish Movement
Subjects suffer from severely impaired reaction times; a normally sharp, alert and physically fit subject can have a hard time catching a slow-moving object thrown to them, even if warned and given ample time to prepare. Anyone wearing SCP-714 should not be allowed to operate any heavy machinery or other vehicles under any circumstances.
Wearers of SCP-714 move much slower than normal, managing an average walking pace at best. Their movements are not physically slower, but they are incapable of exerting themselves.
3) Reduced Mental Capacity
Seemingly as part of the mental fatigue, anyone wearing SCP-714 claims that they 'think slowly', or may even have trouble finding the words to adequately communicate that they cannot think as clearly as normal. The wearer may take a long time to think of an answer to a trivial question (eg; "What colour is this red ball?"), never mind one that is vague or requires a more complicated response.
With removal of SCP-714, mental capacity is restored to normal within a few minutes.
4) Mental 'Shield'
As a dubious "benefit" of seemingly reduced mental capacity, wearers of SCP-714 show abnormally high resilience to memetic and mental influences, particularly commands or immediate effects. Weaker memetic influences may be totally nullified by this. In both cases, the wearer feels a strong and instinctive fear of the source of the influence; this fear drives them to immediately seek 'shelter' by any means available, potentially by attempting to destroy the source. This 'shielding' lasts only for as long as SCP-714 is worn.
They are still at significant risk if exposed to any memetic influences that do not take immediate effect. Exposure to such influences should be handled as normal for the source in question, as the degree of 'protection' afforded by SCP-714 has yet to be fully documented.
In addition, 'normal' images and sounds that would cause revulsion, nausea, etc. simply due to shocking or disturbing content have next to no effect on the wearer of SCP-714. The wearer will not even recall seeing them once SCP-714 is removed. Mundane persuasion (such as motivational speeches) has no effect, regardless of the speaker's skill and charisma.
5) Chemical Tolerance
Just as their minds block memetic influences, the bodies of SCP-714 wearers slows and nullifies the effects of various chemicals on the body. Fully poisonous or toxic substances are generally not hindered, but those that specifically impede or enhance neural and/or nervous functions in some way (such as stimulants or sedatives) have very diminished effects. With the removal of SCP-714, this nullification effect expires instantly. Wearers may still suffer from standard overdose effects whilst wearing SCP-714.

The manner (or manners) in which SCP-714 causes its various effects has yet to be discovered, and no unusual emissions of any kind have been detected despite extensive monitoring. If SCP-714 is significantly damaged in any way, such as being broken into two or more pieces, its effects will cease immediately. If the pieces of SCP-714 are then placed within close proximity, they will gradually reform back into a whole copy of SCP-714, flowing as if made of liquid. Once SCP-714 is fully reformed, its functions return as if it was never damaged. Grinding SCP-714 down to a fine powder did nothing to impede its "self-repair" behaviour either, though the process did take considerably longer. Though the exact nature of this self-repair behaviour has not been determined as of this time, it is thought SCP-714 could theoretically recover from complete vaporization, however due to SCP-714's low threat level this has been deemed an unnecessary use of resources. Footage sequences of SCP-714 reforming from various states of disrepair are available upon request from Dr. █████ or other appropriate sources.
Attempts to track the history and ownership of SCP-714 have proven futile due to the nature of its recovery; Agent ████████ reported feeling abnormally drowsy even after several mugs of strong coffee, and was found to be wearing SCP-714 with no memory of having come into possession of it. Agent ████████ has been reprimanded as appropriate, and measures have been taken to ensure SCP-714 stays in its locker at all times.
The draining effects and compulsion to rest make use of SCP-714 as a protective measure against certain SCPs highly impractical. At this time SCP-714 is not believed to have any other serious effects, beyond the danger of dehydration and starvation of personnel who fall asleep wearing SCP-714 as a result of being unable to rouse themselves for sustenance.
—
Experimentation Notes: Text Transcripts of Audio Logs, Compiled by Dr. █████
Entry of 01-05-20██
"So far all attempts to find the cause of SCP-714's effects have proven fruitless. I don't think I need to emphasise how useful this could be if we could pull it off without the negative effects, but so far everything we've tried has come up with blanks, hence SCP-714's ongoing Safe/Euclid classification. We know what it does but not how it does it. As much as I want to say it's 100% safe, there's something about it that's not quite right about it."
Entry of 12-05-20██
"Still making very little headway. Trying to acquire a date on SCP-714 has given us mixed results. Parts of it date back as far as very early AD, circa 100 to 200, and are probably from China. Other samples are, relatively speaking, more recent… like it's been made out of multiple pieces, though it is without question a single, structurally flawless jade ring. On the plus side we've had some luck finding out who owned it before, thanks to a string of reports of jade statuettes going missing when a ring matching SCP-714's description was in close proximity to them. What a coincidence, mm?"
"Perhaps SCP-714's curious regenerative and size-changing capabilities stem from, for lack of a better term, 'assimilating' other pieces of jade? Analysis has shown that SCP-714 is much higher density than average jade, but is apparently no heavier. Could be some form of extradimensional storage, as weird as that sounds? Sure is one way of carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, heh."
Entry of 27-05-20██
"Okay, so a bit more luck on the tracking front. It was originally found in the late 1800s — that is, around the 1870s to 1880s — by an archaeologist who traveled around the world, seeking jade artifacts, such as statuettes and figurines that might be found in tombs or forgotten temples. He was hunting a tomb said to be rich in them… of course, he eventually found and entered it, finding only SCP-714 in terms of jade artifacts. Puzzling. Very few historical documents describe anything that matches SCP-714, so it's hard to say how old it really is. Vexing."
"The archaeologist's personal diaries have not survived the ages well unfortunately, and his handwriting leaves much to be desired, so it is difficult to tell whether or not he wore SCP-714 and documented the effects of it whilst it was in his possession, or whether he never considered wearing it. What I can make out is that he quickly disposed of the ring after a number of his collection pieces went 'missing' after spending the night in proximity to the ring, with no signs of break-in or theft…"

« SCP-713 | SCP-714 | SCP-715 »


Item #: SCP-716
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Containment area is to be coated in lead shielding both inside and out. Should any section of the shielding become damaged, replacement plates are to be installed immediately. Chains and plates used to secure SCP-716 are to have lead shielding as well, and are to be replaced as soon as wear or corrosion is observed.
SCP-716 is to remain pointing at an external wall at all times. Should SCP-716 break containment and forcibly exit the containment area, recovery teams are to monitor SCP-716 and attempt recovery only when SCP-716 comes to rest. Recovery while still in motion may only be attempted with approval from O5 Command.
Areas with long-term exposure are to be sterilized after SCP-716 removal. Any biological organisms affected by SCP-716 are to be terminated unless required for testing. No humans are to enter R.E.M. sleep within two hundred meters of SCP-716 if uncontained, one hundred meters if contained. Anything exiting [DATA EXPUNGED]
No entry of SCP-716 is permitted at any time. Entry for testing purposes must be approved by Site Command.
Description: SCP-716 is a large locomotive and a variable number of cars, between eight and twenty on average. Both the locomotive and cars appear to be in an advanced state of neglect. Physical damage dealt to SCP-716 appears to slowly “regenerate” over time; however, it maintains an appearance of extreme neglect and rust. SCP-716 can be physically moved with difficulty; however, the locomotive appears to be unable to function normally and appears to be missing many critical parts.
SCP-716 exhibits a select form of inconsistent topography. While appearing to have a set number of rail cars from outside observation, the train exhibits an apparently unlimited amount of cars when entered. Almost all of these cars are enclosed and appear to be of random types (passenger, tanker, animal transport, mail, etc.). Many of them exhibit other anomalous properties, such [DATA EXPUNGED]. Some notable and recurring cars are a horse transport car with horse corpses hanging from ropes made of sheep tendon, a tanker car filled with a mixture of crude oil and human bile, a large transport car filled with stacks of keys made of many different materials, [DATA EXPUNGED].
SCP-716 is also capable of two forms of transport/movement. To begin with, it can travel and move in a manner consistent with a locomotive of similar dimensions despite the lack of vital parts, any form of fuel, or conductor. SCP-716 is capable of reaching speeds in excess of ███ km/h and can do so in a very short period of time. While it appears to “prefer” traveling on current or former rail tracks, SCP-716 is capable of “over land” movement as well, in a manner similar to SCP-1489. Observation of SCP-716 engaging in this movement in a urban area shows that activities that would damage/disable a normal locomotive (such as penetrating a three meter thick brick wall) do not impair SCP-716 in any perceivable way.
The second transportation/movement form exhibited by SCP-716 has only been observed with human subjects on board. The probability of triggering this mode appears to be largely random, but is more common in cases of groups of five or more subjects. Subjects report that SCP-716 will suddenly “shift” and begin to move, rapidly accelerating to top speed. Outside observation will show that regardless of subject reports and received data, SCP-716 remains completely still. Once SCP-716 begins this form of transportation/movement, subjects become unrecoverable.
SCP-716 also exhibits properties [DATA EXPUNGED](1)
Subjects exiting SCP-716 during the second form of transportation/movement [DATA EXPUNGED] (2)

Addendum:

[DATA RECOVERY (1): Level 2 Clearance required]

Consistent with a form of unknown radiation. This effect appears to emanate from SCP-716, and appears to expand the longer SCP-716 remains stationary in a location. Effects include:
<Expanded list and definitions with cited examples available from Central Records by request>

Alterations in the size/shape/behavior of local flora and fauna
Mass “suicides” and die-offs of local flora and fauna
Alteration in weather patterns and severity
Genetic damage, behavior alteration, and physical deformity in humans
Hallucinations (auditory, tactile, olfactory, visual)

Also of note is the behavior exhibited by individuals entering R.E.M. sleep within this “area of affect”. Subjects, after entering R.E.M. sleep, will begin to “sleepwalk” in the direction of SCP-716, even in individuals with no history of nocturnal disturbance. Subjects allowed to enter SCP-716 will enter the fetal position on the floor of one of the train cars, and continue sleeping normally. Groups of people entering in this way have been shown to be capable of triggering the second form of transportation/movement exhibited by SCP-716.

[DATA RECOVERY (2): Level 4 Clearance required]

Report seeing a vast, empty plane of hard-packed earth. This plane appears almost totally featureless, and without any sort of border. The only feature of any kind is “a endless string of train cars, going from one horizon to the other.” This is assumed to be SCP-716. Tests have shown the environment to be totally sterile, and lacking in any source of water. The plane appears to go through a 72 hour day-night cycle, with what is reported as a “too large sun” and no moon.
Subjects are still able to send and receive radio and other transmissions but they experience a progressive breakdown in clarity, with communication rendered impossible after approximately one month. This same property is exhibited by communication devices within SCP-716 itself.
Exploration and testing have raised [DATA EXPUNGED: RELEASE BY O5 ORDER ONLY]

« SCP-715 | SCP-716 | SCP-717 »


Item #: SCP-717
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-717 is encased within Site-██, publicly known as the ██████████ Observatory. Observatory dome must remain closed from 10:30pm to 3:30am or when SCP-717 is active. A minimum of twelve armed guards are to be stationed outside Site-██ during all hours. Flamethrowers and flash-bang grenades are to be secured in the guardhouse in case of emergency.
Internal temperature of Site-██ is not to exceed 10 degrees Celsius. Only one of Site-██'s internal spotlights can be on at any time, but should be dimmed if SCP-717 is active. No more than 3 (three) persons may enter at any time, and no more than 2 (two) of these may be on-site security. Visiting staff are advised to wear warm, darkly colored clothing and light-amplification visors while within Site-██. Staff are permitted to bring flashlights or flares but may not use them outside of an emergency. No radios or cell-phones permitted.
If SCP-717's containment becomes compromised for any reason, all floodlights within Site-██ are to be activated and sirens are to sound within the facility. All personnel are to evacuate the site and equip flamethrowers until receiving further instructions.
See description for procedures relating to SCP-717's individual components.
Description: SCP-717 is the ruins of a two-story Victorian style home hidden within Site-██, specifically the remains of the guest bedroom on the upper story. Although the walls of the hallway leading to SCP-717 have burnt through, the doorway to the room is to remain closed at all times. Staff are required to knock gently upon the door once for each member of staff present before entering, even for routine maintenance. All other doors within the house have been removed.
SCP-717-1 is a white cloth mannequin and is to be kept within this room at all times, preferably seated before its table. Staff are to note its position and markings once per day. Any changes or signs of movement are to be reported immediately. A lamp, set of writing implements, large block letters and a modified Ouija board must be kept on the table before SCP-717-1.
No other items are to be placed on this table. If SCP-717-1 shows signs of movement, one staff member is to sit at the table and remain in the room with it. The staff member present must turn on the lamp and point at the word "WAIT" on the modified Ouija board, then immediately shut the lamp off. Staff is advised to remain quiet and breathe steadily until relieved.
SCP-717-2 is sealed behind a titanium alloy vault door, lined with a plating of [REDACTED] alloy. It is mounted on the wall behind SCP-717-1. The vault is to remain sealed per mutual agreement. If any whistling is heard from the vault, maintenance must be performed immediately to prevent a breach.
If the SCP-717-2 vault is breached from the far side, it is to be considered a hostile act. Communication with SCP-717 is to immediately cease and staff are to equip weapons to repel invaders.
Addendum: Unauthorized staff are not permitted to communicate with SCP-717-1 beyond requesting its patience while authorized personnel arrive. This can possibly take days, and SCP-717-1 should understand this. Prolonged exposure to SCP-717-1 can produce feelings of unease and discomfort. This is attributed to its jerky, twitching movements as well as the mannequin's limp neck and unnatural chill. Although direct exposure to the entity within SCP-717-1 has been shown to cause [DATA EXPUNGED] therefore it can safely be assumed that SCP-717 is even less enthusiastic about contact than we are.
If authorized personnel do not arrive within 24 hours, staff on site may leave the room after tapping the word "WAIT" three times in succession. A member of staff is to return once every 24 hours to ask SCP-717-1 to "WAIT" again until authorized personnel arrive.
Personnel with BETA clearance or higher should see also document #017-1.
Incident Log
Testimony of survivor M███ E████ H██████, age 17, Jan 31st 1962.

Ms. H██████: … [we] came to this house because we heard all the old rumors about it, about the old cult that used to worship in its basement, and we wanted to see if we could use our Ouija board to contact the spirits here. At first all we found was construction stuff and the whole place smelled of paint. We looked around in the basement and a lot of the furniture had been moved down there and covered with sheets and I remember seeing it there now that I think about it.
Agent ████: Seeing what?
Ms. H██████: The dummy, it was hanging on a hook, leaning against a wardrobe. We all laughed at it, thought it was a ghost at first. Then we went upstairs and lit some candles and got out the board.
Agent ████: Then what happened?
Ms. H██████: Right away it got really, really cold. We started asking questions and every answer we got was GET OUT and then ████ grabbed the pointer and just kept spelling STOP over and over. ████ said her hands were numb and she couldn't move them on her own. The candles were flickering but there were shadows on the board that weren't moving… then there was this loud banging in the basement and I got up to run but I tripped.
Ms. H██████ takes several minutes to compose herself before continuing.
Ms. H██████: I think that's when the candles got knocked over… All the fresh paint and fumes…
Agent ████: The fire was an accident. I just need you to focus on the incident.
Ms. H██████: There was something dark staining the wallpaper and it started peeling away all over the room. I think there was writing under the paper, some of it was already there. This wind came from nowhere, like everything was being sucked towards the dark spot in the wall, but it just made the flames get bigger. The flames were between me and the others, that's why I… When it came through the wall ████ just broke… like a statue. Like she was frozen. It was like waves of black curtains blowing out of the wall, and there was this wailing. There were hands and faces and other things grabbing at the others, smothering them, but they couldn't get through the flames to me. I ran downstairs and the basement door was slamming open and shut. I had to pass it to get to the front door and that thing, the dummy, it skittered up the stairs like a bug and its hands were covered with blood. It was climbing the walls and it tore at all the wallpaper, smearing that blood all over. It wouldn't let me leave, it never touched me but it would get in my way. Make me look at it.
Agent ████: Was it writing on the walls?
Ms. H██████: It wrote STOP STOP STOP all over the walls and doors. The fire was coming closer so I shoved at it. It started burning and then it was bleeding, blood was gushing from its stomach and face while it tried to crawl out of the fire. Some of its blood got on me as I ran out the door.
Ms. H██████: I could see the fire trucks coming, but when they came, the firemen ran right past me. They didn't see me where I fell in the bushes, and they never came back out. I didn't feel it at the time, but that thing's blood, it made my legs numb. They're broken too, aren't they? They broke apart like ████ did. Please tell me, the doctors won't let me look…

Ms. H██████ was treated with Class A Amnestic and the remains of her legs were amputated. Tissue damage was consistent with the frozen remains recovered from the ashes. The mannequin showed no unusual properties after being removed from the site of SCP-717. The stains on its hands were from black paint found in the basement, not blood. No unexpected substance was found in its material.
Contact was established with the SCP-717 entity/entities after a second mannequin animated in the basement. Containment procedures were agreed upon and SCP-717 was dormant for the next thirty years until it became active to negotiate the cessation of certain activities. Under no circumstances are any containment staff to enter into negotiations with SCP-717.

« SCP-716 | SCP-717 | SCP-718 »


Item #: SCP-718
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: No long-term observation is to be made of SCP-718. Any and all observation and interaction is to be restricted to five and ten minute periods, with personnel rotations every twenty-four hours. Extreme care must be taken with SCP-718, and full hazmat suits are mandatory for all personnel. Any damage done to SCP-718 must be reported as soon as possible.
Any personnel observing or interacting with SCP-718 for longer than the advised period must be removed, with force if necessary. Any personnel acting in an erratic or violent manner will be transferred.
Description: SCP-718 is an eye, roughly the size of a baseball. It is supported by a long, thin stalk made of tendon and blood vessels. It stands 1.22m (4ft) tall, and appears to need no nourishment, nor excrete any waste. The eye will turn and follow any living thing in its field of vision. The stalk is capable of limited movement, and will follow living things for a short distance. SCP-718 will also stare at any observational equipment in its containment area if no living things are present. SCP-718 appears to prefer staring at humans more than other animals.
SCP-718's stare can induce discomfort and paranoia in a very short time, often resulting in a subject's attempt to destroy SCP-718. The eye, if damaged, will explode, showering clear fluid on all nearby surfaces before shriveling into powder. Anything the fluid touches will develop a clear blister-like bubble that slowly turns black. After twenty-four hours, the "blister" will burst, and a 20.32cm (8in) copy of SCP-718 will emerge, growing to full size over the course of a few days. This has been shown to occur on all organic surfaces, and many inorganic.
On living subjects, copies of SCP-718 are permanently affixed. Attempts to surgically remove SCP-718 cause extreme pain in the subject, though removal is possible. Aside from a vague and persistent desire to destroy other copies of SCP-718, the host suffers from no ill effects after removal.
If SCP-718 is not removed from a living subject, testing indicates that the subject becomes able to 'see' through SCP-718. Vision with SCP-718 is different, as [DATA EXPUNGED] is now visible, at the expense of more conventional sight. This has an extremely detrimental effect on subjects, drastically lowering mental stability and often leading to suicide. The death of a host will cause SCP-718 to burst.
Eighty-six instances of SCP-718 are currently contained within the containment chamber.

« SCP-717 | SCP-718 | SCP-719 »