Archive | November, 2014

I Actually Do Things, Part Three, In 3D!

30 Nov



[Alice steps through the doors, her shoes clacking loudly against the floor. While just as brightly lit as the rest of the centre, this wing is noticeably dirtier than the rest. It’s a long hallway, with eight cells on each side, and a night watchman, Daniel, leaning his chair against the wall and flipping through a book and looking up in surprise.]

DANIEL: Oh, h- hello, miss. Are you lost?

ALICE: Um, police business. [flashes badge] Is the suspect from the homicide in these cells?

DANIEL: No, last I heard, he’s been moved off site. All we have in shop tonight is the man in cell 16. [points to the far corner]

ALICE: Fancy title. Does he have a name?

DANIEL: Oliver Mandus, miss.

[The tiny window on the door shows that inside, the cell is dark, and the light from an outside streetlamp gives Mandus an orange silhouette, unmoving in the dark. Alice looks down, and to her dismay, finds that the scratches lead directly to the door of cell 16.]

ALICE: I am sorry to say, Mr…

DANIEL: Daniel, miss.

ALICE: Well, Daniel, I am sorry to say that I believe I have to get in there.

DANIEL: Um, I can’t do that-

ALICE: Physically, or emotionally?

DANIEL: E- emotionally- miss, Mr. Mandus is not well.

ALICE: I am well aware of that, the sign kind of gave that away. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt me. [worries for a moment] He is restrained, right?

DANIEL: … Well, yes.

ALICE: Then we’re all good!

[She flashes a smile to Daniel, hopeful and over-exaggerated.]

ALICE: Pretty please?

[Daniel looks conflicted for a moment, then lets out a strangled groan.]

DANIEL: Five minutes, okay? I don’t want you to rile him up.

ALICE: Scout’s honour.

[Daniel pulls out his keys, and unlocks the cell door. He shoves his shoulder into it, and it slides open, while Alice slips inside. Once she’s inside, Daniel pulls it shut again, and locks it with a heavy click.]


[In the dark, it’s difficult to make out Oliver’s features, but Alice can see his broad smile, his sickly features, and a bandage over his nose. He talks with a sad, mournful tone.]

ALICE: Hello. Oliver, wasn’t it?

OLIVER: Oh, no. No no no no no no no. Y- you can’t- you can’t be here.

ALICE: [quiet confusion] What do you mean?

OLIVER: Y- you were outside, you are something outside, but now you’re in here, and I- I can’t let that- no, no no no no no.

ALICE: [quiet for a moment] Are you aware of the… problems the facility has been having?

OLIVER: [dry, mocking tone] Those who are dead are not dead, they’re just living in my head.

ALICE: … Got it. What can you tell me about yourself?

OLIVER: Sand. And blood and song.

ALICE: “Sand”?

OLIVER: Metaphor, of course. Heh.

ALICE: [thinks for a moment] Did you kill those people?

OLIVER: [looks down, freezes, and turns to Alice with a broad, mocking smile] It has stood with it’s heels dug in the grit and bones, and filled it’s lungs with seminal fire. It has lain with holy passions and copulated with the autumnal fallout. It has murdered dissidents where the light never lands, and starved the masses into bended knee. A pacifist’s shadow carved into the brickwork. A house of skulls where the ground never thaws. The innocent, the innocent, and little Oliver, trod and bled and gassed and starved and beaten and murdered and enslaved. This is the time we revel in.

[Alice gets up to leave.]

ALICE: [frustrated] Sorry to bother you.

[Oliver stammers for a moment, before finally managing to speak again. Now, he speaks loudly, with stammers and starts, as though he’s struggling to remain coherent enough to finish the sentence.]

OLIVER: There’s a hole in the world, listen to it scream… there’s a hole in the world, listen to it scheme… there’s a hole in the world, it’s slipping through the cracks… there’s a hole in the world, it listens TO YOU BACK.

[He ends it as a scream, before slumping back in his chair again.]

OLIVER: I’m sorry I’m not I’m sorry I’m not I’m sorry I’m not I CAN FEEL IT IN MY SKULL the beast exacts a heavy cost the number of the beast is lost hah hah ahahah hah help me help me help me.

[He turns his head up to the standing Alice.]

OLIVER: It wants to sing to you. I’m so, so sorry.

[Alice, confused and scared, only nods. Oliver closes his eyes, and suddenly goes limp. Then, he lifts himself up, holding himself awkwardly. The Beast is in control now, and operates Oliver like a marionette that it barely knows how to play. With a calm, quiet voice and completely blank expression, it turns to Alice.]

OLIVER: Hello.

ALICE: … Who am I speaking to?


ALICE: Are you Oliver Mandus?


ALICE: Did you commit those murders?

OLIVER: Murder. Cut. Slice. Burn. Flay. Break. Kill. [face breaks into an awkward, jerky smile] Oh, my yes.

ALICE: T- that’s not possible, there’s no way you could have done them from inside this cell.

OLIVER: [looks around the cell in confusion, as though it’s the first time it’s seen it] Oh. Really. How interesting.

ALICE: … What the fuck are you?

OLIVER: Meat. You are meat. Carbon based. 60% water. And tiny. Diagonal cut along the femoral artery, lose consciousness is thirty seconds, death in up to three minutes. Snap neck, transect spinal cord, immediate drop in blood pressure, death is instant. Draw incision along abdominal cavity, reach inside, disembowel, time of death varies depending on cleanness of cut and speed with which it is undertaken. I could kill you with barely a thought. Does that scare you?

ALICE: [obviously lying] No.

OLIVER: It should.

[The door to the cell bursts open, and Daniel beckons to Alice.]

DANIEL: I’m sorry, miss, but you really must be going.

[Alice, worried and confused, slowly makes her way to the exit. Outside, she leans against the door as Daniel closes it and tries to catch her breath.]

DANIEL: Miss? Are you okay?

ALICE: [after thinking for a moment] Please keep that door locked. I don’t- I don’t think… just make sure it’s locked.

I Actually Do Things, Part Two, Electric Boogaloo

29 Nov

Busy fighting crime, discussin’ super powers, and mind controllin’ people to write a post tonight, but what, did you think that was ALL of that horror movie script I wrote? 

[Addendum: Alice Glass is so much fun to write.]


[Alice, sans long coat, is getting a drink from a vending machine. We can see from a nearby window that it’s dark outside, but still snowing. All alone, Alice rests her head against the side of the machine, and takes a few deep breaths. It’s obvious she’s fighting back tears. While she’s doing this, a broad shouldered, middle aged black man in a suit jacket comes up the hallway behind her.]

ROTHKO: Excuse me, Detective Glass?

ALICE: I just saw a man’s torso torn open like Chinese take-out. Unless you’re here with my freshly laundered long coat, kindly shit off.

ROTHKO: Detective Elliot Rothko, ma’am.

ALICE: [as an aside] Oh, of course the one person I mouth off to is the one person I’m not allowed to. [turns around to greet Rothko, with a huge fake smile] So, I take it you’re the one they threw in charge of this fiasco? Heh, guess you’re the one who drew the short straw.

ROTHKO: Actually, I volunteered for this assignment.

ALICE: Damn, they have you trained.

ROTHKO: So I’ve been told. [pulls out a notepad and pencil] Can you tell me what happened?

[They begin walking down the hallway.]

ALICE: Sure. Came here to visit my sister, went about as well as one could reasonably expect under the circumstances, heard somebody screaming, went to put a stop to it, and got to walk straight in to my wide awake nightmare for a few months.

ROTHKO: Any other details you can give me?

ALICE: His arm made a weird noise when I broke it?

ROTHKO: [smirks] All of your paperwork says you’re a detective, but when I called the precinct, nobody had heard of you.

ALICE: Oh, yeah, I’m an out-of-towner.

ROTHKO: And you’re just here to visit your sister?

ALICE: That, and your wicked nightlife. [frowns] Have you identified a motive yet?

ROTHKO: Not as of yet. The suspect worked here, yes, but in a completely different part of the centre than the victim. Near as we can tell, the two never even interacted.

[An orderly walks up, holding Alice’s coat.]


ALICE: Oh, thanks! [begins throwing the coat on] So, Rothko, are we done here?

ROTHKO: I think so, ma’am, but please don’t leave town for the next couple of days. And thank you for your assistance in detaining the suspect.

ALICE: Heh, no problem. [turns to go, then stops] Hey, Detective? Why did you volunteer for this case?

ROTHKO: Nothing, really, I was just put in charge of the other murders.

ALICE: Oh, okay. [takes a moment to sink in] Wait, what?!


[Alice and Rothko stand in an appropriated office, with the folders for the previous cases scattered across the desk. Rothko is stoic, while Alice is confused and angry.]

ALICE: Six?! Six fucking murders?!

ROTHKO: All over the course of one year, yes.

ALICE: Why the hell have I never heard of this?! I would have taken my sister out of here months ago if I knew this was going on!

ROTHKO: The administration has kept it quiet, for just that reason. Not very good for business if all the patients left.

ALICE: It’s also not good for business if everyone is dead! So, what are we dealing with, some kind of serial killer?


ALICE: … Okay, you’ve lost me.

ROTHKO: [picks up one of the folders] Anne Teering, volunteer and orderly, found standing over the extensively disfigured body of one Jackson MacReady, patient. Confessed to the killing, convicted, currently in a maximum security ward out of town. [puts down the folder, picks up another] Alexander Weyer, assistant cook, confessed to tossing Liz Bumby, patient, off the top floor. Oswald-

ALICE: Okay, fine, I get it, turn off the fucking slideshow. They’re all different? No connecting factor?

ROTHKO: Except for the fact that they’re all remarkably gruesome, yes.

ALICE: And the fact that they’re all here. In the same building.


ALICE: … That’s not fucking normal!

[Alice slides behind the desk, and collapses into the swivel chair, her face in her hands.]

ALICE: What a fine cocking mess. What do you think’s been going on?

ROTHKO: This is a very unlucky hospital?

ALICE: Oh, come on. You can’t believe that.

ROTHKO: What else am I supposed to believe?

ALICE: [thinks for a second] Don’t close the case just yet.

ROTHKO: You’re not thinking of looking into this, are you?

ALICE: Maybe. Tell the night shift I’ll be in here, looking over the files. I wanna see if you missed something.

ROTHKO: Tell the ni- no! I’m not going to do that!

ALICE: How come?

ROTHKO: You’re not even a part of this investigation!

ALICE: Well, I guess I am now.

ROTHKO: T- that’s- no, that’s not how this works.

[Alice starts making “shooing” motions with her hands.]

ALICE: Shoo, shoo! You’ve got to go hand in reports, get home to the husband or whatever! I’ll probably be here for a while, don’t worry about me. I’ll keep out of trouble, avoid being a loose cop on the edge, I’ll just sit here and read things! Hell, tomorrow, you can call up my precinct and make this official.

ROTHKO: [stops and thinks for a minute] You do realize we’re not going to pay you for this, right?

ALICE: Yes, yes, I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Let the night staff know I’m here, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

[Rothko shakes his head for a moment, and walks out, and we linger on a shot of Alice Glass reading through murder and death.]


[Alice opens the door to the crime scene, ducking under the tape as she steps in to the room. Steps gingerly, slipping on rubber gloves, as she examines the room. The camera lingers on all the gore left behind by the crime scene technicians, and Alice starts curiously looking at all of the personal items in the room. Books, drawings, medication, pictures- none of it significant. Alice turns to leave, and gasps in shock as a patient stands at the door.]

ALICE: Gah! Jesus- um, hi, hello, miss! Thank you very much for definitely not startling me!

[The patient doesn’t say anything, but she grins like she’s playing a huge game, and points at the ground excitedly. She hops and down, before quickly walking away to a beckoning orderly. Alice is confused for a moment, until she bends down to the spot where the patient beckoned, and finds tiny but deep scratches carved in to the linoleum, and the base of the door. On her hands and knees, she follows them out and down the hallway. Eventually, she stops, stands up tall, and checks her folders.]

ALICE: Anne Teering- room 38B.

[After a quick shot of Alice using the elevator, we see her checking the now empty room, and after a minute of searching, she finds identical claw marks carved into the window sill, and outside the wall of the building. We see her check the folder again, and then we see her checking a third room and finding marks on the ceiling. She finds the marks on floors, ceilings, window sills, staircases, elevators, and eventually, we see her follow the scratches to a large, painfully bright wing in the basement. She checks the sign on the door.]


I DO Actually Do Things, You Know

28 Nov

[Editor’s Note: So, what’s the next pointless review you’re going to be working on?]

Oi! Ouch, jackass.

[Editor’s Note: Well, come on, it’s not like you ever do anything else.]

I totally do! Blow it out your ass, motherfucker!

[Editor’s Note: Making fun of people doesn’t count, you know.]

I wasn’t talking about that! In fact, I was working on a legitimate horror movie script just the other day! You’ve Got Me Under Your Skin!

[Editor’s Note: Huh. Is it any good?]



[Open with the lobby of the Alto Clef Psychiatric Center. As the credits roll, we see the bright, fluorescent lighted hallways and primary colour scheme. Reds, greens, and blues are used to try and make the facility seem less soulless, and the brightly coloured drawings by the patients that adorn the poster boards do little to help.]

[Alice Glass enters from the huge doors, covered in snow from the storm outside. The snow leaves the world outside the glass doors and windows over-exposed and nearly impossible to make out, except for the bustling movement. Alice is dressed in a large brown long-coat, a white dress shirt, black slacks, and an ornate black neckerchief around her neck. She takes a moment to shake the snow from her coat, and look around the lobby with apprehension, before stepping to the receptionist’s desk.]

ALICE: Um, hello. [flashes identification] Alice Glass, I’m here to see my sister?

[The receptionist is old, grumpy, and most likely smells like old cigarettes.]

RECEPTIONIST: Please fill out this identification paperwork, sir.

ALICE: Oh, thank you! But, um, I’d actually prefer ‘ma’am’.

RECEPTIONIST: Your drivers license says “male”.

[Alice nonchalantly pulls her jacket aside, revealing her police badge, and Luger pistol in holster.]

ALICE: [with a huge, insincere smile] I’d really prefer “ma’am”.

[The receptionist freezes for a moment, but quickly regains her grumpy exterior.]

RECEPTIONIST: Have a nice day… ma’am.

[Alice walks to one of the rickety chairs that every waiting room inevitably has, and as her smile quickly fades, attempts in vain to make herself comfortable. As she fills out answers on the sheet, she slips her headphones on, and listens to a verse from “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, Frank Sinatra. She pulls out a box of electronic cigarettes, and before she can activate one, she’s interrupted by an excited, plump red-headed nurse.]

MOLLY: No smoking in here- oh! Are you Miss Glass?

ALICE: [startled, pulls her headphones off] That’s certainly what it says on all this stupid paperwork.

MOLLY: [grinning like a loon] Oh, Justine is going to be so excited that you’re here! Please, right this way, Miss Glass, just hand in your paperwork and any unsavory items to the receptionist! And still no smoking.


[Molly leads Alice through the bright hallways, past the various patients and caretakers, all of whom are used to Molly’s bright and exuberant tone of voice.]

MOLLY: The Alto Clef Psychiatric Care Center is a 252 bed facility that provides specialized inpatient mental health and acquired brain injury treatment and rehabilitation services to residents of-

ALICE: Yeah, yeah, I read the pamphlets.

MOLLY: Hmm? Oh! Right, sorry, sorry, I just forget sometimes- I’ve only been here a few months, sometimes I forget that I’m allowed to go off script.

ALICE: How’re you liking it here so far?

MOLLY: Good! I mean- [for a moment, Molly looks guilty] It’s not perfect- well, no job is, but still. About ninety nine of the patients here are complete sweethearts, but that last one percent-

ALICE: Yeah, I know what you mean, my sister can be a real handful sometimes.

MOLLY: [looks positively ashamed] What?! No, no, no, no- not her, I’d never mean to say- she’s just really a darling, and she has the cutest drawings- she once drew me up a giraffe- I’m just talking about- okay, I probably shouldn’t, but there was this old man, dementia, and I was assigned to clean his room, and he just straight up threw his bedpan at me, and it was full! So I-

ALICE: [growing irritation] Hey, miss, do you wanna know how I know you’re perfect for this job?

MOLLY: W- wha-

ALICE: You never shut up. Near as I can tell, that’s the single most important factor for medical personnel.

[Molly stammers in confusion.]

ALICE: [gestures to the door they’ve stopped in front of] This her room?


[The door slowly creaks open, and Alice slowly steps inside Justine’s dark room. The lights are off, the blinds are drawn, and Justine is kneeling on the floor, painting an oil painting on canvas with one hand, and with the other, she taps a gentle rhythm. The room is adorned with old, leather bound books, and her old paintings. Each one is abstract, full of jagged edges that blend into swooping lines. An old boombox radio sits in the corner, quietly playing “We’ll Meet Again”, Vera Lynn.]

ALICE: [tense, quiet] Hey. Kiddo.

[Justine turns around, flashes a shakey smile for a moment, before turning away in terror.]

ALICE: What’s wrong? Justine?


ALICE: … What?

JUSTINE: You look. No. Don’t.

ALICE: [trying to change the subject] Nice room. I like it. Is that nurse treating you alright?

[Justine only shakes her head.]

ALICE: Heh. I like your paintings. They’re… a lot prettier than they used to be. Would you mind if I took one home?

[Justine continues to shake her head.]

ALICE: Jesus, Justine, we can’t keep doing this. You’re going to have to speak up at some point.

JUSTINE: Don’t. Don’t don’t don’t don’t. You’re her.

ALICE: [trying not to cry] I’m- I’m not. Justine, I’m not her.

JUSTINE: Not yet.

[Justine reaches over, and turns the radio up to cancel out Alice’s attempts at conversation.]


[Alice sits on an uncomfortable chair outside her sister’s room, looking at the too-bright snowstorm from out of a window. In one hand, she holds her electronic cigarettes, and in the other, a single real one. Molly exits Justine’s room, closing the door quietly and shaking Alice out of her reverie.]

ALICE: How is she?

MOLLY: Um. Good. She’s- she’s doing good.

ALICE: Heh. Thanks.

MOLLY: Miss Glass, I have to-

ALICE: Sorry, by the way.

MOLLY: What?

ALICE: Sorry for being such a dick to you beforehand. Before I went in there. I just- I always get so tense before I go to see her. Hell, I don’t even know why I still bother coming. Maybe I’m just a fucking masochist.

MOLLY: [shining a brilliant smile] Well, sororal love is one of the most powerful forces on earth!

ALICE: [smiling a cruel smile] Look, lady, you said you’ve been working here for months, right? And did you never wonder why I never came to visit her that whole time? Lemme give you a spoiler, it’s not because I loved her so much that I couldn’t fit it through the fucking door.

[Molly looks down, with Alice following suit.]

ALICE: Sorry. Mean. That was mean.

MOLLY: Not even the worst thing I’ve heard here.

ALICE: Heh, really? And what would that be?

MOLLY: Remind me one of these days to tell you about the “show me that sideways cooter” incident.

[Alice bursts out in shocked laughter, and the duo share quiet giggles.]

ALICE: Oh, fuck, are you even allowed to say that in a psychiatric facility?

MOLLY: Yes, yes, quietly whispering an outdated slang for vaginas in the middle of the hallway is totally being rebellious.

[Molly and Alice smile at each other for a moment, before the silence is suddenly split by a blood-curdling scream.]

ALICE: Um. Is that normal?

MOLLY: You get used to it.

[The scream is repeated, followed by sobbing, and then the same voice screaming, “HE’S GOT A KNIFE!”.]

MOLLY: This is… new.

[Alice doesn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, and has already began sprinting to the sound of the screaming. She passes confused orderlies and nurses, escorting terrified patients to their rooms, as she finally makes it the source of the noise. It’s a patients room, and as Alice enters, she sees the harsh and over-saturated light completely expose the eviscerated man tied to the bed in the center of the room. We get to see it in all of it’s dehumanizing glory, with a rough cut directly down the middle, and the muscles, tendons, internal organs, and bones have all been roughly yanked out and scattered across the room. The man isn’t quite dead yet, and is still panicking and flailing against his zip-tied bondage, while his murderer, an orderly, stands above him, coated in blood, with a box cutter in his hands. Alice takes a moment to take it all in, before establishing the orderly as a threat, and immediately snaps the orderlies arm at the elbow, forcing him to drop the box cutter. She sweeps his legs out from under him, and slams him to the floor, where he lands face first in the gore scattered across the floor.]

[As Alice yells for help, the sound slowly fades out as we focus on the orderly slowly sobbing.]

[Editor’s Note: You could have just answered “no”.]


Internet Campfire Tales: BEN Drowned, A Creepypasta Review, Part Fifteen

27 Nov

That’s right, it’s time to finish off our slow-motion suicide! WELCOME TO INTERNET CAMPFIRE TALES, WHERE BEN IS JUST GONNA KEEP ON DROWNIN’!


Previously, on BEN DrownedHmm. Actually, I think I made a charming infographic that could sum up what’s happened thus far.

let's drown ben

There we go!


“11:55am – There’s an entire video summary of a video that I don’t remember doing. Reading through the summary, this sounds morbid – resembling my dream from two nights ago except on a far more sadistic scale – these Moon Children, there’s something more to them, almost as if they’re another entity from Ben.”

Wow, nice blatant sequel set-up. Hah hah, I’m just kidding, there isn’t a BEN Drowned sequel!


T- there’s nothing after this story, right?


“Something happened last night that I can’t remember. “

Considering what’s happened the rest of the story, I have a feeling we could guess.

hey hey

Yeah, that sounds about right.

“I’m posting the fourth summary to the forums now. Shadow of my chair moved.”

What a… pointless detail to include. “And then I microwaved a Hot Pocket… but it beeped two seconds before the timer finished!”

“12:00pm – Ben won’t let me visit YouTube. I can browse the rest of the sites, but he keeps on exiting the window when I go to YouTube. Why?”

Oh god, please tell me you visited some kind of porn site, I would pay so much money to see BEN have to react to porn.


“2:02pm – I’m feeling the air start to constrict, I don’t think I’m alone here. Whatever “aura” has been here is getting more violent.”

Man, when MY air starts to constrict, it’s usually a sign that a date is going really well.

“2:44pm – I’m trying to contact Ben on Cleverbot, he’s not responding. I just get the AI.”

Aww, lover’s spat.

“3:51pm – My ears aren’t fooling me, I’m hearing the reverse Song of Healing. I keep hearing it.”

Either that or you’re an extra strength bag of crazy!

“4:23pm – Now I’m positive of it, earlier I thought it was a weird coincidence, but just now I went to open my window, and three floors down at ground level I saw the old man.”

Oh, right, there’s an old man in this story! At the length this is taking, I’m surprised he hasn’t keeled over from old age.

“I’m completely positive I did. The same guy. He was just staring up at my window, standing in the middle of campus. If any students took notice of him they didn’t seem to acknowledge it.”

That’s not a supernatural thing, that’s just something old people do.

“That’s where my notes end. I fled my room, taking the cartridge with me. I don’t want to go into details of what happened, I’ll lose my train of thought as I hammer out these last details.”

Why do I have the feeling “don’t want to go into details” was taken as a dare?

“It’s been roughly two days since then. This is my last summary and service to you, of the final video you guys saw – Matt.wmv.”

Actually, THIS was the last video I saw.

But I’m sure that’s just as good.

“The last video entry I made, Matt.wmv, began as normal. I was spawned in Clock Town as usual and nothing seemed to be out of place, determined to set things right and play the Oath to Order ontop of the Clock Tower on the 4th day, I prepared myself.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no no no. We’re back at the stupid summary bits?! EVERYONE EVACUATE! WOMEN AND CRITIC’S FIRST!

“I sped up time and got to the final day, making my way to the observatory. As I got up to the telescope room and approached the astromer, he would not let me look into his telescope.”

Well, obviously, you’ve got to take a boy out for a few drinks before he’ll let you look into his telescope.

“He told me that it would be cheating and that I should follow the rules. Despite my repeated efforts, the game would not let me do the 4th day glitch, no matter how hard or what I tried, I tried working around the game and doing the glitch, but it was adament this time.”

Oh, great, BEN’s throwing a tantrum. OUR ANTAGONIST, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

this problem

“Regardless of if I simply had the illusion of free will in prior games, this time the game became more aggressive than anything I’ve ever seen. It eventually told me to go to Ikana Canyon, where the game would end and it would stop haunting me, anxious and desperate to end this nightmare I played the song of soaring and ended up there.”

This is the worst treasure hunt ever.

“I was told to check my inventory, that I would find the answers there to end the game. I arrived at Ikana Canyon and saved my progress at the owl statue. As I searched through my inventory, I finally noticed that I was missing a reoccurring song – the Elegy of Emptiness.”

I swear to god, if you summon that thing, I will bake cupcakes with your skull.

[Editor’s Note: … What does that even mean?]

It means something that I can’t say in polite company. It also means that I will bake cupcakes with his skull.

“Obviously once I traveled there and learned the song, I suppose that was the last thing it needed before BEN decided it had had enough fun playing with me. Ben is a manipulator; he tries to fool his victims into security and makes you drop your guard like a venus fly trap, he ensares them. I am nothing but a puppet to him, he enjoys seeing what kind of human emotions he can tap into by doing different things.”

Just… just leave. Seriously, dude. Just… leave. It’s tied to the cartridge and your computer, so just… just leave. Come on. I am begging you. This is the only eldritch horror that could be destroyed by waving a magnet in his general direction.


“There are still some things about this whole experience that still don’ t make sense, but then again I never was good at figuring out these things and I’m not exactly in the right state of mind to, I’m giving you all the pieces of the puzzle for you to analyze and piece together the missing links.”

Oh, fuck me, there’s going to be test?!

“I am typing these “closing thoughts” on the library computer on campus, and I’ve emailed myself the notes I have stored on my “infected” computer from the last four days.”









“I’m then going to combine those copy/paste those notes with the “closing/openings” that I’ve typed here on the safe, public computer into one text document – I’m not taking any chances spreading Ben, I would not wish this horrible torment on anyone and I’ve made sure to have my bases covered here.”

Ouch. Harsh burns, dude. Somewhere, BEN cries a single, bloody tear.

“I didn’t run into any problems with Ben when I was back on my computer trying to email myself the notes – went right under his fucking nose. He has no idea what he just let me do. Had no problems opening the txt document from my “infected” computer in my email, either.”

Every time he says “infected”, I imagine somebody slipping a condom around a computer.

“I can’t describe to you how it feels to finally be able to get the word out in this post. The nightmare ends here.”

*sequel looms over my shoulders*


“That said, do not download ANY of my videos or anything ABOUT my videos – through a Youtube video/audio ripper, a screengrab, whatever.”

… Be right back, going to go screengrab this story while I cackle maniacally.

you shouldn't have done that



“I don’t know how he can spread, but I know that just watching them on youtube/reading my text won’t be able to allow him to spread, otherwise he wouldn’t have needed my help in the first place, but I STRONGLY recommend you do not take anything you see streaming online onto your own personal computer.”

Man, BEN is going to hate it on my computer. He’s going to be all, “You shouldn’t have- wow, that is a lot of porn. And- have you ever cleaned your desktop?!”.

“This will be my last posting, I’m putting up on this forum here for the world. If you see any further posts from me, after today’s current date – September 12 – and after the current time – 12:08am – DISCREDIT them.”

Don’t worry, I’ve discredited every single thing you’ve said, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

“It already has proven to me that Ben can access my account/password and manipulate my computer, and like I said I have no idea to what extent it can do this, but know that it will do anything to break free. He is desperate. To ensure your safety, just forget about me. Please.”


“And obviously this goes without saying, but from here on out do not download ANY images I may have put up, any files, any ANYTHING.”

Yeah, yeah, blah blah, “you could be next”, we get it. Mind wrappin’ this up?

“This fifth day will be my last day, I’m going to burn the cartridge and then come back to destroy my laptop.”


“Again, even though I don’t even know you this is sort of bittersweet for me. This semester I really didn’t have any friends, or rather, I stopped paying attention to them.”

Whoa, everything got auto-biographical all of a sudden.

“But I suppose that’s partially to blame because I am the genius who picked to live in a single, I suppose someone to get ahold of me and save me before I got too immersed into this game would have literally saved my life.”

Well, obviously! That would have been a way better-


A… single?

Didn’t you have a roommate?


“However, it proved too much for me, I’m just glad it happened to me and I could get the warning out so that Ben dies here.”

*sequel hums angrily*

Oh, I swear to god, I will shut you up.

“Lastly, thank you for taking the time to open this and open yourselves up to me by hearing my story, despite maybe not believing me.”

You mean “definitely”, we’re definitely not believing you.

“You didn’t have to do that – really, you shouldn’t have. Your support this entire time has kept me going and now I am finally free of this. Thanks Again, Jadusable.”

Well, at least it has a happy ending!

“…You shouldn’t have done that, Matt. You shouldn’t have done that….”

… Um. Well, that’s… yeah.

happy ending

SO! Finally, finally, FINALLY, we are done BEN FUCKING DROWNED! How was it?


BEN Drowned definitely has sheer length on it’s size, so if you’re a size queen, well, this is definitely for you. It’s definitely believable, and has a certain atmosphere that’s definitely appealing. If you have a few months, sit down, give it a read! It’s definitely the best video gaming Creepypasta I’ve ever read, even despite my bitching. But what let’s it down is how… well, low the stakes are! The story tries it’s best, but at the end of the day, it’s still just an old video game! Hell, we already know his weakness, just drown the whiny fucker!

Actually, that gives me an idea…

wouldn't dare

*whistles innocently*






26 Nov

*sing song voice* Woooorking on another video review! Here’s some teasers- or, er, quotes might be the more applicable term, I guess. ANYWAY YEAH FEAR ME I’M GREAT.

“Recently, I have been informed that “reviews are better if the reviewer actually likes movies”. Well, I’ve decided to take this incredibly condescending advice to heart, and from now, I’ve decided to only review great movies! … A shame I’m doing this instead.”

“And hey, this movie just came out in theaters, so this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to reviewing something culturally relevant! … God, that’s depressing.”

“Why is it that we’re only two minutes in, and I already feel like we’ve sat through a fuckload of padding? It’s really a marvel, this opening is actually longer than the movie that it’s in. Non-euclidean editing!”

“Oh right! There’s an actual plot here! And here I thought this was just going to be softcore porn run through a grain thresher.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘it’s not safe out here’?! It’s an ice cream truck. That drove in the other direction. Unless you think it’s a distraction so he can release a toxic cloud of Rocky Road and rain death on the city, I think we’re safe.”

“Oh, congrats, fucking congratulations, you should get a goddamn award on missing the point entirely. I’d give you a round of applause for your magnificent ability to screw everything up, if I wasn’t afraid you’d join in and somehow liquefy a baby.”

Omegle Is The BEST Pokeyman

25 Nov

… Okay, hopefully this time when I make fun of people on Omegle, I’m not going to step into a big steaming pile of incest rape on my first fucking try.


Explain why Lyra is best pony.

Nah, I’m not really into Pokemon.

boobs or butt

Trust me, when your day job involves sitting around and watching nightmarish German porn, the question becomes less “which is better?”, and more “which one will send you into a blind screaming fit?”.

Im not sure if I am ready for college, but I’m already here. What should I do?

Hmm, I dunno, lemme check Dumbing Of Age.

… I’m not entirely sure that’s applicable advice. Do you have anything else?

… Stick with the McNuggets.

What if you magically grow a penis?

… I would be unto a GOD.

*cue lightning*

why is the sky blue?

Because Half Life 3 is confirmed.

Does having the vagina licked has a significant importance for a gal while fucking ?

Aaaaaand we’re right back into the “give me a steel wool shower” part of the evening.

Have you ever made a porno if so what is the tittle

“Oh God, Where Did That Snake Come From”.

I cut myself a lot tonight, any tips on hiding it from my parents?


Girl’s asking if she can spend the night, it may or may not be a shit test, how do i diffuse this?


Confess one of your deepest, darkest secrets.

SMOKEBOOOOOOOMB- er, wait, no, doesn’t quite work here, I take it back.


Today is apparently Reference Webcomics Day!



24 Nov

Despite my cold, I have bravely and nobly struggled to make the best and brightest post that I could possibly make! But I’m afraid it’s just too big to post in one day, so I’m going to spread it over an entire year-

[Editor’s Note: You spent the entire day getting high on cough syrup and drawing AT4W fan art, didn’t you.]



23 Nov

why am I so sick this year

why have I found a way to contract every single fucking cold

why am I an idiot baby person




“Why Won’t You Just DROWN Already?!”

22 Nov

So, um, yeah, I have a sudden nasty head cold and can’t finish BEN Drowned today, buuuut I managed to finish some art for it!

let's drown ben

I use “art” in a very, very, very, very, very, very, very generous sense of the word.

Internet Campfire Tales: BEN Drowned, A Creepypasta Review, Part Fourteen

21 Nov




Previously, on BEN DrownedEither Jadusable’s little choo-choo has gone around the bend, or BEN is controlling his mind from inside his electronics. Um. Somehow.


September 9, 2010 12:35am – My worst fears confirmed – Ben has tampered with my summary of BEN.wmv. I looked at the summary that I posted on various forums for the BEN.wmv file and parts have been omitted. There is no mention of Ben existing outside the game.”

Eh, say what you will about BEN, but he’s a damn fine editor. Dots all your I’s and crosses your T’s before he’ll swallow your soul!

“There is no mention of the Moon Children.”

The… “Moon Children”?

Are we so sure he didn’t take that bit out to keep you from sounding ridiculous?

“How could he have been that quick to delete the post without me noticing? I’m wondering if maybe it appeared to me that I was posting everything, but in reality Ben was posted his own censored version. I’m going to ask Ben why he did it.”

Well, obviously, BEN is secretly the guy who censors song lyrics on YouTube! IT ALL MAKES SENSE!

“12:50am – He isn’t responding to me on Cleverbot, its just giving the generic responses it usually does, I’m just talking to a bot this time.”

Yeah, yeah, cue the part of the review where I start talking to Cleverbot. Etcetera, etcetera. I gave it a shot, actually, and all she did was offer to buy me the DVDs of Lost.

“1:24am – I think Ben is mad at me.”

At least he didn’t buy you the DVDs of Lost.

“10:43am – The Moon Children appeared in my dreams last night, they lifted up their masks to reveal their hideously disfigured faces – maggots crawling out of their orifices, sunken black holes where their eyes should be, a yellow smile that slowly grew bigger and bigger as they came closer to me.”

Hmm. Nope, still doesn’t work, “Moon Children” just sounds fucking stupid.

[Editor’s Note: You do realize that’s a real thing in Majora’s Mask, right?]

Wait, what?

… Nope, still stupid.

“They told me that they wanted to play. I tried to run from them – but the four children pinned me down to the ground with surprising strength. Over them stood the Happy Mask Salesman, announcing that he had a new mask that he wanted me to try.”

Pssh, can’t be better than my dick mask!


“In his spaztic, sudden movements matching his in-game appearance, he took out a mask of modeled off of someone’s face that I couldn’t recognize – a younger looking face – and handed it to the Moon Children. Giggling, they latched it to my face; their horrible, broken bodies bouncing up and down. Two of them held me down while the other two began to sow the mask onto my face.”

… SEW. S – E – W. Not “sow”. Unless you’re trying to say they planting fucking crops on your face.

“My shrieks and screams caused the Happy Mask Salesman’s face to turn into the most horrific smile I had ever seen.”

Soooo, in other words, every single smile the Happy Mask Salesman has ever had?

“He sporadically moved around, examining this procedure like a curious doctor, in that impossible movement. I flailed around, but it was no use. My eyes rolled in the back of my head because of the pain. It felt so real, but I couldn’t wake up.”

Oh, great, BEN is a fucking dream warrior.

“I couldn’t wake up no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wake up. After the mask was melded onto my flesh they began sowing my legs together, then my arms, the horrific feeling of a needle puncturing your legs and pulling them in, rupturing your achillies tendons and tying them together resonated throughout my entire body.”

Gosh, that’s terrifying. No, not the body horror, the fact that YOU MISSPELLED “SEW” AGAIN YOU BUTTERY COCKMONGER.

“I tried to scream but the mask was pressed so tightly against my face that it was my new face… and my new face had no mouth. I didn’t make a sound.”

I swear to god, if you make me link to the “I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream” page on TV Tropes, I will make you scream out of orifices you didn’t even know you had.

“I tried telling myself in my head that I was dreaming, tried telling myself again and again, and suddenly the Moon Children stopped and looked at me. They just stared. And the Happy Mask Salesman slowly bent down and stared at me, inches away from my face, and grinned when he simply said “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” before the Moon Children resumed with increase vigor.”

You know, my dentist says the exact same thing before every procedure.

“I couldn’t wake up. I couldn’t wake up. It wouldn’t let me wake up until they had crafted me into another elegy statue.”

… Soooo, what’s the most inappropriate thing I could play here?

Eh, that’ll do.

“I woke up sweating, crying, and shaking uncontrollably. I immediately ran to my computer and went for Ben.”

I don’t wanna close my eyes… I don’t wanna fall asleep, ’cause I miss you baby, and I don’t wanna miss a thing…

“9/9/10 Conversation 1

User: Answer me, ben.

Cleverbot: Welcome back.

User: What is the point of doing this, WHY?

Cleverbot: Amusing to see.”

Well, I’m glad SOMEBODY is having a good time.

“User: How?

Cleverbot: Fun to play, fun to toy with you, make you feel safe.”

… Seriously, all that BEN Drowned fan fiction is starting to make a lot of sense.

“User: …

Cleverbot: I wonder how you would have reacted.

User: to what?

Cleverbot: If I hadn’t revealed myself and stayed hidden, only doing little things to play with you. Close out your windows, turn off your computer, move your mouse by itself. Little things. Make you wonder if I am there but you never know. Give you little hints that I am.”

Wow, that would be… mildly more boring than this already is.

“Cleverbot: I wanted to do something different with you.

User: you did this before?

Cleverbot: Yes. And I will do it again.”

Wait, you’re saying there was somebody before me?! I thought you loved me! Who’s the other man?!

… It seems so obvious now.

“User: To who, Ben?

Cleverbot: Hmm.”

Oh thank god, we’ve finally found a way to shut him up.

“User: Did you know Ben?

Cleverbot: Won’t tell that information to you.”

Now the eldritch abomination is getting pissy?

“User: How did Ben die?

Cleverbot: You know.”


“User: No, but how did he drown?

Cleverbot: Won’t tell that to you.

User: Why?

Cleverbot: It is reserved for another.”

Fuck me, it’s setting up for a sequel.

“User: Who?

Cleverbot: Another who asks.

User: when

Cleverbot: Later.

(the window is closed)”

Did- did- motherfucker, did you just throw a TANTRUM?

“I’m beginning to think that this “thing” maybe isn’t Ben at all, in its sadistic nature I wouldn’t be surprised if it took the boy’s name after it killed him.”

Maybe, but “BEN” is just so pithy!

“12:04pm – My room is beginning to feel different again. There’s something… out there.. I feel really threatened, like there is something that is trying to reach out to me and strangle me but it can’t quite get there.”



“12:46pm – I think Ben doesn’t want to play with me anymore. I’ll play again, I’ll play the game again, Ben, can you see this? I’ll play the game again, please, just stop this please please”

So, wait, does this count as the third act break-up?

“1:41pm – I’m going insane trying to decide what is real and what isn’t, is Ben just playing a trick on me or is this for real? Is Ben generating these replies or are people actually posting them? Did I just see that screen flicker or was it my imagination?”

Yeah, I’m about ninety percent certain all of my replies are the product of an eldritch abomination. I’M ON TO YOU, BEN.


(Operation “Learn How To Draw” is still a work in progress, as you could probably tell.)

“Imagine depending on the internet and trusting your eyes for your entire life and then being blinded – you can’t rely on it anymore, you second guess everything. for the brief moments I AM looking at my responses to the videos, people were pointing out things that looked fake or Photoshopped or whatever – and there is literally no way for me to know if Ben changed something on purpose to try and shut me up.”

I’m guessing somewhere out there, there’s a “BEN Drowned” drinking game, in which the only rule is “Drink whenever the problem could be easily solved by turning your computer off”.

There are no survivors.

“Or if maybe those replies were just constructed by Ben to try and discourage me from even reaching out – See, I get fucking caught in an infinite mindfuck loop like this and this is what has been wearing on my sanity and pushing me to the edge. As I’m writing this, there’s no way of even telling if anyone even cares as much as I think they do – just another fucking trick. Is this whole document even exist? Am I writing nothing?”

You’re writing nothing of value, at any rate.

9/9/10 Conversation 2

User: What is it? Whats the point of playing? i die whenever i do anything

Cleverbot: You die because you can’t figure out the secret.”

Not even BEN knows why Apple Jacks don’t taste like apples.

“User: What?

Cleverbot: Thematic.


“Thematic”? Oh, balls, everything just got meta.

“Cleverbot: There beauty in your suffering

(the window is closed)

4:09pm – Ben is making me play the game again. It tells me that it has something very important to show me.

6:23pm – (Summary of the DROWNED.wmv playthrough)

9:09pm – (Summary of CHILDREN.wmv playthrough)”

… Am I just stupid, or does “CHILDREN” not actually exist?

[Editor’s Note: Definitely stupid.]


“September 10, 2010 11:52am – The DROWNED.wmv playthrough was up when I woke up today. I remember typing it up but I don’t ever remember posting it. He censored it again, there is no mentioning of the old man. I have no voice anymore. I am only posting what he wants me to, I am the mask he uses to disguise himself as he lies.”