text
stringlengths
0
2.15k
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-270’s immovable nature, a structure has been built around it that outwardly appears to be a large farmhouse, henceforth called Outpost Delta. Outpost Delta is to be staffed with a minimum of β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ trained personnel.
Extensive records of SCP-270’s ciphers are kept at Site-11. Extensive records of decoded ciphers are available in β–ˆ-β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ, β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ.
If the security of Outpost Delta is compromised, SCP-270 is to be destroyed, along with all on-base records of verified or unverified information accumulated, and manuscripts outlining various encryptions SCP-270 has used.
Description: SCP-270 is a nondescript black phone of mid-20th century make.
There were no human populations exceeding β–ˆβ–ˆ people per β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ square meters within a β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ radius of the location of discovery, and SCP-270 itself was well hidden by surrounding native vegetation. The unusual properties of SCP-270 were apparent upon discovering that the power cord extended an indefinite length into the soil directly below SCP-270, despite which a steady voice was speaking through the earphone. Investigations regarding how long the cord is have since been officially discontinued (see Addendum 270-A).
What makes SCP-270 of continued interest is the audio stream from the earphone, which has since been discovered to contain encrypted messages that are of value to the Foundation. Said ciphers are referred to as SCP-270-1.
For the most part, SCP-270-1 consists of a mildly distorted human female voice (see Addendum 270-B) speaking in a steady monotone, which has been recorded listing names, cryptic phrases, patterns of numbers, quotes, mangled quotes, strings of letters, [DATA EXPUNGED] incomprehensible words, sounds that cannot be produced by any known animal that continue for extended amounts of time (β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ unconfirmed languages have been distinguished to date, β–ˆβ–ˆ of which are reoccurring), monologues, nursery rhymes, [REDACTED] leading to speculation as to whether or not the narrator is in fact human, etc.
The following have also been recorded: melodies, periods of silence (see Addendum 270-C), metallic scraping noises, metallic scraping noises that have been looped and re-calibrated so they play roughly in the same tune as several classical music tunes and a handful of [DATA EXPUNGED], Morse code, [REDACTED] human screaming, various computer programming languages, every known language on earth (including, in one incident, Pig Latin), [DATA EXPUNGED] possibly of biological origin, condescending laughter, music, music played backwards, music [REDACTED], conversations that have evidently been recorded ranging from [REDACTED] politically significant and extensively protected area to what was most likely an average household, discussing what grocery supplies to buy from the supermarket, static, ambient soundtracks, etc.
A demonstrative sample of SCP-270-1 can be found here.
SCP-270 is otherwise a perfectly normal phone and is susceptible to damage as similar phones would be. Disassembly has not uncovered the source of SCP-270’s unusual properties.
Speaking into SCP-270 has no effect on SCP-270-1. Currently disputed, refer to Incident-270-β–ˆ in which [DATA EXPUNGED].
Attempts to decipher SCP-270-1 have yielded partial successes. In one notable case, a complicated cipher proved to be an intensive description of an SCP-β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ€™s imminent attempt to breach containment. Evidence of such was found in the [REDACTED] of SCP-β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ€™s containment. Containment breach was accordingly prevented. Decoded portions have alternately been startlingly useful to the Foundation, and immensely frustrating to both personnel working on SCP-270-1 and Foundation officials. For example, one β–ˆβ–ˆ-hour study of what seemed to be a significant cipher proved to translate into a long and painstakingly thorough list of extremely unofficial synonyms for a human β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ.
Likewise, information gained from SCP-270-1 have both [DATA EXPUNGED] preventing a possible XK-class end-of-the-world scenario, and listed β€˜secret ingredients’ of Dr. Rβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ€™s widely praised cherry pie. As it is impossible to determine how useful portions of SCP-270-1 will be, personnel are advised to choose whatever segments of SCP-270-1 they deem to be most promising. However, some portions of cipher are either too intricately encrypted for our most perspicacious personnel to decode, or indeed may hold no meaning at all.
Attempts to decode SCP-270-1 are continually ongoing (see Addenda 270-D and 270-E).
Addendum 270-A: A probe was extended a total of β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ meters along the wire before the maximum extension length was reached. The matter has since been declared not of sufficient interest to merit a more thorough examination.
Addendum 270-B: As of β–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆ, β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ military time, the unidentified female voice of SCP-270-1 stuttered for β–ˆ seconds before breaking down into what researchers described as β€˜disconsolate sobs,’ pleading to be [REDACTED]. This continued for β–ˆβ–ˆ seconds before audio cut off abruptly to a β–ˆβ–ˆ-minute excerpt of SCP-270-1 from β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆ. Immediately afterwards, SCP-270-1 proceeded as usual, the only noticeable difference being that the voice narrating SCP-270-1 was male.
Addendum 270-C: Further examinations revealed that this was in fact not silence, but audio stimuli both too high or too low pitched for human perception. β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ additional unidentified languages have been discovered upon supplying Outpost Delta with appropriate audio equipment.
Addendum 270-D: As of late, SCP-270-1 has been becoming noticeably more difficult to decode. This includes utilizing more convoluted methods of encryption, loud background noises being added while the narrator is speaking, multiple voices speaking at once, and, in one case, loud [REDACTED] extremely personal details [REDACTED] Dr. Aβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ, who was visibly shaken by the event. Morale has since plummeted while stress levels have skyrocketed.
A computer program has been coded in order to automatically decode portions of SCP-270-1. A recreation wing has been added to Outpost Delta.
Addendum 270-E: Data Processor 270-1 has been discontinued. All attempts to electronically resolve portions of SCP-270-1 have thus far failed.
.
.
.
LEVEL 5 SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED
As of late, concerns have risen regarding the psychological states of personnel working on SCP-270.
What I’m talking about, of course, are the natural issues that arise when you have a situation like this. Namely, putting a bunch of highly intelligent, motivated, tenacious people together and ordering them to solve a puzzle that may or may not have a solution. And telling them that lives may depend upon their success or failure.
Recently, Dr. β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ, by some superhuman effort, cracked β–ˆβ–ˆ minutes’ worth of cipher that had been discarded by communal agreement as a β€˜dud’ and [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in the aversion of a β–ˆβ–ˆ end-of-the-world scenario. This has not been beneficial for the mental states of many personnel, as every β€˜dud’ they discard may contain information regarding an equally disastrous event. Since then, there have been rapidly emerging paranoia and/or obsession-related disorders. Some personnel are beginning to insist that the most trivial details of the cipher contain important messages, others have not slept or eaten in days in their pursuits, and still others have suffered from psychotic breakdowns.
Outpost Delta has since been supplied with more personnel in an attempt to spread the workload more thinly. However, the effects of having a few days of diligent work crumble into a β€˜dud,’ repeatedly, have proven to be an absolute disaster for morale and, at times, mental stability. Currently, we only have enough staff to decode roughly β–ˆβ–ˆ% of the cipher.
So far, reassigning personnel after a β–ˆβ–ˆ-month stay at Outpost Delta, applying Class A amnestics, and returning them to work on 270-1 at the end of a β–ˆβ–ˆ-month period of low-pressure jobs has worked fairly well as a short-term solution. This, however, requires a rather large number of personnel to be continually circulating in and out of Outpost Delta to maintain the minimum amount of staff required to decode the greater portion of what comes out of SCP-270.
In addition, long-term circulation through Outpost Delta has been shown to ingrain certain paranoid and obsessive mental behaviors that Class A amnestics don’t wipe clean.
[DATA EXPUNGED] nature of SCP-270, this is exactly what it wants, if certain people are to be trusted [DATA EXPUNGED] disconcerting to said O5 member. [REDACTED] not in fact a method of safe communication between unknown entities, as originally hypothesized, but rather [DATA EXPUNGED].
I request for this matter to be discussed more in-depth sometime in the near future.
-Dr. β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ
<|endoftext|>
[ Title: SCP-268 is a tweed-wool newsboy cap.; Genre: Scientific; Tags: 3rdperson; Style: Dark ]
***
Item #: SCP-268
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-268 is currently to be maintained within [DATA EXPUNGED], as it has been deemed that the chance of use for facilitation of escape by restricted personnel or humanoid SCP is too great. However, the possibility of use by field agents after further testing is under review. See addendum 268-05.
Description: SCP-268 is a tweed-wool newsboy cap. The design and make seem to be of Irish origin. Due to the style and fabric, it is estimated to have been created in the late 1800's to early 1900's, though fiber analysis is inconclusive. The only markings on the cap are a small label with writing in Middle Irish, reading "The Garden is the Serpent's Place." However, there are various indications that this label was sewn onto the cap in recent times.
Due to the nature of the artifact, testing has been extremely difficult. SCP-268 seems to be a normal hat until it is worn. Anyone wearing the hat, however, becomes suddenly and instantly unnoticeable. Subjects become unmemorable, thoroughly ignorable, or "taken for granted" by all observers. Observers, with specific prompting, are able to later recall physically seeing the subject, but can give no specific details other than "seeing a man with a hat". Observers seem to have the overwhelming feeling that the wearer is someone that was "supposed to be there", and thus did not merit thought or notice.
During initial testing, remote analysts completely forgot what they were supposed to be observing within the chamber, and it was not until the D-Class subject wearing SCP-268 spoke out loud that he was noticed again. Removal of the artifact, vocalization, and physical interaction with observers seem to be the only way in which wearers of SCP-268 can make themselves noticeable. Once an observer has been made to 'notice' a SCP-268-wearing individual, they slowly begin to ignore the subject once more unless kept actively engaged by the wearer.
Testing reveals that if a subject wears SCP-268 upwards of twenty (20) cumulative hours, its effects seem to linger, with diminished potency, on the subject even while not wearing the artifact. Testing in this area has been cautious due to the possibility of containment breaches, but one incident [see Addendum 268-04] has shown that if the artifact is worn long enough, that the effect is rendered permanent and unbreakable.
Extensive research is still unable to determine whether or not electronics are directly affected by SCP-268. Observers viewing an SCP-268-wearing subject through electronic means still have difficulty acknowledging the subject's existence, and even when noticed, observers report to be unable to see the face of the individual in question. Observers note pictures of SCP-268-wearing individuals as being "blurry", and digital media such as surveillance cameras is reported to become "grainy and unfocused". Research is unsure whether these alterations are extant and physical, or merely perceived due to SCP-268's properties. It should be noted that although capturing SCP-268 through visual electronic means has been difficult, motion-sensing, weight sensing, heat seeking and similar devices all trigger correctly when encountering an SCP-268-wearing subject.
Addendum 268-01: SCP-268 is noted to have some similarities to SCP-180. SCP-268, however, does not seem to function on inanimate objects, and more importantly does not directly steal the identity of its host. While SCP-180 causes its host to become unrecognizable after SCP-180 itself is removed and placed on another object, this seems to be a side-effect of its function of identity theft and transfer. Meanwhile, SCP-268 could be said to 'steal' the identity of long-time wearers as they become irrevocably forgotten. This has caused some speculation as to whether the items share similar origins, or whether the many similarities they share are merely coincidental.
Addendum 268-02: At Agent β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ's request, and after approval by Dr. β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ and Dr. Klein, SCP-268 is being used with agents in active field duty. Results thus far have been favorable.
Addendum 268-03: Field-Testing has been suspended. Though Agent β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ appears to have been on payroll and on records, no personnel, either on Site-β–ˆβ–ˆ or in higher command, remember knowing or hearing about an Agent β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. Further tests should be conducted only on D-Class personnel, and on no single individual for longer than ten (10) hours.
Addendum 268-04: SCP-268's effects seem to strengthen and become permanent as individual subjects wear the artifact for extended periods of cumulative time. There is a marked difference in the potency of SCP-268's effect on someone wearing it for the first time, and someone who has worn the artifact upwards of five hours on other occasions. For example, someone who has not worn the cap before seems to dispel its effects merely by speaking. Those who have worn the artifact on several occasions for extended amounts of time seem to be able to ask observers questions and receive answers with the observer having little to no recollection of the event. In one test, a subject who had worn the artifact for upwards of fifteen hours was able to ask standing personnel the test chamber's password, nearly causing a containment breach and the escape of D-Class personnel. The security personnel in question reported being unable to recall parting with the information in question. - Dr. Klein
Addendum 268-05: As of β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ, SCP-268 is missing. Its absence was discovered early in the morning by Agent β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ and research analysts, and in its place was a note reading "Thanks, I needed my hat back. ~ L.S." A full investigation of this security breach has been launched as of β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆ/β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ. Refer to [DATA EXPUNGED]
<|endoftext|>
[ Title: SCP-274 is a paint of variable color.; Genre: Scientific; Tags: 3rdperson; Style: Dark ]
***
Item #: SCP-274
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Any buildings found to be infected with SCP-274 are to be reported immediately to a superior and the leader of Mobile Task Force Pi-1 (β€œCity Slickers”). MTF Pi-1 is to incinerate cases of SCP-274-1, and secure the infected building(s) by forming a quarantine with a 1 kilometer radius under the guise of the local police and fire department. MTF Pi-1 is to terminate any cases of SCP-274-2 through the use of high-pressure fire hoses. Civilians insisting on entering an instance of SCP-274-1 are to be detained, and have one class B amnestic administered. Any apparatus used to contain or handle SCP-274 should either be incinerated, or entirely composed of metal or glass, and washed thoroughly immediately after use. The cover story for a containment breach of SCP-274 should be gang-related arson.
Description: SCP-274 is a paint of variable color. Buildings inflicted with SCP-274 appear to have large amounts of graffiti covering the sides of the building, and often have large, disturbing designs to them (see addendum-274). While its consistency is that of normal paint, its composition reveals it to be 28% hemoglobin, 12% gastric acid, and 60% common components consistent with Krylon brand spray paint.
When SCP-274 is applied to a wall, it will begin to spread until it has covered the wall and any walls attached to it. SCP-274 is unable to spread on metal, glass, and horizontal surfaces. While SCP-274 spreads on buildings, it will convert the interior of a wall into a large mesoglea, the interior walls into a gastrodermis, and the exterior walls act as a protective shell and epidermis. Buildings coated entirely with SCP-274 will become cases of SCP-274-1.
SCP-274-1 exhibit signs of life, react to stimuli, and behave in a manner similar to many species of the Anthozoa class. Buildings converted into SCP-274-1 lure passing civilians by emitting noises from inside SCP-274-1. Sounds of glass breaking, loud coughing, or pained whimpers have all been reported from D-class personnel. It is currently unknown whether SCP-274-1 or the SCP-274-2s are responsible for this behavior, as the noises stop immediately after entry.
Typically, civilians will either call the police, or investigate the noises themselves. As subjects search inside SCP-274-1, they will be recognized as food by instances of SCP-274-2, if any are present. When a victim enters a room inside SCP-274-1, barring the entry way they will immediately be suctioned into a gastrovacular cavity belonging to SCP-274-1, later processing them into SCP-274 and one instance of SCP-274-2.
Specimens of SCP-274-2 are organisms composed of SCP-274 that appear as men or women wearing a gas mask or respirator, along with a bright, pastel colored hoodie. SCP-274-2 is able to support its heavy weight by its thickness and density in its membrane, which consists of 45-50% of the mass of SCP-274-2.
SCP-274-2 act as nematocysts for SCP-274-1, and can disguise themselves by merging into the walls. This is done by heavily compacting themselves, and implanting itself into an interior wall, save for their 'mask', which flattens around the wall, and disguises itself as standard graffiti. This behavior has proven to be a means of ambushing food for SCP-274-1, and will only react when it detects something it considers a food source.
SCP-274-2 possess a hinged operculum that ejects SCP-274 located in their right hand. This operculum looks identical to a normal spray can, and can project SCP-274 in a similar manner. SCP-274-2 will attempt to spray SCP-274 into the eyes and mouth of its victims in an attempt to incapacitate and encapsulate them. This method of attack has shown to be very painful, and will blind and numb the victim from the neck down. Once tagged, the victim is placed into a gastrovascular cavity, resulting in a new SCP-274-2.
SCP-274-2 are able to duplicate themselves while inside an instance of SCP-274-1, and will produce one new SCP-274-2 every 24 hours. Once twelve SCP-274-2 specimens reside inside one SCP-274-1, further cases of SCP-274-2 will leave SCP-274-1 and find a new building to spray with SCP-274, while avoiding any people they may encounter. Once a building at least two kilometers away from another SCP-274-1 is found, the SCP-274-2 will spray SCP-274 onto the building until it has completely dehydrated itself of SCP-274, and dies, resulting in another instance of SCP-274-1. If left unchecked, it is estimated that SCP-274 could cover a large city within 20 days.
Addendum-274:
[+]Β SCP-274-1Β AppearanceΒ Log:
[-]Β SCP-274-1Β AppearanceΒ Log:
Date found:
Appearance
01/β–ˆβ–ˆ/2001
SCP-274-1-1 is painted to resemble a large bus with the number β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆ on its side. The front of the bus has been replaced by a human like face, and the back is on fire. Bus patrons all look towards the front of the bus, and do not seem to react to the fire.
04/β–ˆβ–ˆ/2006
SCP-274-1-2 is painted to look as if it's crumbling apart. At the base, people are illustrated to be running away from SCP-274-1-2, and a face can be seen forming from the falling rubble.
03/β–ˆβ–ˆ/2010
SCP-274-1-3 depicts a beach with three sharks in the water, and several people running from the shore. This scene is illustrated behind a large, cartoon tiki statue, which takes up most of the front of SCP-274-1-3.
08/β–ˆβ–ˆ/2011
SCP-274-1-4 illustrates what is presumed to be Noah's ark at sea. The creatures boarding the ark do not match any known species. The ark is depicted to have a face with several sharp teeth, and eyes devoid of pupils or irises.
11/β–ˆβ–ˆ/2011
SCP-274-1-5 depicts several figures in level three bio hazard suits at the base. Figures are seen fighting each other for what appears to be a bottle of hand-sanitizer. Several cadavers are piled on top of one another in the background, with a large green cloud in the shape of a canine-like face emitting from them. This face is shown laughing, presumably at the people fighting.