 Item number. SCP-050. Object Class. Euclid. Special Containment Procedures. So far, all attempts to contain SCP-050 have proven fruitless. At present, whoever has possession of SCP-050 is to leave it in an office they use with regularity. Additional notes. Testing to contain SCP-050 has been discontinued at this time. Attempts to leave SCP-050 in unused offices have resulted in it following its owner home. This is a violation of regulations and not to be allowed. Description. SCP-050 appears to be a statue of a monkey reading a book, approximately one foot tall. On the bottom of the statue are engraved the words, to the cleverest, incursive script. One of the quirks of SCP-050 is that, no matter what form of measurement is used, any record of said measurements will quickly be replaced by the customary system measurements. The statue is so far proven resistant to all forms of damage. Attempts to damage SCP-050 have resulted in increasingly lethal pranks. As of this writing, destruction testing is discontinued. As such, there is no accurate method to date the object. When left alone, SCP-050 has shown itself to be both useful and antagonistic to its current owner. Although never seen to move, no matter the manner or amount of recordings, any room it is left in becomes very clean to polish whenever possible. Paperwork is filed, trash is emptied, and in general clutter is removed. However, SCP-050 also has a tendency to leave traps for its owner, so current holders should carefully check their offices upon returning. Document 050, The Great Researcher Prank War. During an attempted capture of SCP-963 by Chaos Insurgency agents, Dr. Breik made use of 963's intrinsic capabilities to make fools of the attempted kidnappers. When Breik returned to his office, he found a monkey statue waiting for him. His office had been tidied in his absence, and everything filed away, which came as something of a shock for the naturally messy Dr. Breik. Upon further investigation, it was found that, despite the apparent tidiness of his office, all of his pens had been drained of all but the last bit of ink, and several important documents had been translated into Aramaic. Dr. Breik immediately began the usual testing of this new SCP, but found himself going nowhere, until Dr. Reitz, as payback for something unspecified, smeared his desk with one half of a compound epoxy, and applied the other half of the compound to his utensils. At this point, SCP-050 vanished from Dr. Breik's office, reappearing in Dr. Reitz's office, where upon 050 began the cleanup again. After several tests, it became apparent that SCP-050 was easily contained, as long as no one outside the foundation proved to be cleverer than the foundation scientists. Of course, this led to many of the foundation scientists seeking to claim the title of most clever for themselves, and thus began the Great Researcher-Prank War. Memorandum 050A, no good will come of this. 05- Entry 1. Dr. English accesses SCP-705. 05-705 is allowed access to approximately 100 pounds of similarly colored Play-Doh. After several minutes' conversation, the new army retreats to the ventilation shafts. No footage of Dr. Breik's room exists, but several hours later, Dr. Breik stumbles out, covered in little red welts and red Play-Doh, swearing and muttering. SCP-050 transfers ownership to Dr. English. Entry 2. Agent Strelnikov is seen exiting his room in full rage, carrying a machine gun. Smoke pours from the open door of his quarters. Senior Researcher Isendorf is later found to be in possession of 050, proving that a good enough prank will attract 050's attention, no matter the target. Entry 3. Dr. Isendorf returned from a brief coffee break to discover a typed note sitting on his desk, rewritten here. Dr. Isendorf. It seems there was a problem with the Class A amnesiac you requested following your SCP-231 assignment. Please hop on the next plane leaving from the site and wait until someone comes and picks you up so that we can get this all sorted out. Cheers, 050. Despite factual and stylistic errors in this note, inappropriately informal style, the fact that there is no Overseer 3.14, Dr. Isendorf apparently took the note seriously and became highly distressed. Dr. Isendorf boarded the next airplane leaving Site-23, which turned out to be a regularly scheduled flight traveling to Site-19. Dr. Isendorf apparently did not realize this until landing, at which point he still waited over 8 hours outside the site before a guard found him and asked him what he was doing. Dr. Isendorf soon confirmed that he had never been assigned to SCP-231 and quickly worked out what had happened. SCP-050 was observed in the office of Dr. Kondraki later that same day. Entry 4 At 7.28pm Dr. Kondraki was called away by Assistant Researcher House under the pretense of an SCP-173 containment breach. Security cameras recovered footage of the ensuing prank. Upon returning to his office, Kondraki pauses briefly when he reaches his door. Moments later, he is seen backing slowly out of his office, keeping his eyes fixed on something inside. It was later revealed that Dr. Calde had placed a replica of SCP-173 in Kondraki's office, positioned in such a way that it faced the door, establishing eye contact with whoever might enter the room. Kondraki continued to retreat, until slipping on a hitherto unnoticed puddle of cooking oil. The replica of SCP-173, made of wire frame, paper mache, and spray paint, was relocated to Dr. Joseph Calde's office, shortly followed by SCP-050. Entry 5 Upon returning to his office, Dr. Calde was surprised to find the statue replaced with a note, reading, I can't believe no one's thought of this. The statue was later located in the staff locker of Agent Yorick, who had simply stolen it. Entry 6 Statue returned to Calde, Yorick's living space in utter disarray. Agent Yorick is found unconscious. The words, to be earned, tattooed on his forehead through unknown means. Entry 7 Maintenance teams were called 27 times to Dr. Calde's office while he was out, all having received orders to install, repair, or remove a piece of furniture from the office, apparently at random. Dr. Calde became increasingly paranoid about these intrusions, considering his possession of SCP-050, and decided to bring his paperwork and the SCP back to his quarters and work from there. Upon entering his quarters, Dr. Calde was doused by the contents of a bucket, carefully balanced on the entrance's door jam. Ownership of SCP-050 changes to Dr. Light. Entry 8 Dr. Coleman was seen pinning a notice to the Breakroom Notice Board, which read, due to the effects of SCP-050, all personnel who have received an amnesiac of any kind within the past six months are required to report to Dr. Light immediately. This was signed and notarized by no fewer than 17 members of O5 command and senior staff. After seeing this, an email was immediately sent out, retracting the information, and causing mass panic among some of our more paranoid employees. After what can only be described as a bum rush on Dr. Light's newly refurbished office, resulting in the destruction of many items contained within, SCP-050 was found on Dr. Coleman's desk. Entry 9 Dr. Coleman was called out of his quarters by an email from an unknown source. Five minutes later, security footage showed Dr. Okagawa entering Schumacher's quarters, carrying a bag with unknown contents, and leaving the room a few minutes later without the bag. Upon returning, Coleman discovered a dead rodent, which appeared to have been slathered in the secretions of SCP-447. Personnel in adjacent rooms reported hearing a stream of profanity, followed by a thud. Worried researchers found him passed out on the floor, while the slime was later identified as green gelatin from the kitchen, and the dead rat as a rubber toy. SCP-050 was later found in Dr. Okagawa's office. Entry 10 Videolog 12.34pm Dr. Okagawa leaves for the cafeteria, presumably for lunch or late breakfast. Researcher Chappalski is seen entering Dr. Okagawa's office, carrying several testing vials and SCP-1. Left the office five minutes later, closing the door behind him rather hurriedly. Okagawa returns ten minutes later, opens the door, and is snagged by a large tentacle which pulls him into the office and shuts the door behind him. A security team is dispatched to Okagawa's office, and discovers him entangled by a giant squid. The team is seen trying to neutralize the cephalopod, and free Okagawa. The animal's remains were subsequently destroyed. SCP-050 has been located in Researcher Chappalski's office. Entry 11-1 Researcher Chappalski came into work at approximately 0800 hours, and promptly received a pie in the face. Courtesy of Project Director Jones. SCP-050 was found on Project Director Jones' desk later that afternoon. What? That wasn't original at all. Dr. Bright. Entry 11-2 Project Director Jones reported to his post researching SCP-1. Upon entering the facility, he was met by Researcher Chappalski, who threw two pies at his face. SCP-050 was found in Researcher Chappalski's office ten minutes later. Entry 11-3 Chappalski entered his office to find Project Director Jones waiting for him with three pies, which he promptly threw at the researcher's face. SCP-050 appeared in Jones' workplace evening. Guys, I think we broke it. Project Director Jones. Entry 11-4 In the middle of the workday, Dr. Bright entered Jones' research lab with four pies, which he threw in his face. As he was leaving, security footage records him saying, this better not f***ing work. SCP-050 was on Dr. Bright's desk upon his return. Notes. God damn it, Dr. Bright. Okay, no more f***ing pies. All right. Project Director Jones. Entry unintelligible. An error occurred in the Foundation main database, reassigning System Technician Kent to a squad alongside the cleaning crews. During the assignment, Joshua Kent was ordered to f***ing sewage with several gallons of feces on his head. During the second half of the assignment, Kent had to test several hours, despite the odor. During this time, a routine system sweep had found a virus in the database. Despite the numerous nearby systems that could have been infected, SCP-1337 concerning System Technician Kent's assignment. System Technician Kent was returned to Site 23, largely unharmed. SCP-050 was discovered sitting by a hard drive heavily infected with SCP-732, with the statue seeming to consider the virus its new owner. Entry 13 and 14. Data expunged. Entry 15. Dr. Light connected the SCP-732 infected hard drive to a scanner and asked 732 if it could produce lolcat images on request. Its response, presented in the form of an 8000-word erotic story featuring itself, in the form of a man named Lord Kickass. Dr. Light, and r***, was that with the help of SCP-050 it can do anything. Dr. Light provided SCP-732 with scanned photographs of SCP-577, SCP-529, SCP-607, then two instantiations of SCP-331. SCP-732 produced 10 lolcat images for each photograph. Dr. Light then provided SCP-732 with SCP-637 in the form of a drawing by SCP-637-2. As a result of this, SCP-732 was rapidly overwritten with an estimated 63 gigabytes of text describing SCP-637's actions and appearance. Whether this information could have filled all available computer memories unknown, as the last actions of the Lord Kickass instantiation were to induce total mechanical failure to its hard drive, accompanied by catastrophic uncontrolled oxidation. SCP-050 was found in Dr. Light's office the next morning. Note, SCP-637-2 reports that SCP-637 was not harmed by its venture into SCP-732, but that its fur was really messed up. Note, other copies of SCP-732 seem unaffected by the suicide of Lord Kickass. Item number SCP-14 Object Class Safe Special Containment Procedures SCP-14 is to be kept in sight in a chair with arms, preferably facing a window. Music should be supplied on a regular basis, preferably constantly. This music should not include pieces originating after 1937. A security camera should be present in SCP-14's room. Description SCP-14 is a Caucasian male, appearing to be approximately 30 years of age, with black hair, brown eyes, and a somewhat round face. Records indicate his name to be Robert Chetford, confined in 1915 to the Norwich Asylum in Connecticut for delusional insanity, claiming that he had been cursed to live forever and was slowly turning into concrete inconsequence. The asylum closed in 1937, and the patients were transferred to various other facilities. SCP-14 came to Foundation attention in 1931, from rumors of a patient who seemed to be entirely immobile and showed no signs of aging. Further investigation determined that acquisition was warranted. SCP-14 is to all outward appearances a normal man, but he does not appear to age and shows no signs of possessing a metabolism. He does not eat, drink, perspire, or in any other way demonstrate life functions. He breathes only to speak, and apart from his eyes and vocal apparatus, is to all appearances utterly immobile. He has never shown any evidence of pressure ulcers despite his position not having varied for several decades. Neither do his muscles appear atrophied. He can converse normally, but shows little knowledge of or interest in events since his confinement. Addendum Note Frankly, were I to interview this man without knowing his history, I'd think he was a perfectly sane and well adjusted individual who happens to be quadriplegic. As it is, I have to conclude that he's the ultimate proof of the idea that the mind rules the body. He thinks he's concrete and will live forever, and so he's as close to both as he can be. Somehow. Dr. Rude Item Number SCP-173 Object Class Euclid Special Containment Procedures Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than three may enter at any time, and the doors to be relocked behind them. At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked to the container. Description Move to Site-19 in 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar, with traces of Krylon brand spray paint. SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class-4 hazardous object containment procedures. Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behavior should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty. The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis. Item Number SCP-146 Object Class Euclid Special Containment Procedures Containment procedures have been revised after it was noted that the effects of SCP-146 were sharply and dangerously increased under previous containment. A standard one-half, 0.5-meter cubed secure storage bin. The bin should remain free, however, should a researcher wish to test SCP-146 at high intensity. Level 3 clearance is required for any personnel wishing to enclose or cover SCP-146 for a period exceeding two days. During normal storage, SCP-146 is to be kept on a marble pedestal in its storage room, located data-expunged. SCP-146's standard storage room measures no less than 20 square meters, with stuccoed walls, and a ceiling painted to resemble a clear daytime sky. The room is to be kept well-lit, full daylight equivalent, at all times, furnished with an assortment of potted plants, which must be tended to daily, and decorated in the style of the late Republican period of Rome, circa 120-80 BCE. Experimentation with different interior styles has shown that SCP-146 seems to prefer this arrangement, and to have aesthetic preferences consistent with the aristocracy of Rome from that era. While this containment is standard, researchers with clearance level two or higher may experiment with different containment settings in order to modify the effects of SCP-146. While SCP-146 is non-motile and therefore requires little security itself, personnel entering its containment area or handling it in any way must not make eye contact with SCP-146. Any attempts to cover SCP-146 in order to prevent eye contact is prohibited, as this has been shown to increase SCP-146's effect at an unpredictable rate. In general, one day of covering or confinement will cause SCP-146 to skip over the beginning phase of its effect, and begin with the most traumatic memories. After three days, SCP-146 has been shown to produce its effect without having to make direct eye contact first. After seven days, the effect of SCP-146 is both far more intense and no longer confined to subjects within SCP-146's field of vision. Researchers in an adjacent room were affected, and one was permanently... permission to experiment beyond seven days is denied by order of 05 blinders and decorative screens are available for personnel who must enter SCP-146's containment area for maintenance. Description. SCP-146 is a hollow bronze head, apparently a fragment of a complete statue or bust, depicting a crowned young woman, or perhaps an effeminate young man. The head exhibits severe vertegries over much of its surface. The crown of SCP-146 is enlaid with silver decorations, and its eyes, the apparent source of SCP-146's effects, are beaten silver, shined to be mildly reflective. To date, SCP-146 has not exhibited any signs of movement, but its reaction to certain decor in its containment area indicates that it may possess a degree of sentience, if not outright sapience. If SCP-146 is able to communicate, it has not yet done so. SCP-146 exhibits the ability to access and bring to mind certain memories in those who initiate eye contact. These memories are usually tied to a sense of guilt or shame in the subject. After initial eye contact is made, the subject need only remain somewhere in SCP-146's field of vision for the memories and associated feelings to become more intense, although continual eye contact speeds the process. Upon initial eye contact with SCP-146, recent memories will begin to surface in the subject. For example, subjects who have ignored a friend in the hall or exceeded the speed limit will be reminded of these events and begin to feel mildly guilty whether or not they would normally care about the event. With continued exposure to the gaze of SCP-146, the subject will begin to recall older and more vivid memories, with a corresponding increase in feelings of shame in the subject. Generally, after 30 minutes of exposure, the memories will move from being vivid recollections to intense hallucinations, with the subject unable to distinguish the past from the present or the imagined from the real. Subjects have been observed to regress in personality as well, particularly in cases where the memories of childhood trauma have been brought up. Any test subjects exposed for over 30 minutes should be restrained, both for their own safety and the safety of others. All subjects to date who have been exposed to SCP-146 for 60 minutes have completely retreated into their hallucinations. So far, no such subject has been restored to consciousness from this near-catatonic state. Such subjects must be fed intravenously and are unresponsive to external stimuli, save for occasional murmurings consistent with their aggression. It has also been noted that when subjects recall a shameful event, they will often feel compelled to make amends for their actions. This is not generally a problem in the case of minor offenses, and has in some cases led to greater unity among the staff. However, problems arise when the subject cannot make amends, either because the offended party cannot be contacted or because the transgression is somehow irredeemable. Sometimes, the subject will put forth renewed positive efforts in order to balance out their guilt. However, in most such cases, subjects fall into a deep depression and or turn to some form of self-punishment, including self-mutilation and suicide. SCP-146 was acquired from a Mr. of Birmingham, UK. He had acquired SCP-146 during the estate sale of a renowned philanthropist, Lord Whip. It was purchased in a lot with a number of other artifacts. When its new owner began to experience SCP-146's effects, he began seeing a psychiatrist undercover agent UA-33-56G. The man was put into an institution, and SCP-146 was taken into Foundation custody. Experiment log 146-01. In order to calibrate a baseline for SCP-146's effects, a standard 4 meter by 4 meter interrogation room was divided in half by an opaque curtain. SCP-146 was placed on a table inside a protective plexiglass case in one half of the room. On the other side of the curtain, subject D-044-323 was restrained, such that he was looking directly at SCP-146's position. Researchers maintained constant communication with the subject via intercom throughout the testing process. The curtain was dropped, causing the subject to look squarely into the eyes of SCP-146. The subject voiced immediate discomfort and closed his eyes with an increase in heart rate of 15 BPM. With prompting, the subject related the memories he was recalling, beginning with minor breaches of behavior protocol. The subject then recalled several altercations with other prisoners before his being taken by the Foundation, including a particularly graphic description of data expunged. Researchers noted that as time went on, the subject became more cooperative and his speech patterns changed, resembling someone undergoing therapeutic hypnosis. After 15 minutes, the subject's speech had become slurred and his EEG patterns showed similarities to someone experiencing vivid dreams. The subject entered into one half of a dialogue, which culminated in his trying to break his restraints. After several minutes, the subject ceased thrashing and began to cry. The subject started begging, apparently to someone in his hallucination. Stop. Take it back. Don't. I won't do it again. I'm sorry. I don't want to. Not again. Stop. Please. This behavior continued until, after 54 minutes of exposure to SCP-146, the subject's vocalizations halted and his EEG showed signs consistent with coma. After an additional hour, no further effects were observed and the subject was removed and euthanized. Note, at this point, SCP-146 was being kept along with the other artifacts purchased at auction because it was not yet known that the effect was confined to SCP-146 alone. I theorized that this containment approximated favorable containment and therefore kept SCP-146's effect at its base strength. Professor Scali. Experiment log, 146-04. The first experiment conducted after it was determined that SCP-146 consisted only of the bronze head took place after SCP-146 had been moved to a standard 1.5-meter cubed storage bin where it had remained for two days. Subject D-044784 and SCP-146 were placed on opposite sides of a curtain in a standard interrogation room as in previous experiments. The subject was restrained as in previous experiments. When the curtain was dropped, the subject reported an immediate headache and began to cry. The subject's heart rate jumped to 180 BPM but then dropped rapidly to 40 BPM and the subject lost consciousness. Medical personnel entered the room and began examining the subject, at which time the subject regained consciousness, her heart rate spiking to 175 BPM. The subject struggled violently against her restraints and was soon able to break the restraint on her right arm, severely damaging her own arm and hand in the process. Paramedic D was injured as the subject struck him in order to gain access to his first aid kit. The subject was able to grab a small scalpel and jam it into her own neck before guards could regain control. Medical staff administered first aid but the subject died during emergency surgery due to blood loss. Note, after several similar incidents it was determined that SCP-146's ability was affected by its containment. Anyone wishing to do further research must take this into account as even brief accidental exposure could prove harmful. Professor Scali Item number, SCP-11. Object Class, Safe. Special Containment Procedures. Item SCP-11 and the area surrounding it are to be cleaned once every day. For safety purposes, cleaning should start at least 30 minutes after sundown. Cleaning should always be performed by at least two personnel, who are also advised to note anything unusual about the item or the debris cleaned up. In a situation where the item cannot be cleaned for more than two days, local residents must be contacted and instructed not to approach the item. Note, containment procedures nullified, 2004. Description. SCP-11 is a Civil War Memorial statue located in Woodstock, Vermont. The statue is the image of a young male soldier holding a musket at his side and is carved out of granite quarried within the area. Occasionally, SCP-11 has been observed lifting its musket to the sky to fire at birds which attempt to land or defecate on it. Reports detail that its movements produce soft grinding sounds but do not cause it any structural failure. Oddly, the gunfire is very similar to that of a standard firearm. Despite observations that the item only loads granite bullets and granite powder into the musket, which is also unharmed by the firing. In spite of its efforts, some fecal matter does manage to strike SCP-11 and it has reportedly become distressed when it has had a large amount of feces on it, on some rare occasions even firing at humans. Addendum. Those assigned to maintain SCP-11 are to see document number 11-1 for instructions. Document number 11-1. Maintenance brief. Note. Document archived 2004. Accessible to personnel with security clearance 2-0-1-1 or higher. Additional information. SCP-11's seeming sentience has increased since the first report of activity in 1995. As of 2004, the item's containment procedures have been dropped but it remains under constant observation, recorded below our landmark events in its activity. Timeline. March 12, 1995. Woodstock resident reports the statue's eyes moving, first sign of activity. September 30, 1995. Statue shoots musket for the first time. October 9, 1995. Statue begins shooting birds from the sky. January 25, 1996. Registration as SCP-11. Containment procedures begin. April 14, 1997. SCP-11 observed moving casually and looking around. May 3, 2000. After caretaker jokingly shouts good shot to SCP-11, the item replies, thank you, in a reportedly very human voice. First speech from statue. October 22, 2001. SCP-11 has conversation with caretaker. 2001. Shooting of birds stops. February 6, 2002. At the imploring of SCP-11 steps down from its pedestal. 2003 to 2004. SCP-11 reaches a human level of self-awareness. November 10, 2004. Containment procedures dropped, custody of SCP-11 transferred to May 17, 2005. Reports that SCP-11 is romantically attracted to her. August 29, 2006. Most recent psych test reports an IQ of 133. Lesson complete. 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