There's only one story to tell. Tell it with corpses.
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
This document details a CORPSEBALL related anomaly. For those who are currently unaware, CORPSEBALL is a multiversal sport that connects every Foundation together in a yearly tournament. It is played via two teams of three people, each with a dismembered torso at their "home base", fighting over the limbs and head for their corpse. There are almost no rules, except for reality-bending the corpse. Everything else is fair game.
We organize at least 542 Dimensional Foundation Treaties during these yearly tournaments.
Our home team is Sigma-68. Go CorpseBallers!
— Laila Mahmoud, Head of CORPSEBALL Recordkeeping
Special Containment Procedures: Undecided, by order of O5 Council consensus.
Description: SCP-9408 is the gradual breakdown of the pocket dimension housing the multiversal sport of CORPSEBALL, designated Dimensional Site-66. There have been multiple projects to attempt and fight this decay. By request of the CORPSEBALL Board, this has been via largely non-anomalous construction projects intended to prop up the sides of the dimension. Up until September 19th, 2025, the decay had been largely staved off. On the aforementioned date, the dimension began collapsing, with the estimated date of complete destruction being October 3rd.
Currently, Dr. Peter Ognist, project lead on SCP-9408 and former researcher on SCP-8049, has ventured into Dimensional Site-66 to seek a method of stopping the collapse. As estimated by researchers on SCP-8049, the collapse of CORPSEBALL's primary dwelling as an institution would threaten to not just eliminate an easy method of connecting every universe for participation in the event, but potentially completely destroy the chances of another tournament being held.
By a 13-0 count O5 Council vote, the Foundation has given Dr. Ognist the green light to do as he needs to save CORPSEBALL. Without the existence of the sport to moderate disputes between alternate Foundations, the stability of our organization would be at stake throughout every universe.
Addendum 1: An Update
Shortly after Dr. Ognist traveled into Dimensional Site-66, a Betamax tape was found in his office, labeled with what appears to be an episode name. When attempting to transcribe this tape, format breaks will occur regardless of whether or not the transcriber abides perfectly by the standard format. The following tapes appear as prose instead of as a transcription due to this anomaly. The following tape details Dr. Ognist's journey.
A totally badass robed figure, adorned in some skulls and bearing a silver motorcycle necklace, steps into frame.
He gives a wave to the camera, sighing. "Welcome to the CORPSEBALL Cycle of literature. I'm calling it that because they're definitely gonna make kids analyze this shit in 100 years. Or 1000. Or, some geeks online will just do it for us. That would be great, I hate explaining things, but I love telling nerds they're wrong." He waves a boney hand.
"Anyways, I'm just here to tell you guys that your guy SUCKS. He's not even letting me narrate! Real asshole you sent, but I'm STILL filming these tapes, because I already plotted this whole adventure out!" The robed guy holds up a totally badass book, bound in leather, and with archaic-looking pages.
"Now, your feature presentation."
He holds up a picture to the camera.
EPISODE ONE: Here's Your Future
It seems like the sun is beginning to rise on his journey.
Following the winding path toward the stadium, Peter Ognist keeps a steady pace. He's on a time limit, and no matter how long it seems to him, he has to get there. He has to keep going. If he stops to relax, he might never be able to make himself keep going again. He takes a breath and steps into the large stadium to find it completely abandoned. Usually the stands are full of vague figures, of every conceivable species and every conceivable shape and size, but now they're as desolate as a strip club at noon. He makes his way down the large stadium, standing on the hard concrete of the playing area.
He stomps his foot, sending an echo through the entire stadium. A single crack, echoing for seconds that seemed much longer than they are. He takes a deep breath and looks up into the roof of this dimension. A dark purple swirl, wisping around in the sky, slowly inches toward the center. The Arena. He doesn't know what to do, truly.
He doesn't want to lose this. CORPSEBALL. He remembers what it did for his life. Without CORPSEBALL, he would have been lost. He would have lost his connection to his son and wife. It brought them back together and made them stronger. He can't let it go like this. Not a slow, sad decay. The game was so simple, he even organized some little league games for it. Two torsos, a head, two arms, and two legs are all you need, and anything goes from there.
He stumbles inside of the arena, looking through the various rooms that are on display. Only one stands out between the closed concession stands and sad, lone soda fountains. It is the meeting room. Every window has the blinds closed, and so he reaches for the door handle. It twists open easily and opens automatically for him.
Nobody's there.
Peter sighs, plopping himself down in the chair at the front of the meeting room and just trying to parse this situation. Considering his options for how he could possibly save the game that he loves so dearly, that he wants to keep going as long as he can. In a moment, the quiet hum of a motorcycle can be heard. The Doctor blinks before realizing that someone is in the room: a strange man, in a black robe, with 1975 skulls adorning his clothing.
"Hello, my friend. What is the 'haps'?"
Peter blinks, staring at the strange man for a moment. He is intensely confused. "Uhm. Yes. I'm looking to save… CORPSEBALL?"
The robed man nods, taking out a large, leather-bound book. "I did this myself. It's cool, right?"
Peter shrugs. He thinks it's pretty cool, but he's on a mission. He can't get bogged down by—
"You can stop narrating. We're both in the same room, man. And really, it's more MY thing, so you can stop? Like, thanks asshole. Seriously, thanks though. I know my book is cool. Remember something for me, would you?"
Peter nods. "Yeah, I mean, it's not like that'll be too hard."
"Good. Remember for me that you can stop. You gotta stop sometimes, Peter. It's not good to not stop, no matter what the movies may say! No matter what the deadlines may say! Take your time! Like Shigeru Miyamoto once said—"
The robed man looks at Peter. Peter doesn't understand how absolutely badass this guy is, so he decides to cut him some slack and just give him the talisman. Peter holds the badass talisman in his hand, examining how it was made. It seems like it's carved into the shape of a motorcycle. With two gems for the wheels.
"Find Sam and Sarah." The robed man says before disappearing, leaving his tome behind. Peter decides to grab it and continues his walk. Now he has a goal. To find Sam and Sarah.
… Whoever those are.
At approximately the time that this tape would have taken place, an emergency meeting of the Global Occult Coalition was called into action. All 108 members voted to initiate a state of anomalous emergency in their jurisdictions. Notable comments can be seen below.
| Organization | Statement |
|---|---|
| Marshall, Carter, and Dark | Without CORPSEBALL to supplement our Q2 and Q3 profits, we may slowly begin sinking into a state of bankruptcy so bad we'll have to get at least three governments to bail us out of. CORPSEBALL cannot die. |
| Prometheus Labs | 300 prototypes for future CORPSEBALL games, 300 patents pending, so much money wasted if we can't save this. The CORPSEBALL Board has made it clear if they shut down, we aren't getting paid for our inventions. Some of these are so specific, we literally cannot use them anywhere else. Who is going to pay for a Corpseballerina? |
| Unusual Incidents Unit | The Arena is one of the easiest places to meet our captured alien quotas, and they're just gonna take it away from us like that? We need to save CORPSEBALL. |
| Arcadia | We're quite disappointed. — N.B. |
Protests began to be organized in anomalous Nexuses such as Three Portlands, and a movement labeled as "Save CORPSEBALL" spread throughout the campuses of Deer College and Alexylva University.
Addendum 2: Second Tape
A day after Dr. Ognist departed, a second Betamax tape appeared in the office of SCP-8049's lead researcher. This one came with a handwritten note that expressed appreciation of an unknown figure for watching it. It was signed with a motorcycle.
EPISODE TWO: Test Pattern
As Peter Ognist made his way out of the board room, he was filled with a heavy worry for what laid ahead of him. The fate of the Foundation laid upon his shoulders, but he had no idea what was next for him. So, he took a moment to sit down on the hard concrete floor of the stadium's interior, opening to the first page of the weird robed guy's book. For a moment, he could not tell what he was reading. The text was small. Comically so. There was, conveniently, a bookmark with a magnifying glass on it. So Peter took it and looked closer.
It was SCP Documentation. He flipped through, some pages were heavily highlighted. It looked like he had been… taking notes? Not on the anomalies, but the writing itself. One note read: Cliche, but it does this well. Consider taking cues. It was odd. He flipped further into the tome, and came across stories, written in prose, talking about some of those doctors. The ones who made it into Foundation history books, for better and worse. They were real events too, ones he had heard about over heated SCiPNet debates.
Well, he's sure this doesn't mean anything too much. Just some weird, obsessive guy. What did he say? Right. Find Sam and Sarah. He brushes off his coat, valiantly continuing his journey…
Before stopping and realizing he has no idea where the fuck to go. He takes a moment to consider, and this time starts walking toward the exit sign. He figures that would be good. To find out what's on the outside of this enormous Arena.
… Come to think of it, he doesn't know. He's never been outside of the Arena, because everything needed for CORPSEBALL has been inside of it. It's… a Threshold. One he'll have to cross.
He walks down the long narrowing stairs, considering this. What laid outside of the world that he knew so closely? The TOURNAMENT was the only thing that he knew about, but… There could be anything beautiful or wonderful out there that would need him to save it. And he would. As he approaches an exit, two people in tactical armor appear from behind a bush to aim rifles at him.
"State your purpose." The tall one says.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Says the shorter one.
"I'm here to save CORPSEBALL." Peter says, dramatically slicking back his hair. "I was sent by the Foundation, and I gotta get out there to find Sam and Sarah."
The two guard look to each other and pull off their masks to stare at Peter. The taller woman yells. "How the fuck do you know us?"
"Uh— This guy in a robe—" Peter starts.
The shorter woman huffs. "Looks like he's found us, Sam. Okay, what's your name?"
"It's Peter Ognist."
Sam cackles. "Okay. Wow. That's not subtle at all. He got lazy with his names, huh?"
The taller woman, assumedly Sarah, nods. "He did. It's kind of funny."
Peter crosses his arms. "Okay, don't laugh at MY name. It's really rude, it's been in my family for generations. So, you're being insensitive."
Sam calms down, taking some deep breaths. "Fine. We'll let you through, if you let us come with you. We have to find your friend there. He dragged us into this goddamn place, and we can't leave because of him. We're gonna kill him or get out. Sound fair?"
"I mean, I don't really care too much about him?" He admits.
Sarah nods. "Yeah. I assume he did something to you to bring you here, right? He stole us from the last tournament. We lost a match, and he took us away from the Loser's Bracket."
Sam huffs. "We had a perfect plan for that shitshow, too. We were just facing an impossible opponent. Fuckin'— The one universe. You know, the big machine one."
Peter nods. Goddamn Placeholder McDoctorate and his wacky machines. He sighs. "You guys wanna go? We're on kind of a time crunch here— CORPSEBALL is dying."
Sam and Sarah exchange glances, and nod. They know this is pivotal. Peter coughs a little. "If you want, we can still try to get your revenge, though. Like, I'm all for it." Sam's smile widens, and Sarah giggles maniacally. Wow. Fucking scary.
He pushes open the double doors. Stepping out into the world beyond, he sees a purple void, shaped vaguely like a sphere, as the walls. But, it wasn't just the walls. There was a landscape out there. Trees. Animals like none he had ever seen before, lumbering over and under the trees, talking to each other— He swears he sees one of the odd animals, shaped vaguely like a jackrabbit with two towering back legs and a trunk, take out a Ziplock bag and snort something out of it.
He's filled with determination.
The badass robed figure kicks his combat boots onto the desk in front of him, shrugging and shooting a finger gun with his skeletal fingers. "So, good, yeah? I've actually been taking the notes that I got—"
He grabs an orange juice off of the desk in front of him and pours it into his jaw, which he pulls open. Obviously. He's a skeleton.
"So, yeah. Let me know what you guys think, Foundation. I'm doing this all for you, y'know. It wasn't easy to set up all this recording equipment in secret places, and I am FURIOUSLY editing these to get them out on time. It ain't easy! The worst thing that could happen is like, you guys not saying anything? Like, PLEASE! If you hate it, just take your criticism, write it on a piece of paper, fold it sandwich style, write whatever the Latin is for "To Skeleton Man" on it, then burn it at 12:00AM. It's that simple."
The two women in the footage were identified as missing Foundation agents Sam Romulus and Sarah Remus, former members of Tau-5. They had gone missing three months prior, after the end of the last CORPSEBALL tournament, and were closely associated with SCP-8049 as Foundation security for tournaments.
An interview with Dimensional Site-66 Director Blade Young was set up and scheduled for the next day to learn about this figure who had allegedly caused the Agents' disappearances.
Addendum 3: Tape 3 & Director Blade Young interview.
On the third day of Dr. Ognist's mission into Dimensional Site-66, the third Betamax tape appeared on the desk of Director Blade Young, who brought it in for review. Director Young is the Foundation's liaison with SCP-8049, as he is thought to be intricately connected to the game in some manner. The tape was found after an interview with Director Young. It was found to have the interview contained within its recording.
The robed man appears in front of the camera, rubbing the bridge of his skull with his fingers.
"Guys. You gotta stop introducing new plotlines here. I had the one thing, and now I gotta figure out how to— Look, I can work it in, but like, note from a Co-Author here, STOP GIVING ME SHIT TO ADD!"
He sighs, putting on a much more pleasant tone. He apologizes for the outburst. "Now, for your feature presentation.
EPISODE THREE: All Of My Friends
As Sam, Sarah, and Peter trek forward, the stalks of large, twisted bamboo and currently flowering bushes bend out of the path they're taking, considerate of the space they need. It… actually smells very good in there, Peter notices, and so he decides it's time to take a break. He sits down, yawning. "So, you guys know what we should do here?"
Sarah shrugs. "Not really. This place is confusing. It works on repetition. We were briefed quite a few times on it, but you gotta keep a certain structure and feeling to all of your actions if you want to get anywhere."
"What do you mean?" Peter queries, before noticing that the considerate giant bush has actually lit up a cigarette for him. He takes it and puffs. He really should've packed something like that for the journey. He gives a thumbs up to the bush.
Sarah gestures vaguely. "You gotta be… funny. Not like, laugh out loud funny, just like— I dunno how to explain it, but you've gotten this far, you have to know it somehow."
Sam is looking around frantically. Peter looks intensely concerned, but Sarah waves it away. "She gets like this in new places. She'll be fine once we get back on the road. She won't have time to think too hard about it."
He takes another long, relaxed puff of his cigarette. It feels nice to have something like that to comfort him. He certainly needs it. This journey has only been a few hours, but it feels much longer. Much, much longer.
… Well, some down time. Might as well check out that book again. He opens it up, and Sam perks up. "Is that— Where did you get that?"
"Uh, from the weird robed guy." He shrugs.
Sam rushes over to look at it closer, and giggles madly. "Fuck, that's good. You know what this is? It's a bunch of classified information about our organization that he's been gathering. Using as writing inspiration. What an asshole."
Sarah blurts. "If you ask me, he's been smoking whatever those narrativistics guys do. You know? Especially when you get past EVERY SINGLE ONE OF OUR SCP FILES and get to the documented missions and such, he's taking notes about our story structure."
Sam sighs. "Remember when we confronted him, and he told us that he was just trying to make a good story with us?"
Sarah nods. It was a long time ago this had happened, but they were dragged into the Arena's depths by this figure. He seemed like he was guiding them, but it became more and more apparent that his advice was just leading them into more conflict. They confronted him together, hand in hand, and he told them that. It was like they were JUST characters in a story to him. He cried. He cried in front of them and complained about how hard it was to do a cool story for so long.
Peter wonders what she's staring into space about.
But, of course, they can't dwell long on this fact. Peter coughs and realizes that he's been smoking… a blunt. This whole time. He dramatically gasps, pointing a finger at the bush. "You traitor! You were trying to get me high! You don't want us to save CORPSEBALL, do you?"
The bush hisses, a toothy maw opening.
"Oh. It just wanted to eat us." He wipes some sweat off his brow, before Sam snatches him and runs out of the path that the bush had formed when trying to lure them into a sense of security. Sarah is not too far behind, firing a few shots into its mouth.
On the other end of this, there's a literal yellow brick road for them to follow. Great! This makes their life a lot easier. and it's more convenient for a writer.
Director Blade Young, an extremely young-looking middle-aged man, sat at one end of the interrogation table. He looked at his interviewer, Agent John Captis.
Young sighs. "So. I suppose you've heard about the CORESPEBALL?"
Captis nods. "Of course I've heard of CORPSEBALL. I watch every season."
"No, the thing that powers the CORPSEBALL Arena. The COREPSEBALL. It's starting to fall apar—"
"Look, buddy," Captis starts. "We're saying the same goddamn thing."
"No we aren't," He asserts.
"You goddamn, uptight, liberal, CORPSEBALL bastard! I knew you were trying to push me away because I'm fisc—"
"Why don't you just shut up, you fucking asshole! I'm trying to share the secret to—"
… It's just 30 minutes of two assholes yelling over each other.
Addendum 4: Tape 4
The fourth tape was found in the core of Emily.AIC, the primary .AIC unit aiding in the performance of the yearly CORPSEBALL tournaments and acting as Director Blade Young's secretary. She was noted as saying, "fuck is this shit?" when the tape was discovered.
EPISODE FOUR: Let's Get This Over With
Peter, Sam, and Sarah walk along the yellow brick road for what feels like days. It's incredibly long, and incredibly boring. The first few hours were filled with some form of conversation, but its fizzled by now. It hasn't gotten dark, nor have any of them gotten tired enough to set up a place to sleep for the night, so the only thing to do is walk.
…
Sam eventually breaks the silence. "What is that?" She asks, gesturing vaguely to a large gate blocking their path. Larger than most buildings any of them have seen, the gate towers over them, a shimmering black metal creaking lightly as they approach.
A crash of metal comes from the top, and a voice screams down indistinctly. Peter looks up in confusion, and Sarah sighs, screaming up. "WE CAN'T HEAR YOU! YOU GOTTA SPEAK UP OR SOMETHING, MAN!"
This time, the sound is a little louder, the faint noise of a megaphone being heard for a moment.
"CAN Y'HEAR ME NOW?"
"WHAT?" Sarah screams up, looking to Sam and Peter for answers. They shrug. Sarah sighs, clearing her throat and yelling again. "WE STILL CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
A bar on the gate slides open a little, an intercom becoming visible. Sarah presses a button, and yells. "HELLO?"
It buzzes back, a little voice from the other side coming through. "Don't fuckin' yell! I can hear you fine, arsehole!" The voice seems to take a deep breath. "Anyways, yeah, y'wanna get through my gate? Hah! Laughable. This gate ain't gonna open fer anyone. Without a price."
From the top of the gate drops a piece of paper, right into Peter's hands, with a QR code leading to a Venmo account. The intercom buzzes again. "Now, I ain't sayin' that I take bribes, but I am sayin' that a few bucks to my Venmo might grease my gears, yeah? An' I don't mean that in like, a sex way, I mean it might imply that I'll open the floodgate. Ah, that don't sound any better— Y'get it, yeah?"
Peter speaks up. "Well, uh, I don't have service here. Or Venmo. Look, I'll get the Foundation to Venmo you 500 dollars when I get—"
The intercom buzzes again. "NO Y'WON'T! Y'ALL FORGET! Last guy I let through to the Boss' office, said he was gonna fix that CORE thingamajig, and he NEVER PAID ME! Y'gotta fuckin' pay if you want to get through, buddy!"
Peter looks to Sam and Sarah. "Do either of you, uh, have a Venmo account?" Sam glares, before sighing and taking out her phone, tapping a bit, and showing that she sent five dollars to the account. "Are you happy enough to open the gate?"
The voice over the speaker scoffs, audibly, and scoffs again after that to accentuate the point. "FIVE DOLLARS? I got a fuckin' FAHMILY to feed, and you expect me to survive off this shit? Here, lemme—" A smaller, squeakier voice that sounds almost exactly like the other guy talks. "Pa-PA, are we going to have enough money to get gruel for dinner?" A throat clearing can be heard. "Naw, little guy… We're gonna have to eat your sister 'gain…"
Peter gets a little closer to the gate, and sticks his arm through it. His shoulder through it. Then he takes a step through it. Another step through it. He's made it to the other side. He very subtly motions for Sam and Sarah to follow his lead, while the man over the intercom continues his rambling.
As it slowly starts to fade, Sam blinks, and looks at Peter. "Oh. Fuck. He mentioned something about the Core being messed up."
Peter tilts his head and looks at her. "The Core?"
"Yeah, the CORE-PSEBALL. Real tight secret other than the name and what it does. Powers this place." Sam shrugs. "Me and Sarah never got to know more than that, and we were privy to quite a few secrets."
Sarah leans on Sam a little, shrugging as well. "Yeah, no idea what's happening there. Not exactly super invested in it, unless we have to be." She snorts. "So, where's this path go—"
An office building sits ahead of them. On the sign it reads, "BLADE YOUNG. DIMENSIONAL SITE-66 DIRECTOR. RESERVATIONS RECOMMENDED."
Sitting on a throne of skulls, the badass skeleton guy is playing a mobile game on his phone.
He looks at the camera. "Oh, hey. I didn't see you there. I didn't appear in the last one, because, frankly, I lost all my motivation for it. You guys are REALLY making it hard for me to want to finish writing this. You aren't sending me like, any criticisms, notes— My editor is doing her best, though, to keep me going!"
"So, uh, please, just send me something! My P.O. Box is 3, New York City." He clears his non-existent throat. "Go Mets. All about them."
Addendum 5: Fifth Tape
Five days after Dr. Ognist's descent into the CORPSEBALL pocket dimension, the effects of SCP-9408 became measurably more intense. The walls of the dimension were now slated to reach each other on the 2nd of October. The fifth tape was found on the desk of O5-9, "The Coach".
EPISODE FIVE: Daisy Bell
As Peter, Sam, and Sarah pushed open the creaky wooden door of the Director's office, they were met with a very sleek, concrete floored waiting room. There was no one behind the counter, but a voice still rung out. "Peter Ognist, Sam Romulus, and Sarah Remus, please enter."
A metal door slams open, a slight beeping emanating from an alarm above. They look to each other and enter. Inside, they see what looks like a room-sized computer, straight out of the 1960s. On one screen was a simple smiley face, with a white coloring on the inside, and what looks like a simple purple hat drawn on top.
Sam coughs. "Emily."
Sarah nods to the computer's monitor.
Peter sputters for a moment. "T-this is Emily? The training AIC for this place?"
A speaker buzzes on in the room and out comes a distinctly computer-generated voice. To Peter, it sounds as if it should be singing eerily instead of just talking. "i'm disappointed you don't CORPSEBALL hard nough 2 know me dork."
He scoffs. "I've watched every CORPSEBALL tournament since the towers fell! You can't call me a fake fan."
Emily.AIC's screen blinks with a clipart image of an ancient book, and the clipart image of a little motorcycle talisman with gems for the wheels. "Get these out dork. we gotta get ur true potential unloked n shit."
Peter very gingerly holds up the tome, and holds out the talisman, and closes his eyes…
… and nothing happens.
The screen shows: "pg. 554". Peter flips there and begins to read.
"From the written word of this book will spring forth reality, from what conflicts will come humor, and from what agrees will come narrative."
The room shifts, two wooden double doors revealed from behind the computer parts.
A man opens the door, stark black hair and a sheathed sword in his hand. "You've caught me at a bad time, my friends." He bows. "I am Director Blade Young. And I was in the middle of studying the aforementioned blade. Give me… mmh, thirty minutes." He snaps, and a slight hissing sound can be heard, as all doors are locked down.
The cool bone guy sits on his throne, such and such and such.
"Yeah. I just… wasn't feeling this one. I promise though, next one— It'll be bigger and better."
Addendum 6: Sixth Tape & O5 Council Meeting
The sixth tape was found in the VHS player of O5-1 when attempting to show a recording of "Space Jam" to the O5 Council for research purposes.
EPISODE SIX: Digital Silence
Peter opens his eyes to see his wife in front of him. His child. His darling, baby boy.
And a torso, with no limbs. The torso starts to disintegrate in front of him, killing the sport.
He's starting to forget what CORPSEBALL is.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
CORPSEBALL is— It's a game you play with— You—
…
…
…
Peter is at home with his wife, with his son. They sit on the couch together and turn on the television to watch SPORTSball. But the game doesn't matter. It's the time that they spend together that matters. They don't need some weird sport to bond together; they just need each other.
Peter wakes up screaming from his bed. He had a terrible nightmare about all this weird shit going on. He forgot CORPSEBALL and everything was weird. Fucked up, vaguely. He has to figure out— Wait. He wasn't at home. He pinches himself, and wak—
Peter's checking an email. Wow. An email from the O5 Council to… everyone. He really doesn't want to have to go through another training seminar on how you're supposed to talk about people again. He calls one co-worker a bitch! His thoughts snap away from the past and to the present as he starts skimming the email.
The following is a message composed via consensus of the O5 Council.
To those who are unaware of our primary purpose, we have organized and guided the SCP Foundation since its founding. We founded this organization to Secure the people of the world from our Contained anomalies, to Protect them.
Due to circumstances outside of our control, this directive has now changed. Our new mission will be the elimination of CORPSEBALL and all related anomalies.
There will be no further communication.
Sent from my iPhone
Peter screams.
And he wakes up again in his bed. This time, with the tome in his lap. He could just… Use this to make a better life, couldn't he? Everything written in it would happen. He could write himself a perfect life for his wife, his child, leave everything else behind and just create the best world.
But, it would mean leaving everything else behind. Leaving behind CORPSEBALL, the collapsing world here, just to be selfish. To make everything his own.
No! He wouldn't do it. He would not do this to the world here. Not to CORPSEBALL. It brought him back together with his wife, his child. He had to. He owed it.
He writhes, trying his hardest to get out of this. Out of this nightmare that he knows he's found himself in. He doesn't want to go through it all again.
… He wakes up on the floor of the control room, coughing. Sam and Sarah are still passed out, and Director Blade Young stands before him.
"Hello, Ognist. Shall we continue your journey?"
The Guy, who you all know well as narrator, is hunched over a laptop. He sighs, and swivels his chair toward the camera so that he can give a nice little wave.
"Bad timing. I was uh, working. But uh…" He checks his watch. 9/17/2025. "I know that it's kind of cutting it really close here. But like, deadlines! Help me work!"
He slaps his knee, laughing weakly before sighing. He squeezes a stress ball as he opens back up his laptop and continues writing.
"And I'm SO excited to do this again in two years." He adds, just for you.
On the day of the recovery of Tape Six, the date was correctly identified as September 17th, 2025. The Meta-Canonical-Nexus of Foundations began preparing their dispute programs for the collapse of CORPSEBALL. A primitive version of Tic-Tac-Toe was installed to a majority of Foundation computers, barring the thirty percent of Foundations that believe Tic-Tac-Toe to be ontologically evil.
Addendum 7: Tape Seven and O5 Council Meeting
Tape Seven was found in O5-1's bed, along with a note begging for him to review it.
EPISODE SEVEN: Selling Out (By: Tom Lehrer)
Peter rubs his head, seeing Sam and Sarah still passed out on the floor. "Are they going to—"
Director Blade Young laughs. "No. It's me and you, Ognist. We're going to have a discussion about what you want."
Peter gawks as he's lead into the office of the director. Ornate wooden furniture and fancy candles line the room, reminding him slightly of some kind of Catholic liturgical service. He takes a seat in the chair across from the Director.
The Director slowly swivels around in his intimidating chair. It has a small, annoying little squeak to every moment that he makes on it. The Director either doesn't notice this, doesn't care, or is using this as some kind of weird mind-game. Peter had heard that Blade Young was a… strange man, prone to being very dramatic, very esoteric, and getting angry very quickly.
The Doctor coughs slightly, leaning back in his shitty by comparison swivel chair. "So, uh. I want to save CORPSEBALL."
The Director scoffs. "Of course you do. Of. Course. YOU do. You're a sheep in all of this, Ognist. The Foundation has you in this position because you're loyal to the game. To the sport of it all. Unlike you, I have shed this weakness. I've lost my love for this damned game. I hold all the cards." He slams his palms onto the table. "So tell me why I should help you fix it, Ognist."
Peter reaches for the talisman and takes a glance at it. Director Young, a glint in his eye, snaps his head to get a better look at it. His breath becomes heavier. He starts to reach out a hand for it, and…
Peter holds it close to his chest. "Do you know why it's broken?"
Young grits his teeth. "… Yes. The COREPSEBALL is— How do I put this eloquently? Starving."
"Starving?"
"Yes, starving. I choose my words very carefully, Ognist, so I hope you can get it through your thick little skull that when I say starving, I mean that the CORE of the BALLS is starving." Blade Young takes a look at Peter, who is dumbfoundedly staring, inhales, and flips his wall into a whiteboard.
"So, basically—" The Director flips his sword into a marker and draws a large circle. "This is the Core." He draws an arm and a leg, attached with an arrow to the circle. "During the ON season of CORPSEBALL, whenever the tournaments are running, we get excess limbs. These excess limbs then flow into aforementioned Core, and they power it. When the core doesn't have those incoming limbs, it doesn't get energy. When it doesn't get energy, the dimension starts collapsing. Years ago, when this place was first made, it was the size of New York state. Now it's the size of the city."
The Director holds out his hand. "Give me that talisman, and I will guide you to the COREPSEBALL, Peter. You can be the hero that you so desperately want to be. I know what you think you are, and I will happily help you play out that delusion."
Peter looks at the talisman, then to the Director. "… Can you get Sam and Sarah to wake up?"
"They'll meet us at the Core. I can get Emily to take them there. We'll be taking a more scenic route than they are, though. After all, we have all the time in the world. Give me the talisman, Ognist."
His hand sits in the air, nigh unmoving. Peter takes a moment… And places the talisman into his hand.
The sickass guy that narrates these segments is sitting in a nice, fancy arm chair. It looks fluffy as shit.
"So, isn't that something? I took a lot of notes from my editor here— Hah, you could say this section wouldn't be here without a certain 'Francis' she knows." He winks at the camera. Somehow.
"I've gotten much more into the swing of this, I mean, it's the 44th hour of the 24 hour days that we have here in this little pocket dimension, I haven't rested in 23 of those, and I'm addicted to coffee." He shakes.
"Also, small thing, whenever I try to make a post on the forums you guys always ban me for 'role-playing.' Like, come on man! So, I'm gonna just coldpost this one. I'm sure you guys won't mind, I mean, I've been reaching out to your top guys begging for critique."
Shortly after this tape was analyzed, an emergency meeting of the O5 Council was called into action. The abridged transcript is below.
PRESENT O5 COUNCIL MEMBERS
- O5-1: THE FOUNDER
- O5-2: THE HAIL-MARY
- O5-3: THE SECRETARIAT
- O5-4: THE TROPHY
- O5-5: THE SUPERFAN
- O5-6: THE ONE WHO COULD HAVE GONE PRO IF IT WASN'T FOR THE ACCIDENT
- O5-7: THE CHEERCAPTAIN
- O5-8: THE GUY WHO SINGS THE NATIONAL ANTHEM
- O5-9: THE COACH
- O5-10: THE TOWELBOY
- O5-11: THE DECAYING CORPSE OF JOHN MADDEN
- O5-12: THE REF
- O5-13: THE BENCHWARMER
O5-1: I hereby… (A breathy inhale can be heard.) Declare this meeting of the O5 Council to session.
O5-13: (Raising a hand.) I'd actually like t—
O5-9: SHUT UP. ANYWAYS, I THINK WE SHOULD CONSIDER A SUICIDE PACT. IF CORPSEBALL DIES, WE'RE KIND OF FUCKED IN NEGOTIATIONS. NONE OF US ARE VERY GOOD AT CHESS, AND LIKE, HALF OF TIC-TAC-TOE GAMES PLAYED TIE.
(General murmurs of agreement.)
O5-2: (Holding O5-4, gently, in their arms. Like a child.) Stop yelling! You'll wake it. (O5-2 gently caresses The Trophy.)
O5-12: Coach's ruling is accurate. I, however, am going to pull a red card on a suicide pact. We should just kill each other, Highlander style.
(General murmurs of agreement.)
O5-3: (Whinnies.)
(General murmurs of agreement.)
O5-6: … I have an idea.
O5-9: YEAH?
O5-6: (Taking a deep breath in.) Put me on the field, Coach.
O5-9: KID, HOW LONG DO I GOTTA TELL YOU THIS? I'M NOT GONNA PUT A MAN WITH A BROKEN PELVIS ON THE FIELD! IT'S GOTTA HEAL!
O5-6: You're just saying that because I'm not John! Because I'm not your favorite!
O5-13: Please stop fight—
O5-6 & O5-9: SHUT THE FUCK UP, 13!
(O5-7's phone begins loudly playing an audio from some social media website. She apologizes, and continues scrolling.)
O5-5: Guys! Please! Stop fighting! We have to stay united! Like when Jackie Robinson used the head on the CORPSEBALL field to rip out his opponent's neck and secure the victory for his team! Please! We have to unite!
O5-2: Oh my GOD. Shut up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, FIVE!
O5-5: B-b-b-b-but— You said don't yel—
O5-2: THAT WAS BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO HEAR COACH GO ON AND ON ABOUT JACK AND SHIT!
O5-9: HEY! YOU WANNA FUCKING GO?!
O5-2: WE CAN DO IT RIGHT NOW.
O5-1: (A breathy inhale.) Please do not have intercourse on my acacia table.
O5-2: THAT ISN'T FUNNY, OLD MAN! I swear, I should just bash your head in!
O5-9: HEY! YOU WANNA TALK TO ONE LIKE THAT? YOU GOTTA GO THROUGH ME, DICKWAD!
O5-5: And me!
O5-10: No towels for you, Bud!
O5-13: A-and m—
O5-3: (Whinnies.)
(Yelling from every member of the table.)
O5-2: Et tu, Brutus? Fine! FINE! We can all go! CORPSEBALL, RIGHT NOW—
(The room falls into silence.)
(There is the vague sound of shuffling. A fly can be heard around O5-11's microphone.)
O5-8: Oooooooohhh SAY, can you SEEEEE—
Addendum 8: Tape Eight
The eighth tape was located in the hands of SCP-9408's Lead Researcher upon waking up. She has described her dream being, vividly, very "radical".
He stares into the camera.
"Hey guys. I just uh, I've been writing, and writing, and you know, I uh, I feel like I need to take some kind of break, but I'm on a fucking STREAK! I can't stop now! Hahaha! Okay, uh, enjoy this feature presentation. We're almost to the finale."
EPISODE EIGHT: The Killing Kind
As they descend down the winding stairs, from the corridor that opened into Blade's study, Peter takes a few shaky breaths to calm himself. The Director is silent as he slowly descends. The candles lighting the sides of the room dwindle in number as they continue to travel… Until there is no light remaining to brighten the stairs.
Director Blade Young seems to faintly glow in the dark, his eyes most prominent as he speaks, his voice booming, carried more by the darkness. "In the unenlightened darkness that was past, the COREPSEBALL was created to hold this plane together. From the CORE's stability came the Board, the ones who organize and rule to feed it. But they were fools to not have a contingency plan for the off-seasons."
"Among the Board, there was their most egregious member. The Robed Man. He crafted your TOME, Peter, and he crafted it so that he may indulge in his ridiculous stories. That TOME has so much more it could, no, SHOULD be used for. But he used it to tell his little stories. The Prophecy that he crafted. The ones he brought into this world just to make into heroes… You, Ognist. I'm talking about you and your companions." The Director giggles madly, the sound echoing.
Peter looks at Blade Young, clenching his jaw. No. He wasn't just a pawn! He was a player! He was the one who was here to save his sport, and he had to do it. He HAD to complete this mission.
"And even now, Peter, your book writes what it wishes you to." The Director snorts. "It's funny, you know. You believed you were doing this because of a greater good, and— I don't even know if he put that idea in your head, Ognist. But, regardless, you've given me what I want. This Talisman will give me what I want. I will sit on the CORPSEBALL Board, and I will influence the sport as I wish. So really, Peter, I thank you for all this."
Peter takes a moment. "Fuck you, Blade."
"Cursing me will do nothing, Ognist. I've already won, and I will continue to win." He gives a smug smirk. "As the children say, I cannot, will not, and shall not stop catching Doubleyous."
Blade Young stops before he enters the room with the sign labeled: "WARNING, CORESPEBALL AHEAD". He scoffs. "I am forbidden to enter, Ognist. This is as far as I may take you. Your friends are inside."
Peter pushes the door open, but Young clears his throat. Peter snaps. "Oh my GOD. What?"
Director Young, fiddling with the talisman that he had been gifted, flashes his pearly whites and takes a moment. Just to annoy Peter, it seems. "You will make a choice there. Do you give your friends to the Core so it may survive? Or do you give your book, your chance to change the world, to it? Now, ta ta. I've got to get my hair done."
And Peter curses himself for thinking any of this would ever be easy.
Addendum 9: Tape 9, SCP-9408 Aftermath
EPISODE NINE: Kiss Me, Son Of God
Peter closes the door behind himself, clenching his jaw. He sees Sam and Sarah, just waking up, and a ball. The ball is suspended in the middle of the room with some kind of magnets, with two pipes to the sides that seem to flow right onto it. On further inspection, the ball is not a flat— It's made of limbs. Heads. Torsos. Corpses. Sarah stands, helping Sam up, and shaking her fully awake.
"Fuck." Sam lets out. "Did Blade—"
"He brought us here. To the CORE." Peter explains. "… He told me I can either toss the TOME into the CORE, or you guys, to save CORPSEBALL."
Sam and Sarah stare, dumbfounded. "Is this genuinely a choice for you?" Sarah questions. "It's obviously the book."
Sam continues, "If you were genuinely considering that, you kind of suck."
He looks at the TOME, and then at Sam and Sarah. God, this is so hard. Does he sacrifice the book that could change everything, or the people he's gotten close to on this journey…?
Sarah coughs. "You suck. Throw the fucking book in already, Peter."
Sam adds, "Asshole."
It's such a dilemma. What could he possibly do to figure—
Sam grabs the TOME, rips out a page to hand it to Peter, and tosses it into the COREPSEBALL. Well, that's one dilemma off Peter's chest. He mumbles a thank you to Sam. She slaps him.
"That's for being an asshole. Why did you care so much about that book, even?"
Peter shrugs. "Well, it had the power to change the world. Like, it physically changed shit in here when I wrote."
Sam and Sarah look at each other.
"Okay, pretty good reason to mentally debate that, but still, fuck you." Sarah says.
"… Pretty good thing I tore that page out as a fuck you." Sam snorts. "You can get us home."
"I SEE THAT YOU HAVE ALL FINALLY ARRIVED." The COREPSEBALL speaks, a thousand voices echoing its words. "BE NOT AFRAID, FOR I AM ALMOST RETURNED. PETER. YOU MUST FEED ME THAT LAST SCRAP. YOU MUST RETURN CORPSEBALL'S STABILITY TO THE WORLD, AND I WILL FREE YOUR FRIENDS AS A REWARD. THEY HAVE BEEN TRAPPED HERE BY A NARRATIVE, BUT I AM THE CONCLUSION YOU NEED."
Peter takes a moment. "A narrative?"
"CORPSEBALL RUNS ON NARRATIVES, MY FRIEND. WE TELL STORIES TO DO ANYTHING HERE, AND THE MORE PARTICULARLY COSMICALLY AMUSING, THE FARTHER YOU SHALL GET."
Ognist hums. "Do you have a pen, and can you give me a moment?"
"OH, YEAH, UH." One arm from the COREPSEBALL tosses the Doctor a pen. "TAKE YOUR TIME DUDE. WE'RE UH, WE'RE ALL GOOD HERE. I CAN TALK AGAIN, SO I DON'T REALLY MIND."
For twenty minutes, the COREPSEBALL talks about its favorite Dungeons and Dragons edition, and other miscellaneous, nerdy topics.
"AND THAT'S WHY THE TOMB OF—" Peter balls up his final page, and throws it at the CORE. It absorbs it, and begins glowing with a heavenly light, as Peter, Sam, and Sarah disappear.
The Robed Man walks to the COREPSEBALL, patting it like one would pat a dog.
"How's the book treating you, buddy?"
"FAIRLY WELL. IT IS HARD TO GET IT THROUGH MY PSEUDO-DIGESTIVE SYSTEM."
"You'll get it through eventually."
"YOU PICKED SOME GOOD PROTAGONISTS THIS TIME."
"Thank you, thank you. I try, you know."
SCP-9408 effects have ceased since the return of Peter Ognist, Sam Romulus, and Sarah Remus with Tape Nine. The SCP-9408 Project Lead has suggested it be redesignated to Neutralized.
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following addendum is Level 6/9408 classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden.
Addendum 10: The Final Tape
The final tape was delivered directly to O5-1 by Doctor Peter Ognist, who claimed to be given it by the robed skeletal man that appeared in a majority of the tapes in the role of showrunner.
FINALE: The Way It Ends?
Inside of the CORPSEBALL meeting room sits the Board, with your narrator sitting in the frontmost chair.
He gives a heavy cough. "Now, I'd like us all to please welcome Dimensional Site-66 Director Blade Young to the table. Yeah, yeah, don't complain about the Foundation or anything, his interests here are explicitly not theirs. Plus, we do good work with them!"
Director Blade Young bows. "It's a pleasure, really."
The Robed Man claps, as do the rest of the eldritch beings sitting at the table. Some congratulate him in their wicked tongues that cannot be written lest a curse arise to the reader, and some just say "Nice to have you". It's a real grab-bag with these guys.
The Director takes a seat. "So, uh. This was a part of PROJECT MONOMYTH, right?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. So, uh, I never actually got that declassified. Wanna explain?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure, sorry, I thought I sent you the email." He knew he didn't send Young the email. He was lying so that he could get this exposition on tape. "So, PROJECT MONOMYTH is something we do so that we still have the off-seasons. We can't just keep CORPSEBALL going year-round, we need time to deep clean the stadium. People do some CRAZY shit in the stands. So, instead, we have some guys we think really want to save CORPSEBALL and have them feed the COREPSEBALL a lot once the damage has started to happen and the dimension is starting to collapse. Like, that book? We have to make one every time, and I have to rewrite all my fanfiction EVERY time. It's a hassle and a half, but it's worth it. The Cycle hasn't started to break down yet!" But, it will, won't it? Wink wink, nudge nudge, hey there contest people.
"… It just sounds like you're hurting the pocket dimension by being lazy, and getting some unpaid people to fix it for you at the last minute."
"Actually, I think this stuff sells pretty well too. Dave, get the DVD sales numbers?"
Dave does as he's asked and pulls up the numbers. 500,000 DVD sales for the last PROJECT MONOMYTH series. The Director's jaw gapes.
"… You got my good sides, right?"
Just for you symbolism freaks.
