SCP Foundation

Revision 5/9 updated A Whole Buncha days ago

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: Due to its nature, SCP-001 cannot be contained. Survivors of the SCP-001 event are to keep in touch, because it gets lonely out here. And no, I don't mean keep in touch like "let's add each other on Snapchat and then talk like 2 times a year," I mean like, share cool things that happen and actually have conversations. Just because we're not in the same physical space doesn't mean we can't still "hang out" with each other, and I'll be damned if I let distance be the thing that gives me another excuse to be antisocial. God.

Anyways, Personnel are advised not to go outdoors, for danger of being overtaken by SCP-001-A instances, and I of all people know that is a very very bad idea. Avoid all heavily populated areas, because they are absolutely crawling with those things, and I do not need more on my hands than I already have.

Personnel are also to be advised that, despite SCP-001-A's apparent ties to Site-96 Researcher Karen Day, she is by no means responsible for this mess, and those who consider her to be are essentially victim-blaming.

Personnel stationed at Site-19 are to lock the fucking doors and hope to god there are still janitors in the building.

Upon contact with visible light produced by SCP-001, living organisms instantly transform into a pile of writhing goo. Visually, this is reminiscent of my fatass grandpa Earl every time he tries to sit down.

Upon completion, these piles of goo (SCP-001-A) begin wiggling and jiggling about, until their shape looks sorta like a person again, though studies have shown that they still look like goo, and are fooling literally no one.

It doesn't affect animals because gross.

Due to their goo-ness, instances of SCP-001-A that make contact with one another become a bigger piece of goo. Even though this seems like it would be beneficial, it actually makes the goo way slower and dumber, and it usually just ends in the instance collapsing on itself and crying in shame. In these cases, SCP-001-A instances may be heard attempting to form rudimentary phrases such as "never love me, too fat" and "wish went more gym."

SCP-001-A instances have one main priority, and it's fucking bullshit. As soon as they are physically able, they will begin using any method possible, including walking, running, or hitching a ride, to attempt to position themselves closer, but not too close, to Researcher Day. Using what's left of their vocal systems, they will attempt to persuade her to become romantically involved with [DATE EXPUNGED]. This has never proven successful, and never will, because fuck [DATE EXPUNGED], I said never again and I meant it!

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: not Safe for work

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-001 is contained in a specialized storage locker at Site-96. Once a month, the cover page is to be removed and held in a temporary storage locker, while the main one is cleaned through incineration. This incineration is to be carried out via flamethrowers by whichever personnel won the second place prize at staff bingo night, as it has proven to be "extremely awesome, and totally worth the 10ドル entry fee."

SCP-001's locker is to be constantly monitored, and each new page that appears is to be recorded and documented. At no point is Researcher Day allowed access to any files regarding SCP-001 or its manifestations.

Description: SCP-001 is a simple sheaf of papers, stapled together in the top right corner. The top sheet is a cover page reading simply, "Containr - The Dating Service by anomalies, for anomalies." The number of subsequent papers stapled underneath grows by an average of one page per day, and does not show signs of slowing any time soon.

Each new page added details a different anomalous entity, and lists attributes such as:

• Positives about its own personality
• Favorites (color, food, music genre, etc…)
• Things it looks for in a partner

As well as including a section at the bottom for reviews by what appear to be past partners. Some of these are rough, to say the least.

Addendum: On [SYSTEM ERROR] Sorry hun, we don't do specific times in this one. Researcher Karen Day of Site-96 was captured on camera stealing SCP-001 from its containment locker and bringing it to her office. She spent the next 4 hours looking through various pages from it, presumably in search of a romantic interest. She was later reprimanded for breaking protocol, as well as talked to by the on-site psychologist for concerns involving non-human romantic interests. Though the majority of pages looked at by Researcher Day weren't possible to read through the camera, the following were.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Metal

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-001 is, at this time, uncontained. Research into methods of amending this are ongoing, so if anybody hears anything about traps for like, giant deific robots, PLEASE let us know, because it would be super duper helpful.

The followers of SCP-001, hereby referred to as the Church Of Mechanical Entities (COME), is a large enough group to threaten normalcy. However, their common practices are largely self-containing, which prevents them from being a nuisance. If any COME members start misbehaving, as per Agreement-COME-IN, they are to be reprimanded via harsh ridicule and non-sexualized spanking.

Rituals performed by COME for the sake of SCP-001, while often large and public, have yet to cause any major damage or threaten a breach in public normalcy. That being said, it would still be good to keep an eye on them, because they do some really weird stuff.

Researcher Day, also as per Agreement-COME-IN, is to be monitored for possible connections and/or affiliation with SCP-001 and COME.

Description: SCP-001 is a collection of anomalous and non-anomalous items held together by scotch tape and Elmer’s glue, forming a single, massive mechanical entity refered to as Mekhane, assembled by members of the Church Of Mechanical Entities in 20██ within the basement of a Wendy's in El Paso, Texas. Items include SCP-217, SCP-1139, SCP-882, a Samsung Galaxy brand smartphone, several light bulbs, a bear trap, a metal water bottle without a cap, the carrying case for an unknown device, a desk fan, a table fan, a ceiling fan, an impossibly tangled headphone wire, a metal water bottle cap, and every single item from the March issue of SkyMall.

Mekhane's primary goal is to serve as rudimentary containment for a giant gross flesh monster known as Yaggablabba. Yaggablabba's ongoing fight against Mekhane is believed to be the cause of several known anomalies, all organic based. While Mekhane is presumed to be the god of machines by COME, Yaggablabba is similarly presumed to be the god of H E Double hockey sticks.

Aside from keeping Yaggablabba at bay, SCP-001 also communicates with COME, giving them missions, which they call Rituals, that often revolve around creating needlessly complicated machines that do extremely specific nonsense, all for the express goal of sending unique and predictive messages to Site-96's own Researcher Karen Day. A list of notable Rituals can be found below.

Incident-01: Members of COME built an extremely large fan, wrote down a phone number on a piece of paper, folded the paper into a paper airplane, and threw it into the fan's air-stream. The airplane traveled roughly ███ km before sailing through an open window in Site-96 and onto Researcher Day's lap. Upon inspection, she called the number on the page. On the other end was the sound of a hydraulic press making uniform compressions. Further review found these to be morse code for the phrase "Hey babe, where you been?"

Incident-02: Members of COME built terrain-displacement charges, and placed them in specific locations across the country of Mexico. Researcher Day was sent an anonymous email with a link to a live feed from a satellite of the country, during which the charges were set off. Devastating loss of life and damage occurred, and it took extremely intensive Foundation efforts to amnesticise the population about Mexico's shape and origins.

Incident-03: Members of COME hacked into the servers of a social media application known as Discord, both creating an account for Mekhane, as well as adding it to Researcher Day's friend list. The following conversation is what transpired.

Incident-04: Members of COME created a phone application called "Candy Crush Saga"’ which, for all phones except Researcher Day's, presented itself as a harmless video game, if predatory in its implementation of microtransactions. When Researcher Day downloaded it, however, it instead unblocked Mekhane's number on her phone. She immediately received an influx of texts, the following of which were recorded before Researcher Day promptly threw her phone into a lake.

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Embla

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-001 is contained on a hill, because it is on a hill. Site-0, which is on a hill, is to be positioned on a hill so as to contain SCP-001, which is on a hill. No attempts are to be made to move SCP-001 off of said hill, for fear of causing a NOH-K Class "Not On Hill" scenario.

Description: SCP-001 is a circular gravel path in a wooded area. When traveled in a counter-clockwise direction, the trail continues around an indeterminate number of times, spiraling and spiraling, much like how you're spiraling out of control with these partners, Karen. We're worried about you.

I know we've had our differences, and honestly, I take full responsibility for what's happened in the past, but we need to move past that for the sake of you. I still love you, and whether or not you love me back, I care about your well-being. This pattern of behavior, going through partners faster than anyone can count, it's not what's best for you. You need help, and I, for one, can be there for you, even if you won't take me back.

Item #:

Description:

Even though you didn't press any buttons, the file closes, and is replaced by a… ah fuck what's the word for like, a moving image. Oh wait, video, right. I'm tired, okay?

It's a live feed, looking at you from behind your chair.

A disgusting, fleshy hand grabs for your shoulder.

You shout, and jump forwards, narrowly missing being grabbed by a slimy creep.

You tell him to fuck off, before shoving a flashbang down his gullet and hurling him across the room.

As the explosion goes off, it rocks the foundation of the building. Suddenly, swarms of creatures begin to surround you.

The creatures reek, as they cram against the weak door frame.

Shouting about how it isn't too late for a second chance, the creatures storm the building.

From every direction, blobs of shame and regret envelop you.

Hands and arms stretch out of the mass, pulling you up, passing you from one to the next, on and on down the line. They drag you past the empty friers, out the door and to the elevator.

The elevator is still broken, so you wait, grumbling, as they haul you up 935 flights of stairs.

You're afforded a few, precious moments in the darkness.

And at the end of the tunnel, there is… oh god.

Researcher Day: Heeeeeyyyyyyyy… great to uhhhh… see you again.

[DATE EXPUNGED]: I hope you see the lesson I have been trying to teach you. Look around, see the mess you've forced me to unleash.

Researcher Day: Wait wait wait… you melted like 7 billion people to prove you love me?

[DATE EXPUNGED]: …Yes.

Researcher Day: …

[DATE EXPUNGED]: …

Researcher Day: That's kinda hot.