The idea behind the Cathedral:
This is mainly a story that reflects the plights of a new researcher. I wanted to make someone who gets a beautiful, benevolent, potentially harmless SCP, and gets butchered by it due to inexperience.
I wanted to make something that impressed on people that SCPs should be treated the same way hunters treat the great outdoors: with weapons, and with cages, but also with respect. The Foundation and its SCPs are kind of mutually hostages of eachother, and I wanted to show what can go wrong with that.
So this is an on-location SCP, immobile by nature, which a Foundation camp has been set up on for containment purposes. The only real issue here is to stop people from falling asleep in the field. That's all you really have to do to avoid fatalities, or really any danger, and even then, you'd have to be asleep, specifically in REM state, during a short window of time in the middle of the night for it to really really endanger you (midnight to three).
The basic idea here is that this is a rip in the universe. This location is a gaping hole in existence, but thankfully doesn't affect the physical world. In the realm of dreaming souls, however, you can wander in and never come back, effectively getting your essence evaporated in the vast nothingness of dimensional glitches. It has been here for a Long Time.
However, at some point, a church was built exactly here and was devoutly worshiped in. Through some hand-wavery and shenanigans, the souls of the members of the church stayed put and entered dreamland, curating the other-worldly version of their church and worshiping privately. They kind of simplified in form, however, and became uniform, stiff facsimiles of people, as ghosts sometimes do, while still keeping the basic ideas they worked on while alive. Mainly… Altruistic protection of the fellow person.
Over the years, they cultivated the dreamchurch, adding in the memories of prayers (manifested by rooms in which the prayers were uttered, or rooms involved in the reasons behind the saying of the prayers) to the sprawling hallways of the now-cathedral, while making sure to hunker down and hide when midnight rolled around, which is when the rift likes to hoover up the dreamworld.
Because of the rift's nature, people not only could haunt this area while dead, but they also visit it while asleep, which leads to some unfortunate things… Sometimes people will take a nap in the field, start dreaming (ending up in the cathedral), and stay there until midnight, at which point their soul will be devoured mercilessly by the unfeeling void.
The churchghosts think this is terrible and do not like it to happen at all. The poor little souls!
So, in their impotent anguish, they manifested these big lumbering attack dogs, who would find sleepers who are cutting it too close to the wire, and physically attack them. When the sleepers died, the churchghosts invited them into the fold, at which point their immortal souls would be safe and sound, to one day perhaps make it into heaven.
THAT IS THE STORY OF THE WORSHIPERS AND THE CATHEDRAL.
So, essentially, this location has a lot of fucked up shit going wrong by dint of a rip in spacetime. Let's go over them to be clear.
1. The lines between reality, the afterlife/dreamworld, and the vast nothingness have been blurred as such that one may pass through them under certain circumstances.
2. Coming from reality to dreamworld through REM, ones physical body is in danger to damage taken in the dream, and during the witching hour, ones soul is in danger of obliteration.
3. Living (dead) in the dreamworld, ones soul is more or less safe, being more attached to the dreamworld.
4. In the void, one does not come back.
5. Sleepers in the dreamworld are affected by dream logic. In my universe, this means that everything is more potent. Blood doesn't clot when you're wounded, drugs will overdose you nearly 100% of the time, and emotions seem either too strong or too weak.
6. Even electronics irl don't do very well, and like to crap out.
etc.
On to Fitzpatrick. He is a little idiot. He does not see the signs. He got containment orders from the field agents and their initial report, and could have stayed like that, but he got the go-ahead for research, and dang if he isn't excited.
First mistake: he lets his Ds sort of play buddy with him. He gets too friendly, and, worse, starts to care. EVEN WORSE, he falls in love with one of them. This is without question why he ends up dying.
Second mistake: He thinks the interior of the SCP is important for some reason. Even worse, he starts to want to fully explore it. This is technically possible, but an extremely bad and pointless idea. EVEN WORSE, he starts to get really comfy with the SCP, like it's his second home before he even gets there. This is definitely why he dies.
Third mistake: He doesn't see the equipment malfunction like the subtle SCP effect is it. Even worse, he thinks it's temporary. EVEN WORSE, he doesn't plan for its inevitable total failure. This is absolutely, positively, irrefutably the reason he ends up dying.
Dr. Fitzpatrick does the tests. He makes the notes. He sends the Ds. He figures out the time constraints, the cognitive rules, the layout, and even gets to hear the lovely monster choir that happens every morning. He even knows how to guard against random monster attacks. He is ready to explore with his D honey.
His D honey dies. Dr. Fitz is pretty upset, but that ain't gonna stop him. He goes along with the ill-advised visit and ends up feeling very, very, very lonely due to the amplification of dream-feelings, which he was not expecting because he is a dense turd.
He ends up snogging someone in a closet, which takes all his time up, and before you know it, it's midnight… his associates in the real world attempt to wake him with a shock, which does not work because none of the machines do, and, as reality crumbled around him, Dr. Fitz was rescuttacked by a monster and killed.
His soul now runs around being weird with the other churchghosts, and someone smarter has taken over the site.
THAT IS THE STORY OF DOCTOR IDIOT FITZPATRICK.
The article is a combination of these two stories, and, of course, because of that, is kind of fucking long. I'll try to work on that.
Two sentence summary: A big church that you can only visit in your dreams. Causes the death of a newbie researcher.
Dream Cathedral
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| A photo of a small room on the ground floor of SCP-1441-A during late morning. |
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Item #: SCP-1441
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Site-24's perimeter is to be maintained and guarded at all times to bar civilian entry. No personnel is permitted to become unconscious within the perimeter, excluding scheduled experimentation. Emergency sleep-arousal tools, such as adrenaline shots, must be stored on site in quickly accessible locations. No personnel are to be unconscious on SCP-1441 between 2400 and 0300 hours.
Caution is advised when initiating contact with SCP-1441-B due to high risk of injury.
SCP-1441-C are not to be approached by any personnel. If an instance of SCP-1441-C is detected, personnel are advised to remove themselves from the area, and focus their full attention on unrelated phenominon until SCP-1441-C is forgotten. Personnel may then proceed normally.
At all times within SCP-1441-A, personnel are to exercise elevated caution in regards to protecting the self. The effects of physiological and psychological change inflicted upon personnel within SCP-1441-A are much stronger than those outside of SCP-1441-A. Personnel should not take medication or sustain injury within SCP-1441-A except as part of experimentation procedures.
All experimentation must be approved by the standing Site-24 supervisor.
Description: SCP-1441 is an area of an abandoned grazing pasture in northern [REDACTED] measuring approximately fifty (50) meters radius. Site-24 has been built atop and around this area.
SCP-1441-A is a large building of ornate architecture, dimensions unknown. It exists independent of euclidean space, and cannot be viewed or entered from the outside as it has no apparent real location. A subject who enters the REM sleep state in SCP-1441 will be transported to the foyer of SCP-1441-A. Exit is then possible by opening the front doors and stepping outside; upon doing so, the subject will wake.
SCP-1441-A has four floors, each with decoration and architecture in accordance with a particular theme.
- The first floor largely consists of wide open spaces decorated in the manner of ballrooms, churches, and dining halls from various eras. The ceiling often extends into the second floor, whose hallways are usually balconies.
- The second floor's hallways are alike to residential buildings, and contain doors that lead into what appear to be children's bedrooms.
- The third floor's hallways and rooms are alike to a general hospital. The curtained doorways lead to patient's rooms.
- The fourth floor's hallways and rooms are alike to the interiors of public school buildings, with classrooms, administrative offices, nurse's offices, gyms, theaters, ect.
Floors two through four (2-4) appear deserted, and show no signs of being inhabited apart from the state and arrangement of objects within them.
Multiple subjects asleep on the site at once are able to interact with eachother inside the building, which will be spatially and visually consistent between participants, provided they are cognizant of the same area at the same time. It has been concluded that any part of SCP-1441-A which goes unnoticed, unseen, or forgotten for any amount of time will alter into a new form consistent with its theme. The exception is the foyer, which has not altered since testing began in ██-██-██, and is visually consistent with information collected from involved civilians prior to SCP-1441's containment.
SCP-1441-B are inhabitants of SCP-1441-A that manifest exclusively on the first floor. They appear to be stiff humanoid figures resembling monks of a local, now defunct religious order. They are swift; mobile by unidentified means. From 0300 hours to 1330 hours, these figures will chant quietly in an ancient dialect of [REDACTED], with their eyes closed and heads bowed. From 1330 hours to midnight, they will become increasingly agitated, following personnel with upset or angry expressions. They move quickly, and while they do not seem to intentionally touch personnel, they will occasionally knock into them with great force. SCP-1441-B gather in dense flocks at all times, and are constantly in motion.
SCP-1441-C are large creatures found on the first floor from 1330 hours to midnight. Their total standing height is estimated to be nine (9) meters. They have bald gray skin, trunk-like legs, and clawed arms. SCP-1441-B can almost always be seen swarming around SCP-1441-C's legs. SCP-1441-C move with slow, gradual motion, and walk through SCP-1441-A hunched over, always moving in the direction of observing personnel. Upon coming within range, SCP-1441-C will swing their claws towards the observer. Wounds received from SCP-1441-C are commonly fatal, as the wounds typically do not clot. Any quarry dispatched by SCP-1441-C will disappear from SCP-1441 and SCP-1441-A simultaneously. All attempts to locate the bodies have been met with failure.
Addendum-1441-1
Addendum-1441-2
Addendum-1441-3
Next SCP idea:
A little freaky ghost boy that knits amigurumi dolls as luck charms, and teleports them to random people across the globe. The person who receives it will not see it appear suddenly, so much as take a sudden interest in amigurumi toys and crochet it themselves. These dolls look like animals and come in pretty much any combination of garish colors, and, of course, give the keepers anemia and other unfun health issues.
The containment is twofold: One is keeping the little weirdo boy in a little room. He's kinda immaterial but can't seem to get out, so nothing interesting there, just a locked door and a guard. Two is somewhere to dump all the little amigurumi shits that keep being made. These and the boy are both Safe, but teams have to keep heading out and picking the things up before they can draw attention to themselves or cause serious harm.
Upsides: The boy gives vital clues. 1. You can see him making the dolls out of ghost yarn. From this you can get an accurate visual representation of the next doll to look out for. 2. He's chatty and predictable. If you ask him where the next doll is going, he'll tell you the gender and country of the next victim. "She's getting this one in America", "He's getting this one in Australia", ect. 3. He knits slower when he's talking. Containment changes after this discovery, to include one personnel to chat with him at all times (obviously in rotation) to minimize the long-term ass-hauling to get the dolls shut down. 4. The boy doesn't seem to give a shit in general. He either doesn't know that his "good luck charms" are actually harmful and doesn't mind them being confiscated, or realises he's being malicious and enjoys watching the goose-chase. He's not too bothered either way. And he doesn't need to eat or drink, or really breathe, so it's more or less a snap.
Downsides: 1. The boy is creepy as all fucking ass. People in frequent rotation don't get much sleep. Regular psych eval for personnel is a must. 2. Where the fuck are we going to put all these goddamn dollies?
The idea for this SCP came to me when contemplating the pack-rattiness of the Foundation. I feel like this is less a perfect SCP in itself, and more a way to round out the site. I haven't really seen a SCP like this, even though, to me, this should just be one of the things going on in the background.
—-
EVEN BETTER IDEA:
The kid is the ghost of a former D class (which is not mentioned), hellbent on making life hard for the Foundation, because, well, obvious.
As the researchers and agents gather up the dolls in the normal containment facilities, they realise the effects are still happening, and happening to on-site personnel.
As staff working near the dollhouse become increasingly sickly and weak, in an increasing radius, experimentation is done which shows that the number of dolls in another doll's range increases the range EXPONENTIALLY, by a doubling factor. It doesn't need to increase potency even, because the sickly always eventually become the dead, in this case.
The first idea is to ship them off somewhere out of bounds of civilization, which is fine, but obviously they need to be split into smaller groups, and where then shall we put them? There are lots of sites, but not quite enough to store these shits all spread out while still keeping track of them (e.g. not flinging them into a void or destroying them, which would be Against Foundation Code).
So the next idea is obviously to not collect them at all and just let the sad plebs die out there, but that too is very Against Foundation Code.
And because that little ghost shit has nothing to do all day but run his pie hole and knit buckets of monstrosities, things are quickly moving from Safe Ineffectual Boring to an end of the world scenario, as the amount of known amigurumis sitting in a single pile with one another would make an effective range not only encompassing the earth, but also the milky fucking way. Exponential growth is just FUN SHIT like that.
And, of course, allowing the genocide of the human race is quite Against Foundation Code. Thus, rock and a hard place, thus, victory for little phantom shit.
There's a really easy solution. All they have to do is burn the stupid dolls. Or toss them into space. Or a random alternate universe. Or just kill the kid. It can be done. But, because the Foundation is the Foundation, and the Foundation Secures, Contains, and Protects, these options are Not Real Options.
The idea here is to explore Foundation logic trees, and play with pros and cons. It seemed like a pretty good challenge to write something that really, really is required to be destroyed, thus subverting the Foundations of the… of the Foundation.
Of course, in the end, since I like me some triumphs in the face of devastation and moral compromise…
The researchers, after speaking at length with the little weirdo, decide that they would give him some actual, real yarn and a crochet hook to work with.
Yes, this actually works.
The boy doesn't seem to notice the difference (since he is a ghost and ghosts are fucking retarded, by dint of being two-dimensional psychic imprints slammed into the world by a fleeing soul), he goes right on with his routine as usual, except, this time, the doll doesn't disappear.
He thinks it does, but it doesn't, since it cannot do that, since it is an actual fucking object and not some phantom ass shit.
He unravels it for more yarn and goes for another doll.
He keeps doing this, and keeps "sending" them, but they never, thankfully, arrive.
So in the end they manage to keep the ghost on infinite loop (dumping a couple extra yarn balls in there to make sure he doesn't run out of yarn by fraying the strands to unusability and switching back to ghost yarn), and pack all the existing amigurumi in a carefully-measured container to keep them out of eachother's range (which thankfully is only like a meter diameter when unamplified), and keep that in a Safe-class warehouse site.
God forbid that thing collapse into a heap. Actually, they would probably divide the number of dolls by the number of normal Safe-class warehouse sites and group them that way, spread across the earth. That's what I'd do anyway.
So yeah. The ghost shit is Euclid, the doll shit is Safe, and so is the planet.
Two sentence summary: A vengeful ghost who knits evil things all the time.
Also, for the sake of puns, I'm going to call this the "Litter Knitter" and make the dolls all cats.
Litter Knitter
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be held in a small room, which is not to fall below 35°C at any time. The object is to be constantly confined in a standard straight jacket. At no point are SCP-XXXX's hands to become free. Even temporary alterations or breaks in containment for research purposes or otherwise must be met with O5 approval, and supervised by at least two Level 3 personnel.
Description: [Paragraphs explaining the description]
Addendum: [Optional additional paragraphs]