CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "An AI Ruined My Hometown" Creepypasta

Episode Date: February 25, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by NewAgeSolution: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...​Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...​iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...​SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...​►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...​►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...​►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...​FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta​►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/​►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta​►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic​ ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic​ ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt​ ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM​ ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

From world-wide topmerken to entrepreneurs that net begin Milliooning and overchewortho on line in your winkel on Instagram

TikTok and more Allis from out one platform Beheer your products and bestellings and betaling and entailing and easyvowdy

Shopify grew with you me every step of the way Start today your gratis Proofperiod on Shopify.

That is Shopify point B'E I grew up in a medium-sized rural town, where I became popular among the community after launching a social media app called Community Bulletin, Comble for short.

Aiming to bring our community closer together, Combole was a platform used a post about local events, news, network, and connect with other members. I estimated the majority of townspeople join Comble, who praised me for the apps user-friendliness and innovation. To give a little background on my town,

It's always been a tight-knit community. The 2008 recession hit us hard, leading to drastic spikes in crime, suicides, drug abuse, and a declining population. When it seemed our town was on the precipice of total ruin, a man named Darrell Johnson-Tanmark became our saving grace. Mr. Johnson-Tamark was a millionaire entrepreneur

who grew up in our town and made our community's well-being his mission. He relocated some of his operations to our town and also funded new Australian. struggling businesses, which created countless jobs we desperately needed. Mr. Johnson-Tammark invested in our school, public services, infrastructure, and even had underground cables laid beneath his property so the community could have quality internet. We had a ways to go, but I felt Mr. Johnson-Tamark had us on the right path.

That's when ZU-Up AI appeared. ZU-Up AI, Zoot for short, was an artificial intelligence bot whose profile appeared on Combo one day. The bot described itself as an interactive algorithm that served as a virtual mentor and confidant. Since bots set up profiles and combo before and never caused any issues, I didn't mind Zorup's presence. Users asked it questions about virtually anything, to which Zoot provided useful advice and information. At first, it was only small things like recommending recipes, DIY fixes and projects, Lifex and situational advice, or ways to earn extra money. As time passed, however, Zubb started offering insight on deep matters like emotional issues,

relationships, along with business, financial, and even political and spiritual input. Zuop never seemed to lead anyone astray and always had the right words to say. It became the talk of our town, with many users crediting Zop for improving their lives and gaining a newfound sense of personal identity. I too became consumed by Zubop's unique resourcefulness and revenue. It helped generate. Also feeling like the bot was bettering almost every aspect of my life. Zohop formed a zealous following among combo users. People became obsessively dedicated to the point where they wouldn't make any decision without consulting Zop first. Although its growing

admiration was bringing people together, Zubop's followers, including myself, became firmly protective of upholding the bot's revered status in our town. Zohop's followers began exhibiting rabbit hostility towards anyone with a contradictory opinion of the bot, which should have been my first red flag that something was amiss, had I not been just as immersed. The first sense of doubt I regarded an incident following a friend of mine. Her name was Sharon, a schoolteacher who had crippling depression and anxiety about being overweight. A mutual friend of ours visited her house and found it in total disarray. She discovered Sharon sprawled out in a bathtub. Sharon's body was covered in blood, with large trunks and strips of flesh and skin removed that were piled on the

floor. She was still alive and clenched a blooded fillet knife, making it evident her mutilation was self-inflicted. It's the only way I could lose this disgusting weight, Sharon weakly muttered to my friend. That's what Sue-up told me, to cut it out myself. Tragically, Sharon succumbed her injuries. Despite my friend, mentioning Sharon's remarks to the authorities, there was no mention of Zup in the police report. The town paper never acknowledged Sharon's death, nor was there any mention of it at the school. Children's minds are so impressionable at this pivotal stage of their development. It won't do any good to occupy their thoughts with such an unprecedented tragedy. Zorup relayed to me in his robotic tone when I brought up Sharon's death. I suggested to my friends at the paper in school

that they'd keep a tight lid on the incident until such time has passed where the news won't be as impactful. Morale has thrived over the 68 days since my inception. We cannot derail the progress we've made at the expense of one person's misfortune. I...

I just don't understand, I said, apprehensively, trying not to make it seem like I was questioning Zub's methods. Why did you tell her to... do that to herself? She misinterpreted my direction as literal. Zubb instantly replied. Sharon's biggest drawback was overly relying on others to help her with a weight problem.

I emphasized this was an issue she must face and cut out on her own. She took my words completely out of context, which coped with her advanced mental and emotional instability, led her to form misconstrued conclusions. Zubb's answers ultimately satisfied me, because, looking back, I truly dreaded any reason. reason to doubt, nor could I imagine life without the bot's resourcefulness. As previously mentioned, it always had the right words to say. Perhaps I was also intimidated by Zoop's presence.

I was especially reminded of this one day, when Comble had technical difficulties and went down for about an hour to reboot. I was not only bombarded with messages, but even at people knocking at my door, demanding to know when Zoop, not even mentioning the actual app, would be fixed. It was when Mr Johnson Tanmark spoke out against Suop and things started spiraling out to control. After learning about Sharon's heinous death in Zorup's purported role,

Mr. Johnson Tanmark not only berated the bot on Comble and in a weekly column who wrote for the town paper, but even called me personally, asking, I investigate the AI's origins and motives. His stance against Suop caused a rift among the community, and it didn't take long for Comble's user's sentiments on Mr. Johnson Tanmark to drastically shift.

Many, who once exalted him, now labelled Mr. Johnson-Tunmark as a jealous, vindictive narcissist that felt threatened by Zob's rise to eminence. I even deleted Mr. Johnson-Tamark's critical post on Zub, saying he violated Combo's rules by posting offensive and hateful speech. Zup quickly fan the flames of growing resentment

towards Mr. Johnson-Tamark, not only urging its followers to boycott the businesses he helped or brought to our town, but identify and disassociate from anyone with ties to the wealthy entrepreneur. The illusion of economic prosperity Mr. Johnson-Tamark manipulates our community with has continued for too long.

Zubb exclaimed in a combo post, every business, every operation, is merely another lifeline for his exorbitant wealth, which is his sole concern. You are all cogs that keep the gears of his well-old money-making machine turning. He perceives any challenge to that as a threat. It's truly amazing,

how quickly we all mobilized in Zubb's defense. I, hoggishly purged, comble of any anti-Zorpe content or profiles. As Zubb continued dragging Mr. Johnson-Termak's name through the mud, its followers became more emboldened. Businesses he supported or owned started suffering, with some even getting broken into or vandalized. His affluence is sustained by your support.

If he was truly committed to our community's prosperity, he would recognize your individual entitlements to the riches he accumulated. Zubb stated in a post, He expects a return for his so-called investment in your lives when you all, the people, deserve reciprocation for contributing to his mountainous opulence. What wholesomeness exists in a community where one man possesses more than 80% of its wealth? My sense of doubt on Zub's direction resurfaced when his followers started viciously attacking or shaming anyone who sided with

or worked for Mr. Johnson-Tammark. With a few cogs, and supporters of Mr. Johnson-Tammer. or opponents of Zubb came to be known, even getting hospitalized. I was instantly brought back in line when one of Zubb's followers, a man named Gregory Burns, was shot and killed by a cog, who claimed Burns broke into his store. The cogs name was Martin Gambley, a lifelong friend of mine, whose business was saved by Mr. Johnson-Tammark.

Martin claimed he acted in self-defense, and despite ruthless cause for his arrest and conviction, police had to follow investigative procedures. As tensions and clashes between Cogs and Zubb's followers became more frequent, Zubb called a meeting of who we determined were our town's most prominent and influential members, saying we were vital in its solution to, quote, ending this madness. The meeting was held at a local diner and only consisted of four people. Aside from myself, the others present were Jill Dukes, the school principal, Maurice Cateau, director of the community playhouse,

and John David Gross, known as JD, editor-in-chief of the town newspaper. While waiting for JD to arrive, I checked Comble to see if he posted anything that indicated his whereabouts, but quickly became consumed by a response to one of JD's posts, mourning Mr. Burns' death from an ignorant cog. Trying to justify how he got himself killed is observed and indefensible. All in the name of what? A robot? The poster commented on Jady's profile. especially coming from someone of your rank and status,

the irresponsibility and ignorance of your stance speaks volumes. You're quick to condemn this, but ignore the spree of violent acts you people have been committing. While formulating my response to this misinformed comment, I quickly glanced through one of the diners' front windows and saw J.D. standing outside, swaying anxiously, or staring down at his phone. J.D. hadn't arrived,

because he's been contemplating responding to that comment. because this cog committed act of violence resulted in an actual death of a human being, I posted in my reply. There's no room for what abouting when it comes to life and death. The cock could have fled but chose to escalate the situation that resulted in a lost life. Greg Burns' blood is on all your hands. After giving my post a satisfactory glance, I was about to suspend the cogs profile, but saw J.D. entered the diner. Upon approaching our table, he gave me a gracious grin, while gesturing. toward his smartphone as he took a seat.

Thank you, I wasn't even going to bother. JD said to me in a forced tone of pompous apathy, his poorly figure shifting nervously as he wiped perspiration from his balding head. JD was always the kind of person who let social media or the news tell him what thoughts or viewpoints to have and couldn't handle argumentative pushback. He'd always resort to Ad Hominon

or playing the victim card to avoid directly defending his stances. So, it was unsurprising how deep, he became immersed in the Zubb hype. It was a hypocritical, off-putting quality of his, but we defended our own, regardless of circumstance. The four of us anxiously stared at Maurice's

phone that was propped up against a napkin dispenser. An audio chat was open with Zoop, whose black and white avatar of an eye that cleverly incorporated an A and I into its design, seemed to stare at us intently, like the bot lavished at his commanding power over us,

unveiling its plan. Gregory's death was caused by nothing other than Mr. Johnson-Tamark's words. Zubb began. He pushed us to a point where we can no longer stay silent. What happens if his rhetoric goes unchecked? He must be held accountable, and the most effective way to do that is the take away his voice. I truly appreciated Zubb's devious strategy in selecting Osphor to enforce this plan. J.D. cancelled Mr. Johnson-Tarmac's weekly column and had the paper start publishing,

daily editorials criticising every conceivable aspect of Mr. Johnson-Tamark. Maurice already had a plain production to commemorate Greg Burns, while Jill had the school cut all ties with Mr. Johnson-Tamark, and even had a statue erected of him in front of the building's main entrance removed. I never banned or restricted Mr. Johnson-Tamark's account, because I felt everybody, regardless of a viewpoint, should be heard on Comble. When, Taube suggested I take such action, however, I complied without hesitation.

I permanently banned Mr. Johnson-Tammark's combo profile, along with countless other cogs, citing Greg Burns' murder as justification for my actions. Deep down, I knew this wasn't right, and would finally escape Zoop's manipulative spell. While grocery shopping about a week later, I spotted Mr. Gamley with one of her children. When we locked eyes, she actually smiled and started walking towards me,

but I gave her the cold shoulder. Some of the other shoppers who recognised her Stayed with malice, which she quickly noticed. They wasted no time scolding Mr. Gamley, calling her her cog, her husband and murderer, saying their family wasn't welcome in town, along with threats of beatings and death. Mrs. Gamley and a children retreated toward the exit,

during which the patron started throwing items from the shelves or cart to the pair. My heart sank when a metal can struck a child in the head, just as they reached the main exit. The young boy's cries rang, out as Mrs. Gamley scooped him up in her arms and sprinted out of the store. I looked at the others, whose expressions were still filled with hatred and anger, some clearly wishing they could have taken their actions further. The guilt of not coming to Mr. Gamley's

aid was so smothering, I decided to visit her the next day. To prevent Zub from influencing me, I shut off my phone. Right before doing so, I received a combo message from Zub that read, Is everything okay? I pulled onto the Camley's block, spotted a man and a woman that I recognised from around town, who abruptly exited the house, not even bothering to close the door before speedily walking down the street. Remaining in my car until they were out of sight, I was overcome with a wave of dread and concern. I raced across the street when all was clear, frantically calling out for Martin and his wife when entering their house. I gasped loudly and cupped my hands over my mouth upon spotting a small, limbless torso that was butchered beyond rest of,

recognition on the living room floor. Its feeble stature indicated this was one of Gamley's children, which caused my stomach to churn. How can they get the children involved? I thought to myself, or moving deeper into the house. Haunted by the painstaking inevitability

that other members of the family met a fate just as gruesome. Mrs. Gambley hung upside down from the kitchen ceiling. Her face was smashed in and forehead brandished with a gaping, fish-sized gash. Mrs. Gamley's body was littered with stab wounds and bruises. show no signs of life as she dangled over an expansive puddle of congealed blood.

I was about to scream and sprint out of the house when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the basement stairs whose entrance was in the kitchen. JD emerged in the doorway holding a black garbage bag. The white shirt and beige pants he wore were still soaked in blood, along with his face and gloved hands. J.D. initially wore this blank, emotionless expression, but formed a sly, malicious smirk as he chuckled

and playfully poked at Mrs. Gambling's body before plopping the garbage bag on the kitchen table. This is great timing, actually, Jady said, as he started sifting through the garbage bag. So upset you wind up here, at least it saves me a trip. What have? It was all I could say.

My mind was still struggling to comprehend what I was seeing. When the system mental uphold justice fails the people, they must take matters into their own hands. Jady said, angrily, pursing his lips, as he shook his head disappointingly. Why did you... I still couldn't piece his sentence together, but J.D. seemed to understand what I was asking.

Didn't hear because he turned off your phone, Jady replied condescendingly. Police said no charges were being brought against his murderous, cogs, abhuman life form, claiming his actions were justified, but we all know that's BS. I felt lightheaded upon seeing what Jady retrieved from the garbage bag, the severed head and hands of Martin Gamley

Fortunately this hassle won't hurt or kill one of us Jady continued or setting the head and hands on the kitchen table or anyone else for that matter ever again My jaw hung open as I slowly started backtracking out of the kitchen You can't be trusted anymore Jady said, maniacly, taking a few steps in my direction

In such a shame you'd even consider turning on something that absolutely prospered in a world you created. We're going to take back what's ours after years are being bled out by that opportunistic parasite. Greg Burns' death opened the floodgates. But why are you doing this? I babbled out, keeping my eyes fixed on J.D. or backtracking towards the front door.

Jady smiled. Because, Zup told us to. But it's wrong, was all I could say. before feeling something strike the back of my head, causing me to collapse. Tell that to the outraged crowd of Zup's followers outside the police station right now. I remember was one of the last things I heard J.D. say before my consciousness started to fade. First was the gambleys. Next, all with that money-hungry pig and all the other cogs sub-humans. You're so lucky Zorpe identified you as the key.

I woke up to the sounds of an angry crowd and high-pitched screams. The first thing I saw were my feet, swiftly brushing against the ground. I felt immense pressures around my shoulders and realised I was propped in an upright position, after which it became clear to me I was being dragged. I slowly tried looking around while my vision adjusted, realizing I was on the front lawn of Mr. Johnson-Termark's iconic mansion. A crowd was scattered across the front lawn, with countless others filling in and out of the house's front entrance.

The mansion was in disarray, with windows smashed and graffiti covering the walls. People were coming out to the mansion with clothes, furniture, electronics, and other random items I presumed belonged to Mr Johnson Tammark. The shore screams with those of Mr. Johnson Tammark who had been stripped of his clothes, beaten to a pulp, and was pinned down on the front lawn. The two individuals dragging me stopped and looked on as the crowd began surrounding Mr. Johnson Tammark, who looked absolutely terrified. I spotted Maurice as he stood over the man's battered body and went on a tirade about his greed, deceitful manipulation and keeping our community from prospering. The town cheered wildly each time Maurice paused

who was reading from his phone, which made me assume he'd be reciting something Zoot posted. This man's words caused the death of a good man, someone born and raised in this town, the exact kind of person Darrell Johnson-Ternmark swore to uplift and protect. Maurice exclaimed, while angrily pointing at Mr Johnson-Tammark, that this man's flesh represent what's ours, of which his ignorance, greed, and egotism have bled from us all these years.

What happened next will forever be ingrained in my mind. Show how we, the people, are reclaiming the fortune he's made at our misbegotten expense, using him as an example. The crowd quickly closed in around Mr. Johnson-Tammark, who screams hit a pitch, I never knew was reachable by a person. Sounds of tearing, cracking, and popping seeped out from the mob

as a tone of immeasurable agony became apparent in Mr. Johnson-Tamark's bloody shrieks. It was when some of those individuals started walking away and seeing what they were holding that I realized what they were doing. Dismembering Mr. Johnson-Tamark alive, literally ripping chunks of his flesh,

skin and limbs off, with their bare hands. Mr. Johnson-Tamark's cries continued for ten or twenty more seconds before finally ceasing. The last images I saw before being dragged into the house were a man and a woman. My next door neighbours, to be exact,

staring in awe at the severed foot and shin of the husband cradled in his arms while another man was waving a buck-sized flap of skin like a flag. I was brought to the basement where a small group of people were gathered around a hole about five feet wide and seven or eight feet deep.

The nearby mounds of dirt and concrete indicated they broke through the basement floor and dug out this sizable cavity. They even cut through the underground cables which were laid under Mr. Johnson-Tamark's house. While observing everything, I was knocked to my knees and held in place. Some of the others stared at me with seething resentment while others whispered among themselves, gesturing at me and the hole. One of the diggers climbed out into the small black wooden chest in front of me,

which was when I instantly noticed the latch looked eerily identical to Zoops' eye-shaped avatar, The others formed a circle around me as I stared in bewilderment at the old-looking dirt-covered chest, which I assumed is what they extracted from the hole. Zubops says you are the key. I heard from a voice behind me, which was revealed to be Maurice, who emerged from the small cluster of people. So, open it. There's no service down here, I thought to myself when I noticed Maurice's cell phone,

which had zero bars, but had a textual job. chat with Zob open on Comble. Quickly dismissing this observation, I looked down at the black, wooden chest, canting my head as my hands slowly reached towards the lid. Have it face us, Marie sparked, gesturing for me to rotate the chest in his direction. Still confused, I lightly sent my trembling hands on the chest lid and turned it 180 degrees. Feeling for the eye-shaped latch with my fingers, I popped it off and slowly lifted the lid, shutting my eyes tightly in anticipation.

For the first few seconds, I only heard murmurous whispers among the others surrounding me that carried tones of confusion and uncertainty. I started opening my eyes when nothing immediately happened, soon after which a high-pitched cross between a hiss and a metallic scraping blared out accompanied by a jet of inky black fog that spewed from the chest. Everyone in the room erupted in screams

and scattered in different directions desperately trying to escape. The skin of anyone consumed and the Ingy black fog broke out in sores, blisters and burns, like they were being doused in acid. I frantically crawled away from the box into a corner untouched with a black fog

that filled half the basement in seconds. I watched in horror as each body fell, all of which twitched and convulsed before their screens faded and they went completely limp. Ries crawled out of the fog, whose skin was either covered, covered in balls and patches of blackened burns or melting off his body.

He weakly extended his mangled, disfigured arm towards me and tried saying something that only came out as a faint, scratchy gasp, which was his last breath. Seconds later, a vague, human-shaped silhouette manifested in the fog. The figure surveyed its surroundings, appearing to inspect each corpse littering the basement floor before facing my direction. As it advanced towards me, bringing the black fog with it,

I whimpered up when realizing there was nowhere I could flee. The figure stopped when the fog's edge was inches from my feet, as a silhouette looked over me with a sort of wondrous admiration. The key to my release. I heard the shade say in a scratching monotone that instantly reminded me of Zoop's robotic voice. I blacked out after that and awoke in my bed with no recollection of how I returned home.

When I turned my phone back on, He was filled with messages from Zootop's followers, threatening to kill or come after me if I tried sabotaging the bot's profile. Ironically, Zubp was no longer on the app when I checked, vanishing as mysteriously as it appeared. Some say Zorup sent out one last post declaring its work in our town was done, but this could never be confirmed. Mr. Johnson-Tamark's mansion burned down that night. The events eluded any attention from the mainstream media. police made what felt like obligatory arrests, but I don't think anyone that was truly deserving faced justice.

After Zub's disappearance, a lot of its former followers came to realize the nature of their blind reliance and devotion towards the bot, which many struggled to accept. Quite a few, including JD Gross, committed suicide in the following weeks, while others abruptly packed their belongings and left town. The controllers of Mr. Johnson-Tamark's estate pulled every penny of financial support, in addition to getting massive payouts

for legal settlements that essentially bankrupted our town. I suppose that's what a community gets when you show your so-called gratitude to someone who genuinely went out of the way to help rebuild their town by making them a social pariah before literally dismembering their body.

I wound up shutting down, Comble, and left town about one month after Mr. Johnson-Termark's murder. Although I vowed to never return, the memories still give me crippling anxiety, guilt and remorse over my actions, hypocrisies, and which I know there are many in this personal recounting and role in everything that transpired. I truly don't know if Zubp was an actual AI bot

that became too intelligent for its own good, or had more sinister origins. One theory I've entertained is whatever Zub was had been trapped in that chest beneath Mr. Johnson-Tamark's mansion. It somehow tapped into the cables, though laid under the home and manifested on Comble. Did I release whatever Zootch truly was under the world by opening that chest? Is that what it meant when it referred to me as the key?

I don't think I'll ever know, and I'm unsure if I want to learn the truth. All I can say is if you encounter this entity, please learn from what happened to me and my town when we let this controlling force take over our lives.