OOC POST:

so its been circulating around that some folks dont like when rp posts are in with non rp posts in tags! so, if that is you, go ahead and block this blog-specific tag :>

#Statement Recieved

hey elias your eldritch fear god looks gnc af

Dear 'Anon',

Indeed it does. It also looks masculine, and feminine, and androgynous, and genderless, and formless, and heavy, and feather-light, and round, and sharp. Hell, I would say it looks everything.

-Elias Bouchard

(i worked so h a r d on this)

Statement of Raella Foheg, regarding a malevolent arcade system in Westford, England. Original Statement given April 24, 2017. Statement begins.

I had a knack of getting into places I shouldn’t be able to, ever since I was small. I never thought I would be caught, or put into danger, but the joy of it couldn’t last long, apparently. It was a blustery, gloomy day, one of the stupid spring days where it would rain on your head, pelting on your hair and soaking through your clothes. The worst type of spring days, in my opinion. I’m rambling, aren’t I, like a fool avoiding the subject-an unnecessary fact, but one I wanted to say. I need to get it all out, and-well, I heard about you from a friend, and thought that your “institute” or whatever it is, might want to read it. 

So. It was pouring, dripping through my clothes, seeping into my skin like blood on soil. I hated it, I hated it so much, I had to get inside-and I found an abandoned arcade that I had marked on my phone, thinking it a wonderful place to explore-and I had not gone through it yet, so I figured I might head over there, as it was quite close by. I found it just as I had seen it, a brown, two story building with a old neon sign flickering over it, painting the street with flickering red hues. It read Andel’s Arcade. I smiled to myself, happy to get out of the rain, and excited to explore something new. I stopped walking when I reached the rusty iron gates barring the entrance. I touched them, and a familiar rush of adventure made me shiver, or maybe that was the fact that it was freezing outside. Whatever it was, I carefully opened the gates, breaking the lock easily, as it was quite destroyed by the rust. 

I slipped inside, the plummeting rain hiding the noise of my entrance. I shook out my hair, sighing in relief as I was out of the rain for now. A steady buzzing came from the dark hallway leading to the main arcade, muffling the sound of my breathing and the rain outside, closed behind the dull orange door. Looking back on it, the arcade should not have been making any noise, as the building had gone out of business about seven years ago. I didn’t realize that at the time, though, and lit my torch. A bright beam of white light illuminated the corridor around me, and I walked steadily towards the buzzing and clicking. My hand brushed the wall and brought back a spattering of bright red, shining in the light from my torch. I knew it was blood, but I don’t know how it got there. Had I cut myself on the wall? I didn’t want to know, and wiped my hand on my jacket. I kept going, the buzzing noise getting louder and piercing my ears like a thousand knives. I made an annoyed noise, which echoed down the hallway, and the buzzing abruptly stopped. I should have turned around, I knew I should, but I couldn’t resist leaving an abandoned place unexplored. I continued heading towards the noises, the hallway ending a few meters ahead of me, and my breathing was the loudest thing in the building now, since the buzzing had stopped. 

I entered the main room, shining my torch around it, illuminating moldering bright blue-and-black-and-pink arcade carpet, and gray walls spattered with dark red-brown. An interesting design choice, in my opinion. The whole place smelled of iron and old food, and I gagged on the smell mixture. I didn’t care, though. I looked on at the various machines, most tipped over or vandalized, but there were two in the center of the large room. The one on the left was black and orange, with a flickering screen and red flecks, red on the carpet around it. The right game was pac-man. The screen was shattered, and wires inside the thing shot off sparks colored bright white. I headed towards the left game, noticing for the first time that it emitted a faint aura of…I would call it malevolence. It’s screen flickered quietly, flashing a high score of 013. I shivered. The thing made me uneasy for some reason, like it was going to trap me here until the building got demolished. I shook the feeling off, and inserted a quarter into it. The screen flickered, and the buzzing came back on, echoing off the walls.

The gap at the bottom of it rattled, and a ticket fluttered out, landing on the floor. I picked it up, examining it in the sharp light of my torch. It read, Good Luck. I dropped it, glancing around. The screen flickered again, over, and over, and staticky laughter echoed around the strange, red-spattered room. 

I backed towards the hallway. Halfway there, my torch went dark, and I could hear slithering. Something wrapped around my right ankle, and I fell backwards, hitting the moldering floor. I shouted, a loud, astonished noise that was cut off by the buzzing. Another tendril reached and winded around my arm, and I pulled it off, surging with fear and adrenaline. I tried to stand up, but the tendril wrapped around my ankle dragged me towards the cabinet, which emitted faint, staticky laughter like a malfunctioning jukebox. Two more tendrils bound my legs together, and now that we were in the flickering light of that red 013, I could see that they were not tendrils, or vines, or snakes, they were wires. 

A scream echoed around the square room, and I realized it was my scream, a noise of pure terror. I started shaking, trying to free myself, and I realized something. I had my emergency pocketknife in my pocket, slightly above the wires that were slithering around my legs, and I hefted it, the metal shimmering in the flickering light, and I stabbed the wires, I stabbed them like my life depended on it, I stabbed and stabbed, impaling the black-coated wires, breaking copper wires, breaking, stabbing the THING that was trying to kill me. The sparks from the writhing wires landed on my legs, flickering out and leaving small burns, but in my panic I didn’t notice. I scrambled back, leaving the hissing machine and the cut-up wires and cords behind as I ran down the hallway, blood on my hands and burns on my legs, abandoning my dead torch and phone, and left that cursed place behind. I ran through the door and into the street. There was nobody there, and the rain was still pelting down. How long was I in there? Minutes? Days? I don’t know, and never wanted to go back.

That’s all it is, really. A creepy machine. I never went exploring again, never played another arcade game, never slept without a light on. The nightmares have stopped, but now that I told you about it, will they start again? 

Statement Ends.

Yep, par for the course. There's actually quite a few manufacturers of these slaughter-arcade machines, all avatars of their master of course. Luckily, you got out of this one. I'm gently familiar with Andel's due to other accounts.

My advice? Invest in an umbrella, and kick the habit of accidental urban exploration.

J. Sims, The Archivist

would elias like a hug?

Dear 'Anon',

I'm alright, but if you would like a hug, I've been told that even gives my history, I am very comforting. So, go right ahead.

-Elias Bouchard

personally, i thought eternal spinal leakage was a pretty good read.

hows your spine doing though

scuse me, 5 months late to the party, but whats wrong with my dinosaur sweater tux? thats my prize pony, that sweater won me so many contests. its like a child to me.

formal sweatered kayaking timothy o stoker

wait omg I meant to ask you before now. how was the Christmas party????? please tell me you won the ugly sweater contest man I'd be devastated if you didn't.

QUITE LOVELY HONESTLY! I ADORE WHEN EVERYONE GETS TOGETHER FOR THE HOLIDAYS, MAKES ME THINK OF OLD CHRISTMAS SPECIALS. TURNS OUT MARTIN IS JUST AS GOOD WITH COCOA AS HE IS WITH TEA, AND ANNABELLE BROUGHT A HOMEMADE PIE. SADLY, I CAME SECOND PLACE IN REGARDS TO THE UGLY SWEATERS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TIM GOT THAT THING BUT MY LORD HE NEEDS TO PUT IT BACK.

I WANT TO GO INTO THE BOG BUT I WAS TOLD TO “BE ADVISED”. DO I GO INTO BOG?

I mean. Be advised. There's plenty about the bog to be advised about. Watch your step. I'd not wear anything reflective and try not to sink. If you do start sinking, dont panic because the peat will feel it and start clamoring for anything to latch onto- thats also why I'd suggest a wetsuit. The smell is going to be overwhelming, but you need it as a distraction from what's going to happen. Get the stench on you somehow so it doesn't sense you, too. The moss is safe, the mushrooms are not, the mud is very unsafe, but you Knew that already.

So yes, be advised.

J. Sims, Bog advisor

to be honest i don't know if stealing from the archives would even be worth it. sure, you get the glory of sneaking something out of the Most Watched Place Ever, but whatever you stole will probably make your skin fall off or something

yeah see, exactly. people forget that this isnt tesco youre not stealing like an airplane novel from the kiosk or something. that book? thats probably 'Book That Eats Your Friend' or 'Tome of Eternal Spinal Leakage'

guys, the consequences, consider the CONSEQUENCES BECAUSE THEY HAPPEN AFTER THE ACTION

formal kayaking timothy p stoker

Oh- a wizard? Hold on, everyone. I need to give all of my undivided attention to this wizard.

J. Sims, bewitched. Bewizarded?

But can we steal books?

Can you? This is a question of YOUR skill against the most Observed Library Ever. I want to see you try to steal a book from here. If you get into the restricted area, I will let you walk out with whatever cursed tome you want.

J. Sims, try me.

But can we steal books?

Can you? This is a question of YOUR skill against the most Observed Library Ever. I want to see you try to steal a book from here. If you get into the restricted area, I will let you walk out with whatever cursed tome you want.

J. Sims, try me.

can I buy books from here

No.

J. Sims, no.

hell yeah mr. bouchard blessing us with avatar knowledge

thanks for the crumbs king

Dear beewoop,

:) !

- Elias Bouchard

You know...

Peter, Simon, and I used to get together a lot and celebrate April 20th (including on days that were NOT April 20th. We're sim0ly overachievers.) If you're curious...

Simon is a giggler. Anything that happens is funny to him. I have watched this man fail to terrorize someone due to being high. Before skydiving, he forgot to tamper with the man's parachute.

Peter is the stone silent type. One hit and he is gone. He'll nod, he'll sigh, rarely he'll change the way he sits, but he becomes a vacant statue. Fantastic listener.

And I am a rambler. A philosophizer. I just bla bla bla, even before running the institute, bla bla bla.

How’s Elias doing on 420 day?

Hey anon,

Old habits die hard. Office doors shut. It looks like a lonely domain in here. Call me The Desolation the way I'm lighting up. Reaching a new type of high, making the Fairchilds jealous

Elias Bouchard 🍃🍃🍃🍃

THERE ARE

ONE THOUSAND EYES

IN THE SCREEN

THEY ARE NOT ON YOU

BUT THEY ARE YOURS.

WHAT IS IT?

IS IT A GAME?

ARE YOU SEEKING?

IF YOU ARE HIDING

YOU ARE NOT DOING A GOOD JOB

have any of you read homestuck. i think tim would like dave strider

I'm not sure if any of you know this, but as our lovely Michael had stated on their account, Homestuck is a failed ritual, similar to the Eyepocalypse, trying to stir all the fears together. Its popular belief among those who know of The Things That Were Fear that it was too silly to work as a proper ritual. Hussie sadly was just too ironic for the 'Fear Bible' to work. However...

However, some of the words do still give a pang of fear thats rather filling...

J. Sims, Honk.

How’s Elias doing on 420 day?

Hey anon,

Old habits die hard. Office doors shut. It looks like a lonely domain in here. Call me The Desolation the way I'm lighting up. Reaching a new type of high, making the Fairchilds jealous

Elias Bouchard 🍃🍃🍃🍃

can YOU fight the homestuck?

We've tried before. It ended in an in-depth discussion of which characters would be avatars of which entity. I did try to end the discussion, but then Sasha told me that I reminded her of John Egbert.

I am not John Egbert.

- J. Sims, who is Mutie, if nothing else.