More games ones, I like em' epecialy the ones about Fallout, The more modern games seem more creepy to me
Awww how sad :ohdear:
[editline]10:56PM[/editline]
[QUOTE=Zenpod;23064996]More games ones, I like em' epecialy the ones about Fallout, The more modern games seem more creepy to me[/QUOTE]
Nah the modern ones do nothing for me, now the pokemon/zelda ones.... fucking scary shit there.
[QUOTE=G-foxisus;23064976]Ok
-sadness-
Not page king though :saddowns:[/QUOTE]
Great, now I'm both scared and really sad. :saddowns:
[quote][U]How to Dance In the Rain[/U]
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb.
He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would be able to see him.
I saw him looking at his watch, and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got
the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.
I inquired as to her health; he told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.
I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are'?
He smiled as he patted my hand and said, 'She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is'.
I had to hold back tears as he left; I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, 'That is the kind of love I want in my life'.
True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be..
The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have.
I hope you share this with someone you care about.
[B]'Life isn't about how to survive the storm, but about how to dance in the rain.'[/B][/quote]I think I'm de-railing. Posting some scary stuff.
[quote]
[INDENT]During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.
Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm’s well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).
Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image, the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door, crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. The camera then continued to point at the oven for another 45 minutes until the batteries apparently died.
To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well…
…or why the body of the woman on the tape did not in any way resemble the body of the woman found in the oven.
[/quote]
[/INDENT]
What was that huge story about the guy that went to investigate some tunnel or something with his friend and they kept going back to see what was there and there was pictures of them in these really right spaces and in the end they never see eachother again and his friend is all messed up. It was a good read.
[QUOTE=Reborn9;23057924]err... don't you mean the grifter? That's not real, btw, so stop trying to fool us.[/QUOTE]
misread as "The Griefer" and thought of those Team Roomba videos.
Damnit i wish the Fallout 3 story was real, It would be so freakin interesting.
[QUOTE=DeathRocks;23046096][media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BHyR3A9-nk[/media][/QUOTE]
:ohdear:
[editline]6:08pm[/editline]
Holy shit I just read Faces in the Storm....
:ohdear::ohdear:
It completely mystifies me that people think the Fallout 3 thing could possibly be real. I mean a numbers station easter egg, sure, but the rest? Come on, really guys?
real or not, the grifter has ripped my soul into a million pieces
I still can't find that video. And since it was posted on the internet no way it's gone forever
One day,someone will create the ultimate creepy pasta
[QUOTE=leet_name;23067145]One day,someone will create the ultimate creepy pasta[/QUOTE]
And 4Chan will make it burn down into the ground, never to be brought up again.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iFXyLah2oQ[/media]
Obviously fake, but still a contribution.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCx34OQSpqU[/media]
Obviously fake but some good editing.
I don't understand, why do you find suicide mouse creepy? Have I found the wrong video?
Needs more creepy stories.
[quote]I never saw the ocean till I was nineteen, and if I ever see it again it will be too goddamn soon. I was a child, coming out of the train, fresh from Amarillo, into San Diego and all her glory. The sight of it, all that water and the blind crushing power of the surf, filled me with dread. I’d seen water before, lakes, plenty big, but that was nothing like this. I don’t think I can describe what it was like that first time, and further more, I’m not sure I care too.
You can imagine the state I was in when a few weeks later they gave me a rifle and put me on a boat. When I stopped vomiting up everything that I ate, I decided that I might not kill myself after all. Not being able to see the land, and that ceaseless chaotic, rocking of the waves; I remember thinking that the war had to be a step up from this. Kids can be so fucking stupid.
I had such a giddy sense of glee when I saw the island, and it’s solid banks. They transferred us to a smaller boat in the middle of the night, just our undersized company with our rucksacks and rifles and not a word. We just took a ride right into it, just because they asked us to. The lieutenants herded us into our platoons on the decks and briefed us: the island had been lost. That was exactly how he put it. Somehow in the grand plan for the Pacific, this one tiny speck of earth, only recently discovered and unmapped, had gotten lost in the shuffle; a singularly perfect clerical error was all it took. It was extremely unlikely, he stressed, that the Japanese had gotten a hold of it, being so far east and south of their current borders, but a recent fly over reported what looked like an airfield in the central plateau.
We hit the beach in the middle of the night. I’d heard talk of landings before, and I’m not ashamed to tell, I was scared shitless. I don’t know quite what I expected, but it wasn’t we got, that thick, heavy silence. Behind the lapping of the waves and the wind in the trees, there was… nothing, no birds, no insects. Just deathly stillness.
Another hundred yards deeper into the eerie tranquility of the jungle, we stopped in a small clearing for the officers to reconvene, and it was obvious even they were spooked. I wasn’t a bright kid, but I knew enough to know that something was very wrong. It was like the whole island was dead. I remember I could only smell the sea, despite the red blossoms dangling from the trees.
It wasn’t an airfield, on top of the plateau. I can’t tell you what it was, because I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t think anyone ever will. If I tell you it was like the Aztec pyramids, but turned upside down, so that it sank like giant steps into the earth, you’d get the basic idea of it, but that somehow fails to capture the profound unearthliness of the structure.
There was no sign of individual pieces in the masonry, it appeared to have been carved out of a single immense block of black rock into a sharp and geometric shape. It was slick and perfectly smooth like obsidian, but it had no shine to it. It swallowed up even the moonlight, so that it was impossible to see how deep it went, or even focus your eyes on any one part of it, like it was one giant blind spot.
Our platoon drew the honor of investigating the lower levels, so we descended the stairs as the rest of the company surrounded the plateau. We took the stairs slowly and carefully after the first man to touch one of the right angle edges slit his hands down the bone.
At odd intervals down the steps, there were several small stone rooms; simple, empty, hollow cubes of stone with one opening, facing the pit in the center. There was no door that we could see, and with the opening being four feet of the ground, you’d have to put your hands on that black razor sharp edge to climb in into it.
We circled the descending floors, shining our lights into each of the small structures; They contained the same featureless black walls and nothing else. No dust, no leaves and other detritus from the jungle, the whole monument was immaculate, as if the place was just built; but that couldn’t be right. The whole structure felt incalculably old to me somehow, despite having no way to articulate the particular reasons.
Down near the bottom you could see that it simply sloped away into a darkness that swallowed the flashlights. We tossed first a button and then a shell casing down into the pit, and waited in the unearthly silence, but no sounds returned. No one spoke, we simply turned away from the yawning abyss and continued our sweep of the bottom rung and the last of the small structures.
The body in the back corner was almost invisible at first in the thick shadows, but the long spill of drying blood reflected the light of our flashlights, and it led right too him. He was coiled tight, arms around his thighs, and his face tucked into his knees. You could see badly he was cut, his clothes opened in ragged bloody tatters to reveal the pale skin and bone beneath it. He may have been dressed in a Japanese uniform, but it had been reduced to ribbons; I only had few seconds to look at him before we heard the first shots.
It echoed like the buzzing of faraway insects in the still jungle, swallowed almost instantly by the blanket of quiet. By the time we reached the top, the rest of the company had vanished. There were shell casings on the ground, and the hot smell of gunpowder in the air, but they were gone. The trees were deathly quiet around, there was not a trace of the nearly fifty other men that had come ashore with us. I could taste bile rising in my throat as panic threatened to cripple me; I felt crushed between the yawning pit and razor edges on one side and the dead jungle and the pounding ocean on the other. The silence rang in my ears and I struggled to still myself.
They were just inside the jungle, waiting for us. They came out from between the trees with all sound of a moth, simply sliding into our view.
I can try to tell you what I saw, the same as I did to the army doc on the hospital ship when I first woke up, and again half dozen other various officers over the following months, and you’ll have the same reaction they did; that I was a dumb country rube suffering from heatstroke and exposure and trauma. That I was crazy.
You know me. You know I’m not crazy. And I remember every second of that night with crystal clarity.
The thing, the first one that caught my eye, was wearing the skin of a Jap soldier, all mottled with the belly distended from rot. The head drooped, useless and obscene on the shoulders, tongue swollen and eyes cloudy. I could see where it was coming apart at the ill-defined joints, with ragged holes in the drying flesh. At the bottom of each of these raw pits was blackness, deeper than the stones of the buildings; a darkness that seemed to churn and froth like an angry cloud.
The thing moved suddenly, the head snapping and rolling backwards as it dashed towards us. I had my rifle clasped tightly in my hands, but it simply didn’t occur to me to fire. All I could do was gape silently at the macabre sight bearing down on us, and think absurdly of my mother’s marionettes.
A gun went off beside me, and I turned to see a dozen more of the horrors darting silently in on us. Among them were a few more rotting and swollen forms, but the majority wore the same uniforms as us, and were pale, fresh, and soaked in blood. More bullets zipped through the air, and I saw the grisly things hit again and again, but they never slowed. I caught a glimpse of the First Sergeant’s vacant glassy eyes as his head dangled limp from his shoulders; I saw the great ragged wound in his back and the shuddering darkness that inhabited his corpse when he leapt just past me without a sound, landing like a graceful predator onto the soldier beside me. The others around me began to drop in a silent dance of kinetic energy and blurred motion.
I was on the track team in high school, and it could have got me to college. I didn’t need an invitation. I just ran. I ran blind through jungle, caroming of tree trunks; I ran until I saw the ocean, and it struck a new ringing note of terror in me. I don’t remember actually deciding to swim, but when I turned back to the tree line, I saw one of the white and bloody things emerge, running on all fours, the hands splayed wide and the back contorted and cracked in an impossible angle.
To this day, the mere thought of the ocean still brings on a cold sweat, but that night I let it embrace me, let the tide drag me out to sea, if only to bring momentary relief from the impossible monolith and terrors on the island. The days I spent drifting off shore and blistering in the sun were a welcome release from the silent island.
I never saw the war. They sent me home as soon as I recovered.
It was comforting in a way, when I thought no one believed me. It allowed me to believe that it never happened, that it was a product of my mind. But as I got older, I’ve found that it is pointless to lie to anyone, especially yourself. I know what I saw.
Someone else believed me too.
I’ve seen maps of where they tested the hydrogen bombs in the South Pacific.
[/quote]
[QUOTE=Louis;23046772]Heres the pokemon one - [url]http://pastebin.com/f71e6728f[/url]
it's rather creepy[/QUOTE]
That was brilliant.
[QUOTE=Dynamitekyle;23049831]This is incredibly long, but probably my favorite.
[IMG_thumb]http://img43.imageshack.us/img43/7835/ootbeta.jpg[/IMG_thumb][/QUOTE]
Is it bad that part of me really wants to play that?
And on the topic of the Fallout 3 numbers station, [b] to my Fallout 3 sound effects folder![/b]
Allegedly Simpsons Dead bart episode. i read the disclaimer and basically I am scared to listen to it.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPBGnjz9xUI[/media]
It's just a bunch of gibberish put through a fuckton of filters.
[QUOTE=mzathemind;23070290]Simpsons Dead bart episode. i read the disclaimer and basically I am scared to listen to it.
[URL="http://www.facepunch.com/#"]View YouTUBE video[/URL]
[URL]http://youtube.com/watch?v=JPBGnjz9xUI[/URL]
[/QUOTE]
"This is* how most of my masturbation sessions go."
"This is real. I died on the day* it said I would."
Oh Youtube...
:haw:
[QUOTE=mzathemind;23070290]Simpsons Dead bart episode. i read the disclaimer and basically I am scared to listen to it.
[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPBGnjz9xUI[/media][/QUOTE]
I wish they actually took the effort to make the video correspond with the story.
[b]WE ARE THE SOUND OF FLOURIDE[/b] :ohdear:
Using the contents in this thread, why doesn't anyone make a movie out of this shit.
[QUOTE=The BoxDog;23070616]Using the contents in this thread, why doesn't anyone make a movie out of this shit.[/QUOTE]
No good ending. Most of the stories either have shitty endings or just boring.
[QUOTE=Louis;23046772]Heres the pokemon one - [URL]http://pastebin.com/f71e6728f[/URL]
it's rather creepy[/QUOTE]
I noticed it was fake when I read red and green.
The original games only came in red, blue and yellow.
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