• The Generally Just Creepy Stuff Thread V2: Hyperrealism, Content, or GTFO.
    2,555 replies, posted
[QUOTE=phagocitic;33984976]dude im so high right now[/QUOTE] those this gif actually move? I'm not finding out myself
My parents are in the other room watching apollo 18. I know it's a bad movie but the sounds themselves are fucking creepy.
Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [url]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/url]
[QUOTE=ArchXeno;33991711]those this gif actually move? I'm not finding out myself[/QUOTE] Yeah, it moves. The first frame waits 25 seconds then it does an animation then the last frame waits for 600 seconds. You won't be seeing it twice unless you're really patient. :v:
[QUOTE=bull04;33994691]Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [url]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/url][/QUOTE] I enjoyed it. Good job
This is the best creepypasta I've read in a while. [url]http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Psychosis[/url]
[QUOTE=bull04;33994691]Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [url]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/url][/QUOTE] Well that was a bit silly since it fell for all the standard video game Creepypasta pitfalls, like the super-realistic shit and the deafening noises.
[quote]Talk Don't Look at an Enderman's Eyes My younger brother came home from school on a Friday and went strait to his room. He looked really scared, so I knocked on his door. "Are you ok?" I asked but, he didn't answer. I opened the door, the room was dark, it was deathly cold. I saw my brother standing in the corner, with his head hitting the wall. I ran up to him, I turned him and he kept repeating, "Don't look in the eyes of the Enderman." Then I asked," Who's the Enderman?" He stopped, then he looked at his closet and said nothing. "Stay here, I'm gonna get you a glass of water," I said. When I got the glass of water I heard him scream like he saw a monster. I dropped the glass of water and ran to his room. I kicked the door open and, there was my brother standing in the corner with his head on the wall. As I walked to him I noticed, a pool of blood on the wall. I was nervous that he was hurt, so I turned him around and... His eyes were missing like they were pulled out of his head, his teeth looked like they were ripped out, and his tongue was cut off. I screamed in terror," OH MY GOD!" Then, he turned into bones. "Wha-?" I said as I turned towards the closet. I saw the Enderman, it looked like a Black Skeleton with long arm and legs, it looked 10 feet tall, but it had those purple eyes. It looked at me straight in the eyes...then, the Enderman opened its mouth, ran towards me and ripped my arms off. I screamed in pain. Then, he ripped my legs off, then he started to pull my head off. In unspeakable pain, I felt my neck ripping, my spine disconnecting from my body. All I could hear was the Enderman screaming.[/quote] Oh god, I found this creepypasta. So scary. :v:
If your brother dies a horrible death and turns to bones, I don't think that the proper reaction is "Wha-?". Also, how did he write the story if his arms were ripped off?
He got better
[QUOTE=judgeofdeath;34003414]He got better[/QUOTE] Oh yeah. I completely forgot how fast decapitations heal.
[QUOTE=Da_Maniac_;33995694]This is the best creepypasta I've read in a while. [url]http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Psychosis[/url][/QUOTE] Damn, that was creepy, especially in a place as grey and rainy as Ireland. Excuse me being stupid, but what exactly is the deceiver supposed to be, I don't get this bit [quote]He wanted to scream, but the nerve filaments wrapped around his head and into his eyes made him do otherwise. His body walked into the cell like a puppet, and told the patient, once more, that he was wrong, and that there was nobody trying to deceive him.[/quote]
Okay this is not some shitty videogame creepypasta. Its a shitty ghost story: In Finland we have this urbanlegend about a mailman who had a deadly accident while doing his job. He was running down the stairs in an apartment house during a night. Carrying lots of newspapers in his other hand and the keys to the house in the other, he was speeding down the stairs so that he would get the job done in time. His shoes though were slippery (because of snow) and he fell down the stone stairs breaking his neck. He bled to death while unconsious. The people who lived in the house said that they heard some moaning from the stairs for a short period of time. No one bothered to go check. The body of a dead mailman was found the next morning. Ever since during the nights, an echoing chain of very loud footsteps are heard from the stairs to the apartments of the house, a noise where someone rapidly runs down the stairs as if in hurry. The steps are so loud that people often wake up to the noise. Also the old elevator doors were slammed together so loudly that the janitor was forced to upgrade them to close automatically and more silently. The janitor complained about this to the post company. He though always got the same response: "Its not any of our guys. No one in that apartment house has had a subscription for a newspaper for ages." Roughly translated to english. Give me a break im tired
[QUOTE=bull04;33994691]Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [URL]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/URL][/QUOTE] I don't know what all the winner ratings were about. That creepypasta tried it's hardest to hit all the tropes. "OMGEEZ UBER LOUD SCREEMZ AND HYPER REALISTIC WALLS!" If you had just gotten rid of the retarded cliches, then that would have been a very effective story. The way you described the deaths in sickening detail was unnerving, but it was more or less fact that it all could easily happen in Gmod that terrified me the most. (accept for the hyper-realism and shit). You're a great writer and I encourage you to create more creepypasta, but watch those cliches.
[QUOTE](accept for the hyper-realism and shit). You're a great writer and I encourage you to create more creepypasta, but watch those cliches.[/QUOTE] [QUOTE](accept for the hyper-realism and shit). [/QUOTE] [QUOTE] accept [/QUOTE] isnt it except? ...or can accept be used too?
[QUOTE=Gen;34008095][/QUOTE] Ooooh, I made a small grammar mistake. Sue me for it.
[QUOTE=Mr. N;34004258]What exactly is the deceiver supposed to be?[/QUOTE] I thought it was either some kind of parasite, or some kind of eldritch abomination that took over humanity.
[QUOTE=BananaFoam;34008143]Ooooh, I made a small grammar mistake. Sue me for it.[/QUOTE] Ok, sorry it was a bit stupid to point something like that out. Im sorry
[QUOTE=bull04;33994691]Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [url]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/url][/QUOTE] Make a second one please.
[QUOTE=bull04;33994691]Made a Garry's Mod creepy pasta. Not really THAT good but I thought it was alright. [url]http://pastebin.com/415YeFpJ[/url][/QUOTE] You did really well. Please make a second part.
Just gotta request this creepypasta again. I read it once, and absolutely loved it, and can't find it anywhere, not even the wiki. It was written like a journal, and it was about this woman and her boyfriend going to see a play. Going there is fine, but they get lost on the way back home. Eventually, they're in an area they can't even recognize, and as the story progresses, the boyfriend becomes more and more aggravated. Now, the thing that was most prevalent about this story, was that at the end, there was an image of what looked like a structure, resembling the Citadel from HL2, buried under the sand in a massive desert.
[B]This one gave me the chills and I wanted to stop reading, but couldn't[/B] I had never given much thought to how I would die. Maybe it was because I had spent most of my life thinking about how others would die. Especially my mother. She never understood the elaborate intricacies of my mind. And now she never will. But her voice never stopped ringing through my mind. Constantly… Constantly… The sound of her shrill voice constantly pounds through my mind. The only way to stop the sound is to silence it with blood. My name is Roger. Roger Gail. I am a physics teacher at the local high school. I have a deep connection with my mother. She’s a bitch. A horrible woman. She “Cleansed” me every day I came home from school. I wasn’t allowed to do extracurricular activities. They were unclean. I wasn’t allowed to have friends. They were unclean. Every goddamn part of my life was unclean. I was never good enough for my mother. Never. But mother protected me from the world. The world was dirty. The world is dirty… Yes… Dirty. The filthy unclean feelings I get when I lay in my bed. I don’t need the touch of anyone. All I needed was Mother. Yes. Mother. When I have those feelings, special feelings, I think of mother, and I am soothed. With every drop of blood I spill, a pleasure unlike any I’ve ever known. Every day I’d come home from school to, “Roger! You have been a dirty boy today. Time for your bath!” Bath. Such a horrid word. Mother would always make me sit in the bathtub and she would pour bleach onto my naked flesh… She would begin scrubbing my body with steel wool and bleach, and then I would begin scrubbing. I was filthy, and I needed to be cleansed. “Now don’t worry, son. This won’t hurt a bit.” She would say that every time. Then she would scrub my face. The burning pain would sear my eyes. But it was okay. The pain was good. The pain was clean. The pain was always followed by the pleasure. Mother would scrub every inch of my body until she reached… My center. My center would tingle as she stroked me with her pointy, pale fingers. I never minded. This was my reward for being clean. My life at the school was like that of any other child. Nobody ever saw what a fucked up kid I was. Mother never brought me to the school in fear of becoming filthy, so I walked to school. The path I would take was through the forest near my house. Dark, quiet, a silent tension of danger and lustful vengeance was suspended in the air of the forest. I love the tension. Gave me the biggest fucking hard-on ever. I never gave a fuck if I was late to school. No one loved me. No one gave a flying fuck if I lived or died! No… No… Mother loved me. That’s why she cleansed me. Every day. The cleansing. Every day I would await my cleansing. When I was 17, I came home one day, Awaiting the pleasure and pain of being pure. “Mother, I’m home…” No answer. As I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, I began hearing a thumping. A loud, thunderous thumping. The noise was originating out of Mother’s room. I had never heard such a noise. “Mother? Are you alright?” I tentatively asked as I entered the room. Was Mother okay? Was she alright? Was she being hurt? Wh-what was going on? Why was that man ramming his body into Mother? Who was this man?! What were these sounds coming out of Mother?! Oh God the sounds. I needed them to stop. Make them stop! I made them stop. Over above Mother’s dresser was a large metal crucifix with a pointed end on it. Mother was incredibly religious. That dumb cunt would believe anything. I removed the crucifix from the wall and ran towards the man with its pointed end upward. Before the man had any time to scream, or even whimper, I beat him senseless with it. I just kept hitting him and hitting him, blood and eventually brain matter were splattering all over onto my body, the walls, and on Mother. The dumb bitch was screaming her head off in terror. I didn’t mind. I finally took what was left of the crucifix, the statue of Jesus had fallen off of it, and pierced the cross into the man’s eye socket. “Roger! What the hell is the matter with you?!” Mother… Oh Mother. She would get hers eventually. But the man was still breathing. Still a glimmer of hope that his fragile, filthy life would survive. No. I would make sure his dirty life never saw the light of day again. I grabbed a hold of his loose limbs and dragged his mangled body down the staircase. Each thud on the wooden staircase cracked a deeper wound into the fuck’s head. Blood spread like water flowing down a sewage drain down the stairs. I thrusted the body into the kitchen. A deep murmur of pain escaped from the distorted, swollen body at my feet. “Shut up you fucking bastard! How dare you defile Mother!” I grabbed his bloody, greasy black hair and rammed his skull into the table, shoving the crucifix farther into his brain. The squish sound, the smooth entrance, it was all I could do not to scream with pleasure. I felt my center throb. I needed to finish. I couldn’t stop now. I grunted as I opened the fridge door, shoved fuck’s head into the shelves of the fridge and rammed the door shut, over and over, just like he rammed Mother. He would no longer ram her. No one would. Blood spilled all over the floor and I felt the pleasure I so desired. The inescapable moment of passion was almost too much to bare. I collapsed onto the floor. The tingling in my body finally coming to an end. But the filthy, bio hazardous mess was still left. I must clean. I took the body, and threw him down the laundry chute. Hmmmm…the body won’t fit. His large phallus got him into this mess, and it would get him out. I took my Swiss army knife and begin cutting off his member. The pop sound of my knife entering and the deep, tight sliding of my knife sent chills of joy down my spine. Once I finished, the body slid down the chute. I calmly walked downstairs, hands shaking, and shoved the body into the dryer. High seemed like a good setting. Once I heard the mangled corpse rumbling around, I went` up to Mother. “Mother, it’s time for my bath.” Oh, Mother. So naïve. As I undressed for my bath, I noticed Mother’s hands shaking as she prepared the bath. She scrubbed my body raw, harder, and harder. I closed my eyes, dreaming of the feel of blood and metal sliding through my hands. “Alright, Son. You’re finished.” WHAT?!?!?!?!? THAT BITCH WAS NOT DONE WITH ME YET!!! NO!!! HOW DARE SHE?!?!? No! No… No… I would get my pleasure, one way or another. I grabbed at her hair and slammed her face into the side of the tub. My arms tensed and trembling. Blood and teeth spatter around the baby blue tile floor. “You dirty, filthy whore. You will not treat me this way. I will get what I want.” I ran downstairs naked and wet. I reached into one of the kitchen drawers and grabbed the pliers. I felt light as air as I climbed the stairs slowly back up to the bathroom. Upon entering the room, I took in my surroundings of blood, teeth, and anticipation. I was ready for this. I would be in charge now. I reached down and lifted Mother’s unconscious head and pulled her into my lap. Her soft, graying hair brushing against my throbbing genitals. I needed more though. MORE! I jammed the pliers into Mother’s mouth and began twisting and ripping out her teeth. The popping sound of teeth sliding out of her old, whithered, decaying gums. Blood mixed with saliva dribbled out of her mouth. Her mouth was left as an empty cavern of warmth, wetness, and wild pleasure. I held Mother’s head softly and slid her mouth onto my throbbing shaft. Oh the pleasure. The warmth. The blood. Ugh, all that blood. Yes. Yes. I felt my body lose control as I started to thrust deeper and harder into her mouth. I felt the back of her throat close around me. NO! I needed to go farther. I pulled my slimy, quivering shaft out of Mother’s mouth and dug the pliers into the back of her throat. I rammed, and jammed, and thrust, and penetrate. Once I felt her spine, I opened the pliers, squeezed them onto the rough bone, and yanked with all my might. The crack of the bone, the twang of the spinal cord breaking, Mother’s body jolting as her spinal cord disconnected her conscious. I threw her to the ground, got over her mouth, and thrust deep into her mouth, harder, harder, harder!!!!! Uuughhhhh! I collapsed down onto the ground, ooze dripping out of my descending member. The blood surrounding me was like a blanket of comfort. I laid my head on Mother’s cold chest, and fell asleep...
[QUOTE=MalwareOhMy!;34017089][B]This one gave me the chills and I wanted to stop reading, but couldn't[/B][/QUOTE] I... I'm gonna go give my mom a hug right now, and tell her I love her. What the fuck was that.
Exactly, the last paragraph made me want to sit in a shower in the fetal position for about 20 mins [editline]2nd January 2012[/editline] [B]This threads goin by fast! anyways content [/B] You ever seen someone die on camera? A snuff film is a recording of the actual murder of human being that is subsequently passed around for entertainment purposes. Suicides and accidents don’t count. According to the MPAA, the FCC, the FBI and the ever-lovin’ Snopes.com, there’s no such thing as a snuff film. Yes, this includes Faces of Death. Anything you think might count is faked, falsified, or not made for that purpose, such as those tasteless videos you find on shock sites. This is a lie. There are, as best as anyone can tell, between 30-40 snuff films floating around out there. The earliest is a silent film on decaying nitrate celluloid, simply titled La Mort D’une Fille, and bears the date of 1896.The latest, judging by the hairstyles and the presence of a “Frankie Says Relax” t-shirt, was probably made in 1983 or 1984 and is on Betamax. The films vary in violence, but they all include seemingly ritualized sex, followed by the slaying of a girl with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes who appears to be around 19 years old. Every film has the exact same girl in it. Of course nobody believes in Snuff films. It's just too sick to be real, right? Nobody in their right mind would actively produce evidence against them like that, let along make money off of it. Al Goldstein, publisher of Screw magazine, has a standing offer of one million American dollars for the one who can find a real, commercially sold Snuff movie. The offer has been in place for years and nobody has claimed it. And for good reason. I mean, you don't buy a carton of cigarettes and then sell it for half or a third of the price, do you? Besides, as far as I know, nobody has ever taken one of these films home, seeing as they aren't sold as everybody thinks. That's too much of a risk. You pay to view a screening of it. Nobody ever held a copy of these films, except of course for the few people who make money off of them. As far as I know, there are only three, all male. Actually, the only females involved in these movies are the victims. Not all movies contain rape or sex of any kind, but it's not uncommon, especially with the few starring children as victims. This all may sound a bit odd to a lot of you, but of course it does; it involves something that just can't exist, right? It is, though, very hard to get to attend one of these screenings. You need to be invited, and everyone who's ever been invited have been invited by personal mail, i.e. not via the postal office. The letters are apparently drenched in some chemical that makes the paper dissolve after a certain amount of time outside the envelope, possibly in contact with air or light - I don't know. All I know is that these people are clever and they take their measures. If they knew who I am, they'd surely kill me, maybe even make me into movie star. Then I'd be shown in their little cinema. It's quite a dark place, seeing as the only lights are candles situated around the screening room. The entrance to the Snuff cinema is that of a decrepit, old factory, reminiscent of a slaughter house. The letter would have short instructions as how to get to the screening room. The projector itself, apparently hooked to a recently bought DVD-player, is powered by a car battery. I've been told they used to use a small gas engine back in the 30s. The 'chairs' are the same old tables that were once used as slaughter benches. As soon as the screening is over, all the guests, maximum 10 or so, are threatened to leave immediately through 3 different exits with 30 minutes intervals. The exits are different from the entrance, as they lead to underground tunnels, probably old sewers, that lead to back alleys in different parts of the city. The crew, i.e. the people with the films, quickly vanish, probably through a fourth exit. If you manage to find the screening room after a screening, you wouldn't know it was ever used for anything like that. It just looks like a walk-in-freezer with white walls, meathooks still in the ceiling, and of course the tables, still with obvious marks of old, dried blood. There are about 120 Snuff films to be viewed in just this one cinema (and there are probably more throughout the world), each categorized by victim, method of killing, whether sex is involved (and whether it takes place pre- or post-mortem) and by "level of brutality." At least one film is of young, blonde women being choked to death while performing an unwilling blowjob. Another of a young child being cut open while drugged just enough to not move, but enough to still audibly and visibly be awake. Yet another is of a man hung upside down on a meathook, then having his testicles removed with a machete and force-fed them before he dies from bloodloss. I could go on and on about these movies as I've seen a good portion of them. Why not? I have the money for it. The goriest film I've seen was that of a middle aged dark haired woman having her hands, feet, arms and legs amputated while drugged, then sewn them crudely back on at the wrong extremeties. The next cut showed her wriggle in terror as she tried standing up on her arm-feet until she collapsed and vomited. A door behind her opens and a male figure swings an aluminum baseball bat at head. On impact, the head bent and she let out a gurgly cry before going limp and silent. The angle of the camera changed and the man hit her head again, this time bursting it open with debris of brainmatter. A crying child was then shown eating her eyes. It was the most satisfying movie I've ever made.
[QUOTE=TheWhiteFox1;34016852]Just gotta request this creepypasta again. I read it once, and absolutely loved it, and can't find it anywhere, not even the wiki. It was written like a journal, and it was about this woman and her boyfriend going to see a play. Going there is fine, but they get lost on the way back home. Eventually, they're in an area they can't even recognize, and as the story progresses, the boyfriend becomes more and more aggravated. Now, the thing that was most prevalent about this story, was that at the end, there was an image of what looked like a structure, resembling the Citadel from HL2, buried under the sand in a massive desert.[/QUOTE] Ever since I first read that one I've been trying to find it again.
Wow. That just....wow.
[QUOTE=MalwareOhMy!;34017680][B]This one gave me the chills and I wanted to stop reading, but couldn't[/B][/QUOTE] [B] JESUS CHRIST HOW HORRIFYING[/B]
Best thread music. [media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3PoHVhPA90&feature=BFa&list=PL38459C20930A9B83&lf=rellist[/media]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZfH0pxXPx4[/media] I prefer this.
[QUOTE=Da_Maniac_;33995694]This is the best creepypasta I've read in a while. [URL]http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/Psychosis[/URL][/QUOTE] Y'know, i kinda wished it ended differently, dont get me wrong, that ending and the story as a whole was fantastic, but i think it would've been alot more eerier if there was no sort of true paranormal entity, that the whole thing really was just this one guy going insane due to his own paranoia fantastic read either way tho
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