Had terrible week last week.
Get home Saturday.
Girlfriend has free movie tickets.
Go see Rango.
Somewhat enjoy it.
Suggest we get a pet chameleon.
Get refused.
Start feeling angry.
Get back to her place.
No Milo in pantry.
Really start getting angry.
Watch TV with her for a while.
She wants to watch some woman ****.
I say no.
She starts raising her voice.
I explode with rage because of all the anger that has built up in me.
Argue for hours.
Finally just lose it.
Mega punch her in mouth.
Leave.
Come back the next day to apologize.
Her sister is there.
Says a robber broke in last night and assaulted her and she is in hospital.
Rush to hospital.
Ask reception where she is.
Rush up elevator.
Find her room.
Open the door.
Get on the floor.
Everyone walk the dinosaur.
So you call the people in the fetish thread weird, but make this thread? :3
Anyways, the ones I tend to like are ones that could have someone make their own story, with the basic "scary" part being the same, such as slender man. A decent, but fairly long one is the Russian sleep experiment.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It's hard to follow your dreams when you run from your nightmares. --
One night, a couple are traveling on the road. As they are listening to the radio, when breaking news comes on. A patient from the local madhouse has escaped. The couple become filled with fear, so they decide to get to their house as soon as possible.
Unfortunatly, the car is almost out of gas. So they drive under a large oak tree, and they run out of gas. There is a sound in the bushes, and the guy decides to check it out. Before he leaves, he tells the girl to not leave, and three knocks will let her know that that’s him. So he leaves.
Time passes, and the girl becomes worried. But she hears three knocks and becomes relieved, but the knocking continues. She becomes terrified, and crawls to the back of the seat, and stays there until morning. She wakes up to see the police opening the door.
They guide her out and walk her away from the car, and warn her not to look behind her. But she could not restrain her curiosity and looks behing her. She falls to the ground crying. Her boyfriend is hanging from the tree, and slashed from his neck to his groin. The continous knocking was his feet tapping the roof of the car.
It's long but scared the **** out of me years ago... Glad I found it :smile.gif:
During the first few days of the release of Pokemon Red and Green in Japan, back in February 27, 1996, a peak of deaths appeared in the age group of 10-15. The children were usually found dead through suicide, usually by hanging or jumping from heights. However, some were more odd. A few cases recorded children who had began sawing off their limbs, others sticking their faces inside the oven, and choked themselves on their own fist, shoving their own arms down their throat. The few children who were saved before killing themselves showed sporadic behavior. When asked why they were going to hurt themselves they only answered in chaotic screams and scratched at their own eyes. When showed what seemed to be the connection to this attitude, the gameboy, they had no response, but when combined with either Pokemon Red or Green, the screams would continue, and they would do their best to leave the room it was located in. This confirmed the authorities suspicion that the games, somehow, had a connection to these children and the deaths. It was a strange case, because many children who had the same games did not show this behavior, but only a few. The police had no choice but to pursue this, since they had no other leads. Collecting all the cartridges these children had purchased, they kept them sealed away as strong evidence to look over later. They decided the first thing to do was to talk to the programmers themselves. The first person they met was the director of the original games, Satoshi Tajiri. When told about the deaths surrounding his games, he seemed slightly uneasy, but admitted nothing. He lead them to the main programmers of the game, the people responsible for the actual content. The detectives met Takenori Oota, one of the main programmers of the game. Unlike Satoshi, he did not seem uneasy, but very kept. Explaining that it was impossible to use something like a game to cause such deaths, and also bringing up the point that not all the children were affected, he brushed it off as some kind of odd coincidence or mass hysteria. It seemed like he was hiding something, but he wasn"t giving way. Finally, he did say something interesting. Takenori had heard a rumor going around that the music for Lavender Town, one of the locations in the game, had caused some children to go ill. It was only a rumor, and had no real definite back up, but it was still something to look into. He directed the detectives to Junichi Masuda, the music composer of the series. Masuda had also heard of these rumors, but again said they had no evidence that his music was the cause. Even to prove a point he played the exact song from the game completely through with no effects to anyone, the detectives nor Masuda himself, feeling anything different or odd. Although they still had their suspicions of Masuda and the music of Lavender town, it seemed they had reached another dead end. Going back to the cartridges they had seized from the homes of the children, they decided to take a slightly more direct look at the games. They knew that it was these games that gave the children the ill effects, so they took extreme caution. Popping in the cartridge and turning the console on, the game screen booted. The title screen appeared, and the option to continue or create a new game appeared. When they chose to continue the game, stats of that game appeared. They saw the names of the children who had played, usually "Red" or another simple name. However, the interesting thing was the time played and the number of Pokemon they owned. On every game, the time was very low, and all of them had only a single Pokemon in their inventory. They came to the stunning reality that it could not have been the music from Lavender town that had caused such ill effects in the children, since it was impossible to reach that part of the game in such small amount of time and with only one Pokemon in their inventory. This brought them to the conclusion that something early on in the game had to be the cause. If it wasn"t the music, nor the title screen, it had to be something within the first few minutes of the game itself. They had no choice but to turn off the game now and go back to the programmers. Asking for a list of all the programmers from Takenori, they found, surprisingly, that one of the programmers had committed suicide shortly after the game was released. His name was Chiro Miura, a very obscure programmer who had provided very little for the game. Even more interestingly, he had requested his name did not appear in the credits of the game, and so it was not. Looking over the evidence found at Chiro"s apartment, they found many notes written in bold marker. Most of it was crumbled, or marked out, making it very difficult to read. They few words they could find in the mess was "Do not enter", "Watch out" and "COME FOLLOW ME" in bold. The detectives were unsure what these meant, but knew they had to have a connection. Further searching, they discovered Chiro was good friends with one of the map designers, Kohji Nisino, and this was probably the only reason Chiro had given a part in making the game. Kohji Nisino, since the release of the game, had locked himself in his apartment, barely leaving in the dark of night to fetch anything he might need. He told his friends and family he was mourning for his dear friend Chiro, but they didn"t believe this, since Nisino had locked himself up the day the game was put in stores, a few days before Chiro had killed himself. It was troubling, but the authorities finally persuaded Nisnino to sit down and speak with them. He looked as if he hadn"t slept in days, dark rings under his eyes. He stunk, his nails had grown black and his hair was greasy, sticking to his forehead and neck. He spoke in stutters and murmurs, but at least he had something to say. When asked if he knew anything about the children who had died after exposure of the game and if it had any connection to the game, he answered them seemingly carefully, choosing his words thoughtfully before answering. He told them that his friend Chiro had an interesting idea with the game, something he had wanted to try since he heard the project was starting. Nisino himself knew Takenori, the director and main programmer, for a long time, so he could easily get a mediocre programmer in on the project with a little persuasion. It seemed Chiro had convinced Nisino to get him in on the project, and it had worked. The detectives knew they were on to something. This unknown obscure programmer, Chiro, had to have something to do with it, something... They asked what Chiro"s idea was, why he wanted so badly to have a part in making this children"s game. Nisino told them that Chiro never told him much about it, other than a few details every now and then. He wanted to insert a special Pokemon in the game, one completely different from all the others. It would serve as an extra, a kind of out of place thrill for the player. It wasn"t, however, Missing No. It couldn"t be. With the gameplay time recorded on the cartridges, it was impossible for the children to have time to meet that Pokemon. Nisino, throughout the entire conversation, seemed to break down even more with every question. The detectives pushed him more and more, searching through his mind for any and every scrap of knowledge this man had no game and Chiro... and Chiro"s intentions... It was when they asked about the notes found in Chiro"s home that he snapped. From under the couch Nisino was sitting on he whipped out a pistol, pointing it straight at the police while backing away a few steps. Then, just as quickly, he brought the pistol to his face. "Don"t follow me..." muttered Nisino as he stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was too quick for the police to react. It was done. Nisino had killed himself, repeating slightly differently what was written on one of Chiro"s papers... It seemed all leads had finally died. The team who had created this original game were splitting up, becoming harder to find. It was as if they were keeping a secret. When the police finally managed to talk with anyone who had parts in the game, even the obscure character designers or monster designers, it seemed they had nothing of interest to say. Most of them didn"t even know Chiro, and the few who did only seen him once or twice working on the game itself. Throughout all of this the only confirmation they had was that Chiro was indeed the one who had worked on the very early parts of the game. It had been a couple of months after the original children suicides and the death rate had dropped dramatically. It seemed that the game was no longer giving any ill effects to any children. The call back of the games that was planned was canceled, since it seemed the game was no longer harming any children. They had began to think that maybe Takenori was right and it was all just a very odd coincidence or mass hysteria... Until they received the letter. It was given to one of the detectives himself, quite directly out on the street. It was a woman who gave him the note, a very frail, thin, sick looking thing. She gave him the letter quickly, telling him it was something he needed to see, and without waiting for a response or another word, she disappeared into the crowd. The detective brought it to his office, and calling the others in, he brought it out and read it aloud. It was a letter written by Chiro himself, but it wasn"t one found at his apartment. They had throughly searched and cleared out the place, so wherever this letter had come from, it wasn"t kept at his home. It was signed to be given to Nisino. It started off quite formal, a hello, how are you, regards to the family, and such. After one or two of these normal paragraphs, they reached a section that requested Nisino to get him into the game team, to get him a programming position in Pokemon Red and Green. As the letter continued, th
e handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was. The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. "Chiro Miura." This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada. If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all. They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little. There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording: "Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?" asked the first detective. "I was a programmer." His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. "That"s all." "Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?" asked the detective. One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. "You would be right," said Sousuke after a moment of silence. "And your partner, his name was--" The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke eerie voice. "Chiro Miura... That was his name. Chiro Miura." Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. "Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?" Sousuke answered them. "I don't know him that well, really. We didn"t meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting... That"s the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think..." Silence. "Yes?" asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. "You think what?" "I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point... I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn"t have much of a mind to back up that reasoning." "Why do you say that?" asked the second detective. "Well it"s the simple truth," answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. "He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can"t become greatness, even if you believe it. It's impossible... Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it." The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. "Can you tell us what Chiro"s part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?" Sousuke answered more quickly than before. "Nothing... I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game." A pause, then a little more information. "It was Oak"s part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak"s parts... When he"s seen first, you see.." "What else?" pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke"s voice. He knew something. "We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game." "What are you implying?" asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice. "We"re implying that since your his partner, if you"re hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children"s deaths as Chiro is himself!" "You can't prove anything!" Sousuke shouted. "Tell us what Chiro did to the game!" they shouted back. "WHAT I TOLD HIM TO." Silence. Complete silence. "You want to know, huh?" asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. "You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He"d do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn"t program worth a **** either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he"d do it. He wouldn"t even question it, he"d do it. Just to hear that "thank you" when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That"s all he wanted." Two clicks from the detective"s guns could heard. "I could control his flawlessly. He"s a lot like Takenori... Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro." A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives. "Don"t move or we"ll shoot!" "Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game," continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. "Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you"ll have the chance to go into battle with it. It"s a necessary part of the game overall, you see?" "Step away from the window! We won"t warn you again!" "At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you"re in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn... I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It"s rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn..." "Sousuke, we don"t want to shoot!" "Shoot me?" asked Souske, laughing at the same time. "Shoot ME? You"re as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you"re so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. "Come follow me... Come follow me..." And then nothing. The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart. This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unexpecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it"s original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved. The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand. Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected. He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro"s mother... or maybe Sousuke's. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late.. Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. "Evidence #2104A" He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 P
okemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago. He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn"t seen one in a long time. He didn"t know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son's, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system. The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. "Tanaka." That was the child"s name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass. In his head, he could still hear Sousuke"s words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. "Come follow me." He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away. "Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing. The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn"t help but read out what was there in front of him. "Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much." Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them. "I love you too," muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice. "Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever." "AND EVER AND EVER..." "Don"t stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo--" A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. "Come follow me," said Oak. "NO!" shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. "Bring them back, bring them back to me!" The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. "My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!" Voices... He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him. "Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!" they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. "I don"t want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!" "No!" shouted the detective. "It"s mine! My family is here, don"t touch it!" Horror was across his face. "Come follow me..." said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. "Come follow me..." The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. "Wh-what"s going on here!? What"s going on!? Where is my family!?" Sousuke smiled generously. "I"ll show you. I"ll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me." Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside. Siting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn't see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free. "Just follow me," said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. "Just pull the trigger. That"s all." The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled. "My family... I"ll follow you." He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead. It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left. This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more. However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself.
It's long but scared the **** out of me years ago... Glad I found it :smile.gif:
During the first few days of the release of Pokemon Red and Green in Japan, back in February 27, 1996, a peak of deaths appeared in the age group of 10-15. The children were usually found dead through suicide, usually by hanging or jumping from heights. However, some were more odd. A few cases recorded children who had began sawing off their limbs, others sticking their faces inside the oven, and choked themselves on their own fist, shoving their own arms down their throat. The few children who were saved before killing themselves showed sporadic behavior. When asked why they were going to hurt themselves they only answered in chaotic screams and scratched at their own eyes. When showed what seemed to be the connection to this attitude, the gameboy, they had no response, but when combined with either Pokemon Red or Green, the screams would continue, and they would do their best to leave the room it was located in. This confirmed the authorities suspicion that the games, somehow, had a connection to these children and the deaths. It was a strange case, because many children who had the same games did not show this behavior, but only a few. The police had no choice but to pursue this, since they had no other leads. Collecting all the cartridges these children had purchased, they kept them sealed away as strong evidence to look over later. They decided the first thing to do was to talk to the programmers themselves. The first person they met was the director of the original games, Satoshi Tajiri. When told about the deaths surrounding his games, he seemed slightly uneasy, but admitted nothing. He lead them to the main programmers of the game, the people responsible for the actual content. The detectives met Takenori Oota, one of the main programmers of the game. Unlike Satoshi, he did not seem uneasy, but very kept. Explaining that it was impossible to use something like a game to cause such deaths, and also bringing up the point that not all the children were affected, he brushed it off as some kind of odd coincidence or mass hysteria. It seemed like he was hiding something, but he wasn"t giving way. Finally, he did say something interesting. Takenori had heard a rumor going around that the music for Lavender Town, one of the locations in the game, had caused some children to go ill. It was only a rumor, and had no real definite back up, but it was still something to look into. He directed the detectives to Junichi Masuda, the music composer of the series. Masuda had also heard of these rumors, but again said they had no evidence that his music was the cause. Even to prove a point he played the exact song from the game completely through with no effects to anyone, the detectives nor Masuda himself, feeling anything different or odd. Although they still had their suspicions of Masuda and the music of Lavender town, it seemed they had reached another dead end. Going back to the cartridges they had seized from the homes of the children, they decided to take a slightly more direct look at the games. They knew that it was these games that gave the children the ill effects, so they took extreme caution. Popping in the cartridge and turning the console on, the game screen booted. The title screen appeared, and the option to continue or create a new game appeared. When they chose to continue the game, stats of that game appeared. They saw the names of the children who had played, usually "Red" or another simple name. However, the interesting thing was the time played and the number of Pokemon they owned. On every game, the time was very low, and all of them had only a single Pokemon in their inventory. They came to the stunning reality that it could not have been the music from Lavender town that had caused such ill effects in the children, since it was impossible to reach that part of the game in such small amount of time and with only one Pokemon in their inventory. This brought them to the conclusion that something early on in the game had to be the cause. If it wasn"t the music, nor the title screen, it had to be something within the first few minutes of the game itself. They had no choice but to turn off the game now and go back to the programmers. Asking for a list of all the programmers from Takenori, they found, surprisingly, that one of the programmers had committed suicide shortly after the game was released. His name was Chiro Miura, a very obscure programmer who had provided very little for the game. Even more interestingly, he had requested his name did not appear in the credits of the game, and so it was not. Looking over the evidence found at Chiro"s apartment, they found many notes written in bold marker. Most of it was crumbled, or marked out, making it very difficult to read. They few words they could find in the mess was "Do not enter", "Watch out" and "COME FOLLOW ME" in bold. The detectives were unsure what these meant, but knew they had to have a connection. Further searching, they discovered Chiro was good friends with one of the map designers, Kohji Nisino, and this was probably the only reason Chiro had given a part in making the game. Kohji Nisino, since the release of the game, had locked himself in his apartment, barely leaving in the dark of night to fetch anything he might need. He told his friends and family he was mourning for his dear friend Chiro, but they didn"t believe this, since Nisino had locked himself up the day the game was put in stores, a few days before Chiro had killed himself. It was troubling, but the authorities finally persuaded Nisnino to sit down and speak with them. He looked as if he hadn"t slept in days, dark rings under his eyes. He stunk, his nails had grown black and his hair was greasy, sticking to his forehead and neck. He spoke in stutters and murmurs, but at least he had something to say. When asked if he knew anything about the children who had died after exposure of the game and if it had any connection to the game, he answered them seemingly carefully, choosing his words thoughtfully before answering. He told them that his friend Chiro had an interesting idea with the game, something he had wanted to try since he heard the project was starting. Nisino himself knew Takenori, the director and main programmer, for a long time, so he could easily get a mediocre programmer in on the project with a little persuasion. It seemed Chiro had convinced Nisino to get him in on the project, and it had worked. The detectives knew they were on to something. This unknown obscure programmer, Chiro, had to have something to do with it, something... They asked what Chiro"s idea was, why he wanted so badly to have a part in making this children"s game. Nisino told them that Chiro never told him much about it, other than a few details every now and then. He wanted to insert a special Pokemon in the game, one completely different from all the others. It would serve as an extra, a kind of out of place thrill for the player. It wasn"t, however, Missing No. It couldn"t be. With the gameplay time recorded on the cartridges, it was impossible for the children to have time to meet that Pokemon. Nisino, throughout the entire conversation, seemed to break down even more with every question. The detectives pushed him more and more, searching through his mind for any and every scrap of knowledge this man had no game and Chiro... and Chiro"s intentions... It was when they asked about the notes found in Chiro"s home that he snapped. From under the couch Nisino was sitting on he whipped out a pistol, pointing it straight at the police while backing away a few steps. Then, just as quickly, he brought the pistol to his face. "Don"t follow me..." muttered Nisino as he stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was too quick for the police to react. It was done. Nisino had killed himself, repeating slightly differently what was written on one of Chiro"s papers... It seemed all leads had finally died. The team who had created this original game were splitting up, becoming harder to find. It was as if they were keeping a secret. When the police finally managed to talk with anyone who had parts in the game, even the obscure character designers or monster designers, it seemed they had nothing of interest to say. Most of them didn"t even know Chiro, and the few who did only seen him once or twice working on the game itself. Throughout all of this the only confirmation they had was that Chiro was indeed the one who had worked on the very early parts of the game. It had been a couple of months after the original children suicides and the death rate had dropped dramatically. It seemed that the game was no longer giving any ill effects to any children. The call back of the games that was planned was canceled, since it seemed the game was no longer harming any children. They had began to think that maybe Takenori was right and it was all just a very odd coincidence or mass hysteria... Until they received the letter. It was given to one of the detectives himself, quite directly out on the street. It was a woman who gave him the note, a very frail, thin, sick looking thing. She gave him the letter quickly, telling him it was something he needed to see, and without waiting for a response or another word, she disappeared into the crowd. The detective brought it to his office, and calling the others in, he brought it out and read it aloud. It was a letter written by Chiro himself, but it wasn"t one found at his apartment. They had throughly searched and cleared out the place, so wherever this letter had come from, it wasn"t kept at his home. It was signed to be given to Nisino. It started off quite formal, a hello, how are you, regards to the family, and such. After one or two of these normal paragraphs, they reached a section that requested Nisino to get him into the game team, to get him a programming position in Pokemon Red and Green. As the letter continued, th
e handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was. The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. "Chiro Miura." This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada. If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all. They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little. There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording: "Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?" asked the first detective. "I was a programmer." His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. "That"s all." "Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?" asked the detective. One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. "You would be right," said Sousuke after a moment of silence. "And your partner, his name was--" The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke eerie voice. "Chiro Miura... That was his name. Chiro Miura." Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. "Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?" Sousuke answered them. "I don't know him that well, really. We didn"t meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting... That"s the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think..." Silence. "Yes?" asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. "You think what?" "I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point... I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn"t have much of a mind to back up that reasoning." "Why do you say that?" asked the second detective. "Well it"s the simple truth," answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. "He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can"t become greatness, even if you believe it. It's impossible... Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it." The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. "Can you tell us what Chiro"s part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?" Sousuke answered more quickly than before. "Nothing... I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game." A pause, then a little more information. "It was Oak"s part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak"s parts... When he"s seen first, you see.." "What else?" pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke"s voice. He knew something. "We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game." "What are you implying?" asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice. "We"re implying that since your his partner, if you"re hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children"s deaths as Chiro is himself!" "You can't prove anything!" Sousuke shouted. "Tell us what Chiro did to the game!" they shouted back. "WHAT I TOLD HIM TO." Silence. Complete silence. "You want to know, huh?" asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. "You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He"d do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn"t program worth a **** either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he"d do it. He wouldn"t even question it, he"d do it. Just to hear that "thank you" when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That"s all he wanted." Two clicks from the detective"s guns could heard. "I could control his flawlessly. He"s a lot like Takenori... Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro." A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives. "Don"t move or we"ll shoot!" "Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game," continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. "Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you"ll have the chance to go into battle with it. It"s a necessary part of the game overall, you see?" "Step away from the window! We won"t warn you again!" "At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you"re in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn... I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It"s rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn..." "Sousuke, we don"t want to shoot!" "Shoot me?" asked Souske, laughing at the same time. "Shoot ME? You"re as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you"re so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. "Come follow me... Come follow me..." And then nothing. The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart. This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unexpecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it"s original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved. The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand. Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected. He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro"s mother... or maybe Sousuke's. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late.. Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. "Evidence #2104A" He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 P
okemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago. He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn"t seen one in a long time. He didn"t know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son's, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system. The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. "Tanaka." That was the child"s name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass. In his head, he could still hear Sousuke"s words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. "Come follow me." He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away. "Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing. The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn"t help but read out what was there in front of him. "Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much." Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them. "I love you too," muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice. "Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever." "AND EVER AND EVER..." "Don"t stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo--" A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. "Come follow me," said Oak. "NO!" shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. "Bring them back, bring them back to me!" The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. "My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!" Voices... He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him. "Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!" they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. "I don"t want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!" "No!" shouted the detective. "It"s mine! My family is here, don"t touch it!" Horror was across his face. "Come follow me..." said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. "Come follow me..." The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. "Wh-what"s going on here!? What"s going on!? Where is my family!?" Sousuke smiled generously. "I"ll show you. I"ll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me." Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside. Siting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn't see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free. "Just follow me," said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. "Just pull the trigger. That"s all." The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled. "My family... I"ll follow you." He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead. It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left. This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more. However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself.
Late one night, a taxi driver picked up a girl. When he asked her where she was going she replied she was going home.
“Please go straight down this road,” “turn right there,” she instructed him as he drove on. During the journey the driver sometimes gave furtive glances at her through the rear view mirror; the girl had beautiful shiny hair and seemed pretty, although he couldn’t see her face clearly because she sat with downcast eyes. He also found her quiet and demure manner attractive.
Before long they reached a lonely, deserted hillside. The girl said, “You will see a house straight ahead.” And sure enough, a small, old cottage emerged from the darkness. The girl got off, and the driver stayed and watched her go into the house. It was odd that a young girl like her should live in such a lonely, old place, seemingly all on her own. He was intrigued and instead of leaving straight away, got out of the car too and crept up to the house, feeling an urge to know more about her and see her face properly. He felt he was behaving improperly but could not help himself.
When he got close, he saw all the curtains were drawn and there was no way to see inside.
He circled around the house a few times but there was no attempt from inside to lift the curtains. He thought if he stayed any longer the girl might notice him, so he nearly gave up and left when the front door caught his eyes. The door had a large keyhole, which looked as though it would work just as fine as a peephole.
He looked through the keyhole; but found, much to his dismay, all he could see was the colour red, and there was no sign of either the girl or any kind of furniture in the room. Now matter how long he kept at it the scenery remained the same.
He gave up looking, but still could not forget about the girl, so he stopped by the small restaurant he’d seen on the way to her house, thinking he could make a few inquiries about her there while having a meal at the same time.
He told the restaurant owner what had happened.
The owner, hearing that, looked at him strangely and said to him;
“You know that girl… she has some sort of disease and her eyes are both crimson red.”
It's long but scared the **** out of me years ago... Glad I found it :smile.gif:
During the first few days of the release of Pokemon Red and Green in Japan, back in February 27, 1996, a peak of deaths appeared in the age group of 10-15. The children were usually found dead through suicide, usually by hanging or jumping from heights. However, some were more odd. A few cases recorded children who had began sawing off their limbs, others sticking their faces inside the oven, and choked themselves on their own fist, shoving their own arms down their throat. The few children who were saved before killing themselves showed sporadic behavior. When asked why they were going to hurt themselves they only answered in chaotic screams and scratched at their own eyes. When showed what seemed to be the connection to this attitude, the gameboy, they had no response, but when combined with either Pokemon Red or Green, the screams would continue, and they would do their best to leave the room it was located in. This confirmed the authorities suspicion that the games, somehow, had a connection to these children and the deaths. It was a strange case, because many children who had the same games did not show this behavior, but only a few. The police had no choice but to pursue this, since they had no other leads. Collecting all the cartridges these children had purchased, they kept them sealed away as strong evidence to look over later. They decided the first thing to do was to talk to the programmers themselves. The first person they met was the director of the original games, Satoshi Tajiri. When told about the deaths surrounding his games, he seemed slightly uneasy, but admitted nothing. He lead them to the main programmers of the game, the people responsible for the actual content. The detectives met Takenori Oota, one of the main programmers of the game. Unlike Satoshi, he did not seem uneasy, but very kept. Explaining that it was impossible to use something like a game to cause such deaths, and also bringing up the point that not all the children were affected, he brushed it off as some kind of odd coincidence or mass hysteria. It seemed like he was hiding something, but he wasn"t giving way. Finally, he did say something interesting. Takenori had heard a rumor going around that the music for Lavender Town, one of the locations in the game, had caused some children to go ill. It was only a rumor, and had no real definite back up, but it was still something to look into. He directed the detectives to Junichi Masuda, the music composer of the series. Masuda had also heard of these rumors, but again said they had no evidence that his music was the cause. Even to prove a point he played the exact song from the game completely through with no effects to anyone, the detectives nor Masuda himself, feeling anything different or odd. Although they still had their suspicions of Masuda and the music of Lavender town, it seemed they had reached another dead end. Going back to the cartridges they had seized from the homes of the children, they decided to take a slightly more direct look at the games. They knew that it was these games that gave the children the ill effects, so they took extreme caution. Popping in the cartridge and turning the console on, the game screen booted. The title screen appeared, and the option to continue or create a new game appeared. When they chose to continue the game, stats of that game appeared. They saw the names of the children who had played, usually "Red" or another simple name. However, the interesting thing was the time played and the number of Pokemon they owned. On every game, the time was very low, and all of them had only a single Pokemon in their inventory. They came to the stunning reality that it could not have been the music from Lavender town that had caused such ill effects in the children, since it was impossible to reach that part of the game in such small amount of time and with only one Pokemon in their inventory. This brought them to the conclusion that something early on in the game had to be the cause. If it wasn"t the music, nor the title screen, it had to be something within the first few minutes of the game itself. They had no choice but to turn off the game now and go back to the programmers. Asking for a list of all the programmers from Takenori, they found, surprisingly, that one of the programmers had committed suicide shortly after the game was released. His name was Chiro Miura, a very obscure programmer who had provided very little for the game. Even more interestingly, he had requested his name did not appear in the credits of the game, and so it was not. Looking over the evidence found at Chiro"s apartment, they found many notes written in bold marker. Most of it was crumbled, or marked out, making it very difficult to read. They few words they could find in the mess was "Do not enter", "Watch out" and "COME FOLLOW ME" in bold. The detectives were unsure what these meant, but knew they had to have a connection. Further searching, they discovered Chiro was good friends with one of the map designers, Kohji Nisino, and this was probably the only reason Chiro had given a part in making the game. Kohji Nisino, since the release of the game, had locked himself in his apartment, barely leaving in the dark of night to fetch anything he might need. He told his friends and family he was mourning for his dear friend Chiro, but they didn"t believe this, since Nisino had locked himself up the day the game was put in stores, a few days before Chiro had killed himself. It was troubling, but the authorities finally persuaded Nisnino to sit down and speak with them. He looked as if he hadn"t slept in days, dark rings under his eyes. He stunk, his nails had grown black and his hair was greasy, sticking to his forehead and neck. He spoke in stutters and murmurs, but at least he had something to say. When asked if he knew anything about the children who had died after exposure of the game and if it had any connection to the game, he answered them seemingly carefully, choosing his words thoughtfully before answering. He told them that his friend Chiro had an interesting idea with the game, something he had wanted to try since he heard the project was starting. Nisino himself knew Takenori, the director and main programmer, for a long time, so he could easily get a mediocre programmer in on the project with a little persuasion. It seemed Chiro had convinced Nisino to get him in on the project, and it had worked. The detectives knew they were on to something. This unknown obscure programmer, Chiro, had to have something to do with it, something... They asked what Chiro"s idea was, why he wanted so badly to have a part in making this children"s game. Nisino told them that Chiro never told him much about it, other than a few details every now and then. He wanted to insert a special Pokemon in the game, one completely different from all the others. It would serve as an extra, a kind of out of place thrill for the player. It wasn"t, however, Missing No. It couldn"t be. With the gameplay time recorded on the cartridges, it was impossible for the children to have time to meet that Pokemon. Nisino, throughout the entire conversation, seemed to break down even more with every question. The detectives pushed him more and more, searching through his mind for any and every scrap of knowledge this man had no game and Chiro... and Chiro"s intentions... It was when they asked about the notes found in Chiro"s home that he snapped. From under the couch Nisino was sitting on he whipped out a pistol, pointing it straight at the police while backing away a few steps. Then, just as quickly, he brought the pistol to his face. "Don"t follow me..." muttered Nisino as he stuck the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was too quick for the police to react. It was done. Nisino had killed himself, repeating slightly differently what was written on one of Chiro"s papers... It seemed all leads had finally died. The team who had created this original game were splitting up, becoming harder to find. It was as if they were keeping a secret. When the police finally managed to talk with anyone who had parts in the game, even the obscure character designers or monster designers, it seemed they had nothing of interest to say. Most of them didn"t even know Chiro, and the few who did only seen him once or twice working on the game itself. Throughout all of this the only confirmation they had was that Chiro was indeed the one who had worked on the very early parts of the game. It had been a couple of months after the original children suicides and the death rate had dropped dramatically. It seemed that the game was no longer giving any ill effects to any children. The call back of the games that was planned was canceled, since it seemed the game was no longer harming any children. They had began to think that maybe Takenori was right and it was all just a very odd coincidence or mass hysteria... Until they received the letter. It was given to one of the detectives himself, quite directly out on the street. It was a woman who gave him the note, a very frail, thin, sick looking thing. She gave him the letter quickly, telling him it was something he needed to see, and without waiting for a response or another word, she disappeared into the crowd. The detective brought it to his office, and calling the others in, he brought it out and read it aloud. It was a letter written by Chiro himself, but it wasn"t one found at his apartment. They had throughly searched and cleared out the place, so wherever this letter had come from, it wasn"t kept at his home. It was signed to be given to Nisino. It started off quite formal, a hello, how are you, regards to the family, and such. After one or two of these normal paragraphs, they reached a section that requested Nisino to get him into the game team, to get him a programming position in Pokemon Red and Green. As the letter continued, th
e handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was. The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. "Chiro Miura." This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada. If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all. They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little. There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording: "Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?" asked the first detective. "I was a programmer." His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. "That"s all." "Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?" asked the detective. One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. "You would be right," said Sousuke after a moment of silence. "And your partner, his name was--" The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke eerie voice. "Chiro Miura... That was his name. Chiro Miura." Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. "Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?" Sousuke answered them. "I don't know him that well, really. We didn"t meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting... That"s the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think..." Silence. "Yes?" asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. "You think what?" "I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point... I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn"t have much of a mind to back up that reasoning." "Why do you say that?" asked the second detective. "Well it"s the simple truth," answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. "He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can"t become greatness, even if you believe it. It's impossible... Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it." The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. "Can you tell us what Chiro"s part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?" Sousuke answered more quickly than before. "Nothing... I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game." A pause, then a little more information. "It was Oak"s part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak"s parts... When he"s seen first, you see.." "What else?" pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke"s voice. He knew something. "We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game." "What are you implying?" asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice. "We"re implying that since your his partner, if you"re hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children"s deaths as Chiro is himself!" "You can't prove anything!" Sousuke shouted. "Tell us what Chiro did to the game!" they shouted back. "WHAT I TOLD HIM TO." Silence. Complete silence. "You want to know, huh?" asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. "You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He"d do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn"t program worth a **** either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he"d do it. He wouldn"t even question it, he"d do it. Just to hear that "thank you" when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That"s all he wanted." Two clicks from the detective"s guns could heard. "I could control his flawlessly. He"s a lot like Takenori... Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro." A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives. "Don"t move or we"ll shoot!" "Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game," continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. "Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you"ll have the chance to go into battle with it. It"s a necessary part of the game overall, you see?" "Step away from the window! We won"t warn you again!" "At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you"re in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn... I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It"s rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn..." "Sousuke, we don"t want to shoot!" "Shoot me?" asked Souske, laughing at the same time. "Shoot ME? You"re as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you"re so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. "Come follow me... Come follow me..." And then nothing. The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart. This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unexpecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it"s original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved. The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand. Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected. He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro"s mother... or maybe Sousuke's. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late.. Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. "Evidence #2104A" He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 P
okemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago. He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn"t seen one in a long time. He didn"t know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son's, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system. The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. "Tanaka." That was the child"s name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass. In his head, he could still hear Sousuke"s words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. "Come follow me." He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away. "Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing. The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn"t help but read out what was there in front of him. "Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much." Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them. "I love you too," muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice. "Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever." "AND EVER AND EVER..." "Don"t stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo--" A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. "Come follow me," said Oak. "NO!" shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. "Bring them back, bring them back to me!" The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. "My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!" Voices... He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him. "Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!" they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. "I don"t want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!" "No!" shouted the detective. "It"s mine! My family is here, don"t touch it!" Horror was across his face. "Come follow me..." said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. "Come follow me..." The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. "Wh-what"s going on here!? What"s going on!? Where is my family!?" Sousuke smiled generously. "I"ll show you. I"ll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me." Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside. Siting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn't see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free. "Just follow me," said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. "Just pull the trigger. That"s all." The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled. "My family... I"ll follow you." He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead. It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left. This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more. However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself.
I... I don't know if I'll ever be able to play pokemon ever again... That was scary as ****! I'm gonna try to sleep now... Wish me luck!
Late one night, a taxi driver picked up a girl. When he asked her where she was going she replied she was going home.
“Please go straight down this road,” “turn right there,” she instructed him as he drove on. During the journey the driver sometimes gave furtive glances at her through the rear view mirror; the girl had beautiful shiny hair and seemed pretty, although he couldn’t see her face clearly because she sat with downcast eyes. He also found her quiet and demure manner attractive.
Before long they reached a lonely, deserted hillside. The girl said, “You will see a house straight ahead.” And sure enough, a small, old cottage emerged from the darkness. The girl got off, and the driver stayed and watched her go into the house. It was odd that a young girl like her should live in such a lonely, old place, seemingly all on her own. He was intrigued and instead of leaving straight away, got out of the car too and crept up to the house, feeling an urge to know more about her and see her face properly. He felt he was behaving improperly but could not help himself.
When he got close, he saw all the curtains were drawn and there was no way to see inside.
He circled around the house a few times but there was no attempt from inside to lift the curtains. He thought if he stayed any longer the girl might notice him, so he nearly gave up and left when the front door caught his eyes. The door had a large keyhole, which looked as though it would work just as fine as a peephole.
He looked through the keyhole; but found, much to his dismay, all he could see was the colour red, and there was no sign of either the girl or any kind of furniture in the room. Now matter how long he kept at it the scenery remained the same.
He gave up looking, but still could not forget about the girl, so he stopped by the small restaurant he’d seen on the way to her house, thinking he could make a few inquiries about her there while having a meal at the same time.
He told the restaurant owner what had happened.
The owner, hearing that, looked at him strangely and said to him;
“You know that girl… she has some sort of disease and her eyes are both crimson red.”
"Russian researchers in the late 1940’s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during world war II.
Everything was fine for the first 5 days, the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the doors and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…
To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple “Keep cutting.”
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”
All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”
The subject smiled.
“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you.” “We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind.” “We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out "so… nearly… free… "
"Russian researchers in the late 1940’s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during world war II.
Everything was fine for the first 5 days, the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the doors and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…
To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple “Keep cutting.”
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”
All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”
The subject smiled.
“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you.” “We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind.” “We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out "so… nearly… free… "
- - -
I see you're doing well. :wink.gif:
- Born
Use spoiler tags.
Russian sleep experiment, that one is pretty good.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It's hard to follow your dreams when you run from your nightmares. --
So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is “wut r u doing wit my daughter?” U tell ur girl n she say “my dad is ded”. THEN WHO WAS PHONE?
im not sure if i remember one of the stories i always tell when its late at night with my friends and we are all about to goto bed... it scares the **** outa them
not creepypasta btw just a story
Once a small boy was walking in his garden and saw a big toe, yes a toe, in the garden. He grabbed it and pulled it popped out easily and then he felt something sliding beneath his feet... he walked inside and said "Mother look at the toe i found" she took it and cooked it and the family of 3 ate. later that night the boy was in his room and heard a noise. a small scratch at first but then it grew louder coming from the chimney area then thumping on the stairs. continuing with slow dragging steps toward the room. then he heard "i want my toe back".
i usually end the story here to leave them wondering. let your imagination run free...
im the only one who knows the end :wink.gif:
I love seeing this thread pop up (it's about the third time I've seen it) but can we PLEASE get some spoiler tags and paragraphs? I wanted to read that Pokemon one, but it's a solid wall of text.
And just so I didn't just post to whine about the other entries in the thread, one of my favorites from one of the old threads:
The Portraits
There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.
--
By the way, it's a great feeling to, at 4 in the morning, search for that story and land on the Oh Internet creepypasta page, which has a huge jpeg image of the Smile Dog.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The war...has begun."
Want to know more? Check out the beginnings of my novel, Chronicles of Light, at Figment.com. Latest update: Chapter 1: Life of a Thief.
Bring it on peeps. [Creepypasta is too mainstream. Us hipsters like Shitting brix]
-snip-
I normally spot these, but this one's got me stumped. Is there something wrong with her eyes or something? She looks dead to me... Unless that's how she's supposed to look.
Edit: Judging by how her leg is erect, she's likely not meant to be dead in the pic.
lol
Anyways, the ones I tend to like are ones that could have someone make their own story, with the basic "scary" part being the same, such as slender man. A decent, but fairly long one is the Russian sleep experiment.
It's hard to follow your dreams when you run from your nightmares. --
One night, a couple are traveling on the road. As they are listening to the radio, when breaking news comes on. A patient from the local madhouse has escaped. The couple become filled with fear, so they decide to get to their house as soon as possible.
Unfortunatly, the car is almost out of gas. So they drive under a large oak tree, and they run out of gas. There is a sound in the bushes, and the guy decides to check it out. Before he leaves, he tells the girl to not leave, and three knocks will let her know that that’s him. So he leaves.
Time passes, and the girl becomes worried. But she hears three knocks and becomes relieved, but the knocking continues. She becomes terrified, and crawls to the back of the seat, and stays there until morning. She wakes up to see the police opening the door.
They guide her out and walk her away from the car, and warn her not to look behind her. But she could not restrain her curiosity and looks behing her. She falls to the ground crying. Her boyfriend is hanging from the tree, and slashed from his neck to his groin. The continous knocking was his feet tapping the roof of the car.
#AntiSec
e handwriting seemed to grow more jittery. He talked about a glorious idea he had, a way to program something unseen in any game before. He said it would certainly revolutionize not only the gaming industry, but everyone. He went on to say that it was a very simple procedure to program this idea into the game. He did not even have to add any foreign programming, but could use what was already given in the game itself. This would, the detectives agreed, make it impossible to notice any obscurities in the programming itself. It was a perfect way to hide whatever this was. The letter ended abruptly. There was no goodbye, no say hi to the family, no write back, or thank you. Nothing like that. It was just his name, written hard in the letter where the paper almost broke through. It was only his name. "Chiro Miura." This was the nail in the coffin for the detectives. They had no more suspicion about the cause. Chiro had programmed something into the early parts of the game, something maddening. To further increase this streak of success, they discovered that the programming team had worked in pairs, even Chiro himself. He had worked with another programmer, Sousuke Tamada. If anyone knew what the secret in this game was, Sousuke Tamada would be the man. This was their final hope of unraveling this mystery once and for all. They learned Sousuke had provided a lot of programming to the game, and seemed to be an average, good guy and worker. They were easily allowed into his home, a fair place, and they entered his living room where they sat. Sousuke did not sit, however. He stood by the window of the second story floor, looking out onto the busy street. He was smiling a little. There is no direct witnesses to the events that followed. The only thing from this conversation that remained was found on a voice recorder sitting on the table in front of the two detectives assigned to talk to Sousuke. What follows is the unedited recording: "Sousuke Tamada, what part did you have in the games Pokemon Red and Green?" asked the first detective. "I was a programmer." His voice was light, friendly, almost too friendly. "That"s all." "Am I right in knowing that the programmers working on the game worked in teams?" asked the detective. One could hear the voice of feet moving on the floor slightly. "You would be right," said Sousuke after a moment of silence. "And your partner, his name was--" The detective was quickly cut off by Sousuke eerie voice. "Chiro Miura... That was his name. Chiro Miura." Another silence. It seemed the detectives were a little uneasy about this man. "Could you tell us if Muira ever acted strange at all? Any particular behaviors you observed while working with him at all?" Sousuke answered them. "I don't know him that well, really. We didn"t meet up frequently, only every once in a while to trade data, or when the entire group was called up for a meeting... That"s the only times I really ever saw him. He acted normal, as far as I could tell. He was a short man, and I think this affected his consciousness.. He acted weaker than any other man I met. He was willing to do a lot of work to gain recognition, this I do know. I think..." Silence. "Yes?" asked the detective, pushing for him to continue. "You think what?" "I think he was a very weak man. I think he wanted to prove himself regardless of this point... I think he wanted to make himself known for something special, something that would make people forget about the way he looked and pay attention to the powerful mind that lay inside his skull.. Unfortunately for him, however.. heheh.. He didn"t have much of a mind to back up that reasoning." "Why do you say that?" asked the second detective. "Well it"s the simple truth," answered Sousuke quickly. His feet could be heard moving across the tiled floor. "He was nothing special, even if he wanted to believe so. You can"t become greatness, even if you believe it. It's impossible... Somehow, I think Chiro knew this himself, somewhere deep in there, he knew it." The detectives were silent again, not sure how to steer the conversation. After a moment, they continued. "Can you tell us what Chiro"s part of the game was? What did he work on exactly?" Sousuke answered more quickly than before. "Nothing... I mean, nothing important. He worked on some obscure parts of the beginning of the game." A pause, then a little more information. "It was Oak"s part to be exact. He worked on some of Oak"s parts... When he"s seen first, you see.." "What else?" pushed the police. They could hear it in Sousuke"s voice. He knew something. "We know you know about the children and the deaths. We know it was Chiro who did it. He programmed something in the game." "What are you implying?" asked Sousuke. It sounded like he was trying to maintain his voice. "We"re implying that since your his partner, if you"re hiding something from us then you could just as much be responsible for those children"s deaths as Chiro is himself!" "You can't prove anything!" Sousuke shouted. "Tell us what Chiro did to the game!" they shouted back. "WHAT I TOLD HIM TO." Silence. Complete silence. "You want to know, huh?" asked Sousuke finally, breaking the eerie silence, but replacing it with his voice. "You want to know what is this all about? Chiro was an idiot. He"d do anything for a bit of attention, anything at all. He couldn"t program worth a **** either. The one thing he could do, however, was be manipulated. You could tell him what to do, and he"d do it. He wouldn"t even question it, he"d do it. Just to hear that "thank you" when you received the finish product, that was his reasons. That"s all he wanted." Two clicks from the detective"s guns could heard. "I could control his flawlessly. He"s a lot like Takenori... Of course none of you knew this, but I was the one who brought up the idea of the game, the idea of the entire operation. I just told the fellow what to do, and he followed me without doubt. He knows nothing, just like Chiro." A sound of a window opening could be heard, follow by the detectives. "Don"t move or we"ll shoot!" "Let me tell you about a mechanic in the game," continued Sousuke. His voice was more rushed, but it still held that slyness. "Consider it a hint, alright? If you walk around in grassy areas enough a Pokemon will appear, and you"ll have the chance to go into battle with it. It"s a necessary part of the game overall, you see?" "Step away from the window! We won"t warn you again!" "At the start of the game you have to walk into the grassy area before Oak appears and you receive your first Pokemon, understand me? Under normal circumstances, it was programmed that even though you"re in a grassy area, no Pokemon will spawn... I made it different. I manipulated that Chiro, told him what to put in the program, gave him all the instructions on how to do it, and he did it flawlessly. It"s rare, but it can happen.. Stepping into that grass, one can spawn..." "Sousuke, we don"t want to shoot!" "Shoot me?" asked Souske, laughing at the same time. "Shoot ME? You"re as dumb as Chiro was! Once he found out the truth, he had to end it! It was his fault after all! He shot himself because of it! If you"re so determined to finish that case of yours, if you want to know, play the damn game for yourself! Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" A shot could be heard, loud enough to distort the audio. Sounds of screaming, murmuring could be heard. The table the recorder was on crashed. Ear shattering distortions. Silence. Then laughing. Sousuke was laughing, and then words. "Come follow me... Come follow me..." And then nothing. The recorder continued to record until the tape ran out. There was nothing else on it. The police arrived on the scene quickly, and to their horror they discovered Sousuke and the two detectives dead. They had all been shot, but not after struggling. The detectives had been shot multiple times, at least ten each, before dying after being shot in between their eyes. Sousuke himself had clearly died of two shots to his chest, straight through the heart. This game was causing a massacre. At least a hundred children were dead. Nisino, the unexpecting friend, dead. Chiro, the manipulated toy, dead. The two detectives, dead. And now, even the creator, the cause of this atrocity, Sousuke, dead. This game was stretching far over it"s original intentions. It was killing anyone and everyone who got involved. The lead detective had decided to put this case away. The man who committed the crime was dead, so there was no longer any reason to continue the case. All evidence, all the cartridges, all the notes, all the letters, they were locked away, kept in the darkness where they belonged. There were talks about the entire thing, small conversations every now and then, but over the years even these began to fade away. Eventually, the case was only a memory in the minds of those who experienced it first hand. Ten years passed. February 27, 2006 was the date. The lead detective, the man who locked away the original evidence ten years previous, was reminded of the awful event that occurred. Although he was no longer in the force, he still had access to files and was helped when he could. The reminder of the event caused him to look back, to open the sealed container that held all the evidence collected. He read through the letters and the notes. He remembered the woman who had appeared to him on the street that one day and handed him that letter that lead to the change of the entire case. He wondered who she was, and where she had come from. Perhaps she was Chiro"s mother... or maybe Sousuke's. It was far too late to pursue any of this. Far too late.. Sealing the container again, he saw a second one directly behind it. Pulling it out, he read the note on top of it. "Evidence #2104A" He opened it up, and looked inside. Filling the container were exactly 104 P
okemon Red and Green cartridges, each one in perfect condition, untouched since the day they had last checked them ten years ago. He reached in and pulled one out, Pokemon Red. He hadn"t seen one in a long time. He didn"t know what he thought next, but he reached in his desk and pulled out an old Gameboy. He received it a long time ago, but it still worked. It was his son's, but he had died a few years ago. His wife was gone too. That was then though. Popping in the cartridge in the back of the Gameboy he turned on the system. The title screen. Then the option to continue or start a new game. "Tanaka." That was the child"s name, the one who played it first. He was probably dead, along with all the others. He pressed New Game, and started a new game. It was normal, average. He walked around, talked to his mother, went outside. He started walking towards the grass. In his head, he could still hear Sousuke"s words. Even though he was not there, even though he had never seen the man in his life, he could still see him, hear him. "Come follow me." He was getting closer and closer, only a step or two away. "Roll the wheel, and who knows? Maybe you"ll learn the secret for yourself!" He entered the grass. The screen did nothing at first. Nothing at all. It just sat there, and so did the detective, completely frozen, as if time had stopped just for them. The screen went black. and then lit up again, the iconic green background with black text appearing. The lead detectives weary eyes grew wide. He couldn"t help but read out what was there in front of him. "Come follow me, come follow me, come follow me. I miss you dad, I miss you my husband, I miss you so much." Tears formed in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Screens and screens of text appeared and he rapidly clicked the A button to continue it. It was his wife and his child. They were speaking to him, calling to him, crying with him. They wanted to see him, they loved him, he loved them. "I love you too," muttered the man in a hoarse, scratching voice. "Come follow me, become new again. We want to see you and hold you, and be with you forever and ever and ever and ever." "AND EVER AND EVER..." "Don"t stay away. You can see us too.. We miss you.. Come follow me. We love yo--" A black screen. The detectives eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping. The screen lit back up, and Oak was leading him out of the grass. "Come follow me," said Oak. "NO!" shouted the man, dropping the game onto the floor. He quickly fell forward, reaching for it, bringing the screen back to his face. "Bring them back, bring them back to me!" The game continued on as usual, not responding to the detective at all. "My wife, my child, listen to me! Bring them back to me, I said!" Voices... He heard voices, hundreds of voices. He turned around from his seat, looking behind him, and standing in his small room were children, many children. Some had no eyes, some had rings around their throats, some were burned all across their body. They were screaming, reaching towards him. "Bring back my mommy, bring back my daddy, bring back my pet!" they all screamed out, reaching for the game, their mouths agape with horror and pain. "I don"t want them to go away, bring them back to me, bring them back to me!" "No!" shouted the detective. "It"s mine! My family is here, don"t touch it!" Horror was across his face. "Come follow me..." said a voice. The lead detective looked over, and in the corner of his room, next to an old desk, was Sousuke. He stood in the corner, tall, handsome, clean. A smile was on his face, stretching across his face. "Come follow me..." The lead detective jumped up, stepping back, trying to force away the children crawling towards him, reaching out for the game held tightly within his hands. "Wh-what"s going on here!? What"s going on!? Where is my family!?" Sousuke smiled generously. "I"ll show you. I"ll help you get away from them, you see? Just follow me." Sousuke reached down, and opened a drawer on the old desk. The lead detective, pushing through the crowd of children, trying to get away, looked inside. Siting there, covered with dust, was his old gun from when he was on the force. He had not used that gun in many years and had put it away, not wanting to remember the things he had to do with it. But right now he didn't see it as something that caused pain or that killed. It was shining, it was light. It was something that could set him free. "Just follow me," said Sousuke, picking up the gun and putting it in the lead detectives hand. He formed his hand to hold the gun, then brought it up to his temple. "Just pull the trigger. That"s all." The lead detective turned around. The children were crawling at him, grabbing his legs and pulling at him. They reached for the game. He turned back towards Sousuke, and smiled. "My family... I"ll follow you." He pulled the trigger. Bang. His brains spread the wall as he fell to the ground, dead. It was a few days before the body was discovered. It lay on the floor, blood everywhere. In one hand held an empty gun, and in the other was a classic Gameboy with Pokemon Red on the back. The battery had long died, and only an empty, black screen was left. This was the final murder that the remaining authorities would allow. The last detective who was ever a part of this case personally carried all 104 cartridges away, and burned them all, making sure not a single one survived. There would taunt no more. However, this is not the end of the story. The code was said to have survived, and was even passed on to other language versions of the games. If you have an old Pokemon game, you can place the cartridge in the back of the classic Gameboy, turn on the system, and roll the wheel who knows? Maybe you'll learn the secret for yourself.
Worth the read
“Please go straight down this road,” “turn right there,” she instructed him as he drove on. During the journey the driver sometimes gave furtive glances at her through the rear view mirror; the girl had beautiful shiny hair and seemed pretty, although he couldn’t see her face clearly because she sat with downcast eyes. He also found her quiet and demure manner attractive.
Before long they reached a lonely, deserted hillside. The girl said, “You will see a house straight ahead.” And sure enough, a small, old cottage emerged from the darkness. The girl got off, and the driver stayed and watched her go into the house. It was odd that a young girl like her should live in such a lonely, old place, seemingly all on her own. He was intrigued and instead of leaving straight away, got out of the car too and crept up to the house, feeling an urge to know more about her and see her face properly. He felt he was behaving improperly but could not help himself.
When he got close, he saw all the curtains were drawn and there was no way to see inside.
He circled around the house a few times but there was no attempt from inside to lift the curtains. He thought if he stayed any longer the girl might notice him, so he nearly gave up and left when the front door caught his eyes. The door had a large keyhole, which looked as though it would work just as fine as a peephole.
He looked through the keyhole; but found, much to his dismay, all he could see was the colour red, and there was no sign of either the girl or any kind of furniture in the room. Now matter how long he kept at it the scenery remained the same.
He gave up looking, but still could not forget about the girl, so he stopped by the small restaurant he’d seen on the way to her house, thinking he could make a few inquiries about her there while having a meal at the same time.
He told the restaurant owner what had happened.
The owner, hearing that, looked at him strangely and said to him;
“You know that girl… she has some sort of disease and her eyes are both crimson red.”
I... I don't know if I'll ever be able to play pokemon ever again... That was scary as ****! I'm gonna try to sleep now... Wish me luck!
#AntiSec
Ohhh I liked this one.
Don't let the little children bite.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during world war II.
Everything was fine for the first 5 days, the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the doors and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…
To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple “Keep cutting.”
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”
All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”
The subject smiled.
“Have you forgotten so easily?” The subject asked. “We are you.” “We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind.” “We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out "so… nearly… free… "
- - -
I see you're doing well. :wink.gif:
- Born
Use spoiler tags.
Russian sleep experiment, that one is pretty good.
It's hard to follow your dreams when you run from your nightmares. --
Lols were had.
i rember this story from when i was 8.
And just so I didn't just post to whine about the other entries in the thread, one of my favorites from one of the old threads:
The Portraits
There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke — he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.
--
By the way, it's a great feeling to, at 4 in the morning, search for that story and land on the Oh Internet creepypasta page, which has a huge jpeg image of the Smile Dog.
Want to know more? Check out the beginnings of my novel, Chronicles of Light, at Figment.com. Latest update: Chapter 1: Life of a Thief.
Messed up stuff like that really does happen in this world, though people usually use grown men as vessels to carry more.
She's apparently dead, right? I have read a few arguments proving that she's alive, though.
I normally spot these, but this one's got me stumped. Is there something wrong with her eyes or something? She looks dead to me... Unless that's how she's supposed to look.
Edit: Judging by how her leg is erect, she's likely not meant to be dead in the pic.