SCP Class:Euclid
Description: Electric Guitar- Neck cut from Prometheus tree remains in 1964 near Great Basin National Park in Baker,Nevada. Tree was one of the oldest in the continental U.S. age determined at 4,862 years of age. Body made of Korina, Black wood originating from Africa. Attempts to retrieve dating of the instruments body has turned up inconclusive.
Guitar stings found to contain strands of human vocal chords, hair, and keratin possibly stripped bare, stretched and treated in olive oil and hemoglobin. Similar to the production of catgut strings.
Containment: Contained in a cool room at a temperature of 20.5°. To be kept in a 4m x 4m cell surrounded by soundproof glass, separated from a concrete structure surrounding the cell. Personnel are not permitted to touch the glass itself due to possible transfer of vibrations from the detained to prevent any unnecessary casualties. Object is to remain lain upon a pillow on a steel table to prevent vibrations from reaching into the floor. After experimentation has concluded, Foundation personnel are to attend to cleaning the object with the proper vibration and sound proofed suit.
Procedures: SCP-XXXX is only to be directly attended by Class D personnel as normal personnel will be affected by the direct vibrations coming into contact with the human nervous system. Subject will begin to play guitar with surprising skill despite having no prior experience in life playing the instrument. Assumed to be caused by enhancement of certain brain functions to recall moments of seeing a guitar playing the past along with memories of classical/rock music. Individuals with prior guitar playing history maintain the same unusually skilled experience with the instrument as those that do not. Subject will continue to play until capillaries in the fingers burst. Subject may become violent and attempt varying levels of violence to accomplish the songs completion. It is currently unclear as to when the subject will cease playing without removal from the instrument by force. (See Report SCP-XXXX-06) After ██ class D subjects continuous failure to return to regular cognitive functions the SCP was deemed unsafe for personnel. After a subject becomes enamored with the object, other personnel or D class participants will be unaffected by the nature of SCP-XXXX. After Dr. █████ noticed that no two versions of the song are covered are completely similar, he uncovered the similar notes as a form of Morse code. Upon copious research, Dr. █████ found that the code differed with every individual oft deciphering as a cry for assistance and confusion. Class D personnel show no signs of being able to decode the message or are even aware that they have interlaced it with their music. Strings of the instrument were found to constantly send minor tones throughout the area, drawing individuals to the object audibly, soundproof ear protection will not work should an individual touch the object or stationary objects within its vicinity. This causes an individual to discard the protection and immediately attempt to play the guitar itself. After conversing with the object through several D class tests, Dr. █████ found the object to be at least partially sentient. Upon this discovery, Object was reclassified as Eucalid.
Autopsy: All Victims found to have severe swelling of the left parietal, and front cortex along with the right cerebellum all in charge of rhythm in the human brain. Along with a complete disruption of the limbic system found below the cerebral cortex in charge of self preservation. Cerebrum found to be in a state of decay causing majorly decreased deductive reasoning.
Results:Several of the victims were capable of rudimentary speech after removal from the object for an extensive period of time. For the foreseeable future, the affects that the object has on the brain is permanent. Several benefits involving hand-eye coordination, excellent balance, precision aiming, enhanced auditory input and occasional optic strengthening have occurred with the survivor's of the interactions. Though, the speech and cognitive thinking portions of the brain suffer worse traumas after extensive prolonged use. It may be possible to have an individual play the instrument for several minutes and be forcibly removed resulting in minor benefits. Results have varied wildly. Dr. Nguyen has theorized that the individual strings (6) on the guitar actually enlarge different areas of the brain separate from the others. (See Report SCP-XXX-12)
Discovery: Found in the possession of a successful business man turned recluse named ██████ ████████ on 11/2█/197█. Subject traveled the world abroad until 1964 near Las Vegas, Nevada. After disappearance, subjects last known sighting outside his residence in New York 19██. Subject was found supine in his residence with the guitar still placed in his hands in an emaciated state. Morgue attendant found his fingers to be severely burned and raw to the point of completely missing the epidermis on the outer layer of his fingers on his left and right hands. Death was ruled as a combination of dehydration and starvation. Upon subjects death, all remaining items were sold at auction due to the ██████'s lack of known relatives. After a similar incident occurred with the next owner after winning the guitar at an auction, the Foundation deemed it necessary to retrieve the item. After the works of Dr. ██████, it remains inconclusive as to the nature of the object or if it controls it's victims prior to their demise. Further Analysis needed.
[15:56 hours. 01/17/198█
SCP-XXXX-06 Subject is a caucasian male, mid to late 40’s labeled as D-3456. Subject enter room cautiously and looks into wall mounted camera.
D-3456: All that’s in here is an old looking guitar…. It’s kinda beautiful though.
Dr. ██████: Over intercom Please approach the guitar and pick it up.
D-3456: Okay no problem. Approaches the pedestal the guitar is on. You want me to play it? I've never played before…
Dr. ██████: Yes, if you would be so kind.
D-3456: Alright… Picks up guitar by the neck and pulls strap over shoulder. Well I feel like a rock star. Wonder if Van Helen had a piece like this. Plucks strings slowly. Over a period of time D-3456 begins to play more intricate notes. This is amazing, it’s like my fingers know what to do! Begins playing more notes, forming perfect finger placements for A minor chords.
Dr. ██████: How do you feel right now? D-3456 remains entirely focused on staring at the guitar and playing. The song becomes more melancholy and intricate. Can you hear me?
D-3456: SHHHHHH! Begins playing louder and faster. Goes on for nearly 2 hours. Dr. ██████ watches in silence. D-3456 begins to play louder, but frustration is creeping its way into his face. D-3456 begins to sob uncontrollably and continues playing. His fingers begins to bleed and the blood slowly begins to leak down the guitar strings. I need more to be more precise!!! Pulls right hand away from lower strings and begins to chew the skin away from the first digit on his index finger.
Dr. ███████ : This is interesting. None of the others have done this before. Put in a new recorder. I want to file this next half of his song. Also, bring me new paper, I need to start recording more of the code in the song.
D-3456: After several minutes D-3456 has successfully chewed away all of the flesh of all the first digits of his right hand. Resumes plucking the guitar stings with the skeletal remains of his fingers. Sounding more precise, as if he is playing with a pick on each finger. No, no, no, no, NO!!!!! I need more acoustics. D-3456 begins to walk towards the glass of the room.
Dr. ██████: Subject, what are you doing right now?
D-3456: Shows no signs of having heard the inquiry. Begins to rhythmically beat forehead against the glass harder and harder. Sound resembles Bass beat in most songs.
Dr. ██████: Amazing, he’s actually using his body to supplement for missing musical instruments he wants to incorporate in his piece. Paper reads, “I never wanted any of this. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted any of this.
D-3456: Becomes more and more off balance as he bashes what remains of his forehead into the glass. The impact of his forehead into the glass becomes more and more chaotic. RWAHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Music has become stronger. Notes are faster and more frequent than before. D-3456 bashes head into glass one final time, ceases playing, and collapses. Vitals are at zero.]
[08:43 hours. 05/17/199█
SCP-XXXX-07: Subject is a 26 year old African American male wearing a cap designed to monitor brain activity during experimentation. Labeled as D-4856. Enters room and looks to guitar. Second Subject, Asian female age 34, enters the room carrying a Djembe drum. Labeled D-4725.
D-4856: Oh, that’s a nice one. Never seen one like that! My dad used to let me play his when I was younger.
D-4725: Places drum on the floor of the room and sits behind it. Let’s just get this over with.
Dr. ██████: D-4856, please approach the guitar and pick it up.
D-4856: Cool, cool I got you. Picks up the guitar and begins to play an old 1960’s African American singing group's popular song. How about that? Kick it old school in here. What you know about that ma?
D-4725: Oh please, you weren't even around to listen to that. What do you know about it? Begins rhythmically playing to the song.
D-4856: Alright, alright. You got a few skills with that drum there. I’ll give you that.
Dr. ██████:Alright enough fun and games. Please continue to play together. I expect good thing from this.
D-4856: Sounds good to me. Begins playing an advanced rhythmic melody slow, but intricate. How about that? Can you keep up chick?
D-4725: Please…. Little boys and their toys. Begins to play at a quicker pace involving para-diddles and rolling notes.
D-4856: Begins swaying to the music and staring at the guitar. That’s right. Get that beat going good babe.
D-4725: Stops playing abruptly. I am no one’s babe. Understand?
//Display reads the Brain waves of the patient are increasing in scope. Several areas of the brain are beginning to enlarge. //
D-4856: Visibly flinches from lock of drum interlude.Okay, okay. Can we start playing again? No more babes, cool? Does not cease to play the guitar.
Dr. ██████: Looks at paper, previously writing on. Reads, “The Drums are a nice edition. Let me play something a little more-“ Please continue play you two. We need to, as they say, strike while the iron is hot.
D-4725: Fine, fine. Let’s keep it moving. Begins playing again.
Dr. ██████: D-4856, can you communicate with us using words? What are you trying to say?
D-4856: No response. Notes slightly change.
After several hours, D-4856 is no longer vocalizing anything. His fingers are starting to smart and split at the tips and he has not taken focus off the guitar itself. When beats are slowing from D-4725, D-4856 begins to look at her aggressively.
Display reads the Subject’s Brain CT scans are similar to the scans of the previous individuals. Areas of the Brain associated with playing music continue to expand and swell.
D-4725: Distressed. Okay, okay can we stop soon? We’ve been at this for hours and he looks like he seriously needs a break. Begins to slow the beat down, she looks visibly tired and slightly covered in condensation.
Dr. ██████: Looks down at the papers in front of him. Reads, “This song will never stop. I need to make the groove right.” No you may not. Continue.
D-4275: How long?
Dr. ██████: As long as is needed. Now continue.
D-4856: Agitated and silent. Begins to play the notes more frequently and stomps his feet to fill in the beats missed during the exchange. Fingers have lost all skin on both hands, bright red blood flows down the strings.
D-4275: Are you okay? Met with silence. Looks down at the drum and continues visibly worried. Continues to play for another 40 minutes. Stops. This is bulls*. I’m F*ing tired and he’s obviously losing it. This is done. Let me out of here. Stands up and walks toward the locked exit.
Dr. ██████: This is not for you to decide ma’am. Remain seated. You may have 15 minutes to rest. Should your partner continue to wish to play, he may do so. Paper on table reads, “There is nothing better than to make good music. To feel the strings under the fingers and the sound in my head. So soothing. Nothing else matters.”
D-4856: Who told you to stop playing? Begins slowly approaching D-4275 from behind. Removing guitar from the straps.
D-4275: Listen kid I just can’t. Backs slowly against the glass wall. I just can’t. Look at yourself, something is wrong here. Your hands are destroyed. Please just stop. Please…. Begins knocking on the glass frantically.
D-4856: Why you stop? I need music. I need be heard…… Your hands.
D-4275: Please, don’t do this. Balls fists at her sides and pulls hands away./ Something is wrong with that thing. Points to the guitar. You have to get away from it.
D-4856: Offended tone. Slurred speech NOTHING IS WRONG WITH HER!!!!! Raises guitar and smashes the body into the skull of D-4725 repeatedly as she sinks to the floor. Help! I NEED BE HEARD! Runs over to drum and smashes it to pieces with his feet.
Dr. ██████: D-4856 cease this right now! What are you doing? Observes closely.
D-4856: Growls in a feral nature and forcefully removes the hands of the now deceased D-4275. Removes a sliver of what seems to be wood from the base body of the guitar.
After several minutes D-4856 plucks hair from the victim and threads it to the splinter of the Guitar body he removed from the victims remains. D-4856 removes his right hand and begins to sow the right hand of the victim to his stump. After several more minutes the hand begins to move as though it is a part of D-4856’s body. Resumes playing.
Readings on display show the portions of the Brain previously enlarging are continuing to grow and applying pressure to other areas of the Brain. Dr. ██████ begins to notice subtle signs of the victim losing control over bodily functions.
Dr. ██████: Holy s***! Are we recording this right now? This should be physiologically impossible! Paper on table reads, “The sounds. The music. It helps so much. Nothing without it."
D-4856: Stops playing and removes his left hand with his teeth. Begins a similar process of replacing hand as when the original act took place. D-4856 sits on the ground and stares as he works slowly, but with odd precision.
Dr. ██████: We need to figure out how he is doing this without medical training. This should be impossible. He’s reconnecting the severed nerves to the original nerves in his forearms with the precision of an incredibly gifted surgeon. If the areas of his brain that are swelling continue to grow, he will lose sight from pressure on his optical nerves. Hell, he could even forget to breathe soon.
D-4856: Passes out supine on the floor, motionless. Guitar remains next to the Subject.
Vitals go to zero. Brain functions go dark.
Dr. ██████: Well, that wasn't unexpected. Is there any way possible that we could utilize this for the agents out in the field?]
Further experimentation yielded unbalanced results. Dr. ██████ removed from project due to ongoing obsession with discovering the secrets behind the unnatural occurrences surrounding SCP-XXXX. Dr. Nguyen placed in charge of the project.
[After Experimentation by Dr. Nguyen the Foundation has approved further testing to be carried out with field personnel should they choose to volunteer.
Agent █████████ approaches the guitar wearing specialize auditory cancelling ear protectors. Five Foundation security personnel surround Agent █████████ wearing similar protectors along with vibration proof suits.
Agent █████████: Okay Doc, this'll improve my aim so I can go back to field work, right?
Dr. Nguyen: Over intercom That's the idea, sir. Please remove your ear protectors and pick up the guitar.
Agent ████████: Removes protectors and picks up the guitar carefully, attempting to avoid touching the strings. Play the e string, right?
Dr. Nguyen: ███ ██ ███ ███████
Agent ████████: ████ █████ █████! ████ █ ██ ████ ██ ████ ███████?
Dr. Nguyen: ██████ ████ ████████. ███ ███ ███████ █████ ██?
Agent ████████ Removes gun from pocket ████ ██████ ██ ████████.
Dr. Nguyen: Agent █████████ ███ ████ ████ ████ ███████!
Agent █████████: ████ █ █████ ██ ███ ████!
Dr. Nguyen: ██████ ███████ ██████ ███████ ███ ██ ████████! ███████ ███ ███!
Gun Shot
[REDACTED]
-An object that causes individuals to gain an enhanced ability (Sight, Strength, Hearing, Flight, etc.) the catch is that the ability will remain overtime, but their bodies capability of handling it will go away (i.e. Pupils damaged, blown eardrums, Bones breaking while lifting heavy objects) issue is I haven't quite figured a catch or if this is original. Ideas?
-An apartment that slowly converts the occupants into only being able to breathe natural gas or converts them into cold blooded individuals.
-Clothing that seemingly shrinks causing individuals to become self conscious and depressed. Catch is, it's an entity that feeds of depression like a parasite.
-Kinda like the clothes, but a sentient radio wave (or phone tower) that enjoys to cause mischief by preventing important phone calls to individuals.
-A book called "The Agenda" the when having the 23rd and 58th pages turned, cause the individual to have their left Middle Finger or their right pinky to separate from their hands (without damage). These fingers seem to grow respiratory and circulatory systems and live for up to 22 days. Fingers will do all they can to place distance between the owner and themselves. Unable to be reattached.
Instrumental Siren (Revision Possibilities)
After having discussed an SCP that I created I wanted to possibly rework it in its entirety. The SCP is actually a pair made up of the owner and the guitar.
The owner is a failed musician that came upon the remains of the Promethus tree (4,862 year old tree cut down in New Mexico in 1964) and felt a compulsion to utilize it's remains to create a guitar to help him make the music he loved best. The quest lead the subject to Africa where he met with a shaman that gave him a large amount of Korina Black wood to be used in the instruments construction. The shaman also informs him that he must make a sacrifice to finish creating the object, that it would make him and the object eternal and he would know what it was in time. After years of searching and listening to his records, the man stumbles upon a female jazz singer with the most amazing voice he ever heard and instantly fell in love with her music. When the man realizes this, he resolves to sacrifice her so he and she may make beautiful music together forever.
After kidnapping and sacrificing her (using her stretched and treated vocal chords for the strings on the guitar) the man realizes when he has done and is filled with regret that never leaves. No matter how much he plays it is never fulfilling and he is filled with a sense of nervousness that he is not a good player, though to the regular person he is beyond exceptional.
The guitar on the other hand maintains the female jazz singers consciousness. The guitar/singer is the cause of the stress and acute anxiety that the man suffers from. The notes from playing the strings by the man allow the guitar/singer to communicate with him and after 20 years she still remains spiteful of what he has made her become. Despite this she is happy that she can continue to make beautiful music, but saddened by the fact that it can only be made with the man that murdered her for "love."
The two SCPs can never be far apart. The mans vitals will crash if the guitar is taken far away from him, though he is capable of immediate revival when the guitar is returned to his hands. The subject is essentially immortal as his body will not begin decomposition or any sort of mass loss nor can he be destroyed by any current means. The guitar itself cannot be played by anyone else lest the strings become as sharp as piano wire and slice the fingers of the offender.
The story/SCP is meant to be a play on feelings on inadequacy that we all feel when performing something we love and how far one will go to achieve what is perceived as happiness. The description is also meant to act as a counter to the idea of fulfillment through misunderstood means as there will always be consequences.
The agent sent to apprehend the SCP from the Subject is a fan of the subject's previous work. The Agent also has the revelation that the guitar is the singer. It is possible at the end to have the agent accept the guitar and receive approval to play the guitar daily.
"Have a nice afternoon, Mister Henry." said the maintenance man as he exited the front door with a distressed expression, "If you need anything call me. We're going to be here all day fixing this mess. Thank God everyone is alright," exiting with the loud sound of the door clicking into place. The elderly man focused on the newly installed glass panel in the sliding door and after catching a glimpse of his white haired reflection, pulled up the guitar placed next to his chair and began to play.
I never was a decent musician.Eugene thought to himself silently while plucking the A string on the guitar. His hands deftly moved from chord to chord on the guitar, slowly and with a natural ability that some would call talented. The rhythm of the music smoothly rolled off the living room walls creating beautiful acoustics that Eugene no longer recognized any more. Eugene stared out of the balcony in his 4th floor apartment and sighed to no one in particular. Staring from one photo on the walls to the next, the contemplative man caressed the instrument with the love and affection comparable to a gentlemen's . Feeling the pangs of hunger and that the most recent harmony was drawing to a close, he rose from the chair and opened the balcony sliding glass door to allow the warm summer breeze to billow into the cramped space.
The illusive chirps of newly birthed robins carry on the wind, causing Eugene to silently smile. Placing the guitar into a simple rosewood stand, he walks into the kitchen and reaches onto the table removing two pieces of bread from the counter. How long has it been since this place has been so peaceful?Eugene thought to himself, Not since the last time it happened. Those poor people. I never meant for these things to happen. So, so very long ago.
Eugene lived a solitary life just like the hermits he read about in the funny books when he was a youth. There was no masterful work to be done these days though. Enjoying the quality of a nice afternoon breeze into the air conditioned space was all he could ask for. It had been years since he requested to have his apartment sound proofed for the sake of himself and his neighbors, there were too many complaints to begin with and the old man despised confrontation. When he was younger he lived for such things, but ever since……Never mind,he thought, that was all lost in the beat generation.
Entering the kitchen and reaching into the refrigerator, Eugene removed the lunch meat and lettuce and constructed his meal supplementing it with a small mound of potato chips and returned to the living room. His bones creaked as he lowered his arthritic spine into the ancient recliner. His eyes settled on an adolescent picture of himself on a stage with a gorgeous young woman with long ebony locks of hair cascading down her shoulders. It had been such a long time since he could bring his aging eyes to stare at the photo without a sense of regret and a pang of pain in his chest. "We were so inexperienced back then weren't we, Rose? I didn't know any better." He said to no one in particular.
Eugene would never forget the longing he felt when those soft hands caressed his face. His whole world was blissful in his more colorful days and he missed them dearly. Spending time in the various clubs along the strip, watching that gorgeous woman serenade the crowds of salivating men and knowing that it she would be all his one day. Eugene often reminisced of what it would be like to run his fingers through those lovely locks of hair while cupping that creamy, smooth cheek, but she was long gone or at least that opportunity. It's all my fault, he thought to himself.
Breathing a sigh of exhaustion, Eugene began to take small bites of his freshly prepared sandwich and stared in deep contemplation at the guitar. There was no television in the small space and the programs on it held no interest for the elderly man. His bookshelf was fitted into the corner of the room, overflowing with music sheets and books stacked in front of other books. Eugene laughed quietly to himself, Quite the appetite you have there, huh? "Hungry for more today?" he said aloud as his eyes shifted to the instrument leaning in it's stand. , "I dreamed of something last night and I think you'll like it."
Eugene finished his food and set the plate on the side table next to his chair. Removing a sheet of paper and pen from the same table, he stared sullenly at the musical staffs sprawling across the surface. Filling them slowly with chords and notes, Eugene thought to himself, This has to be good. In reality, he always did the best he could with each song he produced. It had to move him to a place of consternation, it had to move people to want to sway with the harmony, and it had to make her feel alive. His buyers would line up outside the studio he sent the completed pieces to and purchase them at exorbitant prices. This never appealed to Eugene, he didn't care about the money or the recognition, he didn't deserve it, but the money was something that he needed to survive.
As he finished writing the second half of his composition, Eugene reached over to the guitar and stopped himself. A slight perspiration formed on his hands, trailing all the way back to his forehead and he shuddered to himself. Reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his handkerchief, the old man wiped his hands clean and gently patted the piece of cloth to his head. It was not hot in the room, and the flood of emotion filled his chest with pain. His melancholy mind floated between coherent thought and melancholy. His limbs began to shake and his eyes began weep. I'm a shell of a man with you and without you, he thought.
A small humming sound developed in the room and began to turn. Eugene felt his flesh tingle and pulled himself together before reaching for the guitar. "Okay," he said, "Now's the time." The aging man slid the strap over his shoulders and began to let his fingers do the work. He focused on the page sitting in front of him and prayed to nothing in particular that he was doing well. There was a need that had to be sated and he was going to be the one to fulfill it. The acoustics in the area bounced from wall to wall and back to Eugene and his nervousness set in, a missed note here and a incorrect note there. He was always so critical of himself and he felt that it would be his undoing someday, but he persevered.
When he was finished, the energy had drained from the senior along with a sense of relief. It'll be quiet tonight, good, he speculated. Outside the evening had begun to set in and the night sky was alight with the moons silent presence while the crickets chirped their bizarre cacophony. Eugene opened several windows and decided he would retire to the bedroom for the evening.
Knock,knock.
Eugene set the guitar down into its stand and faced the door.
Knock, knock.
Eugene made one step towards the door and reached one hand out slowly to the knob. Opening the door to a small crack, the elderly man observed a young man standing with his arms firmly crossed. His tanned skin looked darker in the low light of the hallway and his brown wavy hair was obviously kept neat for official looking purposes. His dark black jacket was marked with an insignia the resembled a circle with 3 corners in a triangular formation around the circumference of the sigil. The young man leaned toward the crack, "Hello, Mister Henry. My name is agent Wallace and I'm with the Foundation. May I come in? I need to make an official inquiry."
Eugene did not ask any questions as he opened the door for the agent to stroll into his humble abode. "Please, have a seat, " he stated nervously, "Is there anything I can get for you?" Agent Wallace removed the sheet of music from the table next to Eugene's armchair and promptly sat on it, "Water, if you please." Eugene strode into the kitchen and retrieved a glass from the cupboard, filling it at the sink. As he walked back into the living area he noticed the agent slowly looking over the staffs of his work, one note at a time.
"I hope you like tap. It's all I have," said Eugene, sitting next to the agent, uncomfortably close in his armchair.
"I do. Did you just write this? The ink looks fresh."
"I did."
"It certainly looks like something special. Do you compose often?" Wallace's eyes traced the walls of the room.
"I do for a living."
"Cool, so you've been at this for quite some time?" His eyes settled on the washed out image of Eugene and Rose.
"Yes, that would be the case. Listen, not to be rude, but is there something I can assist you with?" he stated firmly.
"Oh! Sorry about that, of course there is. Is that Rose Coletta, isn't it?"
Eugene pulled the kerchief from his back pocket a second time and wiped his forehead, "Yes, that's her. She was a beautiful woman. I'm assuming you're a fan?" Agent Wallace sighed aloud, "Of course. Who wouldn't be if they actually knew good music. You were questioned in 1946 regarding her disappearance weren't you?" Eugene suddenly felt a shiver down his spine, "That was a long, long time ago," he announced briskly. "Did you come here to harass an old man