SCP-PU1P-J

Link to article: SCP-PU1P-J.

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[[module css]]
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[[/module]]
[[>]]
[[module Rate]]
[[/>]]
**SCP #:** SCP-PU1P-J

**Object Class:** E(pic)uclid 

**Special Containment Procedures:** Copies of SCP-PU1P-J-1 are to be disseminated across as many Foundation sites as possible, and an annual budget of USD $500 is to be allocated to SCP-PU1P-J-1 production. SCP-PU1P-J is to be contained in the Site-75 break room, for ease of staff use. SCP-PU1P-J and it's contents are to be "tested" regularly, for general entertainment purposes.

**Description:** SCP-PU1P-J appears to be a standard slot machine adorned with detailed art of Foundation staff and anomalies[[footnote]]These have since been covered up for purposes of censorship.[[/footnote]], drawn in a classic comic style. The machine only has three spinning slot sections as opposed to the typical five. The left slot contains names or designations of different Foundation personnel and anomalies, while the right contains a "premise"[[footnote]]Examples of "premises" include "Detective in Munich", "Prostitute in Queens", and "War Hero in Vietnam", among others.[[/footnote]]

SCP-PU1P-J’s anomalous effect manifests when .10¢ USD is slid into the token slot and the lever on the right side of the box is pulled downwards. This will cause the slots to spin, and a presumably random figure and premise will be selected. The middle column does not move and only contains the letter “X”. SCP-PU1P-J then enters a “hibernation state” in which the machine cannot be interacted with, and money is no longer accepted. After exactly 2 hours, a "pulp magazine" with a heavily stylized cover and title will be produced.

The magazine, now designated SCP-PU1P-J-1, contains a short story which details the exploits of the chosen character within the chosen premise. These stories are usually not of excellent quality, but are generally entertaining, being very reminiscent of pulp magazines of the early 1900s. 

On the underside of the box is a note, scrawled in pen:

> I am so sorry. [http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-v1l3-j That last thing I sent was not tested well, and was much worse than anticipated.] Not even you guys deserve that. I, Cornelius Everett Wondertainment, have crafted this writing box, which should produce works of genuine entertainment value. 
> 
> ,,it was just a prank bro please don't be mad.,,
> 
> Cordially, Dr. Wondertainment

[[collapsible show="Excerpts from SCP-PU1P-J"]]

**Addendum PU1P-J.1:** [http://www.scp-wiki.net/critter-profile-wobbles Wobbles], an undercover cop in New York City

> The year was 1923. Everything was in black-and-white, as it always had been. Wobbles the shark was backed against a wall, three of his former compatriots, members of a gang known as the "Jets" in New York, trained their eyes on him, flexing their arms.
> 
> "I may be a lot of things, like a shark, but one thing I'm not is a goddamn snitch!" Wobbles exclaimed through his fishbowl helmet full of water, "I'm no cop, honest! I love the Jets and also doing crime and stuff!"
> 
> The mobster in the center stepped forwards towards Wobbles and held his fist forwards. 
> 
> "Tell that to 'The Judge'" he said, motioning towards his right fist, "That's what I named my fist... The Judge."
> 
> "No, yeah I think we all got that, you really didn't have to explain it, right guys?"
> 
> The two other mobsters gave each other a look and shrugged in agreement.
> 
> "DON'T GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION OF LETTING HIM KNOW HE'S RIGHT, YOU IMBECILES!" the center man was already frothing, motioning with his poorly-named fist at Wobbles. The two other men were shocked for a second, before quickly retraining their unnamed fists at Wobbles. 
> 
> "Ready! Aim! PUNCH!"
> 
> All three men unloaded on the shark, fists sailing towards the Super Selachian. A cloud of smoke puffed up, and a loud, wet thump could be heard. When the dust cleared, Wobbles was on the ground.
> 
> "Let's clean this up before the pigs get here."
> 
> All three men went to pick up the body of Wobbles, but their hands bounced off, unable to touch him. Confused, the man on the left took a closer look at Wobbles's body.
>
> "Hey booooooss? Where did the wounds go? There are no wounds on this shark!"
>
> Suddenly, Wobbles jumped back up onto his tail, the surprise causing the three men to back up. Wobbles pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of the central man, utilizing his shock. Wobbles lit the cigarette and held it up to his fishbowl. Inexplicably, the cigarette glowed at the tip more, and a puff of smoke was exhaled by Wobbles, clouding his helmet in smoke despite his lack of human lungs.
> 
> "Alright, I guess the jig is up. I am an undercover cop. But I've learned all I need to know."
> 
> Wobbles walked closer to the men, as they pressed up against the other side of the room. Wobbles imitated the motion of pulling up his sleeves.
> 
> "Now it looks like the punch is on the other hand! Or should I say... fin?!?"

**Addendum PU1P.2:** [http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-4455 SCP-4455 ("AKA: Streamliner")], a detective in Chicago.

> Streamliner was approached by a woman whose husband had died. After investigating the crime scene and finding the murder weapon, Streamliner apprehended the culprit and put him in jail.

**Addendum PU1P.3:** [http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-3388 SCP-3388], robbing a bank in Atlanta

> ,,##green|carnie?##,,
> 
> ##green|Yes?##
> 
> ,,##green|what are we doing?##,,
> 
> ##green|I've explained this several times, we're robbing a bank so that you start getting tougher. Think of it as training.##
> 
> ,,##green|there are lots of water and rocks here.##,,
> 
> ##green|No poky! No murder! You can't show a dead person how tough you are. Choose your murder wisely.##
> 
> ,,##green|but i'm thirsty.##,,
> 
> ##green|We can get water after. Let's just rob this place and get out.##
> 
> ,,##green|okay.##,,
> 
> If Carnegias could grin in this moon cactus form, he would be. His small protege, poky, had gotten much better at this whole flying thing and was starting to slowly float into the air. The phenomenon attracted the attention of several bank-goers, who rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Carnegias mustered all of his telepathic strength to send out a loud message to everyone at the bank.
> 
> + ##green|ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY BE COOL, THIS IS A ROBBERY!##
> 
> Several bank-goers and bankers looked on confusedly. Some began to chuckle at how preposterous the situation was.
> 
> "Hey, whoever has the thin string on the cactus and the megaphone, the magic show is down the road!" a man in the back jeered.
> 
> ,,##green|are they making fun of me, carnie?##,,
> 
> ##green|Yeah but only because you aren't acting tough enough! You gotta send a message.##
> 
> ,,##green|i thought you said no murder.##,,
> 
> ##green|I change my mind, this guy is a jerk and should go away.##
> 
> ,,##green|okay. i'm thirsty anyway.##,,
> 
> The laughter stopped. The man stood there, starting to wrinkle and dry visibly.
> 
> "Wha-what is happe-"
> 
> The middle-aged man contorted in agony, his body becoming more and more dry, his skin wrinkling like somebody three times his age. Suddenly the skin began to fold in on itself, losing its color in favor of a pale white. The convulsions stopped. Blood seeped from the side of poky's pot.
> 
> ##green|Good, poky! Alright, you got their attention now. Tell them to give you their valuables.##
> 
> + ,,##green|give me the greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!##,,
> 
> ##green|That was not very intimidating.##
> 
> A security guard finally snapped out of his confusion and approached the floating moon cactus. Tentatively drawing his gun, he took aim at poky.
> 
> ##green|poky! Watch out!##
> 
> ,,##green|aaahhh!##,,
> 
> The security guard's finger began to close on the trigger, but not before a sudden **CRACK** reverberated around the room. The security guard's head had been violently snapped a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Wordlessly, he expelled a final breath and toppled over.
> 
> ##green|Goddamn, poky.##
> 
> + ,,##green|GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN##,,
> 
> ##green|Alright poky, I think you got the-##
> 
> Suddenly, the entire room's eyes glassed over, clouding into a deep black which seemed to contain an infinite abyss. And then the screams. The entire room doubled over, or fell over, contorting their bodies in fear, screaming all the while.
> 
> ,,##green|oh no i did it again.##,,
> 
> ##green|It's alright, just put them back now. I think they get the point.##
> 
> ,,##green|i can't, it's a never-ending nightmare.##,,
> 
> ##green|poky, that's a figure of speech, you didn't actually have to make it never-ending.##
> 
> ,,##green|you didn't explain that! this is too hard!##,,
> 
> ##green|Hey, hey, you did a great job! You were super tough here! Next time you just have to make sure that a few of them stay alive enough to tell people of how scary you are.##
> 
> ,,##green|and then they give water?##,,
> 
> ##green|They'll fear you so much that you can get all the water you want.##
> 
> ,,##green|yay.##,,
> 
> Collecting the money, Carnegias and poky exited the Secure Collecting Proprietor's Bank. The alarm finally began to clamor at the Bank. In the distance, sirens began to blare.
> 
> ##green|Okay, let's head over to the next city so there's no heat on us.##
> 
> ,,##green|kill cops?##,,
> 
> ##green|No, don't kill the cops, not until I am powerful enough to take on the Foundation again.##
> 
> ,,##green|**we** are powerful enough##,,
> 
> ##green|Right, yes, we.##
> 
> Carnegias and poky floated past the city, into the distance.
> 
> ------------
> 
> [http://scp-wiki.net/scp-3589 Armando] exited the bathroom in the Secure Collecting Proprietor's Bank to utter chaos. People rolling on the floor in pain, their eyes blackened and their throats hoarse from screaming. Armando steeled himself for a fight, but there was nobody left to fight. 
> 
> "Goddamnit! Why does this always happen when I go to the bathroom?!?"

**Addendum PU1P.4:** [http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-682 SCP-682], saving the world.

> "Aha!" the Mad Doctor screeched, "My plans are finally coming to fruition! And there's nothing you can do about it, 682!"
> 
> //Acid. Why did it have to be acid?// 682 thought, "Just you wait, Doctor! As soon as I get out of this pit of acid you have put me in, I WILL save the world from your mass containment breach!"

"Is this really what we're doing?" an actor submerged in a pool of green water in a reptile costume inquired, exasperated, "682 saves the world from the evil Foundation?"

"CUT!" the director yelled, "Yes, this is what we are doing because it's what you're getting paid for. Now say your goddamn lines and we'll make you less of a shit actor in post."

"Fuck you. Just get rolling again or whatever so I can go home."

"From that section! Action!"

> "You FOOL." the Mad Doctor exclaimed, "Even if you are impossible to kill, I can keep you trapped here as long as there is acid in that tank!"
> 
> "Well then." 682 said, pulling out a lighter which he had been hiding in a pocket of skin, "Sure would be a shame if I burned all of this acid away, wouldn't it?"
> 
> "What? Can you do that?"

"Point of clarification, can he do that?" the Mad Doctor actor shouted from the rafter.

"CUT!" the director put his head in his hands, annoyed, "I don't know shit about acid but I'm 90% sure it burns. And even if it doesn't is it YOUR job to ask ME that?"

"No, sir."

"Alright then, how about you do your GODDAMN JOBS and STOP QUESTIONING MY ART? ACTION!"

> "Good grief." 682 said with a light chuckle, "You really shouldn't have used the flammable acid.
> 
> 682 proceeds to light a cigarette, and takes a heavy puff. It's so powerful that it fills the room with smoke, obscuring the Mad Doctor's vision. And the lighter is dropped. The room erupts in raucous flames, the heat causing the Mad Doctor to drop to one knee and stumble. When the Mad Doctor looks back up, 682 has joined him on the rafter, burnt but unhurt. 682 takes another long puff of his cigarette.
> 
> "Want a smoke?" 682 asks, before rushing up to the Mad Doctor to mau-

"Seriously?" the 682 actor exclaimed sarcastically, stopping his run, "THAT'S his catchphrase? 'Want a smoke?' That doesn't even make sense! He's a reptile thing!"

"THAT'S IT!" the director was turning purple at this point, "YOU'RE BOTH SHIT. YOU'RE BOTH FIRED. GET THE FUCK OUT!"

"I don't even want to be in this dumb project, so you can SUCK IT!"

"Yeah, fuck you!" the Mad Doctor actor started to walk off the platform, "Your story sucks anyway."

The director cut the back half of the 682 costume and the front half of the Mad Doctor costume, sewing them together into a not-very functional costume.

"HEY!" the director looked around confusedly, "WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?!?"

All of the crew had quietly walked away while the director was sewing, not wanting to participate in a project with no actors.

"Well, FUCK ALL OF YOU, because I'M GONNA DO THE WHOLE MOVIE MYSELF."

The director wiped some of his angry tears away and set the camera rolling, positioning himself on the platform to play both roles at once. 

"ACTION!"

[[div class="danke agent"]]

The Author wipes away a light tear of joy at his masterpiece.

//This'll show all of those haters what kind of PAIN they put me through. I'm not an edgelord, I am a misunderstood artist, and they'll have to learn to love me!//

"Hey, Morgan!" The Author exclaimed, "Come read my deconstruction of writing culture!"

A begrudged younger boy trudged into The Author's room.

"Bro, it's 3 in the morning, unlike you, I gotta go to school tomorrow." Morgan wiped his bleary eyes.

"No man, just read this and tell me what you think, I need critiquing."

"Fucking... fine, whatever."

Morgan peered at the laptop screen in confusion, while The Author excitedly looked at Morgan's face for a reaction.

"Dude, what the hell is this? Why is it so weird and meta?"

"You obviously don't understand writing, it's a clap back to all of those people who called my writing weird and edgy."

"Yeah but like, is this the best way to do it? In an incredibly self-referential and insulting way?"

"Listen, if I just say it's a joke, everybody will like it and I get to write whatever I want."

"But is all of your work being regarded as a joke a good thing? Maybe if you went to school more you would be better at writing."

"Fuck you! This is going to be my magnum opus, whether you like it or not!"

"Whatever. It's your funeral."

[[/div]]

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[[div style="background: white; padding: 1px 15px; border: solid 3px lightgray; margin: 10px; border-radius: 30px 15px;"]]

The Real Author examined his terminal screen. 

//Hmm, maybe let's put some more CSS in here so it looks better. Hopefully, the message is clear enough.//

The Real Author reached out to grab his Mountain Dew. As he held it up to his mouth, the chicken grease on his fingers caused the Mountain Dew to slip, the contents of the soda spilling into his PC.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! MY MAGNUM OPUS! I COULDN'T EVEN ADD ONE MORE LEVEL OF META!"

[[/div]]
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**AUTHOR'S JOURNAL: 3/12/2019**
@@ @@
Dear Journal. Today I tried to write something, but I ended up not liking it that much. I think I will just delete it at some point soon.
@@ @@
It's like... ugh I had a point somewhere in there but it just kept getting more and more meta and I just couldn't think of where to go from there. At some point, I just started insulting myself. It was weird.
@@ @@
I honestly could post it though. I'm pretty sure I could just call it an SCP and throw it on that website. They have low standards. Depends on how I feel in the morning.
@@ @@
Anyway, journal, I gotta get back to spending time with my loving partner and my seven adopted children who love me and love living in this mansion that I own and bought with my book royalties, so I'll be back after the daily feast we call dinner. I sure do love being a successful beloved author.
[[>]]
From the desk of,
[[module ListUsers users="."]]
**%%title%%**, author extraordinaire
[[/module]] 
[[/>]]
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+ SCP-PU1P-J DOES NOT EXIST
----
+++ A UNANIMOUS O5 DECISION HAS DETERMINED THAT SCP-PU1P-J IS NOT A REAL THING, AND NEVER HAS BEEN. THE O5 COUNCIL WOULD ALSO LIKE TO REMIND ALL RESEARCHERS THAT IN BYLAW 4823.7(a) IT IS STATED THAT "Interesting anomalies must go directly to the O5 Council for their exclusive use". THIS IS NOT RELEVANT. SCP-PU1P-J DOES NOT EXIST, THAT WAS JUST A REMINDER. VISITORS TO SITE-75 ARE NOT TO ENTER THE PRIVATE O5 BREAK ROOM AS THERE IS A DANGEROUS ANOMALY THERE. IF YOU BELIEVE SCP-PU1P-J EXISTS, PLEASE CONSULT YOUR LOCAL AMNESTIC DISTRIBUTOR.

[[/div]]
[[/=]]

[[/collapsible]]

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