The SCP Experience - Live by the Game, Die by the Game | SCP-2132

Episode Date: June 24, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2132: Live by the Game, Die by the Game This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2132, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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And profite. Vi-aray, the voice that we love that we love. I wake up groggy. The sound of the woman's voice like rats gnawing on my eardrums. She finishes her little spiel. But I know it won't stop until I get my ass downstairs to the living room. It'll keep coming over all the radios in the house over and over until I get down there. Sally, what the hell are you doing up there?

Frederick's calls from downstairs. I hate it when he calls me Sally. My name is Sal, as in Salvatore. I'm coming, Dix. I yell, using my shortened version of his name. I know it's a stretch, Dix from Fredericks. But then again, no one ever accused me of being a creative genius. Most of the time, I just call him Freddy, even though his first name is Josh or something like that.

As I put on the special shirt with the camera sewn into it, the woman's voice starts up again. Welcome to Mr. Marshall, Carter, and Dark's most dangerous fighting exhibition and obstacle resort. Please adjourn to the lounge for further instructions. I know, I know, Christ, I grumble, putting my shoes on. This will be my third and last turn for a while. provided I survive. I make it downstairs just as the woman starts up again, but as I step into the old farmhouse living room, she stops.

Freddy and the new guy, Buglossi, are sitting on the old-fashioned floral print couch. Freddy has a stupid smile on his broad and craggy face. Buglossi, a young guy with trimmed black hair and a professional air, looks scared. He's never done this before. He should be scared, especially since the last new guy wound up dead. The woman's voice comes from the radio again,

but the message is different this time. Welcome to Mr. Marshall, Carter, and Dark's most dangerous fighting exhibition and obstacle resort. Please enjoy some brandy and cigars while we prepare your playground. Both doors to the living room shut and locked by themselves. Now we've got an hour to kill. What do you think we got this time? Freddie says to me, clearly excited.

I wave a hand dismissively. I still don't understand why they don't get D-Class to do this shit. You don't like posting? You can transfer, Freddy says. But I remember a time when you enjoyed this shit. Besides, if we don't do it, this thing will just pull in the nearest civilians. And you know they'll all die. Why don't they get D-Class to do this? Buclossi asks.

Freddy looks at him. The Ethics Committee. Why else? They figure trained agents like ourselves are more likely to survive. And they're right. But the researchers are also trying to figure out how to shut the thing down. Hence the cameras in our shirts. Although I doubt they'll ever succeed. Why did you volunteer? I ask, Buglossi. He shrugs. The hazard pay. Hard to pass it up. Let me guess, I say. You got a family at home? Little wifie with a couple of rug rats you'll be sending to college. No, no kids, Oglossie answers, smiling.

Just expensive taste. And I'm an adrenaline junkie. A man after my own heart, Freddie says. As we shoot the shit, the obligatory hour passes quickly. Pretty soon, the doors unlock and open. Let's see what we got, Freddy says. The three of us stand up and walk out of the living room. Freddy goes to the closest near the back door and opens it up.

There's a single climbing rope, a cloth bag of white powder with a drawstring, a machete, and a hammer. Like every other round I've done, there's also a first aid kit, a map, a compass, and a thermometer. The rope is neatly bunched and tied, and probably a good 200 feet long. Freddy hands me the bag of white powder, the compass, and the thermometer. Buglossi gets the hammer, first aid kit, and the map. Freddy takes the rope and machete. The woman's voice sounds again saying, Please step outside and enjoy your playground.

Remember, get home safe. The back door swings open on its own. Let's fucking do this, Freddie says, walking out the door. The wind whips at me as I step out, the last to leave the farmhouse. We're standing on an outcropping of rock next to a thousand foot drop. Across from us, there's another sheer cliff face. the caramel-colored rocks devoid of all but the sparsest vegetation. Far down at the bottom of the steep valley, there's a carpet of lush greenery.

The sky is brilliantly blue, aside from the huge numbers floating there. The numbers say we've got 29 minutes to reach our goal. This is a short one, which means it's going to be intense. The short ones always are. I turn around, unsurprised to find that the house is gone, replaced by a wall of rock. To the right, further along the cliff face, there's a structure jutting out of the rock. It's a square stone room, a single window facing us. That's the way we're supposed to go, but getting there means climbing across about 30 yards of cliff face. I suddenly know what the

white powder in the bag is for. It's climbing chalk, and if we fall, there's no starting over. Death here means death for real. I hope you're not afraid of heights. I see. I say to Buglossi, trying to cover up the fact that I don't like this one at all. Buglossi turns and looks at me, shock, written all over his face. Freddy is already busy looking at the weight of the structures. Time, after all, is of the essence. Movement across the way catches my eye, and I look at the cliff face opposite. There's something climbing up the wall.

Oh, man, I say. What? Buclossi says, following my gaze. What the hell is that? He asks. It's about the size of a man, but it has four humanoid arms and feet like a lizard's. Its hairless head doesn't resemble a person's at all. Where the crown of the head would be on a human, there are two large and wide-set black eyes.

And where the hairline would be, there's a lipless mouth full of sharp teeth. It looks as if the thing can split its head in half. The mouth is so wide. Good for taking a big old bite out of something. It stops crawling and twists. its head up and back to look at us. Aside from the black eyes, it's the same color as the rock. If not for the movement, it would blend right into the wall.

It can't get over here, can it? Buclossi says. You're thinking there's only one of them, I say. Suddenly, the thing jumps off the wall, apparently committing suicide, but it doesn't fall for long before gliding wings pop out under and between its arms. It drifts across the gap and lands a few hundred feet below us. on our side. It pauses for a second before climbing up toward us. Uh, we need to move now, I say. So let's go, Freddie says, looking down at the creature.

He's wrapped one end of the rope around his waist, and he tosses the other end to me. I toss him the chalk bag. He sticks his hand inside and brings out some powder, rubbing it on his hands. He hands the chalk bag to Buglossi, then faces the rock wall and starts moving across, choosing his hand and foot holds carefully. The machete is tucked under his belt at his waist. Looking around for a place to secure the rope, I quickly find there's no good option. I look up toward the top of the cliff,

but I can see that climbing up there would be impossible. I've been through different iterations of this game enough times to know that there wouldn't be an easy out like that. I drop the bulk of the rope to my feet, then go about making sure there's enough slack for Freddy to keep going. A glance down reveals that the creature is moving faster up to us than Freddy is moving across. He won't get to the stone structure in time. I wrap a double loop of the rope around Guglossi's waist.

Hey, what are you doing? He says, turning to look at me. Get ready with a hammer if that thing comes our way. I tell him, grabbing another double loop around myself, leaving a few feet of play between us. I tie the rope to itself at my waist. If Freddy falls, we should be able to provide enough counterweight to save him. I'm hoping so anyway. If not, we'll all fail.

It's right there! I called to Freddy, who looks down at the creature, now only 10 feet away and moving fast. He's still about eight yards from the structure. He pulls out the machete with one hand as the wind whips around his clothes. His feet are on ledges so little I can barely see them. One wrong move, and he'll fall.

I doubt he can even swing the machete without falling. The creature goes for his leg, Its head splitting in half like Pac-Man to try and take a chunk. Freddy lifts his foot out of the way and then kicks down at one of the creature's four hands. The thing scurries away a few feet, moving like it was born on the side of the cliff. It screams suddenly, a terrible, pterodactyl-like shriek. Freddy moves away as fast as he can. He's about five yards away from the stone structure jutting out of the cliffside.

He's so close. The creature moves quickly, going for the attack. I call out to Freddy just before he jumps toward the window, seeming to move in slow motion, nothing but a thousand foot drop beneath him. His hands at the bottom of the stone window sill, his left hand latching on, his right, slipping off because he's still holding the machete. He reaches up and throws the blade through the window, then grabs on with both hands. His feet dangling.

The creature follows suit, jumping and slamming into his back. Buglossi and I watch from 30 yards, helpless. Freddy screams and jerks, elbowing the thing. The creature falls back, then pops out its wings again and glides, clinging to the wall 50 feet below the structure. There's a bloody wound on Freddy's left shoulder, but I can't see how bad it is from here. He manages to pull himself in the window, so it must not be that bad.

Good Lord, Buclossi says. What do we do now? I hear the words, but I'm not paying attention. A glance down the side of the outcropping shows me a dozen more of the creatures a few hundred feet below. That damn shriek the first one made must have brought them. We need to move, I say. Buclossi looks down and groans.

Swing! Freddy shouts from the structure 30 yards away. He's in the window, gesturing at the rope. He pulls on it to demonstrate that it's secure. He must have attached to something inside the room. The creatures are moving fast up toward us. I realize Freddy's way is the only way. We need to jump off.

If the rope holds, we'll simply swing under the jutting structure and then climb up. Get out of the rope, I say, untying the knot at my waist. We need to jump. If you stay in like that, you won't be able to climb up. Wrap it around your arm or something, and we'll jump. You're kidding, Buclossi says. I thought you were an adrenaline junkie, I say. You never jumped off a cliff before? His eyes harden, and he pulls the looped rope from around his waist. We yank the rope as taut as we can, then each wrap a segment around an arm. The creatures are close. I say.

What? One. I shove Blue Glossi as I jump, and we go off the edge side by side. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent.

WestJet, where your story takes off. I clutch the rope in both hands as we fall, sure that the rope will snap and will have a good 10 seconds to regret all our poor decisions before we hit the ground. The rope goes hot, wrapping tight around my farm. Suddenly, we're swinging and bouncing, thanks to the stretch in the rope. I'm happy to see Begozi hanging on above me. He unwraps his arm and climbs up. I follow behind, glancing back to see the creatures have changed direction to follow us. They'll probably get to the structure shortly after we do. We left the first aid kit because it's too big and we need our hands. But we have all the other

supplies, including the chalkback, its string tied to my belt loop. My hands hurt as I dumped myself through the window and collapse onto the smooth stone floor. That was some good thinking, Freddie, I say, catching my breath. I sit up and look over to see Freddy in a puddle of blood in the corner of the room. The damn thing took a huge chunk out of him, right where the neck meets the shoulder. His eyes are open, but lifeless. Bouglossi stands nearby, staring at him. God damn it, Freddy, say. We were so close. This was the last one.

With no time to waste, I look around the room. There's a giant metal hook embedded in the wall, to which the rope is attached. Exactly what it's there for, I'm sure. This is some fucking game. There's only one way out of the room we're in, a doorway leading into another room carved deep into the rock. Buglossi steps through to check it out. I grab the machete from the floor next to Freddy and go back over to the window.

the creatures are closing in. What do you think this is for? Bouglosi says, holding up a large metal spike. Where was that? I asked. Just in this other room here, on a little pedestal. I look around, thinking about the other levels I've played. Suddenly, I see what it's for. Give me the hammer, I say, holding out the machete to Bouglosi.

He pulls the hammer out from his waistband and hands it over, then takes the blade. I hold out my other hand, and he gives me the spike. We both step into the next room, which is dark because it has no windows. There's a single door across from us, but it's blocked by a stone slab. We're trapped. What do we do? Buclossi asks. You stand back and use the machete if any of those things get past me, I say, getting on my knees at the threshold between the two rooms.

There's a crack in the floor across the doorway, separating the two rooms. It's just white enough for the tip of the spike. I put the tip into the crack, holding it with my door. my left hand. In my right, I hold the hammer up, ready to strike. The trick will be to wait until most of the creatures are in the room before I do it. In fact, I'm guessing the door behind us won't open unless I get rid of all the creatures. The game is like that. Hopefully it only takes one or two blows to do the job. The light from the window dims as a couple of the creatures stick their heads in, looking at us. The heads disappear. For a moment, I think they've seen the trap,

and they'll just wait us out. But then the room goes dark as their bodies pour through the window. They scurry on their bellies toward me, moving too fast. I don't know if all of them are in the room, but I can't wait any longer. I slam the hammer down onto the spike. The crack widens, but not much. I strike again. The closest creature only a few feet away now.

The crack widens again. At this rate, there's no way it'll work. I've misjudged it. I've fucked us. A creature lunges at me, its mouth opening, Sharp teeth shining. I swing the hammer, smashing its teeth in. I hit the spike again, widening the crack a little more.

Then I have to defend myself again, smacking one of the creatures on the side of the head. One more hit on the spike. There are too many of them. I swing wildly, making them dodge back. As I swing right, they move in on the left. I put up my head instinctively, and I'm rewarded with a breathtaking pain.

I try to pull my arm back, but I can't. I whip my head left to see two rows of teeth clamped down my left wrist. I scream out, my first instinct to hit the creature that's biting my hand off, but I fight that reaction, knowing that if I do, both Blue Glosi and I will die. Instead, I slam down on the spike one last time, putting all I have into it. The crack expands, barely. I look down at the crack, unable to comprehend why it didn't work, the moment stretching out before me. But as I stare at the crack, it opens up as if to speak to me. The creature room tilts, Freddy's body in the corner, slumping over with the movement.

And suddenly, the room is fallen, the crack turning into a maw, and then a gap as the room tumbles away from the cliffside, spinning as it goes. It moves too fast for the creatures to get out, but there's still one creature here, still with my hand in its mouth. Kneeling at the edge of the threshold that now looks out on a thousand-foot drop, I turned to look at my left hand, and I see that only the creature's head remains. Close he stands to my left, breathing hard, bloody machete in his hand. I realize he chopped off the thing's head at the exact right moment.

I hear the brief and faraway sound of heavy stone hitting the ground. The numbers in the sky tell me that we have five minutes left. I turn to see that the door on the other side of the room is open. Through the door, I see the familiar confines of the old farmhouse, short but intense. I toss the hammer aside and use my hand to lift up the severed head at the end of my left arm. I don't want to risk removing it until medical personnel are around. I think the teeth embedded in my arm are keeping me from bleeding out. I stand up and walk with Bouglosey through the door and back into the farmhouse. Having come in the back, we go straight through the house

and walk out the front door. Freddy's body is lying on the front porch. The game always returns the bodies. Always. It will be another week until the next game. So it's safe for us to leave. I get into the front passenger seat of the foundation SUV. Bouglosi gets in the driver's seat. Well, I say as we drive. That's it for me. Last time. Even if I don't lose the hand, I'm done.

Bouglossi says nothing for a minute. Then he speaks in a low voice. That was intense. There's a smile in there somewhere. I can tell it won't be his last time. I look down at the creature's head into its black eyes. Fuck you, I say. What's that?

Luclosey says. Nothing. I say, I wasn't talking to you. SCP 2132 is a radio station in rural Oklahoma, continuously playing songs from the 1920s to the 1950s. SCP 2132-1 is the collective designation given to a farmhouse and a radio tower from which SCP 2132 emanates. Every Friday between 1700 and 200,

SCP 2132's music will stop, and a woman's voice will read this announcement. Welcome to Mr. Marshall, Carter, and Dark's most dangerous fighting exhibition and obstacle resort. Please adjourn to the lounge for further instructions. The message will repeat until all residents have moved to the living room of SCP 2132-1. Further testing has indicated that

should fewer than three people be in residence within, SCP 2132 will transport the nearest human being into the lounge, and they will be made to participate in the game cycle. Once there, all doors will lock and another message will play, telling guests to enjoy brandy and cigars while the game is prepared. After one hour, all doors except the front will unlock and open. Supplies will materialize within the hall closet, located near the exit. These supplies will be the only things other than their clothes, players will be able to take. into the game cycle. The supplies always contain one first aid kit, one map, one compass, and one thermometer. Once the supplies have been collected, the following message will play.

Please step outside and enjoy your playground. Remember, get home safe. The exit then swings open. If the residents do not immediately step out, the words, get home safe, are continually repeated, growing loud enough to damage hearing. If, after one hour, residents still have not stepped outside, the game cycle will begin prematurely and an entity will enter the house and forcibly eject them. Entities to date include two mature grizzly bears, a colossal squid, and a guerrilla ambush from an unknown army. Upon crossing the threshold, residents are transported to a new climate containing traps, puzzles, and hostile creatures. The only consistency between environments is a large stopwatch-style digital display projected in the sky. The farmhouse

disappears, and the goal of the game cycle is to locate it and return inside by the time the stopwatch reaches zero.