• Generally just Fucking Creepy Stuff-Thread
    5,002 replies, posted
[IMG]http://i51.tinypic.com/3308i0k.jpg[/IMG] Creepy shit
[QUOTE=SilverDragon619;26342226][img_thumb]http://cdn2-b.examiner.com/sites/default/files/styles/image_full_width/hash/f2/00/f200ce390f4bcdc0960515513577bc39.jpg[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] Actual story belonging to the picture: [quote] 17th May 1839 Early afternoon. It has come to my attention that there has been an accident. Daniel, my research assistant, has been trapped inside the burial chamber. All men are ordered to lift the massive stone hinder. Recovered Daniel after one hour of entrapment. After some preparation the workers hoisted the heavy stone with block and tackle. Daniel is delirious and his mind is slowly recovering. I have decided to have him leave for England. It would be foolish of me to risk not just his life, but the expedition's success by keeping him here. 20th May 1839 Those imbeciles. How dare they sacrifice my expedition to their superstition. The camp is in chaos and they blame the Orb. They won't get their hands on it. I shot one of them to put them in their place. It can't be helped, they are animals, all of them. They killed four men in the most gruesome way. Their skinless bodies torn apart. They say the desert took them, but I know murder when I see it. I have sent Abdullah to contact the French in Algiers. 22th May 1839 That thing is after me. It has been hunting me for days. But I keep out of its trail, so I will persevere. I can see a settlement at the edge of the desert. I'm getting closer. I can see it. But it is not me, it is Abdullah. Through his eyes I see, his mind I hear. Confined to myself, I see only death dressed in the Orb's darkest shadow. [/quote]
Hahaha, I love this thread. It needs more videogame creepypasta though.
Nightmares, nightmares everywhere.
[QUOTE=DarkOps;26411375]Hahaha, I love this thread. It needs more videogame creepypasta though.[/QUOTE] Hello. I am a long time fan of video games, and this paragraph is establishing my credentials as such. I enjoy a number of popular titles, although I have a nostalgic fondness for games on older systems. Recently I started thinking about a particular older title, and minor obsession took hold. Rather than emulate it, I elected to purchase it from a pawn shop, a frustrating experience you can relate to. After several failures, I found an old store that had it in stock. No one at the store seemed to care that the cartridge was malformed in several ways, unlabeled, or cracked. Indeed, the employees were sullen, silent and unhelpful. This is not particularly unrealistic. Later in this story, I will attempt to find this store again. They will have gone out of business and moved out. Upon loading up the cartridge, there was no title screen and the save files were named in an unusual or provocative way. Like many gamers I chose to load the save file of the person playing before me, to establish comradeship with those who have gone before. When the game loaded, I was struck by several discrepancies from the normal gameplay. The graphics were in a style considerably more realistic than usual, and the audio warped in a style very hard to convey through text, although I will try repeatedly through the course of this story. I continued to play, perhaps wondering if I had a rare prototype or beta version of the game. While the game proceeded as normal at first, soon enough even more unusual things began to happen. Characters began to act in ways unusual to their standard pattern. Enemies would be missing or dead long before the player avatar got there. Additionally, the enhanced graphics set me ill at ease, and the audio continued to play unnervingly and grew more so as time passed. Text and voice began to desynchronize, displaying one thing while saying another. Violence was exaggerated to the point of nausea, while any kind act available to the player in the base game was nowhere to be found. Mild terror ensued, but I did not stop playing for reasons poorly explained. It is at this point that things began to go gently batshit. Characters in game reacted with violent accusation and open anger to the presence of the player character. Options began to close, as doors all lead to the same area, often one of tremendous violence. The game appears to directly talk to me with barely veiled threats. It is at this point that I attempt to find the store that sold the cartridge. They have gone out of business and moved out. With no other possible option, I continue playing. The game grows more glitchy and intense, with moments of gut-wrenching terror that take an unnaturally long time, several minutes or more, to conclude. I decided to contact the development team and had a surprisingly easy time doing so. When the development team is finally contacted about this, they near-universally deny the existence of this version of the game. One does not. He talks in hushed tones about the depression the famous project lead was enveloped in, the strange hatred to the world he displayed during the creation of the prototype game. Often one or more people on staff had committed suicide. This is incidental background detail, with big important names sprinkled in to lend an air of authenticity to this story. Finally I arrived at the end of the game. By this point my soul felt dead and my eyes glazed at the horrors I had been forced to perform. I had also blankly accepted the communication from the game, the unusual behavior, and the strange acts I was pressed to do, nothing like the game I remembered. For some reason I continue to consider this a beta or a glitch, in spite of the overwhelming evidence otherwise. As the main character's face stares into my eyes through the screen, distorted and with low-frequency audio tones sending terror and disgust humming through my gut, I realize this game is haunted or possessed by some means, and I am now doomed. This line hints that perhaps the game is manifesting into the real world in vague and terrifying ways, as well as concluding the story. There you go, you have just read every video game creepypasta out there.
[QUOTE=halflambada;26300970]I feel sick now. :([/QUOTE] So some guy wants to see what a little girl he's never seen before looks like. Very creepy.
[QUOTE=PortalGod;26412959]story[/QUOTE] One of the few times I didn't regret letting my eyes slink down to the bottom and read the last line.
Watch, if you think you can handle it. [media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL4Zbe0mcsA[/media]
[QUOTE=Raiskauskone;23044366]Alright, this thread is dedicated for the [B]actually cool creepy stuff[/B] in the world and the internet. Not those signals station and whatnot old stupid Cold-War relics, everyone knows that they're radiostations for agents worldwide and whatnot. By creepy stuff I really mean [I]actually awesome and frigging creepy stuff[/I] Like this [B]SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT FOR FALLOUT 3 AHEAD[/B] [img_thumb]http://img411.imageshack.us/img411/5134/1277902309738.jpg[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] I don't get what is so creepy about this.
[QUOTE=ChilColdCoolaid;26170227]It was called Still Life. [media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=La6T8Bq6CsU[/media][/QUOTE] Excellent movie, one of the best videos I've seen on Youtube.
Just found a link that tells more about that one haunted painting, "Hands Resist Him." [url]http://www.angelsghosts.com/ebay_haunted_painting.html[/url]
My avatar is creepy
[url]http://glados.biringa.com/download.php?hash=3294cd0c3fd0dcfab12f8ca1cf05ea98[/url] She loves them.
[QUOTE=Rangrgoto1;26416971]Watch, if you think you can handle it. [media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL4Zbe0mcsA[/media][/QUOTE] Gave me the bumps, but I wasn't really scared. I'll post results of when I watch it while on shrooms
Listening to Orion (Philip Glass) while tired and alone in your dorm room. It made me feel very small and worthless :ohdear:
[QUOTE=AlienFanatic;24175206]hey guys here's an eerie song [url]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkVT2NwiAgY&feature=search[/url][/QUOTE] I like that song. It's relaxing. Reminds me of Russian Circles.
[QUOTE=AgentBoomstick;26105912]No smile.jpg or dog.jpg? No problem! *FUCKING CREEPY SHIT* :ohdear:[/QUOTE] GODDAMMIT. I just finished cleaning my brain from Smile.jpg! WHY THE FUCK would you post something two times worse?! Goddammit, I need a new pair of pants.... And new coffee.... and a new monitor...
My god, great thread but i can't beleive no one has posted this: [url]http://www.cavernsofblood.com/nightmares/index.htm[/url] shitloads of fucked up nightmares ftw!
[QUOTE=broo20;26347942]I didn't realise that your avatar was animated, so when I saw it moving out of the corner of my eye I shat a fucking brick wall.[/QUOTE] :smug:
I just thought of a creepypasta/horror game concept (ugh) Imagine you go to your cousin's house for the week. All the advertising for the game will say that it's "an artistic portrait of a family". The player can move about, and actively explore, with a conversation system similar to the one in Alpha Protocol. Now, the player can go the whole seven days without anything happening. However, observant players will keep on noting that the family keeps on subconsciously hinting to the basement/shack/attic/whatever. The player, completely unaware, can venture up into the attic, to find bits and pieces of something horrible. A bloody axe here, a used condom there, broken restraints, etc. There will be no music or special effects, just the scene presented in all it's morbid, horrifying glory. The game has many, open ended paths to completion: Do you hold out until your parents pick up, trying not to alert anyone? Do you collect evidence, then hold out until the police arrive, desperately trying not to die in whatever way? Do you kill them preemptively, either for their sins or your safety? None of the options will be stated to the player, further adding to their confusion. Without a stated goal, the player will have to think quickly to survive.
[QUOTE=BobIsAwesome;23046130]I want to believe about the Fallout thing. Anybody got evidence?[/QUOTE] [url]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McFRonD-sjg[/url]
[QUOTE=BagMinge104;26438634]I just thought of a creepypasta/horror game concept (ugh) Imagine you go to your cousin's house for the week. All the advertising for the game will say that it's "an artistic portrait of a family". The player can move about, and actively explore, with a conversation system similar to the one in Alpha Protocol. Now, the player can go the whole seven days without anything happening. However, observant players will keep on noting that the family keeps on subconsciously hinting to the basement/shack/attic/whatever. The player, completely unaware, can venture up into the attic, to find bits and pieces of something horrible. A bloody axe here, a used condom there, broken restraints, etc. There will be no music or special effects, just the scene presented in all it's morbid, horrifying glory. The game has many, open ended paths to completion: Do you hold out until your parents pick up, trying not to alert anyone? Do you collect evidence, then hold out until the police arrive, desperately trying not to die in whatever way? Do you kill them preemptively, either for their sins or your safety? None of the options will be stated to the player, further adding to their confusion. Without a stated goal, the player will have to think quickly to survive.[/QUOTE] Sounds like that scene from The Birds. You know, the one that scares the FUCK out of me. If I had the Source SDK on this computer, I would start on something like this. Unfortunately...
[Quote]HARRISON BERGERON by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General. Some things about living still weren't quite right, though. April for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron's fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away. It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn't think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn't think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains. George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel's cheeks, but she'd forgotten for the moment what they were about. On the television screen were ballerinas. A buzzer sounded in George's head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm. "That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did," said Hazel. "Huh" said George. "That dance-it was nice," said Hazel. "Yup," said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren't really very good-no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn't be handicapped. But he didn't get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts. George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas. Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been. "Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer," said George. "I'd think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds," said Hazel a little envious. "All the things they think up." "Um," said George. "Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?" said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. "If I was Diana Moon Glampers," said Hazel, "I'd have chimes on Sunday-just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion." "I could think, if it was just chimes," said George. "Well-maybe make 'em real loud," said Hazel. "I think I'd make a good Handicapper General." "Good as anybody else," said George. "Who knows better then I do what normal is?" said Hazel. "Right," said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that. "Boy!" said Hazel, "that was a doozy, wasn't it?" It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples. "All of a sudden you look so tired," said Hazel. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, so's you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch." She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George's neck. "Go on and rest the bag for a little while," she said. "I don't care if you're not equal to me for a while." George weighed the bag with his hands. "I don't mind it," he said. "I don't notice it any more. It's just a part of me." "You been so tired lately-kind of wore out," said Hazel. "If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few." "Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out," said George. "I don't call that a bargain." "If you could just take a few out when you came home from work," said Hazel. "I mean-you don't compete with anybody around here. You just set around." "If I tried to get away with it," said George, "then other people'd get away with it-and pretty soon we'd be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn't like that, would you?" "I'd hate it," said Hazel. "There you are," said George. The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?" If Hazel hadn't been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn't have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head. "Reckon it'd fall all apart," said Hazel. "What would?" said George blankly. "Society," said Hazel uncertainly. "Wasn't that what you just said? "Who knows?" said George. The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn't clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, "Ladies and Gentlemen." He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read. "That's all right-" Hazel said of the announcer, "he tried. That's the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard." "Ladies and Gentlemen," said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred pound men. And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. "Excuse me-" she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive. "Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen," she said in a grackle squawk, "has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous." A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall. The rest of Harrison's appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides. Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds. And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random. "If you see this boy," said the ballerina, "do not - I repeat, do not - try to reason with him." There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges. Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake. George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have - for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. "My God-" said George, "that must be Harrison!" The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head. When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen. Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood - in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die. "I am the Emperor!" cried Harrison. "Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!" He stamped his foot and the studio shook. "Even as I stand here" he bellowed, "crippled, hobbled, sickened - I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!" Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds. Harrison's scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor. Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall. He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder. "I shall now select my Empress!" he said, looking down on the cowering people. "Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!" A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow. Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed her mask. She was blindingly beautiful. "Now-" said Harrison, taking her hand, "shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded. The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he told them, "and I'll make you barons and dukes and earls." The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs. The music began again and was much improved. Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while-listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it. They shifted their weights to their toes. Harrison placed his big hands on the girls tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers. And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang! Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well. They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun. They leaped like deer on the moon. The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it. It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling. They kissed it. And then, neutraling gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time. It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor. Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on. It was then that the Bergerons' television tube burned out. Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer. George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. "You been crying" he said to Hazel. "Yup," she said. "What about?" he said. "I forget," she said. "Something real sad on television." "What was it?" he said. "It's all kind of mixed up in my mind," said Hazel. "Forget sad things," said George. "I always do," said Hazel. "That's my girl," said George. He winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head. "Gee - I could tell that one was a doozy," said Hazel. "You can say that again," said George. "Gee-" said Hazel, "I could tell that one was a doozy." [/quote] Why I hate democrats.
[QUOTE=WhoopingCrane;26455597]Why I hate democrats.[/QUOTE] this is not creepypasta, this has nothing to do with democrats, (only your immensely distorted view of them,) and you are an idiot.
Oh fuck oh fuck... [img]http://media.riemurasia.net/albumit/mmedia/7b/8vl/fpm/167150/767461116.jpg[/img]
[QUOTE=Mariosnail007;26452658][url]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McFRonD-sjg[/url][/QUOTE] and I was planning on going to sleep
[QUOTE=Str4fe;26466823]Oh fuck oh fuck... [img_thumb]http://media.riemurasia.net/albumit/mmedia/7b/8vl/fpm/167150/767461116.jpg[/img_thumb][/QUOTE] [IMG]http://i56.tinypic.com/1ewciw.jpg[/IMG]
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09cQYAhqZp0[/media]
Read the Kurt Vonnegut story a while ago in class. I absolutely love the story, but I don't think it's creepypasta at all.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUXyl-Xaxr4[/media] It goes from creepy to hilarious then utterly terrifying.
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