The SCP Experience - Misfortune Gorge | SCP-7007

Episode Date: April 4, 2025

Trapped in a twisted, undead game show where every round exposes a blood-soaked truth, Foundation agent Echo must play for his life—and his memories—on a set built from guilt, lies, and damnation. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7007 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Now, please put your horrid hands together to welcome our contestants. Clapping and cheering follow the man's game show, announcement as I try to gather my bearings. I find myself standing, which is strange, because the last thing I remember, I was lying on my bunk at Site 53. I sway on my feet, blinking against the bright lights around me. I raise a hand as my eyes slowly adjust, partially blocking the blinding illumination. I'm on some kind of game show set with polished blue floors and walls of a slightly different shade. There's a blue, podium in front of me, which I grab onto with my free hand as I command my body to cooperate.

To my immediate left, there's a tall blonde woman I've never seen before, standing behind her own podium. She's in her late 30s, she wears a lab coat, and she looks back at me in bewilderment, likely mirroring the expression on my own face. Beyond her, I can see the end of the set, but the lights shining from a truss at the ceiling makes it impossible to glimpse what's happening. A couple of large cameras are directly under the lights, although I can't see their operators at the moment,

thanks to the blinding illumination. Straight from the O5 Council, and with the blackest of black hearts, we have Marjorie Gonzalez as contestant number one. What the hell is this? A woman says for my right, I turn, seeing a dark-haired woman with caramel skin and a carefully cultivated appearance.

She wears a flattering tan and black dress that clings to her body and ends just above the knees. I've never seen her before either, but the announcer's words jangle in my head. Did he say she's from the O-5 Council? Say hello, Mrs. Gonzalez, the announcer says. I look diagonally across the set and see a strangely dressed man holding a thin, wired microphone in one ash-gray hand. He wears a red and white checkered suit jacket, an oversaw. an oversized black tie, a canary yellow button-up shirt, and bright red slacks. But it's his face that my gaze fixes on.

His skin is that same ash-gray, and his eyes are choked with a viscous black liquid that drips down his cheeks constantly, staining his suit and getting on the floor. His light brown hair is shaggy and matted, like he hasn't washed it in weeks. He walks from behind his own podium and comes near us, smiling to reveal yellow. and brown teeth. What the hell is this? Gonzales says as the man walks over. Where are we?

The host pauses and looks out toward the unseen audience, still smiling. I guess she wasn't paying attention when I introduced myself. He winks. And some of the black liquid squirts out from his eye. Fine. Once more for the chief seats. I'm your host, Kincaid. And this is Miss Fortune Gorge.

The game show where the questions are hard, the stakes are hard. high and the winner goes home covered in the other contestants' blood. More cheers erupt from the audience. I turn and try to see them, but the lights are just too bright. I grip my podium with both hands and take a few deep breaths, remembering my training. This is a situation I've never been in before, but the foundation trains us to think on our feet for that very reason. As I'm trying to get my bearings, I realize I'm wearing a black foundation agent.

uniform with a ballistic vest. But I don't have a helmet or any of the other gear I would usually carry. And I definitely don't have a firearm. Kincaid walks over and stops in front of Gonzalez's podium. Say alone to the people. Suddenly, the woman's back straightens. A rictus smile appears on her face, and she turns stiffly into a camera. I've been ruthless in pursuit of this job.

And now that I've made it to the O5 Council, I find that I don't have. recognize the person I've become. I've even had my husband and my son amnesthetized. They think I'm dead. I live for the foundation. I would do anything for it. Anything. Wow! How's that for a truth bomb? Kincaid says. Then he steps forward and looks at me. Contestant number two is a trained killer who has been pulling his trigger for the foundation since he got out of the Marine six years ago. Give us a warm and sloppy round of applause for Agent Echo.

I studied the man as the applause sounds. He's so close. I could reach out and grab him by the neck. Make him tell us what the hell is going on. My hands twitch as I think over whether that's a good idea. While I'm still thinking, Kincaid speaks again. Agent Echo, tell the rotting studio audience about yourself. I open my mouth to ask a question.

But it's as if I'm suddenly seized by some unseen force. I look directly into one of the cameras. and the words fall out of my mouth unbidden. I've been amnesticized so many times after so many missions. I couldn't tell you half of what I've done for the foundation. I used to think that was a bad thing, but I'm sure it's for the better. The missions I do remember haunt me. I wish I could erase them all, but there are some things we're not allowed to forget.

Sounds horrific, Kincaid says with a grin, as he steps toward the blonde woman to my left. Now, our final contestant is a lot of the last. The final contestant is a researcher who has been instrumental in weaponizing certain malignant forces to the Foundation's bidding. Please clack your teeth together for Dr. Kleiner. After the strange teeth clacking applause, Kleiner introduces herself in the same manner as Gonzales and me. I have no qualms about what I've done with the Foundation.

I've made the world a better place, and I stand by that. Wow, Kincaid says. Dr. Kleiner here really believes that. She couldn't lie. Not on Miss Fortune Gorge. Very creepy. We'll see how she feels by the end of the show. Kincaid does a strange, boneless dance back over to his podium as the crowd cheers him on. He leaves a trail of black liquid behind him. I look around, deciding it's time to test the limits of this anomaly. I step back from my podium, half expecting to be seized by that strange force again. But I'm not.

I walk over toward the cameras. Behind me, Kleiner says, What are you doing, Agent Echon? We're in the middle of a show. As I step to the edge of the set, between the two cameras, I finally see what has been obscured by the bright lights. Now I know why the name of the show is Miss Fortune Gorge, because that's where we are,

in the wall of a deep but thin gorge. The toes of my boots are inches from a sheer drop down into the desert gorge. I can see smashed cars some 200 feet below. Some of them are on fire, generating black smoke that drifts along the gorge on gentle winds. Directly across, maybe 100 feet away, the opposite wall of the gorge is fitted with seats like in a stadium. But there are no walkways and no way for the people to get out of their seats without falling

straight down to their deaths. But as I get a better look at the audience, I'm not so sure. they're even alive. They move and clap and make noise, but they look more like zombies than real-life humans. Dozens of them have gruesome injuries that include missing limbs and ripped open rib cages. They have rotting skin and shriveled eyeballs and skeletal limbs. You must finish the game, Agent Echo, Kincaid says from behind me. There's no escaping misfortune gorge. The undead audience erupts and applause and shouting. There are hundreds of them, and they're all looking at.

at me. I prime my eyes from them and peer at the sky, which is a faint and dirty orange color, like the sun seen through heavy smoke. Shaking my head and fighting my panic, I whip my head around, looking for some way to climb out of this strange notch on the gorgeous wall. But there's nothing. I would fall to my death. I spin around, seeing Kincaid standing immediately behind me, still wearing his grin. I shove him out of the way easily, but I'm left. I'm left. I'm left with a strange sensation on my arm. Like he's contaminated me with something. Maybe that black liquid that's constantly coming out of his eyes.

Rushing to the back of the set, I search for some exit, a hidden door, or an obscured gap in the backdrop. Okay, that's enough of that, Kincaid says. I turn to see he's back at his podium. Let's start the game with round one. Name that atrocity! The audience shouts the last three words in time with Kincaid's. Kincade, sending chills up my spine. I try banging on the back wall with my fists,

seeing if I can break through. Could you not do that, Agent Echo? Kincaid asks. I've worked very hard to make this set, and I would hate to see you ruin it with your blood. I pause, looking at Kincaid. What the hell does that mean? There's no way out,

Gonzalez says, drawing my attention. She says it with confidence. It makes me forget about the wall. How do you know? What do you know? Gonzales shakes her head dejectedly. Just, you're wasting time. The quicker we play, the quicker we can get this over with.

I look from Gonzalez to Dr. Kleiner, who shrugs. Grinding my teeth, I walk back to my podium and stand behind it. Let's continue with the game, or rather, start the game. Kincaid glares at me. Now, I'm going to show you a picture, and you're going to name that atrocity. Easy is pulling the trigger, right, Echo? Let's get started! Fan of soccer, you could

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The wall panel next to Kincaid's podium opens up to reveal a large TV screen. While this is happening, I look over and see that Gonzales has her hand over a red button built into her podium. I have the same button on mine, so I get my right hand gently on it, ready to buzz in. If I'm going to play, I better give it my all, because I don't know what it means for me if I lose. Contestants, get ready to name that atrocity! A video clip appears on the screen taken from a drone or a helicopter.

It's a moving shot of a Costco store, specifically. of the parking lot. There are a bunch of unmarked military-style vehicles in an arc around the entrance to the megastore. Foundation agents in full gear are arrayed among the vehicles. As people run out of the Costco, they're gunned downed by these agents. The piles of bodies grow until no more people come out, at which point, a contingent of foundation agents rush inside. I'm so immersed in the horrific scene that I've forgotten all about buzzing in. So I jump when a buzzer sounds for my right. It's Gonzales.

Yes, Miss Gonzalez. Name that atrocity. The free sample massacre. Colorful lights flash from the ceiling and horns blare triumphantly. That's right! When a batch of free crab cake samples were found to have been made from a species of anomalous crabs, the SCP Foundation determined that the best course of action was to kill every in the store. What an atrocity!

Yes, well, you didn't mention the fact that the anomalous crab meat made people want to eat each other. Gonzalez says, before we got there, several infected individuals had already bitten over a dozen people, spreading the infection through saliva. It's true, Dr. Kleiner says. It's common for crabs to eat each other in the wild. Somehow, this tendency was spread through the meat, and then spread again through bodily fluids. If we hadn't done something, we could have had a much worse situation on our hands. Kincade raises his arms and looks at a camera. You heard it here first, folks. Dr. Kliner made the recommendations to kill all those people, even the ones who weren't infected. And Miss Gonzalez gave the order. The crowd booze and jeers.

I don't have to see the evidence to know that I was there. I just don't remember it. because I was amnesticized afterward. Still, the footage causes a cramp in my stomach. This was not why I joined the foundation. You win this round, Gonzales. You now have 666 points. Now, let's move on to the next round. This game is called Christ on a wheel.

A large panel in the wall directly across from us slides open to reveal a little stage with a colorful wheel on it, set so it's facing us. There's a corpse affixed to the middle of the wheel that resembles a long-dead Jesus Christ, as depicted by Western Christianity, complete with the crown of thorns. But standing beside the wheel is a frightened-looking man in a cheap brown suit. He's hugging himself as if cold, and when he sees Kincaid, he cries. No, not again!

Kincaid looks at him with a raised eyebrow. Kevin? How the hell did you get in here? Let me out. Kevin says, stumbling away from the wheel. I want to go home, you bastard. Kincaid rolls as black tinge dies. Jerry, what the hell are you doing to me? Why is Kevin here?

Apparently he's wearing an earpiece because he presses a finger to his left ear and listens for a moment, not looking happy. We'll get security out here. Again, he listens, but seems not to like what he hears. He shakes his head and steps out from behind the podium. Echo, it's your turn. Come on down to the Wheel of Christ.

And for all you folks at home, don't blow a gasket, it's not the real Christ, so just relax, okay? Jesus! I glance at my fellow contestants, who look at me expectantly. I'd rather not play, but if security is going to come out to get Kevin, maybe I can make a run for it. sounds as I move to the wheel and give it a spin. The surface of the wheel is divided into colorful pie-piece-shaped sections,

each one with words on it describing the outcome. As the wheel spins, one of Jesus' arms flops around. When the spinning finally stops, his rotting arm is pointing at a pie piece with the words, Stab Kevin on it. Well, would you look at that? Lucky that Kevin is here, don't you think? Kincade reaches into a suit jacket and comes out with a knife,

which he presents to me handle first. No! cries Kevin from the opposite side at the set. He eases toward the drop off into the gorge, peering around for any way out. I take the knife from Kincade and look at it, thinking. Come on now, times are wasting. I lurch for Kincade,

elbowing him in the head with my free arm, and then shifting behind him. I put the knife to his neck and grab his nappy hair with my other hand. You're going to let us out of here right now, I say. Or I'm going to kill you. I know we both have names that start with gay, but I'm Kincaid. He's Kevin. I don't even know how many people I've killed. I say to one. One more isn't going to bother me any. Let us go. Oh, Echo, that's not true, is it? It would bother you greatly, wouldn't it? You're so close to a breakdown. you're one bad day away from a total collapse.

Shut up and let us go! A loud buzzer sounds, causing me to flinch, pulling the blade across Kincaid's neck. Although it shouldn't be hard enough to cause him any serious damage, his head comes off in my hand, separating from his neck, as if it was just balanced there with no connective tissue. Shocked and sickened, I take a step back,

still holding his head in my hand. I lifted up and glance at the neck, seeing a colony of a colony of, skinny worms, maggots, and what look like twitching spider legs. The viscous black liquid drips from the mass of writhing creatures. I step away and Kincaid's headless body is turning around to face me. Time's up, Echo. Kincaid's head says. I gasped and drop his head, but his body reaches out and catches it, lifting it up and putting it back into place. After a moment, it's like his head never came off in the first place. I'm afraid you've lost it.

this round, you will be awarded no points, and at some point during the rest of the game, you will be shot. May God have mercy on your soul. Just kidding, there is no God. Ha ha ha ha. The knife suddenly disappears from my hand, and I'm left standing in bewilderment by the Christ wheel. Kincade gestures toward the line of podiums. Now, if you please make your way back to the podium, I walk on numb legs back over, ignoring the glares I get from. Gonzales and Kleiner. Kevin sits against the wall nearby, arms wrapped around his legs, and his forehead on his knees. He sobs softly. Stop wasting time, Gonzales says. You both know I'm going to win, so just let it happen.

Dr. Kleiner scoffs, but says nothing more. Well, wasn't that fun? Kincaid exclaims. The audience cheers as he steps back behind his podium. No, I'm afraid we've come to the last round. to the game. Unless someone can get enough points to Ty Gonzalez, that is. In which case, we will go into sudden death. The crowd chants. Death, death, death, death, death. Kincade bops his head in time with the chant. Finally, Kincaid raises his hands and quiets the crowd. Okay, the name of this round is called Guess That Number. The rules are simple. I'm thinking of a number between one and infinity. If you guess it, You get points.

Let's start with the good doctor. Go ahead, Kleiner. Use that big old brain of yours to guess that number. Kleiner shakes her head. This is ridiculous. She thinks for a moment and then says, 4,219. Incorrect!

Kincaid says. You receive no points. Now look behind you. Kincaid looks over her shoulder and says, Jesus! I look too and see that the wall behind us is gone. Now there's a massive warehouse-like space, but every inch of the floor is taken by people with various horrific injuries.

They're all staring straight at Dr. Kleiner with cloudy, dead eyes. Meet all the people you've had a hand in killing during your tenure with the foundation. Kincaid says. Dr. Kleiner stares, seemingly impassive. Then the crowd begins to scream. I slap my hands over my ears and shut my eyes. When it stops, I open my eyes to see the dark. Dr. Kleiner is still standing there, face impassive.

But now her arms are crossed over her chest. Wow, you really feel nothing. That's impressive. The dead people disappear, and the wall goes back to normal. Echo, since you have no points either, you are next. Guess that number. I shake my head, sick with rage and dismay at the foundation. And what I've done for the foundation, I wanted to be all over.

I don't give a shit anymore. Seven. Incorrect. Seven is not the number I'm thinking of. So sorry, Echo. You received no points. I wait for what comes next. But Kincaid doesn't tell me to look behind me.

He doesn't say anything. He just stares at me, smiling his rotten smile. Tentatively, I glance over my shoulder, thankful to see that the wall is still there. No screaming dead people. But when I face forward, I see a pair of gloved hands gripping the front of my podium. Stardled, I stepped back. The hands are attached to arms that raise a familiar face into view with wobbly effort.

It's a face I know well, but half of it is covered in angry lesions that pulse and ooze blood. Ballard? I managed through a dry throat. You left me, Ballard says, pulling his chest over the top of the podium and reaching a handout toward me. You were transferred. I remember. The truth hits me like a gunshot, and I looked to my right at Gonzales.

Kincaid cackles. That's right, Agent Echo. The memory of Ballard getting transferred is a lie. You were ordered to leave him behind during a mission. But of course, they wiped your memory of that. They need you to be good little soldiers. But you're not without blame. You could have stood up to them.

You could have defied your orders. You could have saved your friend, but you didn't! The crowd boos as Ballard pulls his injured body awkwardly up onto the podium, reaching toward me. I'm sorry, I say to him. I'm so sorry. I step forward so I'm within his reach. His hand grasps my throat and starts to squeeze. It's no more than I deserve.

But a moment later, the pressure disappears from my throat, along with Ballard. He just blinks out of existence. Your turn, Gonzalez, Kincade says. Guess that, no! 666. Kincaid's face falls. That's not fair. You cheated. Cheated? Gonzales exclaims haughtily.

How could I possibly cheated guessing a... A huge chunk of stone falls from the ceiling directly over Gonzales, crushing her like a soda can filled with blood. The warm liquid sprays all over me. I stand there, staring at the puddle of blood that slowly spreads out from under to the stone. That's it! Kincaid screams.

Game over! I won't play with a bunch of cheaters! Dr. Kleiner moves out from behind her podium, head whipping around as she looks for what is surely coming. I see Kevin suddenly stand up from where he spent the last several minutes cowering and sobbing. But now he has a shotgun in his hands. He points in to Dr. Kleiner and says, I'm sorry.

Wait! Kleiner shouts, showing emotion for the first time all game. She puts her hands out, as if that will help. Just wait! Kevin pulls the trigger. The shot obliterates both her hands and blasts half of her face away. She falls to the floor, bleeding and twitching. I'm still standing behind my podium.

Gonzalez's blood pooling around my feet. Kevin shifts, pointing the gun at me. Tears streamed down his face. I just want to go home. They say if I do this, I can go home. I shut my eyes and accept. what's coming, knowing it's no more than I deserve for all the things I've done. I hear the shot and feel pain erupt in my chest as I'm thrown backward with the force of the hit.

I come awake on my back, scrambling up into a sitting position so I can look down at my chest. The front of my ballistic vest is badly dented in several spots from the buckshot. My chest hurts like I've cracked a couple of ribs, but I'm alive. I look around, seeing that I'm in a simple containment room. I'm lying on the floor between a couch and an old tube TV on a wooden table, the only pieces of furniture in the room. On the TV screen, credits for Miss Fortune Gorge roll. I see my name under contestants, along with Marjorie Gonzalez and Dr. Kleiner. I'm alone in the room, but not for long.

I hear rushing footsteps approaching as I get to my feet, wincing against the pain. A researcher and a couple of my fellow agents rush into the room. At first, I'm relieved to see them, but then I noticed the looks on their faces. Agents Mora and Bass rest their hands on their sidearms, while Dr. Mathis holds a syringe in his right hand. Echo, you've just been a victim of a very dangerous skip. I'm afraid we'll need to sedate you. A victim? I say, taking a step back. No, no way. You put me here. Stay away from me. The three of them ease forward.

to hurt you. Maura says. Please, don't fight. Stay away from me with that shit! I scream at Dr. Mathis, but they keep moving forward, ushering me into the corner. It'll be fine, just fine, I promise. Bass and Mora rush me. I cracked bass in the jaw, but Mora gets me in a chokehold.

Then Bass is back, and they're doing their best to hold me still as I fight. Dr. Mathis darts in with the syringe, and just before he plunges the needle into my neck, I get a better look at the liquid inside. It's not a sedative. It's an amnestic. SCP-707 designates a cathode ray-tube television continuously playing a single episode of the game show, Miss Fortune Gorge. The episode is apparently from an established series,

but no reference to other episodes has been found within the database. The manner and technique of storing the video file on SCP-707 has not been discovered. The television appears to be of standard production, and no obvious mechanical modifications have been discovered upon disassembly that would explain its ability to store video files. The anomaly has no need for electrical current to maintain operation, and if an individual enters containment in the midst of the episode's playtime, the anomaly will reset and start the episode from the beginning. Individuals who watch the episode are convinced of the veracity of everything depicted during its runtime. The conviction will begin to affect the behavior of viewers in predictable ways. They believe the events actually occurred and react accordingly.