SCP-8060 Toontown Cartoon physics is a term for the way that physics and biology often function in animated cartoons, with a wide range of applications. Oftentimes, physics works as expected for the real world, but many times, characters will purposefully or accidentally bend and break laws of nature for humorous effect. This includes gravity not taking effect until a character reacts to it, drawing a hole with paint and making it real, or bodies being grossly mutilated or disassembled, only to be reassembled without a scratch moments later.
This sort of playful bending of natural laws is rarely seen out of a humorous context, but SCP-8060 raises the question on If a human entered into a world that ran on cartoon physics. The result is, of course, not humorous whatsoever. And the journey through a cartoon world turns out to be far closer to a nightmare than a dream. Let's take a look.
SCP-8060 is the unreleased series finale of Sasai Town and the anomalous phenomena surrounding said finale. Sosai Town was an educational animated children's show produced by Sputnik Studios, a California-based animation studio founded in 1985, and since discovered to be in possession of several poorly understood paratechnological constructs that anomalously affected their production speed, creative output, and company reputation. They produced hundreds of pieces of media before becoming defunct.
with a number of them gaining anomalous properties, including Society Town. The summary of the show, taken from the company's website, reads, It's tough learning lessons the hard way, especially when you're a kid. It can often be a bit frightening.
Sometimes it makes it difficult to want to try it all. Grady Mitchell knew this feeling all too well. He just never knew the right things to say. At least, that was until one special day. when he and his friends discovered a lovely bridge within the outskirts of their humble home.
Across that bridge, Society Town awaits. A magical realm full of many wonderful and patient creatures, ready to share their boundless knowledge to those in need of some advice. Join Grady, Susie, and Rochelle as they discover that learning to do the right thing doesn't have to be scary.
Just remember to say please. The show first aired on the company's own television channel, Sput Station, during their Little Cadets block of programming between 2001 and 2010, with reruns still remaining in syndication. Home media for Sasaitown is still popular with parents of neuroatypical children, and the show remains one of the studio's most popular and successful.
Episodes were each 24 minutes long, Typically containing two individual 12-minute stories. In most plot lines, the characters of Grady, Susie, and Rochelle would encounter a resident of Sosai Town and help them to resolve a problem by utilizing a specific social skill. The finale was titled Acceptance and Saying Goodbye, and according to a promotional summary, it involved the protagonists of Sosai Town having to move from their hometown.
forcing the three characters to come to terms with leaving the titular magical town behind. Specific details beyond this are scarce, but it is believed that the finale was being developed with the goal of bringing the series to a close, teaching viewers how to cope with loss or change, and to reflect on the events and lessons taught throughout the series. The anomalous properties of the episode are activated when a human subject actively seeks out previously unrecovered information regarding it.
Unrecovered information includes, but is not limited to, detailed transcript of the events of 8060, storyboard and production materials, commercial teasers, the production timeline, and the whereabouts of Horace Kerman and Della Mort. When a subject intentionally searches for undisclosed information regarding the finale, the They are always capable of discovering a plausible way of recovering the desired information, with digital formats being the most commonly discovered medium during the early stages. Attempts to follow up on any of this information, however, is often difficult, to the extent that it may confuse some individuals or discourage them from continuing to engage with the anomaly, as it typically directs them to unintuitive and unconventional sources. Subjects continuing to research past this point will have physical items relating to the undisclosed information manifest in areas the subject frequents.
Situated in places the subject would be highly likely to discover them in. The information portrayed within these items is usually cryptic and personally intriguing to the subject. Those researching the finale at this stage will experience brief dissociative episodes, followed by intense audio-visual hallucinations, which typically involve characters from the show giving the subject advice relating to their search, but have also included unrelated and bizarre occurrences. It's noted that none of these hallucinations have been reported to involve the characters Grady, Susie, or Rochelle.
Although those experiencing these hallucinations are often aware of their abnormal nature, many have expressed an intensified feeling of curiosity upon witnessing them, but it's unknown if this is the result of an anomalous influence or not. By combining elements from information they have gathered up to this point, Often by esoteric means, which wouldn't normally provide any valid solutions, the subject is able to acquire the location of an abandoned and typically isolated building near them. Subjects will invariably believe that this location will lead to the missing information they were seeking, and the dissociative and hallucinatory episodes will not dissipate until they follow through with the rest of the 8060 discovery process. If the subject reaches the location, the abandoned building's entryways will lead to an extra-dimensional space, only accessible to the affected subject, and the building isn't anomalous under other conditions. After an indeterminable amount of time, subjects will return from the space through the same entryway, although 25% of subjects have so far not returned.
The extra-dimensional space consists of an expansive and substantially altered reality of unknown makeup resembling the titular town from Sasaitown, populated by a large number of Illusinari-class entities, or in layman's terms, cartoon characters. These vary wildly in appearance, with some having been reported to resemble characters from the show, although most others recorded differ unpredictably in appearance and behavior. Events and processes transpiring within this space are poorly understood, as almost all data is in the form of personal accounts from subjects who have returned. Records from within the space are distorted and manipulated by unknown means, and to an unknown extent, although not to the point of unintelligibility. Subjects having exited the space are typically left with lasting psychological and biological alterations.
which can vary in severity and visibility. This has been noted to cause difficulty for some to properly communicate what they learned or gathered while there. We're given a short log of some of the alterations experienced by some D-Class that went in and returned, starting with the least severe. One D-Class was recovered with two metallic growths upon his head, resembling television antennae. and an x-ray scan concluded that the antenna were protruding through the skull.
Aside from annoyance that the antenna didn't work here, the D-Class was otherwise psychologically stable, and described his experience there as riveting. Another exited the space gagging and nearly suffocating, before regurgitating a grossly distended and discolored eyeball that burst on the ground, into bright green, rapidly sublimating fluid. Ultrasound imaging revealed several foreign objects, including an unbranded bag of potato chips and intravenous syringes embedded in his internal organs, as well as heavily saturated viscera. He expressed an acute fear of magic, which intensifies when presented with fantasy iconography. Another D-Class appeared physically and psychologically unchanged after exiting, but it became evident that her appearance was gradually changing at a rate much faster than her previous appearance.
than human biology would permit, with the process significantly accelerated when she was not being visually observed. She typically maintains a general resemblance to her initial appearance, but on rare occasions she spontaneously gains or entirely loses facial features or extremities, or develops severely distorted proportions. These incidents do not last more than several milliseconds, before reverting to a conventional body structure. Another exited the space with no physical differences, aside from small specks of acrylic paint on her jumpsuit, but she began to display uncharacteristically considerate and sociable behavior.
It's noted that she was incredibly reclusive and hostile to Foundation staff before this change, and when asked, claims that she learned a valuable lesson. Although the lesson is different every time she's asked to elaborate. Another return from the space demonstrating intense projected synesthesia and visual agnosia, rendering her incapable of distinguishing different objects or even different types of environmental stimulus. She no longer responds to human speech or writing and is usually unaware of the presence of other human beings, often appearing confused about her surroundings. even after several weeks, but almost never alarmed or upset.
The last one listed returned unresponsive, being host to an Illusinari-class entity referring to itself as Fuznuz, which currently manifests as a pair of plastic, googly eyes stuck upon the D-class's eye sockets, along with a diffuse mass of colorful pipe cleaners entangled around and constricting the subject's brain. It's unclear how the D-Class's brain has not yet hemorrhaged from the pressure inflicted by the pipe cleaners. Fuzz Nuzz is manic and unstable, throwing tantrums when not granted access to art supplies, and a separate SCP classification is pending. Most subjects vocally reflect on their experience within the space positively, even if evidence suggests otherwise, and common descriptors of what transpires there involve an adventure or quest for the information the subject entered in search of. Further elaboration eventually devolves into nonsensical rambling.
When they return and are capable of reporting newly discovered information relating to SCP-8060, the information is no longer subject to 8060's anomalous effects, and will not cause any anomalous incidents if directly or indirectly conveyed to other individuals. SCP-8060 was first brought to the foundation's attention through the activity of Robert Louis Arnold, who was reported missing by his family on April 19th, 2021. Arnold had run a moderately successful online video channel centered on reviewing and discussing children's animation, and had released a video titled, The Society Town Finale Is Not Gone, three days before his disappearance. This video was notable for being posted outside of his typical schedule, being several times longer than his other published videos, and for its unusual style, with Arnold being erratic and appearing to be in poor health, with the video seeming to be both unscripted and unedited.
In the video, Arnold presents evidence for the current existence of complete copies of the finale, and explains his process of collecting that evidence. A Foundation researcher, Rowan Raster was unable to reproduce Arnold's steps, as many of his sources of information did not appear to exist. But during the investigation, he inadvertently activated the anomalous properties of 8060. Upon discovering this, Raster disengaged and documented the anomalous characteristics.
To date, 19 disappearances have been conclusively linked to 8060. With the majority of cases being individuals involved in lost media communities, two members of production staff at Sputnik Studios, Horace Kerman and Della Mornt, have been missing since the production of Society Town was completed, although all other members of production staff are accounted for, and demonstrate no anomalous properties or symptoms. It's currently unknown why the disappearances of Kerman and Mornt were never formally reported. That would certainly be enough for an SCP in its own right, but we're just getting started, and we're directed to an additional document that is only available to Site-433 staff, detailing incident 8060-ALC.
8060 had proved to be difficult to experimentally research, as D-Class subjects had to have an interest in uncovering the associated information, and several of them who exited the space were incapable of describing the retrieved information or their other experiences within. D-Class were also noted to lack training or expertise in interacting with Illusinari-class entities, leading to often unpredictable additional risks when subjects returned. Testing with D-Class was therefore put on hold, in lieu of sending in someone with more experience. So after much consideration, researcher Rowan Raster was chosen to head in, in part due to his past experience in neutralizing A Keter-class, Illusinari-class entity.
Rowan also has prior history with Sputnik Studios, as a former animator and director. First entering Foundation employment, after it was discovered that one of his animation projects included elements resembling multiple confidential anomalous objects. These elements included a playground which holds humans prisoner, a disease that transforms organisms into mechanical robots, something redacted, and a toy bear that heals human children by creating fabric prosthetics.
SCPs 1740, 217, 2000, and 2295 respectively. The details of these objects were sourced from Rowan's dreams, and were not an intentional act against the foundation or proper containment of the associated objects. Finally, Rowan previously interacted with and formally discovered 8060's anomalous properties, and had already demonstrated an ability to engage with 8060 in a controlled and responsible way. Rowan was provided with a field journal, notebook computer, digital camera, and a standard survival and emergency preparedness pack.
We're given a collection of his records taken from the extra-dimensional space. And it's noted that some parts of them have possibly been manipulated. In the first audio log, Rowan says that he's standing outside of the building containing the entrance to the space, an old shed in the middle of nowhere. He admits that he's nervous, as they aren't even sure what goes on in there, and the thought of those weeks of preparation culminating in him going missing is very disquieting.
Negativity won't get him anywhere though. as the Foundation has him well prepared, and he's certainly been through worse. He just wants to savor this moment before he goes in, a moment of quiet out on these windy plains. Although he does note that there's a starry-eyed eagle beckoning him closer to the entrance.
Speaking of hallucinations, he saw a parrot crash into his window while he was scrolling through a Sputnik fan site, and it splattered on the wall like paint before drizzling downwards like syrup. He admits that the reason he's doing this is a bit personal, as once he found out that Horace and Della were missing, he knew what had to be done. He didn't know them all too well during his time working at the studio, but nobody deserves to be forgotten the way they have.
If he finds them, that could mean retrieval missions for everyone else who got lost in there. He knows that on some level, 8060 is generating the evidence it gives people, but that doesn't mean that the evidence is inaccurate. So much has been cropping up in relation to the two co-workers, with the whole reason he knew where to find this place being some old, obscure magazine that had a page discussing Kerman's last film role. He had to cut out all the numbers in it and rearrange them by color, which was a pain, but if it means he gets to save them, he'd do it. ten times over.
Rowan begins pacing back and forth, and also admits that he did watch some society town to prepare for this, before further admitting that he watched all seven seasons. He remarks that it's not bad, and has a lot more creativity than he was expecting from a preschool show. He's surprised that they were able to keep the concept going for as long as it did.
And he really liked the choice to make the residents of Sasaitown so artistically distinct from the main characters. He decides that he stalled for long enough, so he shakily heads towards the entrance. to the shed, remarking that there is a non-zero chance that he'll go missing, or his brain will be scrambled, or he'll die.
And if any of that happens, he says to forgive him for failing the mission. The next log is from inside of the space, and Rowan states that he thinks that he just got here, but he can already tell that this place makes you lose track of time. People think that going to theme parks is like... being inside of the show, but that's just real plastic and concrete put into the shape of fake settings. This is the real fake, the true false.
He's looking around the town square, and it's like everything glows, even the shadows, except the edges. Glow isn't even the right word really, it's more like the light is straight on his eyes. When he looks at himself, he doesn't really fit yet, and the layers don't always work out how you think they're supposed to. It's also like smell and taste don't exist here. It's just sight and sound and touch.
Even touch isn't really touch, with there being a tactile double image to everything. He feels wood grain on a door, but he also feels the glass and static electric buzz of a television screen. There's not much to hear yet either, just his own perfect foley footsteps.
There's no wind, no room tone, and he can't even hear his own heartbeat out here. It's like things can only make a sound on purpose. The surroundings feel familiar, but he guesses that that's only because they're supposed to. If he tried to compare them to any of the sets from the show, they don't actually match up. So it was a waste of time to find all those maps.
He's pretty sure the roads behind him keep changing, and the street signs definitely are. Asking for directions might work, especially if he asks politely, but there hasn't been anyone he can get a straight answer from. There's entities around, sort of, but they're all distant one way or another. For a lot of them, he's not even sure if you can call them toons at all. It's more like they're painted onto the scenery.
You can kind of tell that they're alive just by looking at them, but it helps if you look through something to see if they're on the level or not. He tries to approach them, but it's like trying to walk closer to your own nose. There's no one he recognizes from the show, but maybe that's a good sign.
This can't be all there is to it, but he obviously needs to go farther, or deeper, if he wants to find anything. The next entry, now taking place at Olivia's bakery, features an interview between Rowan and an entity that was willing to talk to him, named Alfred. Alfred is roughly humanoid, seemingly constructed out of clay, with an enlarged head and eyes. It moves in a jerky but controlled manner, visually similar to stop-motion animation.
and appears to speak by moving a snout-like feature on its face. Alford speaks in a casual manner, stating that this place isn't really its style, and when it finds out that Rowan is filming the interview, it waves and says hi to its mother. Rowan asks it how it's feeling, to which it says that it feels like Alford right now. Rowan clarifies to mean how it feels.
emotionally and texturally, to which it says that it feels like itself, and that's how everyone should feel. Rowan says that it sounds happy and content, and Alfred replies that it's tried those before, and they're great. Alfred begins hopping up and down excitedly before Rowan tells it to settle down, causing it to flatten itself, resembling a pancake with eyes. Rowan asks it if it has ever met anyone like him before, a human.
But Alfred asks what he is, as it is an Alfred. Rowan's not sure he should be giving his name out, but Alfred asks about his character, all of the stuff that he's strung up with. Rowan decides to change the subject, but is interrupted by a cartoon dolphin with a funny thin mustache, wearing a tuxedo.
that approaches their table and places two plates with loaves of bread down. Rowan remarks that the dolphin doesn't really look like Olivia. and asks if he can have its name.
The dolphin promptly replies, no, as it rather likes it, before leaving. Alford crosses its arms, stating that he doesn't want to say his name, but he asks for everyone else's. Rowan stutters in response, causing Alford to break out in laughter in a piercing high-pitched tone, as Rowan clasps his hands over his ears.
Alford says that it was just plain with him, and comments that he doesn't look so good. Rowan explains that he's not used to all of this, at least not on this scale, but he really shouldn't be saying all of this. Alfred replies that it will do him good, talking to them, as it helps to talk.
Alfred then climbs on top of the loaf of bread and lays down on it, as Rowan asks it if it is familiar with Sasaitown. Alford has never heard of it though, stating that it just fell from space. It kind of deserved it though, as it was being a bit naughty. Rowan says that there's a lot of questions on that, but decides to be blunt, and asks if Alford is aware that Societown is a show.
Alford just asks if this all looks like a show, to which Rowan looks around and says, yeah. Rowan then states that its name is Alford, and it's an alien with a snout. So he asks if it's at all related to ALF, the sitcom with that puppet. Alford just replies that he's already slipping a bit, and he sounds silly.
He really should eat something. Rowan replies that he brought his own food, and he's not really hungry. He only came here because he thought Alford would like it.
But Alfred says that it doesn't eat. Its mom doesn't like it when it eats, saying that it's a waste of food. But then it says that it's joking. It just doesn't have a mouth and doesn't need to eat.
Its mom did kick it out of its planet, though. The dolphin then suddenly rushes towards Rowan and slams both of its fins on the table. Its teeth bared and one of its pupils has transformed into a spiraling shape.
The tone and volume of its voice remains the same as before, however, as it asks if Rowan is appreciating his experience here and if he doesn't want his bread. Alfred exclaims that it likes the way the dolphin says, Sir, and wants it to say it until it's the only word it can remember. The dolphin orders Rowan to eat the bread, so Rowan complies, noting that the bread slightly sinks into his hands.
He takes a bite, and the scene flickers before cutting to the outside of the bakery. The pitter-patter of rain can be heard, washing down on Rowan's real flesh body. I'll note that this is definitely a section that has been manipulated. Rowan is coughing up something, something which must not be agreeing with him. But can food agree?
He swears, stating that he shouldn't have done that. But the scene flickers again, the camera now showing a cloudy sky. It is now daytime, and Rowan picks up the camera and pans it to his face, stating, Rise and shine.
The next entry shows Rowan in a large indoor space, resembling a theater. On stage, there is a set composed of cut wooden boards painted to resemble ocean waves, a beach, and a palm tree. Rowan calls out to ask if anyone is here that feels like talking, but gets no response. He states that he was hoping to find a location from the show, so he could find a resident of Sosai Town. Everyone else has been nice, or at least harmless, but he really needs to find someone who knows.
He recognizes this place from the first segment of Season 5, Episode 11, Stage Fright. but then corrects himself to say that it was the second segment. He climbs onto the stage as some movement is seen in the rafters, and he says that this place is much bigger than it was on the show, and it's darker too, but he never saw it when it was empty.
Rowan proceeds behind the curtains, finding a folding director's chair with the word Osgood printed on it. The chair abruptly folds on its own. lifts off the ground and begins slowly moving into the backstage area As if it was being carried Rowan follows and asks if that's Oz good and if they can show themselves The lights of the theater suddenly go out leaving Rowan in the dark and a crash is heard Seemingly from him dropping the camera Rowan says that this isn't right as there is no such thing as darkness here He then flips on a light switch illuminating the area which appears to be a wardrobe area, with many of the racks of clothing, including large fur coats.
There's also a child-sized furry creature here, but Rowan doesn't seem to notice it. He moves to the door, but stops before turning the doorknob, stating that he wishes there was music here. He doesn't know what's on the other side now, and he kind of wishes that he could see the sky again.
He then mentions that cartoon characters almost never walk through doors. They just appear where they need to be, unless they open a door and stand shocked in the doorway. Rowan opens the door, and exits the room into the same backstage area as before.
The stage is visible, and the set has been removed. Rowan calls out to whoever did this, before being startled by a loud voice, which says that It needs to get out of here now. Rowan rapidly turns around and finds a television set behind him, showing a scene from the film Toy Story 2. Rowan exclaims that he's losing his patience, and he's just trying to get some simple, friendly answers. There's then several seconds of silence, along with footage of a large bronze statue, although the subject of the statue is not visible. An echoing voice tells Rowan not to mind it, as they're just nuisances.
The fourth entry is just a hand-drawn image of Rowan's favorite Sasaitown resident, with text reading, Where is he? The fifth log has Rowan speaking into his recorder, stating how confused he is. He just feels like he's in a pinball machine, just constantly getting hurdled to the next thing.
And he's lost track of time already. Things kind of cut in his mind, with him thinking about going somewhere, and then he's just there. He's really not sure what he's supposed to do next, as all he can do is just explore.
He snuck into an alleyway a few moments ago and saw a bunch of toons that all sort of looked the same. Just blank stick figures. They were all punching and kicking each other. With some of them twitching on the ground with bent limbs. The sounds their bodies made whenever they got hit were so loud, and somehow he could tell that one of them was staring at him.
He's not afraid of dying, as he can't die here, but it's so different when you're in the thick of it. He wonders what Horus and Della are experiencing out there. In the next log, Rowan finds an entity that actually resembles a character from the show, Misunderstood.
They're walking down a residential street with Rowan asking her if she minds being recorded. She replies that if she had a mind for that, she wouldn't be here, prompting Rowan to ask if she knows that she's from a show. She says that he misunderstands. She's a product of Sasaitown, as she has the character, but they are not in a show right now. If she turned on the television and saw this, she would be rather confused.
They're not in society town right now, and she says that it's all a product, asking him what exactly he's looking for here. Rowan tells her that he's looking for two co-workers of his, Horace Kerman and Della Mort, to which she just calls them them. needles in a haystack. But it's okay, as everyone finds what they're looking for here.
Rowan asks if she's seen people like him before, but she says that there hasn't been anyone like him, although she doesn't consider him special. Rowan then asks where exactly they are, if not Sasaitown, to which she says that there's only one answer she can give to those who ask that. She points a finger towards Rowan. touching his chest and tells him to look inside himself and see. Rowan groans in in frustration, asking if every question he asks is just going to lead to more questions, vague nonsense, and running in circles.
He then says that she looks like Miss Understood, and sounds like her, but doesn't act like her. Miss Understood replies that they don't always feel like tapping into it, causing Rowan to suddenly point at her and exclaim that maybe she should tap into it, as it's fun and he likes it, despite not knowing what it is. He then asks what they're doing to him, as he can feel the pressure on his brain, as if they're trying to give him an aneurysm, like a hundred ideas pressed into his head.
Miss Understood says that the aneurysm would be his choice, which is a strange way to have fun, but everyone has a vice. She thinks that he likes this. As he was smiling the entire time he yelled at her, and was smiling the entire time he was doing that silly voice, Rowan backs away and asks what voice, but she just smiles and tells him to remember her advice, before transforming into a rain cloud and drifting off into the sky.
Rowan begins running after it, saying that he's sorry for misbehaving, and then says to just cut already to take him to the next part, because if he stays here longer, he's going to cry. A voice tells him that it's already in motion, and he has to learn from this experience. Rowan tries to hold it back, but begins crying.
In the next log, Rowan is standing at the top of a traditional Dutch four-blade windmill. The blades are immobile. And he is trembling, trying to keep his balance, commenting that this was probably a bad idea. He didn't know where else to go though, and he looks down to see the dolphin from before staring up at him. The dolphin tells him that running is not a healthy solution, and it's best to talk things out, but Rowan ignores it.
He didn't think that the dolphin would be reoccurring, and he had completely forgotten about it until he saw it again. He doesn't think the dolphin can hear him, and he doesn't think that he can climb up with those flippers, but with cartoons, you never know. The dolphin says that it can barely remember why it was even mad at him, but Rowan comments that he's not going to think about what the dolphin is saying, as grasping for any meaning in their words is not a good idea. The dolphin tells him that it's dangerous for him to play up there, but Rowan says that he can never do it.
die, although he doesn't want to know what the dolphin will do if he goes down there. Rowan also says that he's been feeling more agile lately, and doubts he would have been able to climb up something like this in false life. He then turns the camera, showing a vast and labyrinthian city, with clouds swirling and two birds kissing each other in midair.
Rowan says that he hates how much he loves this view. As the dolphin begins sobbing, Rowan groans and yells down to it in frustration, stating that he doesn't want to hear that, and he's not in the mood to hear anybody crying. He asks the dolphin what it even wants from him, as he ate the bread. The dolphin just stares at him as Rowan continues yelling, telling the dolphin to do some more deranged nonsense. As that's certainly easier than actually explaining anything.
A light crackling sound is heard in the distance as the dolphin tells him to duck, but Rowan misunderstands it to be another nonsensical response. Before he can react, he turns as a massive light blue rocket ship flies into his chest. The The footage suddenly cuts to an illustration of a shattered porcelain cat statue with the caption, Technical difficulties, please stand by, for 5 minutes. The statue's pupils can be seen vibrating for the entirety of the images on screen.
Eventually the footage cuts back to a grossly crooked and misshapen Rowan covered in suit and crashed onto a splintered floor within someone's destroyed bedroom. The camera is positioned above him and shows multiple limbs fractured in an exaggerated manner, and his neck is slightly bent. He begins to Lift his body up as his limbs twist back into place the suit covering his body flakes off and his neck Snaps upwards he states that he's okay before suddenly screaming and clutching his head in his hands Tears stream down his face and he curls into a fetal position babbling and expressing various anxieties for 30 minutes Finally, he looks up at the camera and asks why it hasn't fallen down yet, as it suddenly descends and lands on his face. In the next log, Rowan is standing in a courtyard with a large bronze statue depicting a woman in a top hat and bow tie with a large mayoral sash. Rowan is speaking to an entity resembling the statue, Mayor Mayapple.
Rowan tells her what an honor it is, and that if she can't help him, he doesn't know what to do. Mayapple tells him that he has nearly arrived, and when asked what role she plays here, she says that she leads him. He's happy to hear that, and says that he heard that this place isn't actually Sasai Town, asking her to confirm this.
She replies that she cannot call this a location. but they have all things. He then asks if she's met anyone else like him here, meaning humans, to which she says that she has seen them, but only from the inside.
He asks her to elaborate on that, but she just says, not yet. So he moves on to asking if she normally encounters other toons here, or spends most of her time on her own. She replies that she's not lonely, as she doesn't need to be, and she's always full.
Rowan says that that's good to hear, asking her how she feels about never appearing on screen in Societown, causing her to go silent for several seconds before stating that that's a personal question. Rowan apologizes, quickly asking if she knows anything about the status or location of Kermen or Mork. Mayapple ignores the question, instead telling him that he's been a good boy, and she's going to give him something, as he's almost earned it.
She removes her top hat and retrieves a luminescent object from it, holding it out to Rowan. Rowan looks at it for 92 seconds before taking it, telling her in an unusually high-pitched voice that he can't tell them all how much this means to him. He wants to thank all of them for teaching him, challenging him, and encouraging him to be a better person.
He's going to hold on to these memories and these lessons for the rest of his life. He may be leaving, but he'll never forget them all. The object then emits a burst of light, washing out all visuals, and a loud, low tone is heard alongside an unidentified voice.
The next log is just text from Rowan, with him stating that he might be hitting rock bottom. On his way here, he looked inside a grocery store window, and there were two little rabbit men yelling at each other, trying to put up a poster. They were speaking Portuguese, but there was still some good slapstick, and he was actually enjoying himself until he laughed, causing them both to turn around and watch him. He thought that they would do something, but they just kept staring for minutes like he was their cartoon.
Eventually, he just walked away, and as soon as he was out of sight, he heard them bickering again. Saying that he's lost is an understatement, even after asking the mayor for directions. He doesn't think he's ever had less of an idea where to go or where he can go.
He keeps seeing the same landmark. And he doesn't mean similar looking buildings. There's a monkey the size of a skyscraper, and he knows it's the same one because every time he passes it, the pile of gigantic banana peels on the ground next to it gets bigger. At least back where he used to come from, you at least knew you were on a sphere, and if you walked long enough, you wrap around to the other side.
Here, he thinks, there's directions he hasn't even thought of yet. The way he prepared for this is just comical, except it isn't. He doesn't know how long he's even been here, but the only time he even looked at the MREs, the first aid kit, blanket and everything else was when he dumped it on the ground and left. This isn't a place where he can get malnourished or get an infected puncture wound.
The only way to find out what he's looking for is going to have to be to think differently. He followed a chain of logic to get here, but he doesn't think that logic is going to lead him any further. He's going to have to think dangerously and funny.
This probably all just sounds like a bunch of whining coming from someone who signed up for this, and maybe he really does just need something to lift his spirits. This would be the perfect time for a certain big green guy in a striped necktie to make an appearance, but he'll try to keep his expectations low. In the following log, he states that his head feels heavy, with every thought feeling like a centipede is wriggling along with it. He thinks that it might have something to do with the graffiti he's been noticing deeper in this place, and wonders if there's any laws out here to prevent that. He would take pictures, but the reason he can't is in relation to why his head feels like an ant farm.
A lot of the graffiti is definitely info-hazardous, and it's to the point where he's not sure which thoughts are his own anymore. He has written down a few examples, though. And if it turns out that they're too info-hazardous to even be written about, then burn this. One graffiti read, Walk the walk and talk the talk, with the paint still wet when Rowan touched it.
Afterwards, he felt extremely confident and energetic for a while before becoming extremely depressed, having to sit down. There's a chance it was a chemical reaction, but he thinks that it started... before he touched the paint. Another was a spray-painted image of a blue snake coiled around a golden egg, which hurt Rowan's eyes to look at, like staring at the sun. Another was the words, Does anyone else here like Steely Dan?
which caused him to get Old Black Cow stuck in his head. He's 99% sure that he's never heard of that song in his life, but it is possible that he forgot. So this would be non-anomalous. Other graffiti caused him to hear words inside of his head, or the sound of heavy footprints and laughter, or the words looked stinky.
Another was a face in fluorescent magenta paint, which he was sure was someone he used to work with, and he stood there looking around, waiting for them to show up, until he looked at it again and realized that it didn't look anything like them. He ends the log. by asking the Foundation to forgive him, as this mission has been a total failure.
In the next log, he writes that he ran into a group of toons in the woods, with them looking different than most of the others, but he's seen a lot of different looking Illusinari class entities here, so he doesn't know if that means anything. Something about these ones made him feel a little nostalgic though, or homesick. It could be that they were just hanging out together.
Standing around and talking like friends. They weren't whacking each other on the head with big hammers or anything, so he guesses that it reminded him of people he used to know. They were nice too, and they seemed friendly, but he felt like he was intruding, so he made an excuse and left. He feels a bit out of place here, and a bit lonely, so it could be nice to run into someone from Sputnik again.
The next entry is a voice log. and nearly the entirety of it has been marked as being possibly manipulated. Rowan says that it's getting harder and harder to tell what he's seen and what he's remembering, and the order of it all doesn't matter anymore.
He's in his office at Sputnik, wiping drool off of his face after another night passed out there. He's in quarantine at Site-433, listening to Mildew's frantic questioning. He's standing waist-deep in cake frosting while giant multicolored bees try to lick him clean.
He's laying on the dirt behind a shed, staring up at the orange-painted roof. He's laying in his crib, staring up at his father's enormous face. He's laying in a nursing home, staring up at a worried group of nurses. Everything feels realer now. Realer than the foundation.
Realer than the back of his hand. Every color. Every line isn't just there, but there on purpose.
And because that purpose is set in time, these forms can never be separated. ...never really disappear, not like we can. He can see fingerprints on everything, and next to them he just feels like a lump of rotting sea foam taking on one shape after another through mindless random chance. He wants to be created too, even if it means he has to create himself.
He did want this, even though he didn't know what it meant. Forget everything he's said about... duty and ignore everything he's going to say about responsibility, as he wanted this.
He still wants this, and wants more. When he said this place didn't have a smell, he was wrong. It's like how you can never smell your own house until you spend some time away from home, and he doesn't think he's been away from here before. In the next log, Rowan is walking through what appears to be a dark tunnel.
with a pale green light at the end. The camera is following him from behind, and he's singing a song which seems to be a theme song for a cartoon. For the final verse, another voice begins faintly singing along with Rowan. He eventually notices and stops singing, but the voice finishes the song.
Rowan calls out, turning around, but gets no response. In the last log, the camera is focused on a stationary painted landscape, depicting green hills below a blue sky with several clouds, with a city skyline visible above some of the hills. Rowan is not visible, but his voice is audible as he states a few times that he's almost there. He appears to then tear through the surface of the hills, as if it was an elastic membrane. The scale and perspective of his surroundings are unclear, and Rowan is covered in smears of a viscous dark blue fluid, with more of the fluid appearing out of the hole he entered through.
He states that he's here, and the perspective changes to a closer angle, now with the blue fluid and hole no longer visible. He calls out to Horace, and Della, and Grundon, saying that he dug as deep as he could. and that someone is supposed to tell him what he wants to know.
He pounds his fist against the surface of the wall, producing a drum-like sound, and a child's voice speaks, telling him that he's supposed to knock before he enters. Their perspective shifts again to a close-up of one of the painted clouds, which fades, revealing a cartoon in the form of a yellow sun with a human face. The perspective changes to frame both Rowan and the Sun, and Rowan apologizes, saying that he's just frustrated, as he's been through a lot.
The Sun agrees, saying that he's gone through almost everything. So Rowan asks where everyone is then. The Sun replies that most people who get this far don't stay.
They go out, and it asks if that's what he wants to do. He asks if it means go home. And the sun says that maybe it's home, asking if he wants to see, and Rowan replies that it couldn't hurt just to look.
The perspective returns to the close-up of the sun, as its face swings away, exposing a circulatory aperture through which the ocean is visible. Inside are a number of rapidly changing images, most of which are unidentifiable, including a rotting pumpkin, A flock of geese, Rowan's face, an erupting volcano, and a crying clown. The son asks if this is what he wanted, and tears are shown on Rowan's face, as he calls it the Nemesini Expanse, stating that he thought he was already there. The son replies that he was, just like he always was.
He was in one pretty little abandoned seashell. And now he can go out into open ocean. Rowan thinks that it's too much, but the sun says that it isn't. It's everything. The sound of ocean currents gradually becomes louder, and Rowan's hair begins to stand on end, as if electrically charged.
He says that he's not here for that. He just wants to learn about the episode and find the people who are lost. Images of Delamont and Horace Kerman then appear in the ocean for a moment, before distorting, combining, and disintegrating, being replaced by an image of Rowan's face.
Rowan's face warps and divides into three shapes. which develop into Grady, Susie, and Rochelle, and then sink into the water. The son tells him that he can find what he's looking for, and everything else, so he won't have to choose.
Rowan argues that he can't swim, but the son says that maybe he can, and he won't know until he jumps in. He won't die, it can promise him that. Rowan doesn't respond for some time. appearing to be speaking to himself underneath the sound of crashing waves, before telling the sun that he's sorry, but he needs to complete his mission and then go back. The face of the sun swings shut, covering the view of the ocean, and it tells him that it thinks he's going in the wrong direction.
The camera cuts to a close-up of Rowan's face, completely expressionless, before gritting his teeth and chuckling, asking what other directions does he have? He begins pulling his fingers across his face, lightly scratching it before clutching his head. Suddenly, a light bulb manifests above him, lighting up, and he grins, putting his right hand into a fist and knocking on his chest. A hollow banging sound can be heard within, and he states that he just had to remember what he was taught, to look inside yourself and see. He is trembling now, tears streaming down his face, and he asks the sun if it will hurt, because he's scared.
The sun tells him to let go, and if it hurts, it's because he wanted it to. Rowan stares at his right hand, showing several sharp black nails extending through the fingertips, destroying them. Blue acrylic paint gushes from the opening, as the sun asks him what he considers this to be. Rowan stutters and hesitates before taking a deep breath and exclaiming that it's boring. Claws don't cut it for him, as he needs something really special.
The son remarks that he's learning, as Rowan raises his left arm upwards before slamming it down into the ground with an unnatural amount of force, causing his arm to snap off, leaving a ragged edge of flesh and bone. The detached arm rolls on the floor, yelling, and sounds of audience laughter, screaming, crying, and stomping feet begin to sound from the distance. Rowan states that this isn't so bad, as he uses his clawed right arm to quickly sharpen the bone on his left, with it now trimmed to a spear-like shape. He then attempts to puncture his stomach several times with the shard of bone.
But each jabbing attempt makes his torso move, unsynchronized from his own body, as if it were avoiding the bone spear. He then slowly aims it point-blank at his stomach, before jamming it in, causing blue acrylic paint to spray from the open wound. He begins to saw at himself from the inside, gurgling and biological constructs not resembling conventional human anatomy, Begin to spill from Rowan's stomach. The stomach wound fully opens up, allowing several more organs to spill outward.
Rowan speaks, but it is unintelligible, before bending his upper body and craning his neck at a severe angle, pressing his face into his stomach wound. Using the remains of his arms in a climbing like motion, he pulls himself inside himself. twisting his body in the process. He then lifts both of his feet, tucking them into the wound, and manages to completely enter his own body, everting, shrinking, and vanishing from view. The son simply says, stay tuned, and giggles.
The remainder of the report has been separated for the purpose of safety and security, and is considered unreliable and unpredictable. The log bears the episode title of Spinning Out of Control, and the footage is completely pitch black. White noise and a slow heartbeat can be heard in the background, slowly picking up in speed and volume.
A light crackling can be heard in the distance, also increasing in volume, and a drum roll begins, eventually revealing a crudely drawn cartoon figure, identified as Rowan Rocket. The text states that while his appearance may disquiet, he has a kind heart. Rowan Rimes Rocket exclaims with happiness that it's all so much, and this place is the temple of his body that they teach him about at school.
Rowan Rocket is covered in soot, with a few spots on his body still smoldering, and only a few little messy dark hairs are left on his head. His arms both end in ragged, charred scraps where his hands used to be, and the rest of his features look like they've been slightly scattered. by some violent force. Rowan states that he has to find his friends, as they could be anywhere around here, before blasting off and soaring through intra-space. He passes by mounds and pits of viscera in all shapes and sizes, with the narrator stating that it could almost be considered a parody of human anatomy, but it's more like a love letter.
Inside of his cavernous cavity, Rowan Rocket spirals around, disoriented, looking desperately for some clue of where to go. Eventually, it occurs to him when he catches sight of a pulsating pyloric sphincter in one of the walls, as he states that if there's one thing he's learned from all of this, it's to follow his gut. The ring of smooth muscle then relaxes, revealing a mysterious dark passageway behind it.
Which Rowan Rocket jumps through, barely making it before the door tenses up once again behind him. He finds himself in a dark, narrow tunnel, with the walls closing in around him. Any other explorer might be scared, but Rowan Rocket trusts his gut, and he lets the waves of peristalsis carry him through as gently as a baby. He finds himself spit out like a piece of gristle.
spinning end over end into a wide conical space, like a circus tent with blood vessels. He rights himself and calms his rocket end, slowly lowering toward a floor that looks like it's carpeted in intestinal villi. In the middle of this strange field, leaning up against a house-sized polyp, is a wrecked wooden sloop, its hull split and its sails in tatters.
He calls out, wondering how a thing like this got inside of him, and his attention is drawn to a lifeboat laying upside down nearby. More specifically, he hears the sound of panicked breathing coming from underneath it, shouting that someone is in need of assistance. As he draws closer, a muffled voice tells him to please be quiet, as they don't want anyone to know they're here.
Rowan Rocket apologizes, but says that it's a bit difficult to tone down, and the individual remarks that they recognize that voice as Rowan's, wondering if it happened to him as well. Rowan Rocket ignores this however, stating that he can protect them from whatever they're afraid of, and it's time to be brave. Realizing that he doesn't have hands, Rowan uses his long tongue to flip over the lifeboat, revealing none other than Della Mornt, who seems surprised by Rowan Rocket's appearance. Mornt begins exclaiming, telling Rowan to get the hell away from him and calling him a monster and demon. He says that he's not even Rowan, he's just some godforsaken mockery.
Rowan Rocket replies that he came here to find him because he was worried, and he's still Rowan, just a bit. Mornt can't trust anything here however, including Rowan, and tells him to go away. The narrator says that Rowan Rocket knew the risks of his mission, and sometimes you have to let people go. Perhaps this was how his journey came to an end, but just before he flew off, he had a thought that he could at least ask about Kerman. When he does so however, Mort's eyes widen in a panic, and he begins crying.
He tells Rowan to just leave and to not look for him, as he's not Horus anymore. Mort tells Rowan to figure out how to kill him, as he doesn't want to do this. But when Rowan asks what happened, Mort just says that if he doesn't leave, he's about to find out.
The ground trembles, and a long, moaning note, like a whale's song, emanates from the wrecked ship. As Rowan Rocket looks up, curious, Morant retreats back under the lifeboat, and the ship begins to rock back and forth as the Note rises in pitch, until it's obviously a loud, nasal laugh. Rowan Rocket drifts closer to an opening in the ship's hull, but rears back as the source of the laughter suddenly emerges like a jack-in-the-box.
It's a face of a furry, neon-yellow koala, and Rowan immediately recognizes it as Floorzy, a character from Sputnik Studios'film I'm a Nature Boy. He slowly approaches, asking Floresy if everything is alright in there, as Floresy proceeds to collapse and fold in on itself like a discarded hand puppet. The color from it drains out, leaving it a sickly pale greenish brown, but the laughter doesn't stop.
More voices, some familiar, join it, and now none of them sound particularly friendly. The volume of mocking laughter nearly drowns out the sobs coming from under the lifeboat, and Rowan Rocket stands his ground as a large, amorphous shape rises up behind what used to look like Floresy, absorbing it back into its mass like a drained cyst. This strange being spills out of the hull like a colossal snail, leaving its shell and limbs faces and pieces of audio-visual equipment rise to its surface and dissolve second by second as patches of color pulsate and shift across its hulking frame.
The only feature to stay the same is a circular speaker the size of a pumpkin, topped by two scrutinizing eyes and a tuft of coarse black hair. This head reaches towards Rowan Rocket on the end of a gelatinous neck, blasting a dozen voices worth of laughter into his face. Rowan states that there's something different about Horace, asking if he got a haircut, and the chorus of voices drops to a whisper, leaving only one blasting through the speaker. It's a bored, droning monotone, and it sarcastically says that That's real funny, asking if he sounds like Horus.
Rowan replies that he sounds like a lot of things, and they all point to Horus. A new voice takes over, a squeaky and slightly panic-sounding one, which states that they're all rid of that, and asks if the voices he hears come from a Horus. Rowan tells it that they definitely do, and the voice changes to that of a drill sergeant. causing Rowan to cringe in pain. The voice barks that they come from characters, and proceeds to berate Rowan, who says that it really isn't Horace anymore.
He asks what it wants, and the voice takes on a thick, confident Memphis drawl, as it points behind Rowan, asking for him to bring Mornt over. Mornt shouts for it to leave him alone, but Rowan says that it didn't even say please, telling Mornt that it helps if you play along. Mornt isn't having it, however, yelling that they've all gone sick and none of what they say is making any sense. The voice pouts, saying that he'll rid this poor little rocket's chance at feeling like a hero. A gloved hand then breaches through the wooden floorboards, grabbing Mornt and lifting him like a toy as he screams and begs for forgiveness.
Rowan asks it what its problem is, to which it says that it has the same problem as him, it's just having fun with it. Rowan tells it that that's no excuse to toy with innocent lives, and demands that it unhand him. The voice refuses, so Rowan Rocket points the scorched end of his left arm at the bulk of the voice's body, and a long bone shard launches out. embedding into its flesh.
The voice actor recoils, letting out a series of simultaneous groans, but this only causes it to clench onto Mort even tighter. Rowan Rocket reels in the bone shard and dives towards the voice actor, jabbing him until you can practically see the air around him vibrating. A few voices come into focus out of the cacophony, a cheerful chirping laugh and a muffled, grumbling snort.
and the shaking air begins to solidify into two hazy shapes. A gangly gray bird with a big toothy smile grabs Rowan's shoulders with its talons, and a squat, mustached man wearing a pith helmet beats a miniature shovel against his back. Both figures taunt Rowan through the speaker, and the voice actor begins to call up more and more echoes of its past work.
Rowan is soon under assault from teddy bears, pterodactyls, gigantic beetles, bars of soap, and more, all working together to pull him out like an irritating splinter. Rowan holds on as hard as he can, but the sonic pressure alone is enough to make his eyeballs spin, and he shouts that it's like he's inside of Horace's resume. With two sickening snaps, the tendons tying Rowan to the voice actor give out, and a bouquet of umbilical cords sprout from its skin, tightly wrapping up Rowan, as well as spewing a thick pink fluid all over him, clogging up his rocket. Rowan asks it where it learned its manners, and the voices fall to a respectful hush, as the voice replies that it should be asking him the same question.
Rowan then stares in disbelief at the figure that appeared in front of him, recognizing it as the one he'd been looking over his shoulder for, Grundon. The voice says that it's getting bored of this, and of Rowan, who has so much energy, but he's using it against it. It presses its fingers into Rowan's belly and twists, forcing one digit deep into his navel and begins untying it.
It tells him that there's a whole world of people that think they're disgusting, and it wants them to see. It looks so familiar out there, and it wants to make it unfamiliar. Rowan tells it that it can't do this, as Grundon wouldn't do this.
But it forces its other hand into Rowan, stretching the hole open until it's wide enough to let out a yawning noise and a dribble of clear liquid. Something breaks through for Rowan. and his feelings of stunned betrayal turn to rage. He says that Mornt was right about one thing, that it's a mockery.
And with one desperate, mighty act of anger, the flames of Rowan Rocket pierce through, splattering the voice actor's body with a plug of scorched slime. He points his rear end at its body, and unleashes a ferocious blast of flames onto him. And in a split second, The mottled indigo skin bubbles and bursts open, revealing shiny green scales.
The speaker's volume picks up, and countless cries of outrage, terror, and dismay surround Rowan as he's swarmed by the host of phantom characters again. He can hear a thump and the sound of a terrified retreat as it finally releases Mort, letting him drop to the ground and run for cover. The umbilical cords pull tightly around Rowan.
Digging into his body for dear life, but he lowers in closer, spraying fire like a supernova, and melting through the scales to reveal acrylic yellow fur below, then black feathers. He burns through layer after layer, exposing the inside of the voice actor's body like an enormous dermatological jawbreaker. He tells it that it isn't fun to play with, and finally...
He reaches the voice actor's center. A sheet of grapefruit-colored leather tears open, revealing a curled, bony shape wrapped in jaundiced skin. As soon as the flames lick its emaciated back, the speaker's crowd noise instantly changes to a single, almost human scream of pain and surprise, and the characters clinging to Rowan are scattered to the winds.
He states that It's okay, as it's just make-believe, and tears himself free, shooting away as the blackened wound begins to seal itself up around him. The voice actor, still howling miserably in pained humiliation, gives one last resentful glare to Rowan, before withdrawing into the darkness of the shipwreck once again. It's now eerily silent, and Rowan gasps for air.
His voice cracks, and he sounds more Rowan than Rocket, as he states that villains never prosper, and he would have survived no matter what happened. He wouldn't have failed for any reason, and Horace has learned his lesson. He's a hero, and he learned that he should believe in himself.
He's then approached by Mort, whose face is slick with tears, and pants are soiled with urine. Rowan asks if he's okay, but Mort says that he doesn't think so, and doesn't think that Rowan is alright either. Rowan replies that he doesn't want to waste any more time, so they should just go, while Mort is still himself.
But Mort hesitates. There is a silence before Mort asks him to forgive him, as he was never himself. He was Mort, as they were all something once. But he just wanted to play the straight man. He took it too far though, and asks if this looks human as he stretches out.
out his mouth. Rowan wonders how he never noticed that before, saying that he seemed so real, and asks why he was crying and begging. Morge says that he needed to feel something different, and hasn't felt that in touch with his humanity in a while.
Rowan asks what exactly they are, and if he's bothered by any of what just happened, and what happened to Horus. Mort replies that he thought the only info Rowan was looking for was their whereabouts. But Rowan says he just wanted to know if they were okay. Mort, however, asks why, as he barely even remembers Rowan.
The only reason he does is because of that little ping in his headspace he got when Rowan went out looking for him. They barely talked, and probably passed by each other like six times. He didn't want anybody to look for him.
but figured since Rowan was, he might as well put on a show. He's confused, and so is Rowan, and they both admit that what they want to do is break, so they proceed to cry and scream and scratch at their skin. Afterwards, Mort tells Rowan not to tell anyone about his whereabouts, but Rowan isn't sure that he'll be able to.
as he doesn't think that this ever ends. Mornt assures him that everything comes to an end eventually, but Rowan forgets what he was talking about. Mornt tells him to bask in that for a bit, so Rowan stares up at the putrid, throbbing ceiling, and aside from a singular, intrusive thought involving Rhubarb, he is completely blank of thought.
Eventually, Mornt calls out to him. asking if he heard that chewing sound coming from up above, and they suddenly see something pierced through the ceiling. A bottle-shaped snout with a mustache at the end. The dolphin. The dolphin ate through the flesh for the sole determined purpose of meeting with Rowan once again, and it squirms its way out of the inflamed hole, flopping down onto the floor beside Rowan and Mort.
Mort slowly backs away from them as the dolphin rises upright, dripping in interstitial fluid, and it looks like it's practically frothing at the mouth, but it politely apologizes for the delay. Rowan exasperatedly says that this isn't happening, and asks what it could possibly want, but it says that it's actually here for what he wants. It leans in close, staring into the gaping opening in Rowan's belly, and remarks that someone left the door open.
Rowan tells it to get away from him, and it says that it was under the impression that what he wanted was information about the society town finale, but now he wants it to leave. Rowan says yes, and it proceeds to lunge at Rowan's body. Rowan flies through the air faster than he's ever flown before, and he can't see where he's going until he wipes the blood and bile out of his eyes.
He's flying through a beautiful blue sky above a meadow, and he can see a windmill, with a sad little man clinging to the top of it. He feels a strong kinship to the sad little man on the windmill, and feels powerfully for his plight, so he flies down to say hello, but He doesn't slow down first. The text at the end appears completely garbled, aside from the words, Truth be told, I wish I never got better. And the words, Roll credits, commercial break. A video file shows the credits as a series of crude, abstract, and disturbing images, alongside a rising cacophony of sounds.
Approximately 19 minutes after entering the extra-dimensional space, researcher Rowan Raster exited through the same building, at which point he was transported to a Foundation rehabilitation and debriefing center. While in transport, Rowan reportedly spit out a digital camera and notebook, chipping a tooth in the process, but he otherwise was physically uninjured and superficially normal in appearance. He was found to be physically stable and healthy with no anatomical changes, and demonstrated no unusual psychological changes apart from a previously undisclosed fear.
of dolphins. The only confirmed changes were a benign anomalous effect manifesting when photographing him. He voluntarily turned over all of his records of the expedition, but firmly refused to offer his own interpretations on any of the events. Additionally, he has gone on record strongly discouraging future expeditions or research into SCP-8060. The last thing we're given is the Site 433 Director's report on 8060, which reads, What can we learn from all of this?
That's what everyone's asking. The O5 have sent all their little clipboard men to tag along with the cleanup team, and I can't even look at one without them asking, How could incidents of this nature be avoided or diminished in the future? Like I'm back in boarding school and I got caught with my shirt untucked.
I kept telling them I'd get back to them with a full report later. I still can't think of the bureaucratic way of saying, I don't know. So chalk the tone here up to psychological stress.
It won't be the first time. Things are getting worse. I haven't been around as long as most people think, but I've made it my duty to read through the files, and things weren't always like this. I'm not saying it was ever easy. It's always been the fate of the world, but it used to be so much clearer.
No matter how big a problem was, we at least knew what shape it was, what it'd do, and how to throw money at it. Enough telekil, enough hydrochloric acid, enough human bodies, and we could hold things down. Sure, we were dealing with magic from time to time, but we were men of science. And we could always pick apart the logic of these things enough to see the patterns, if not the mechanisms.
That's all feeling more and more delusional. Now, we still have the big monsters with massive teeth and the sapient thunderstorms and the demonic artifacts, but we've also got new types of existence, unfamiliar types of thought. We can't even understand what we're looking at if we scratch a millimeter below the surface of some of these things.
We're still going through the motions of approaching it scientifically, but it's theater. Every time someone at Site-433 calls a tune what it is, instead of saying,"'Illusinari Class',"I get a memo from the higher-ups. But that doesn't get us any closer to understanding what they actually are, or how they work. It just lets us pretend that they're in a tidy, predictable category. There is no predictability.
And even trying to engage with it in the conventional ways can be dangerous. Most of the time you can't tell if you're getting too close, or if there is a too close, until you've crashed face-first into it. Testing used to be routine, but lately it feels like a game of Russian roulette. I'll tell you. Rowan is on paid leave right now because he insisted we stop investigation into SCP-8060.
If he told me he wanted to go back in for another look, I think I would have killed him on the spot. Even when we do make progress, it doesn't feel right. Site-433's role in neutralizing SCP-5045 was supposed to be the big feather in our cap.
But the fact is, it was also sudden. and unexpected, that the only thing I could think was, did it let us win? I'm not sleeping any easier, and I don't think anyone else involved is either.
There's no such thing as just solving problems anymore, not for anything that matters at least. I was the one to propose the contingency plan for SCP-8060, the one where we erase all traces of society town off the face of the earth. And I know it's basically a fantasy.
There is essentially zero chance we could get approval and material support for a response of that magnitude before it's too late. And I honestly have no clue if it would even help things or make them so much worse. I know Site-433 isn't alone here.
All over the Foundation, I hear about teams sitting on time bombs they can't comprehend and can't explain. So they tell everyone not to touch it. and make grandiose plans that they pray they'll never have to think about again. Just ask Site-305 how they ended up with SCP-5045 covering them like black mold. Secure...
contain and protect just gets more laughable every day. None of us are equipped for what's coming. Not one of us.
And we all need to be. We can't just depend on turning over the scariest looking bad guys to the teams with the biggest, strongest cages anymore. And we can't take it for granted that the big threats are going to come with labels and flashing lights. When they first made SCP-8060 my responsibility, They weren't even 100% sure it was anomalous yet.
They probably thought it was some cartoon that melts you when you watch it. And now that I've seen the reports, I couldn't tell you a single thing about what it really is. If it turns inside out one day without warning, and the things Rowan showed me come out to say hello, do you think Site-433 is going to be equipped to handle it?
Our whole site- budget is barely as much as the foundation spends on SCP-2761, the giant banana monster. If the O5 knew what was going on with Sputnik, I really think they'd be terrified. This isn't some fifthist doomsday project.
It's just another defunct animation studio, and we still can't even estimate everything that's come out of it. It's not just the shows. Scripts.
Concept sketches, even the pencil shavings could bring down a shitstorm like we've never seen before for all I know. There's no reason that there couldn't be dozens, hundreds of little powder kegs just like Sputnik around the world, just waiting to blow up for reasons we'll never understand. Everyone is still keeping their eyes on the broken god.
But if you ask me, the end of the world is going to come out of some school kid's backpack or... a box of cereal when everyone's back is turned. The upper administrators are probably going to read all of this and underline the word defeatist on my personal file, cross-referencing it to their decision for how I could have made such a massive mistake when it comes to SCP-8060.
But I'm not giving up, and I don't think I made a mistake. I approved the risks we took because I know it's the only option we have now. The alternatives are impossible.
or unacceptable. Let this be a wake-up call to everyone else. Until we can find a brand new way to approach anomalies, all anomalies, we need to get used to things going in directions we don't expect and don't want.
We can't treat these sorts of incidents as unfortunate accidents. They're the rule, not the exception. That's all, folks. The last thing we're given is a photograph of Rowan sitting in the Foundation Rehabilitation and Debriefing Center.
But rather than looking like a person, he looks like a depressed cartoon character. I don't think there's really much point in me attempting to decipher this article or explain it, as it's pretty much meant to be inscrutable. It's sort of like a nightmare that... in hindsight is just utterly ridiculous, but is terrifying while experiencing it. The SCP universe is founded on things that break the rules of reality, but there's generally still a logic to the way these anomalies break logic.
When it comes to art anomalies, however, things can break down even further, as art is not required to run on any sort of logic or make any sort of sense. Once again, it's scary how, in the SCP universe, doing even an incredibly minor and mundane thing, such as looking up information about a children's show, can lead to an infinite nightmare of which there's no escape. Rowan did manage to make it back out of the ordeal, but it's very likely he'll never be close to the same as he was before.
Sometimes, you don't just wake up from the nightmare.