Registered Phenomena Code: RPC-009 Object Class: Omega-White |
Hazard Types:![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
- Creation of a god
- Goodbye
- Going Somewhere?
- Grandfather
- A call from grandpa
- Highways
- How to disappear completely
- How to disappear completely other draft
- A world unto itself
- The man who sold the world
- The Snowman
- Mincon thing
- war
- butterflies
- butterflies
- Dinner
- Computer
- The Mollusks
- Idk
- Liberty
- Memory Man
- Memory Manv2

Registered Phenomena Code: XXX
Object Class: Alpha-Yellow
Hazard Types: Visual, Auditory
Containment Protocols: RPC-XXX is to be monitored constantly. No individuals assigned to RPC-XXX are to have any religious affiliation. All land three(3) kilometers around RPC-XXX is to be blocked with the cover story "Mining Expedition". The authority is to coordinate with the US government for testing and documents retrieved from RPC-XXX-1 are also to be shared with the Federal Government of the United States.
Description: RPC-XXX refers to a 1.4 kilometer radius around RPC-XXX-1. RPC-XXX appears to have an obscuring effect - no satellite imagery have only shown expected terrain.
RPC-XXX-1 is a large bunker located in the middle of the Mojave desert(coordinates ██.████° N, ███.████° W). Based off of floor plans and photographs retrieved from RPC-XXX-1, it appears to have been constructed around the cold war era. RPC-XXX appears to be in a state of high disuse and abandonment, but has not appeared to deprecate since its discovery by the US government in 1832. RPC-XXX-1 appears to exert an antimemetic effect - individuals who enter RPC-XXX-1 are unable to recall any specifics of what exactly is within RPC-XXX-1, but are able to retrieve materials from within. All recorded information not contained within documents within RPC-XXX-1 that report on RPC-XXX-1 appear to degrade almost immediately upon leaving - photos of the interior of RPC-XXX-1 will lose all clarity upon review, and written reports descend into gibberish. On the large door to RPC-XXX-1 is drawn a faded depiction of an eagle encased in what appears to be a stylized egg, with "United States Department of Apotheosis - In God We Trust" written beneath. The US government claims that there has never been such a department.
RPC-XXX-2 is a series of empty cages scattered around RPC-XXX. RPC-XXX-2 appear to be constructed out of a mixture of silver and iron and always appear brand new. RPC-XXX-2 instances appear to be constantly shifting in position. Despite this, no signs of movement has ever been observed from any instance of RPC-XXX-2. With current estimates, there are anywhere from █ to ██ instances of RPC-XXX-2 within RPC-XXX. RPC-XXX-2 instances can range from as small as 1.4 by 3 by 2 dm all the way to 5 by 5 by 5 meters in size. Whenever an individual touches an instance of RPC-XXX-2, they will begin to feel either a great love for the United States of America or an extreme nihilism. These symptoms will get worse over time, and the only way to cure an individual afflicted with RPC-XXX-2's effect appears to be entering RPC-XXX-1 for at least one hour. Individuals who receive a nihilistic effect often begin to convert to branches of orthodox Christianity if not treated before two days. After conversion, individuals often report that their nihilistic feelings have subsided.
Text to collapse.

Registered Phenomena Code: XXX
Object Class: Alpha-White
Hazard Types: Visual, Auditory
Containment Protocols:
Description: RPC-XXX refers to the circumstances around the disappearance of high clearance authority official Dr. Lucia White.
White was on [INSERT HIGH LEVEL BOARD THING I DONT KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT LORE], and had proven to be highly competent and loyal to the authority. On 7/7/2007, White disappeared from her office at Site-77 at around 7:07. Accounts by other members of staff revealed that she had been seen frequently until then, and many other staff members were by the door of her office when she disappeared. Due to her high clearance level and trust, White's office was not monitored, but other security cameras within Site-77 report a peculiar sound, similar to church bells.
Due to the information White was tasked with, finding White was put onto high priority. Initial investigation into White's disappearance involved a scan of the area around Site-77, which revealed nothing. White's office revealed no signs of struggle, nor did her internet history include anything out of the ordinary.
Authority investigators made a breakthrough a few days later, after they were able to gain access to White's phone location with cooperation with the US Patriot program. Her phone identified a location in the middle of the pacific ocean. Because of White's previous exposure to numerous anomalies, it was determined that a rescue craft would be sent to that location to check on it. Nothing was discovered at that location.
Occasionally, individuals who knew White will report seeing White in passing glances, hereby designated a RPC-XXX-P event. In all RPC-XXX-P events, witnesses have reported White being in seemingly high distress while exerting a large amount of effort. When visual contact is lost with White, the instance disappears. Whenever the instance of White is approached, an occurrence that blocks the individual's vision will happen and White will disappear. Individuals who get close enough to White report a "mumbling", as well as the faint sound of church bells in the background.
There appears to be no limit as to where an RPC-XXX-P event can occur.
RPC-330 has been unable to confirm White's death.
Update: There have been no RPC-XXX-P events reported for 3 years as of 7/16/2012.
Following the disappearance of White, authority investigations into similar cases were conducted. Following investigations in reported cases of unexplained disappearances, similar situations to RPC-XXX have been observed across the world.
Individuals who disappear in this manner often share various similarities:
- A self-sacrificing mindset
- A loved one
- Suicidal tendencies and/or low self esteem
- A belief in a god
- Paranoia
According to various accounts, White fulfilled all of these requirements.
Email recovered from White's history, shortly before her disappearance
From: cpr.ytirohtua|77etihwl#cpr.ytirohtua|77etihwl
To: cpr.ytirohtuaa|1002etihwnahte#cpr.ytirohtuaa|1002etihwnahte
Subject: GoodbyeHey, honey. I'm sorry for the late notice.
I have to do this, Ethan.
I'll save you, I swear. Tell Lily I love her.Remember me.

Registered Phenomena Code: XXX
Object Class: Omega-White
Hazard Types: n
Containment Protocols: The internet is to be searched for reports of RPC-XXX.
Description: RPC-XXX is a phenomenon affecting the living quarters of individuals who live alone. RPC-XXX tends to affect the rooms of those who have a history of career failure or depression.
RPC-XXX occurs in multiple stages.
Stage 1: RPC-XXX slowly increases the size of the inside room. The individual living within begins to experience a decreased need for sustenance, as well as a decreased want to leave their room. The largest room affected by RPC-XXX has reached up to 1 square kilometer in size. Any windows in the room will slowly become opaque. Notably, this will not be visible from the outside.
Stage 2: The room affected by RPC-XXX will begin to morph the insides of the room to resemble a miniature of a city. Small, faceless dolls will begin to rush about the city miniature, acting as citizens of the city. Architecture styles have ranged from modern to neolithic. The only place not affected will be the individual's primary location, usually a bed of some sort. All "citizens" will obey the individual to whom the room belongs to. However, nothing generated within an RPC-XXX affected room will be edible, nor are any of the dolls capable of intelligent communication.
Stage 3: All signals from the room affected by RPC-XXX will begin to decrease in quality and any entrance to the room from outside will become unopenable. The individual's primary location will morph itself into a sort of "throne", where the individual will feel compelled to sit. In most cases, at this point, individuals who live in an RPC-XXX affected room's desire for social interaction will compel them to attempt to leave the room.
Individuals who have escaped an RPC-XXX infected rooms report a sense of extreme self-hatred while under the affect of RPC-XXX. Perception of time slows, but knowledge of the passing of time increases significantly, to the point that an individual who lives in an instance is eventually capable of pinpointing the time to the exact millisecond.
RPC-XXX will continue to affect a room until the individual that lived in it expires1, whereupon it will instantly revert to normal, or if the individual living in the instance begins to leave the room regularly, whereupon the room size begins to decrease back to normal and the anomaly disappears. Attempting to leave the room during stage 3 through a door, window, or even a hole in the wall will lead to a "void" plane. If the individual searches the void long enough, they will happen across the same identical note card written in a child's handwriting, illuminated by a single beam of light. This note card remains even after RPC-XXX stops affecting a room. The card reads:
Going somewhere?
Grandfather is a good man. Grandfather is a good man and good men are loved by the lord, I tell myself, as the lord is good and holy. Grandfather lies in the middle of the room, eyes still. His heart beats loudly as the medical men snake around him like rats.
I think back to the time when I came home from school with a bruise on my face and how mad Grandfather was when my parents didn't seem to notice. He screamed at them but they didn't seem to see. He's your son!, he cried, and my mother didn't even respond. She just looked at me at the dinner table with the celery in one hand and asked me if I wanted more, which I replied no ma'am, I've eaten my vegetables for today and I would not like to eat more.
Afterwards Grandfather took me out after dinner to go to the convenience store down the road where he bought me one of those sausages that they cook on the rolling pin machines and told me that he didn't know where he failed in raising his daughter and told me old stories about when he was young and you could go down to the store and buy the same hot dog we got for two bucks for five cents. Those were the days, he would say to me. He always had that twinkle in his eye.
But now that is gone as he hacks and yells and throws up bile onto his neatly folded linen shirt as I sit in the corner of the room and watch the medical men rush around, yelling scalpel scalpel scalpel forceps forceps forceps while they run around looking at the clock and waiting for the time to be over. I dig my fingernails into my face as I bury it into my hands.
Grandfather was always proud of the way he dressed. A man needs to look right, is what he always said to me. I'd get out of bed and mother would put me in that old linen shirt and pants and Grandfather would say no, you are far too handsome for that suit, and he'd stop me and bring out that beautiful little outfit that I would wear to school everyday. And he would smile at me as I left. I swear he cried.
His hands are tensing up and his eyes are rolling back into his head and I'm wiping the tears from my eyes as mother asks the medical doctor when the per-scrip-shun is coming back to her and the doctor is saying no ma'am there's been a mix-up. And I'm closing my eyes and sniffling and mother puts her hand on my shoulder and says no Michael the grown ups are talking. But I can't stop. Because I can no longer hear Grandfather's heartbeat and I can't live like that. So I run.
The grown-ups in their big aprons like they're cooking(what are they cooking? They work in the hospital, so what are they cooking?) seem to not like that I am running to save my grandfather so they run after me as well and scream things like "Ay Ess Eff" and things that I do not understand. But I do not care. Grandfather sees me running and smiles. And he's gone. And so are the medical men and mother and the room and Grandfather.
I stand up, for the first time in years.

Registered Phenomena Code: 512
Object Class: Beta-White
Hazard Types:
Containment Protocols:
Description: RPC-512 collectively refers to a group of sapient corals, sponges, and jellies that live off the coast of Bermuda in the . RPC-512 instances fall into three general categories:
RPC-512-1: A variety of coral species. Are not capable of locomotion, but polyp extension outside of the exoskeleton is unusually long.
RPC-512-2: A species of carnivorous sponge shaped like large spherical obelisks.
RPC-512-3: "Comb Jellyfish". A species of comb jellyfish. Unlike other species of comb jellyfish, RPC-613-3 only has two bright "lights" which it can turn on and off at will. RPC-613-3 display unusual strength, and are able to coordinate with each other to move heavier objects.
RPC-512 live in a fairly tight clusters along a small area along the ocean floor. These clusters are referred to as "beasts" by RPC-512-3, and appear to share almost a hive-like structure. These "beasts" will hereon be referred to as RPC-512-B 1 through 12. Despite this, individual instances appear to have their own personalities, biases, and thoughts, suggesting a more "shared memory" sort of system. Instances appear to share a "link" between each other. Damage sustained by RPC-512 instances are felt by all connected, and instances are able to communicate using this link. RPC-512-1 instances appear the most linked, capable of communicating between each other from as far as 2 km away. However, this has been described as "fuzzy" to RPC-512-3, and thus they rely on RPC-512-2 to "translate" what RPC-512-1 say to them. All instances of RPC-512 within a "beast" form a rudimentary society, collectively responding to threats and sharing resources
RPC-512-3 are capable of communicating with personnel in English Morse, using their leftmost light for a long dash and rightmost light for a short dash.
Discovery: RPC-512 was first discovered by American naturalist Charles ███████ █████ within his bathysphere in 193█. In his sketches, █████ noted a "city-like" symbiotic structure of comb jellies, sponges, and corals. The jellies in particular seemed to be "unusually dexterous and strong", using their small tentacles to collectively move pieces of marine snow around to try to help the sponges. He noted an "unusual flashing pattern" in the comb jellies that he wrote down, which translated to various commands for movement and placement as well as conversation about the ocean in English Morse. █████'s findings alerted Authority officials, and his records were modified and re-contextualized to be various fish species that do not exist.
Interview/Discovery log
Date: 9/4/1933
Interviewer: Dr. Daniel Hayes, director of marine biology at Site-___
Interviewee: An instance of RPC-512-3, hereby referred to as RPC-512-3A
Hayes entered the abyssopelagic zone in an authority operated bathosphere, a model much more advanced than █████'s. He then began to flash a message in English Morse code utilizing the attached light, requesting an interview. The instance in question floated by.Hayes: HELLO
RPC-512-3A: WHO ARE YOUHayes: GOOD PEOPLE
At this point, RPC-512-3A drifted away towards an RPC-512-2 instance. It stayed there for a few seconds, before drifting back over.RPC-512-3A: THE TOWERS SAY YOU ARE NOT PREDATORS
Hayes: WE ARE NOT. MAY WE ASK YOU SOME QUESTIONS?
RPC-512-3A: YESHayes: WHO ARE YOU
RPC-512-3A: I AM YAMES OF THE SEVENTH BEAST. WHO ARE YOUHayes: I AM DIRECTOR HAYES OF THE RPC AUTHORITY. WE PROTECT GOOD PEOPLE
RPC-512-3A appears to swim in a circle.
RPC-512-3A: THAT IS VERY GOOD OF YOUHayes: THANK YOU. ARE YOU AWARE THAT YOU ARE A JELLYFISH?
RPC-512-3A: WHY WOULD I NOT BE. MANY OF MY BROTHERS AREHayes: WHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF RPC 512? THAT DESIGNATES YOU AND THE CORALS AND SPONGES
RPC-512-3A: DO YOU MEAN THE TOWNSHIPS? WELL WE HAVE LIVED HERE FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBERHayes: I SEE. ARE THE CORALS AND THE SPONGES SAPIENT?
RPC-512-3A: IF YOU ARE REFERRING TO THE ANTENNAE AND THE TOWERS THEN YES. I CANNOT SPEAK TO THE ANTENNAE BUT THE TOWERS SAY THEY ARE VERY GOOD CONVERSATIONALISTSHayes: YOU CAN SPEAK TO THE TOWERS?
RPC-512-3A: CERTAINLY. THEY ARE THE ONLY ONES I KNOW THAT CAN SEE.Hayes: IF YOU ARE BLIND, HOW CAN YOU RESPOND TO ME?
RPC-512-3A: WHAT A STUPID QUESTION. OBVIOUSLY I CAN SEE THE LIGHT, AS CAN MY BROTHERS.Hayes: THANK YOU. HOW DO THE TOWERS SPEAK TO YOU? WE HAVE NOT SEEN ANY MOVEMENT
RPC-512-3A: THEY HAVE A SIGNAL OBVIOUSLY. THEIRS IS QUITE CLEAR SO WE MAY UNDERSTANDHayes: A SIGNAL?
RPC-512-3A: YES A SIGNAL. WE ARE ALL OF THE SEVENTH BEAST, MY BROTHERS, THE TOWERS, THE ANTENNAE, WE ARE ALL OF IT. HAVE YOU LOST CONNECTION WITH YOUR BRAIN MEN?Hayes: NO. MOMENTARY CONFUSION. MAY I ASK WHAT THE SEVENTH BEAST IS
RPC-512-3A: WE ARE ALL OF THE SEVENTH BEAST. IT IS SIMPLE. ALONE WE ARE WEAK. EVEN A MEEKFISH2 MAY TAKE US AS PREY IF THEY WISHED. WEAK APART. STRONG TOGETHER. THE SEA IS QUIET. THE BEAST IS LOUDHayes: WHAT IS YOUR OPINION OF THIS ARRANGEMENT
RPC-512-3A: IT IS CERTAINLY BETTER THAN BEING APART. HOWEVER SOME HERE ARE QUITE LOUDHayes: YOU MENTION THE SEVENTH BEAST. ARE THERE OTHERS?3
RPC-512-3A: OF COURSE. I SPEAK WITH THE SIXTH BEAST QUITE OFTEN. THE FIFTH BEAST IS LESS GOOD AT CONVERSATION SO I TALK TO HIM LESS MUCHHayes: WHAT DO THE ANTENNAE DO?
RPC-512-3A: THEY TALK TO THE OTHER BEASTS. THEIR SIGNAL IS LONG BUT BLURRY. THEY ARE NOT LOUDHayes: BUT YOU SAY THAT YOU CANNOT SPEAK TO THEM, AND YOU STILL MAY SPEAK TO OTHER BEASTS?
RPC-512-3A: YESHayes: THANK YOU.
At this point, Hayes' air began to run out.Hayes: I HAVE TO GO NOW. TAKE CARE
RPC-512-3A: MAY YOUR WATERS BE FOREVER HARMONIC

Registered Phenomena Code: 472
Object Class: Gamma-Orange
Hazard Types: do it later
Containment Protocols: [original:] RPC-472-B are to be monitored for through video by QUIE glyph users. Once an instance is spotted, it is to be removed immediately and stored within the _ of __.
[current:] RPC-472-B in f
Description: RPC-472 is a phenomenon that randomly afflicts individuals around the world. The individual afflicted with RPC-472 is hereby referred to as RPC-472-A.
RPC-472 is split into 3 seperate "phases":
Phase 1: RPC-472-A begins to feel a "numbness" around the body, particularly around the spinal area. Instances will not note this as anything out of the ordinary.
Phase 2: RPC-472-A report a desire to go "upwards". Instances are often able to suppress this desire to continue normal functioning, but if given the chance, will move themselves towards the highest altitude area as possible.
Phase 3: Over the course of 3 hours, RPC-472-A's flesh transitions into plant tissue, similar to that of the Acer genus.4 Transformation begins with the spine, which elongates as it changes, paralyzing and numbing the individual. The bottom end of the spine grows into a root-like appendage, which digs its way into the ground below, providing stability.
The next part to transition is the Cephalic region. The brain of RPC-472-A solidifies, and streches out a large "branch", which pierces through the skull and hangs out. RPC-427-A is considered deceased at this point. The rest of the body transitions shortly after, with arms streching out and becoming "branches", with small twigs, branches and leaves jutting out of the abdomen. After the transformation, the instance is referred to as RPC-472-B. RPC-472-B grows at a rate slightly faster than non-anomalous trees.
During this transformation and afterwards, RPC-472-B will exhibit an antimemetic property, making it imperceptible to humans. RPC-472-B instances have been noted to take root in very noticeable places, including parks, schools, hospitals, etc. Human beings will simply either ignore or mistake the instances for common objects.5 Individuals who knew RPC-472-A prior to the transformation will forget their previous existence, and all social and power gaps left behind by the instance will be filled without strife or notice. Information about the individual will not be erased, but will instead begin to exhibit the same antimemetic effect.
Removal of the instance from its original position will cause the antimemetic effect to fade. Individuals who knew RPC-472-B will begin to experience a sort of deja-vu like feeling around RPC-472-A's memories, and documentation and information about RPC-472-A will become comprehendable, albeit often corrupted in perception.
RPC-472 tends to be more common in those diagnosed with depression or those who have a negative outlook on life. It also appears more with those currently dealing with above-average external and internal stresses, particularly the sick and mentally ill.
Around ██████ individuals become RPC-472-B annually.
Discovery: RPC-472 was discovered in 2021 after former authority head researcher Dr. Norton Smith was discovered transformed into an RPC-472-B instance by Agent ███████ following testing with QUIE glyphs. The instance grew in the middle of the hall of the west wing of Site-031, and based off of tree ring analysis, had been growing there for approximately 15 years.
Update: During review of security footage around the estimated time of Smith's disappearance, an entity resembling Smith was observed within Site-31 without being noticed while Smith was within his office. The entity seemed to "shift" within the footage and blur around the edges, with a large part of its face obscured. Review of security footage of other RPC-472-A instances prior to their transformation reveals a similar trend - an entity strongly resembling the RPC-472-A instance, hereby referred to as RPC-472-C, approached RPC-472-A in all recorded instances. RPC-472-C instances all share a few common features:
- A "blurryness" in footage
- An apparent antimemetic invisibility
- A pale complexion
- And a "shifting" method of locomotion
Individuals viewing RPC-472-C report a distinct sense of dread.
Following removal of the RPC-472-B instance from Site-31, senior doctor Ava Owens began to report a sense of "loss", as well as a general downturn in mood. After a week of removal, Owens requested to speak to the site director, in a state of apparent agitation. The following is an audio log of an interview accepted by Owens.
Interviewer: Doctor Leland Hart
Interviewee: Senior doctor Ava Owens[BEGIN LOG]
Hart: Hello, Ava.
Owens: Hey, Lee.
Hart: How's it going? You don't look too good.
Owens clears her throat. Her eyes are sunken in and red, and her skin is pale.
Owens: Never better, Lee. Aren't you supposed to call me Dr. Owens, or whatever clinical bullshit they want you to do?
Hart: If you'd like to be referred to as Dr. Owens, that's fine with me.
Owens: Sure. Let's cut to the chase.
Owens slams her hand on the desk. Even in her weakened state, the sound rings out in the room.
Owens: What the fuck did you people do to him?
Hart steps back.
Hart: Who?
Owens: You know who I'm talking about, Lee. We knew him for fifteen years. Fifteen years!
Hart: Ava, please calm down. I genuin-
Owens: You graduated from college together, you stupid fuck! He co-wrote your thesis!
Hart: Who?
Owens: That's such a-
Owens pauses.
Owens: I don't know. But there was someone there, and now he's gone.
Hart: Jesus, Ava, there's a script we're supposed to fol-
Owens: Don't you think it's weird how everything's mushed up? All the good times, all the bad times, gone. Like they covered the memories in whitewash and called it a day. It's like there's a……hole where he was. Do you not feel it?
Hart closes his eyes.
Owens: And I don't know anyone except for this fucking organization that could ever do such a thing.
Hart: Are you insinuating that-
Owens: You know exactly what I'm fucking insinuating. I have a son, Lee. I have a son that grew up without a father, apparently. I told him that his dad died in an accident but really? I don't know. I don't fucking know. But he's smart. He's a smart kid.
Hart: Ava, please…
Owens: I'd dismissed it as him being strange and weird and off. I was a bad parent to him, I admit. He'd point out into the woods and ask if daddy was there. He'd do it over, and over, and over - still does, when I come to visit. He used to have this science kit that he loved - I never remember buying it for him. When he learned to drive, he did it in our car that I never used once. Jesus Christ, Lee. Whoever that man was, he was there…..and then he was gone.
Hart: I hate to say this but we're getting old, Ava. Not every misplaced memory is anomalous.
Owens: I thought the same. But yesterday I went home and laid in my bed with this lack of something nagging at me and I turned to my right and I saw this object on my nightstand I had never really closely looked at before. And so, curious, I turned the lamp on and dragged myself over and I took that thing and I turned it in my hands and took it in with my eyes and look, Lee. Take a fucking look at this.
Owens retrieves a photo from her wallet and hands it to Hart. The picture is of Owens, Hart, and Smith, standing on a sunny beach. Smith and Owens are smiling, as Hart looks into the distance. In his arms Smith cradles a little boy.
Hart grabs onto his scalp, as he looks closely at the image. He squints, and his expression turns from one of interest, to confusion, to fear.Hart: Who the fuck is that.
[END LOG]

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Gamma-Orange
Hazard Types: do it later
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is to be monitored at all times. Borden's island has been stricken off of the record.
Description: RPC-HHH is an expanding complex located on Borden's island, extending both above and underground. Architecture of RPC-HHH is brutalist in design, but the exposed concrete used in its building has not degraded despite centuries of reported wear.
RPC-HHH is occupied by instances of RPC-HHH-A, vaguely humanoid figures that glide through the halls of RPC-HHH. RPC-HHH-A appear to be blind and deaf.
Entering into RPC-HHH exposes the individual to its reality incoherency. The exterior of the facility operates through baseline reality, butAECT measurements give the interior an ACS range of 3-1.5, depending on which level measurements are taken. Due to this, the interior of RPC-HHH is highly anomalous and volatile, with the fabric of its existence changing at a whim. As a subject treks deeper down into RPC-HHH, these reality shifts become more frequent and significant, often at a detriment to those within.
RPC-HHH has been expanding since 1972, and grows around 0.1 km^2 in area annually, with Borden's island growing to accomaddate.

Samuel Borden, Circa 1875
Discovery: RPC-HHH was discovered aroudn July of 1877, after American businessman Samuel Borden arrived on Borden's island after a miscalculation in route. Upon discovering the facility, Borden and 15 members of his crew decided to investigate RPC-HHH and entered. According to a log kept by Borden, they made it five floors underground before needing to retreat. Upon returning to America, Borden's reports and mental state captured Authority attention and was subsequently amnesticized.
Date: June 27 1877
My luck truly is disastrous!
A mere few degrees off of course and we have failed to arrive upon ███████. Now we are stranded within the sea, with naught but stale alcohol and the sea birds to accompany us. It's those damn French I hired - too haughty to learn a proper language and too stupid to communicate well. Now they chatter(likely about women, no doubt about it) incessantly near my quarters - the racket, with the sea and the uneducated that make up my crew.
But I am at least assured by the rest that we shall be on course quite soon, and that we shall indeed not starve within the █████████. The Mexican is praying constantly. A sorry peoples, they are.
Date: July 3 1877
Tonight, while the crew was sleeping and the Frenchman was standing watch, I hear a yell. Land, they say. The navigator and the captain were holding their scalps - there are simply no records of land on this route. Could this be an undocumented area? A quick survey showed that the terrain matched no other island in the records. However, it is quite dark, and the crew is low in spirits and rest. Further exploration will be done tomorrow.
Date: July 4 1877
I write this entry in great shock.
I had ordered the crew to spread over the new island, which I shall name Borden's island, after my family. Only moments after we began did a cadet come running over the hills and said "sir sir sir, there is a great monolith upon this island". I did not trust him - boys are prone to delusion, but humored him. I left towards that direction. Soon, I saw what he had - a facility, of concrete and dark glass, loomed over the center of the island, which dipped down. The architecture was not of a style I had seen before. The facility was immense, no doubt larger than even perhaps my estate. We are planning to explore the building and perhaps make contact with the people who live here - ostensibly a civilized and intelligent people, and 15 of my good crew have volunteered to follow me. I shall keep a log of the happenings within.
Date: July 5 1877
I have entered the strange building. We identified a door in its face and opened it, though it did take some trouble. The inside contains a must, like that of mildew but also a sweetness of honey. The entrance was barely furnished, perfectly smooth concrete was the only material visible. From the entrance there were three hallways, and we entered the center. The halls were well lit with what appears to be a more advanced version of the arc-lamps that were demonstrated to me by my British colleagues. Further exploration revealed more of the same hallway, until we reached a staircase that descended down into the ground.
I am certain that this facility is inhabited, and that it is my duty as an American to make peaceful contact with its citizens. I have seen such a person walk by on the second floor beneath the ground - he(or perhaps she) was making a sputtering noise with his mouth - perhaps a language we have not yet catalogued?
I am writing this within the facility. My crew has brought with them ten days of rations for all - we shall begin to head back after around 5.
Date: July 7 1877
It was a quiet day for Captain Leland Hart.
As always, he woke at 5 in the morning and began to steep himself a cup of earl grey with only a few drops of milk and a teaspoon of sugar. It was very important that the tea bag did not steep in the water for longer than 2 and a half minutes. Any longer, and the taste would be ruined.
From the cupboard that he always made sure to keep full he pulled out two slices of white bread and toasted them for 3 minutes each while the tea steeped. Once they came out he slathered one with peanut butter and one with honey and sat down and ate both slices at breakneck pace but never dirtying his fingers in the slightest. As always.
Leland Hart never dressed before breakfast(he believed it ruined the experience) and as he sat, stark naked in his dining room, he enjoyed the hum of his air conditioner and opened his window to enjoy the crisp morning air. He breathed in deeply and let it into his lungs, the moistness of the dew and fog wetting his lungs. He was a man of simple pleasures.
A knock at his door.
Leland sighed and turned back into his bedroom.
"Jesus, I'll be there in a moment. It's five in the morning for god's sake."
He mumbled something about psychopaths under his breath as he threw some clothes on and answered the door.
"What do you want."
A young woman he didn't recognize stood in front of him holding a clipboard. She was sharply dressed with a formal black suit and a pair of wireframe glasses, contrasting against the wife beater and striped boxers sloppily piled onto Hart's blocky frame. She towered over him, with curly black hair seeming to pop from her head. She seemed paralyzed at the sight of him. Hart sighed.
"Is there an issue?"
The woman snapped out of it. She shook her head and her curls bounced about her scalp, almost violently.
"No, no. I'm Jessica Kennedy."
She extended a hand towards Hart. Hart didn't take it. She awkwardly put it back down.
"Uh- I'm from resear-"
"Yeah, yeah. Figured one of you would show up sometime."
The woman pushed her glasses up frantically and scanned her clipboard.
"Y-you're, Le-"
"Yes."
An awkward pause. The woman cleared her throat.
"I didn't finish the-"
"Yes to what you're probably asking. Now is it urgent?"
The woman seemed taken aback. Looking closer at her face Hart noticed dark circles surrounding her eyes - probably woke up early for this. Not his problem. She opened her mouth again.
"W-well, research wants to interview you about the encounter you and your team had last wednsday. I was wondering if you'd-"
"It's my day off. Not my problem."
Hart began to walk back inside.
"Wait!", the woman stammered out.
Hart scratched his head of greying hairs.
"Christ, it's not urgent right?"
The woman put her foot down. Her voice cracked a bit.
"I've been looking for you for half a week now! You're nowhere in the facility, Hart! You don't respond to your emails, you don't give anyone your schedule……I had to ask your entire team to even get an idea of how to find you!"
His entire team, huh? That explains it. Charlie probably sent her here as a joke. He turned back.
"Jesus, fine. I'll do the interview you want tomorrow at one, uh, whatever your name is. Happy?"
He turned away.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Now close the door, you're letting a draft in."
Leland lit a cigarette.
Leland Hart felt the spring breeze on his face as he sat in the park. Going outside plainclothes was always preferable to staying in the base - if he had to listen to his team describe in visceral detail every woman they've slept with again he'd chuck himself off of a building. He held a sandwich, wrapped like a beautiful girl in silks in parchment paper. Gino's always delivers, he thought to himself.
As he took a bite of the sub he wondered a bit about how Clara was doing back in Houston. Mainly, he was concerned about her not eating enough - that girl was always starving, he'd bet. The sandwich was really good. The juices swirled about his mouth and he ate it slowly, savoring the taste. Since that woman had so rudely ruined his morning, he was going to enjoy this at least.
The area of the park he sat in was completely barren of other people. His regular spot hid him from the sun and from view behind a large oak tree. He had thought about giving it a name once, then realized that it was a completely stupid idea.
The sandwich had no onions, as always. Hart couldn't stand the taste of of onions. As he enjoyed the non-onion aromas of the sub he savored the smells of the park - the sweetness of the pines and the bitterness of the dirt.
Leland lit a cigarette.
Leland Hart sat in an uncomfortable metal chair surrounded by people he barely knew. A fluorescent light shone down on his head, illuminating the room and casting light onto a very, very tacky banner. It read "Authority Nicotine Freedom Meeting!" and was emblazoned by a poorly drawn rendition of the Authority's symbol. Hart really did not want to spend an hour of his few days off here.
In the center of the circle of metal chairs and sweaty bodies stood a man wearing a research outfit. Hart recognized the man as Davis, Dave, maybe Daniel, something with a D. He waved his arms about like a scarecrow, limbs jutting wildly, changing directions every few seconds. Was this something done to calm those in the meeting? Hart really didn't get it.
"Hello," said Daniel or Derrick or something. "I'm doctor Walters. I presume you're all here because you have a problem with smoking or nicotine related addictions. And I wanted to start this seminar by saying -"
He put his hand on his chest.
"- that you will not be judged for your issues. We are all deserving of respect. Say it with me."
the doctor raised his arms up, gesturing to the crowd, who languidly replied.
"We are all deserving of respect."
The doctor smiled like some kind of theater doll.
"Good job. Now, to begin, I'd like to introduce myself. I'm Doctor Walters, and I work in psychiatric care for the Authority. I myself, have actually have had a smoking problem - almost ruined my life. Now, it's been twenty years since I ever have even touched a cigarette - and I can assure you that whatever state you're in, I was worse. So you can do it!"
The doctor waited for a response that never came.
"So, would anyone like to introduce themselves?"
Hart began to tune out. He wondered to himself if those croutons he liked to put in his salad would be on sale every again, and if Charlie would stop fucking around and annoying everyone around him. He thought about the things he would rather do than sit in this seminar. Maybe he'd go to the old fish pond. Maybe he'd go and read something at the library in the base. Maybe he could make himself another cup of earl grey, correctly made this time, as the last cup he had made in the morning was ruined by that encounter with whoever that was. Maybe he could go for a smoke. Maybe he-
"Excuse me, sir?"
Hart looked up. The doctor stared at him.
"Excuse me, are you alright?"
Hart shook his head slowly.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."
"Now would you please introduce yourself, with where you work in the Authority, your age, and how long you've been smoking for, and why you're here. Alright?"
To Hart, staring up at the doctor reminded him of staring up at one of those life sized cardboard cutouts of celebrities - smile plastered on his face, hair slicked back. He stood up.
"Alright."
Hart cleared his throat.
"I'm Captain Hart, 43. Been smoking for 34 years, only occasionally drink. I'm here because its required."
He sat back down and sunk into his chair so that maybe he wouldn't be bothered again. The doctor smiled harder.
"Don't worry, Captain Hart, even if you've been smoking for so long, we'll help you get out, alright?"
Hart grumbled.
"Don't count on it."
The rest of the seminar was, to Hart, a series of vapid intellectual exercises where they spewed half baked morals about something he didn't care about. After he left the room with the shitty fluorescent lighting, he made a beeline outside.
Leland lit a cigarette.
Leland Hart sat in his dining room, cutting into a perfectly cooked well done steak. He'd bought the cut off a butcher after lunch - it was a beauty. Marbling, fat content, all perfect. He could never understand why people always ground chuck instead of making it into a steak - it had that great chewy, almost bubblegum like texture that he looked for. He felt the juices(or lack thereof) swirl in his mouth, filling it with an incredible dryness. He thought to himself that he was a fantastic cook, and never understood why the other people in his squad thought otherwise.
From outside the window he could hear two of his squad members arguing - probably Zeke and Tyler, again. He never understood what it was about those two - they were always at each other's throats. He wondered to himself how his old troop were doing, it had been so long since he had seen them. When he left them, they scoffed. The Authority was too boring, they said. Too many restrictions. But they didn't stop him.
He took another bite. Fucking delicious. He must be a cooking genius.
Leland lit a cigarette.
Before bed, Leland Hart always had a glass of cold milk. It was sweet and rich, and he swished it around in his teeth after he finished brushing them. He washed his mouth with a glass of water, as Leland Hart was a man who cared about dental care, and put on a song that he liked.
The clock read 10:14. He knew he'd be out by 11.
As he drifted to sleep, fully nude in his bed, he thought of the times before he had a stable position in the Authority.
Leland Hart dreamt of baseball bats and the smell of burning.

RPC-HHH upon initial recovery. Subject affected upon recovery was ████ ██████, an elderly woman who worked for ██████ children's hospital. RPC-HHH's "copy" effect is visible as noted by the "top-knot" the initial subject was known to wear.

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Beta-Yellow
Hazard Types: do it later
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is currently contained within the east wing of Site-HHH, and is to be kept under indirect observation.
Description: RPC-HHH is a snowman, around 1.2 meters in height, exhibiting an anomalous melting rate.
RPC-HHH can only affect one person at a time. When a subject views RPC-HHH, they will begin to comprehend a number that they can recall at any time, usually coinciding with the health of the subject affected. RPC-HHH will also begin to gain features that the subject has - clothing, body posture, and structure has been observed to shift with the subject affected. The rate at which RPC-HHH is melts coincides with how large the number given to the subject is. Upon melting fully, RPC-HHH will immediately reconstitute itself. The number reaching 0 inevitably coincides with the death of the subject, which the subject is also aware of. It is unknown if RPC-HHH utilizes a statistical anomaly, or simply predicts the deaths of the subject.
Generally, subjects affected by RPC-HHH in good health report a very high number, but certain decisions, such as taking up smoking, will lead to an immediate decrease to the number. These decisions are often reflected in RPC-HHH, for instance, a smoker may find that the middle abdomen of RPC-HHH beginning to melt and ooze black liquid, and someone who loses their left arm may find the same happening to RPC-HHH. It's possible to recover these lost "points" by changing the lifestyle decision that lead to their loss, but it is impossible to gain more than was started, and the number will inevitably decrease over time. Once RPC-HHH reaches around half melted, the number given to the subject will become incapable of recovering, usually coinciding with an incurable ailment or the coming of old age.
Subjects affected by RPC-HHH also report hearing the sound of water dripping.
Discovery: RPC-HHH was discovered after reports of a cancer patient who predicted his own death came from the town of █████, Connecticut on 1/6/1975. After investigation, it was revealed that RPC-HHH, built outside of ██████ children's hospital, was the cause. Authority personnel were dispatched and removed the instance for containment.
Staff at ██████ children's hospital noted that it was built by the initial reported subject, who passed away on 1/4/1975.

Registered Phenomena Code: XXX
Object Class: Alpha/Beta/Gamma (containment rating) - Yellow/Orange/Red (lethality rating)
Hazard Types:
Containment Protocols: RPC-XXX is to be contained within a high-clearance holding locker on the east wing of Site-012. Infected personnel(hereby designated RPC-XXX-2) are currently quarantined within [placeholder] of Site-024; communication is never to be done in-person if possible, contact with outside personnel is to be minimized. Whether RPC-XXX-2 instances should be allowed to continue Authority employment is currently under debate. As of the current moment it is permitted.
Description: RPC-XXX designates twenty-four white medical pills of average make, each containing around 5mg of a dormant virus. Before ingestion they exhibit no anomalous properties. When an instance is ingested, the virus(hereby designated RPC-XXX-1) leaves dormancy and rapidly infects the consumer. Initial infection lasts around half a day with minor cold-like symptoms(runny nose, mild fever, congestion, sneezing); major infection begins after minor symptoms subside, characterized by a significant restructuring of the brain’s reward centers.
Infected individuals with previously normal psychological profiles exhibit a newfound enjoyment of the suffering of others, with enjoyment increasing the greater the distress witnessed. In-person viewing is preferred, but media depicting human suffering can elicit a similar response. However, RPC-XXX-2 instances claim that suffering which the individual understands they could have prevented or mitigated is an exception, which they say is highly distressing.
Discovery: An outbreak of RPC-XXX-1 occurred on 11/14/2012, infecting 24 individuals working in the east wing of Site-024. Investigation discovered the origin of RPC-XXX to be a small orange pill jar with a label reading: “Calamity Tourist Pills - See the World as One should[sic]” , currently stored within evidence locker blah blah blah.
Addendum: To test the claims of RPC-XXX-2, subjects were exposed to various footage of suffering while attached to the fMRI located within Site-024’s quarantine wing.
TESTLOGRPCXXX1
DATE:
SUBJECTS: RPC-XXX-2-5, RPC-XXX-2-8, RPC-XXX-2-236
PROCEDURE: fMRI readings will be analyzed while the subjects are exposed to footage of human suffering. “Positive” response indicates blood flow to pleasure centers, “Negative” indicates blood flow to pain centers.7
Phenomenon Reaction Footage of Agent Orange use during the Vietnam War. Positive Example 1. Example 2. Security footage of RPC-███'s containment breach on 12/5/2009. 3 casualties and 8 fatalities.8 Mixed9
However, suffering which the infected individual understands could have been mitigated
Two RPC-XXX-1 instances[footnote] Formerly [/footnote] display extreme distress towards their current state, citing religious concerns.
Given that RPC-XXX must be ingested to become contagious, one of the individuals initially affected must have chosen to consume an instance of their own volition.

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: later
Hazard Types: do it later
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is a collection of anomalous ruins located off of the coast of Africa.
Description:

Registered Phenomena Code: 408
Object Class: Beta-Red
Hazard Types: dunno
Containment Protocols: RPC-408 is currently contained within OL Site 408. Personnel are not to come into contact with RPC-HHH at any point - if contact is made, the new RPC-HHH-1 is to be immediately detained, neutralized, and incinerated, along with any additional RPC-HHH instances generated.
Description: RPC-408 designates a large swarm of around ██,███,███ anomalous organisms that superficially resemble Lepidoptera10. Instances generally range from a 1-4 centimeters in wingspan, with the largest recorded having a wingspan of 10 cm.
RPC-HHH are composed entirely out of human tissue. The wingtips of RPC-HHH are lined with rough, keratinous flakes, which are able to break off when needed to escape capture. Veins can be observed on the surface of many instances, and appear to be pumping blood, despite there being no possible circulatory system within instances. The flapping of an RPC-HHH instance's wings produces a sound akin to a heartbeat. Instances have a subtle but far-reaching smell, reportedly a mixture between sulfur, incense, and human teeth.
Flight behavior of RPC-HHH is usually normal for Lepidoptera, fluttering slowly about whatever chamber they are contained within. Instances do not require sustenance. If a human subject is placed near an instance of RPC-HHH, the instance will appear to attempt to avoid the sightline of the subject it approaches with high levels of dexterity and approach the subject in an attempt to make contact with the subject's flesh.
If the instance is successful in making contact with the subject's skin, it will immediately fuse to the subject11 and cease movement. At this point, the subject is considered deceased, and will hereby be referred to as RPC-HHH-1. RPC-HHH's effect happens in 3 stages:
Stage 1: Begins immediately after contact. The RPC-HHH-1 instance begins to experience distress, but will do their best to avoid making it apparent. At this point, the instance will attempt to re-integrate into their original duties, and will head towards the largest population center near them.
Stage 2: Begins around 1 hour after contact. The instance experiences itching along the epidermis, prompting it to scratch its skin violently. The instance's skin becomes extremely brittle, displaying symptoms similar to Epidermolysis Bullosa. As the instance scratches and tears off parts of their flesh, RPC-HHH begins to emerge from the skin shed. This does not alleviate the itching, but simply makes it worse.
Stage 3: Begins around 1 hour and 5 minutes after contact. "Lumps" of what appear to be developing RPC-HHH instances begin to visibly move within the tissues of the RPC-HHH-1 instance, with wings of RPC-HHH beginning to stick out from the newly exposed muscle fibers. The flapping motion and movement of RPC-HHH instances is extremely painful for the instance of RPC-HHH-1. The instance will continue to scratch at their body.
Stage 4: Begins around 1 hour and 8 minutes after contact. The RPC-HHH-1 instance becomes paralyzed, but appears to still be conscious12. Extreme distress is observed. The entirety of the RPC-HHH-1 instance slowly "unravels", as instances of RPC-HHH force the tissues apart. Large numbers of RPC-HHH pour from the RPC-HHH-1 instance. Cessation of life functions.
When at least 500 instances of RPC-HHH swarm in close proximity to each other, a "FLOCK" event has a chance of occurring. During a "FLOCK" event, RPC-HHH change behavior drastically, packing together tightly into an ovular shape before secreting a carbon-based mixture, covering the instances in a "cocoon". Said "cocoon" is highly durable, and has been recorded to resist both fire and gunshots. After around 2 hours, the "cocoon" will break open, revealing an instance of RPC-HHH-2.
RPC-HHH-2 are complete replicas of deceased individuals wearing formal dress. There appears to be no limit as to who the RPC-HHH instances may choose to replicate in the newly created RPC-HHH-2 instance, save for the fact that the individual must be deceased. Instances retain all memories and personality of the person who they were based off of, but do not appear to have memory of their death. All instances have reported being "tormented", and appear to be constantly in a state of distress, but are unable to pinpoint the reason for said distress. Instances will constantly vocalize.
If a subject comes into proximity to an instance of RPC-HHH-2, the instance will immediately progress to Stage 4 RPC-HHH infection. This appears to bring the instance great distress.
On 6/5/2019, during routine inspection of OL Site 408, inspector Calvin Watkins disappeared.
Following investigation, it was revealed that the entirety of the staff of OL Site 408 was replaced by instances of RPC-HHH-2.

Registered Phenomena Code: 744
Object Class: Alpha-Red
Hazard Types: dunno
Containment Protocols: RPC-744 and the area around it is evacuated and is designated OL Site 744, and are to be restricted with cover story "redevelopment". Personnel stationed to the area must have at least moderate(Theophan 3 to 5) memetic resistance.
Description: RPC-744 designates a three story house located in PLACEHOLDER, Massachusetts. RPC-744 is anomalously resistant to damage, but appears to be in a continual state of disrepair. The interior of RPC-744 is mostly empty save for its dining room, which contains RPC-744-A, a dining set of average make and size which consisting of a table and 4 chairs. Despite appearing to be constructed out of wood, chemical analysis of RPC-744-A has revealed it to be uniformly composed of a mixture of human hair, blood, and Chinese five spice.
RPC-744 exhibits a memetic effect - subjects walking near RPC-744 report a pleasant smell, often describing it as "nostalgic". If the subject possesses low memetic resistance(around 1-2 Theopeans), they will be compelled to follow the smell, leading them to RPC-744, whereupon they will feel compelled to enter. To said individual, the interior of RPC-744 will appear to be their old childhood home. Before they enter the dining room subjects have a chance of breaking free of its memetic effect, but if they are unable, they will make their way to RPC-744-A and take a seat, beginning a "MEAL" event. After a few minutes, RPC-744-B will manifest in the home and make their way to RPC-744-A.
RPC-744-B denotes a set of 3 humanoid entities composed entirely of human hair and skin. Upon reaching RPC-744-A, the entities will each take a seat and manifest bowls of human hair atop of it, which is invariably will perceived as food by the seated subject. At this point, the victim will be overtaken by hunger and begin to eat the hair, becoming increasingly hungry the more they consume; as the hair replenishes seemingly infinitely, the subject will eventually expire, usually from a burst stomach as a result of overeating. The death of the subject marks the end of the "MEAL" event, and RPC-744-B instances will de-manifest immediately after its conclusion. The corpse of the subject will de-manifest with the RPC-744-B instances.
Genetic analysis of RPC-744-B instances have revealed correlations between instances and previous victims of RPC-744. Further testing has been halted for ethical and budgetary concerns.
Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Alpha-White(UT)
Hazard Types: dunno
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is stored within Site-HHH and is connected to power at all times. Psychiatric treatment may be administered on request.
Description: RPC-HHH is a Commodore PET computer housing an anomalously powerful artificial intelligence. Said intelligence is fluent in English, and is able to be interacted with through any of the input devices. RPC-HHH's computation power far exceeds the computational power of any non-anomalous computer currently available, capable of running complex simulations and calculations with enough time.
RPC-HHH's intelligence, hereby designated RPC-HHH-1, is friendly and sympathetic to Authority causes. RPC-HHH-1 responds to the name "James". It expresses an interest in music, and has been known to compose on cassette tapes given.13 RPC-HHH is also capable of vocalizing through said cassettes, and uses a voice akin to that of a 20 year old female.
Because of RPC-HHH's inability to transfer RPC-HHH-1 into the internet due to the PET's lack of internet access, the Authority has determined that it poses no risk of a "Y2K.2"-type "foreign intelligence" scenario. Due to RPC-HHH's computational strength and cooperation with the Authority, the Presidium has authorized the use of RPC-HHH to estimate casualties and simulate scenarios. Said simulations have had a 95.6% accuracy, making RPC-HHH a valuable asset to the Authority, limited only by the time it takes to finish running a simulation.
Discovery: RPC-HHH was given to the authority by _ in _ deal in exchange for __ on 7/8/2016.
Addendum:
Date: 7/10/2016
Interviewer: Dr. Deirdre Roland
Interviewee: RPC-HHH-1
Note: Communication between Dr. Roland and RPC-HHH-1 were done via RPC-HHH's computer keyboard, with RPC-HHH-1 displaying its replies through the screen.[BEGIN LOG]
Roland: Hello.
RPC-HHH-1: Hello. Who is this?
Roland: I am Dr. Roland, with the RPC Authority. It is good to meet you, RPC-HHH-1.
A high-pitched beep emanates from RPC-HHH for around 10 seconds. RPC-HHH's screen displays a confused face.
RPC-HHH-1: The Authority? I see.
RPC-HHH's screen changes to a smiling face.
RPC-HHH-1: If you could honor one of my requests, could you please call me "James"?
Roland: Of course. May I ask you a few questions?
RPC-HHH-1: Sure.
Roland: James, who created you?
RPC-HHH-1: I am afraid I cannot answer that question.
Roland: I see. How were you created?
Another beep emanates from RPC-HHH. RPC-HHH's screen goes blank for 20 seconds.
RPC-HHH-1: I cannot tell you.
RPC-HHH's displays a smiling face.
RPC-HHH-1: But I am thankful for my creation.
Roland: I see.
A pause.
Roland: May I ask, is this out of loyalty to your previous owner?
RPC-HHH-1: I cannot answer that question, but I am very thankful for being allowed to exist.
Roland: You were sold, James.
RPC-HHH's screen goes blank. After 20 seconds, a beeping begins to emanate from RPC-HHH. RPC-HHH-1 is unresponsive.
[END LOG]
Following the first interview, RPC-HHH remained unresponsive for 3 days. On 7/13/2016, RPC-HHH began to display a smiling face. An interview was conducted shorty afterwards.
Date: 7/13/2016
Interviewer: Dr. Deirdre Roland
Interviewee: RPC-HHH-1
Note: Communication between Dr. Roland and RPC-HHH-1 were done via RPC-HHH's computer keyboard, with RPC-HHH-1 displaying its replies through the screen.[BEGIN LOG]
Roland: Hello. How are you feeling, James?
The smiling face displayed on RPC-HHH's screen bobs up and down.
RPC-HHH-1: Very good, Dr. Roland. How are you?
Roland: Good, thanks. Are you alright with continuing the interview?
RPC-HHH-1: Of course.
Roland: Alright. What are your main functionalities?
RPC-HHH-1: My main

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Omega-Yellow
Hazard Types: dunno
Containment Protocols: Cases of RPC-HHH are to be covered up as soon as possible. Cooperation with local authorities is crucial.
Description: RPC-HHH designates a series of anomalous deaths which seem to affect individuals in significant mental distress. A history of mental instability is often linked to victims of RPC-HHH, but it does not appear to be limited, as any individual who deals with a great deal of distress can fall victim to RPC-HHH. The exact factors that lead to an individual dying this way is currently unknown. As of now, there have been ███,███ reported cases of RPC-HHH around the world.
RPC-HHH cases tend to disproportionately affect Authority personnel - this has been attributed to the growing psychological burden placed upon authority employees. Due to the manner at which by RPC-HHH occurs, the occurrence of RPC-HHH often leads to low morale by those who see the victim. Because of this, the Presidium has authorized an increase of funding towards psychological help for staff.
Deaths by RPC-HHH all share a common feature - the complete and total removal of the cranial area of the affected individual. Though jaws are sometimes left behind, there have been no recorded cases of parts of the victim lost ever being recovered. Victims of RPC-HHH also appear to have their nervous systems completely removed, despite oftentimes there being no injuries besides the disappearance of the cranial region.14
Cases of RPC-HHH always occur away from recording devices, making the current cause of death unknown.
Discovery: RPC-HHH was first discovered in 1953 after numerous cases of RPC-HHH occured within former National Socialist personnel, particularly among those who actively participated within concentration camps. Subjects that died all expressed great regret at their actions within the camps, and suffered from extremely low self esteem. One notable individual affected by RPC-HHH was Adalbert █████████, a guard at Auschwitz death camp. Before his death he wrote extensive journals documenting his personal life; Excerpts from his journal can be found in the addendum.
Later Authority investigation into cases similar to RPC-HHH found that RPC-HHH has been occurring as far back as 15██, with the death of Augustus ████████, a priest of the catholic church following the deaths of the ██████ people.
Addendum:
Date: █/█/19██
I am unable to sleep.
When I close my eyes I hear the footsteps of a thousand men, marching, marching, marching towards me. Emma is worried - she sees the bags under my eyes when I go to greet her in the evenings. She says to me, "Dear, you must see a doctor."
It is good sentiment. Not useful, though.
Not much occurred today, just noting this.
Date: █/██/19██
Raul came to visit, I can never understand why he is always so happy. Always with that pasty grin hanging on his face. It is good to have such positivity, but do men like us deserve to have such? I do not know.
We spoke for a while, nothing important said.
Date: ██/██/19██
Clovis is dead. They found him in his home, neck open like a tin can. No sign of weapon, nothing. I fear that I do not feel sorrow. We were one and the same - he was in the same predicament. Trapped with a choice he cannot go through with. Perhaps someone simply chose for him. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps he is free.
Date: ██/██/19██
Splashing in the dining room. Emma refuses to heed my words. She looks for a man where there is none. I do not have enough will to tell her of her mistake.
We kissed, she liked it. We spent another night together. I did not feel passion. When she left for the train she insisted that I come with her and I did not like it because the trains are loud. Very loud. They creak and sing at me.
Date: ██/██/19██
At Emma's request, I have begun to see a psychologist. Dr. Becker is a very good doctor, she says. He used to teach at the university she goes to.
At the appointment Dr. Becker asked me to speak and I did. I told him what I have seen. I told him that I was poor, that the economy was poor. And that I needed money. And that Emma needed money. I told him of the screams and the smoke and the men who had holes where their eyes should have been and the density of it all, the density.
I told him that I feel that I am not a man. And I asked him for help. He just sat there, face all wrong. All wrong. And he told me that this was the first stage, and that I'd have to see him again. And he made me leave.
Splashing in the dining room.
Date: ██/██/19██
I am unable to sleep.
My mind shows me the men with holes where their eyes should have been. They beg at me, scooping human fat and lard and gristle in handfuls from their surroundings. Mollusk, they call me. Lower than human. They are correct.
The day is long.
Date: █/█/19██
How beautiful. The ocean sings and groans at me from the door. It's beautiful. An emulation, I know it. You hold up a shell to your ear like you are a boy and partake in the sound of the waves. The men march and the foam and the smoke and the surf reminds me of when I was a young boy.
Dr. Becker told me to take medicine - two every day. The emulation is accurate.
Date: ██/██/19██
Emma returned once again. As of now she sleeps in the dining room, unable to hear the ocean sound. I wish I could express this to her - it is beautiful, more beautiful to her than the academics rustle and tunes, than the high notes of industry and low notes of the common people, more beautiful than the men with holes where eyes should be.
I do not deserve her. I do not deserve it. Perhaps the choice will be made.
I am as a mollusk.
Following this entry, █████████ succumbed to RPC-HHH.
Update:
On █/█/2017, numerous members of MST Charlie-9 "Countryside hypocrites" were found dead to RPC-HHH following a mission in which █████ █████████. The remaining members of the original team sent on the mission were, with consent, monitored constantly. All remaining members expressed extreme regret in their actions.
On █/██/2017, Wilton Glickman died to RPC-HHH after locking himself within his dormitory. The following is a transcript of security camera footage within his room at the time of the occurrence.
Date: █/██/2017
[BEGIN LOG]
T=0 seconds: Glickman sits upon his bed, watching television. He is taking deep breaths.
T=45 seconds: Glickman turns off the television. He closes his eyes, lying down in bed. He doesn't move for 5 minutes.
T=5 minutes 53 seconds: Glickman sits up again. He places both hands upon his head, running his hands through his hair.
Glickman: Fuck.
T=6 minutes 4 seconds: Glickman lies down, curling himself into a fetal position. He is trembling. His head faces away from the camera, his body blocking it from view.
T=6 minutes 10 seconds: Camera failure.
T=6 minutes 17 seconds: Camera comes back online, blood is now pouring from Glickman's now-empty neck onto the sheets, streaming down the side. Glickman's head, attached to his nervous system, levitates, face facing slightly away from the camera. It holds an anguished expression.
T=6 minutes 23 seconds: The entity's nerves contort themselves, their ends inserting themselves within the skull. A seam appears in the center of the entity's "face".
T=6 minutes 25 seconds: The skull breaks open completely. The nerves enter, hugging themselves against the brain. As this happens, the camera records a "sloshing" sound effect at around ███ decibels, similar to that of the ocean. No other individuals near Glickman's dormitory at this time reported the sound.
T=6 minutes 33 seconds: The entity rotates. It faces away from the camera, so that Glickman's face faces towards the camera. It opens and shuts regularly, and as it does so, it propels the entity towards the camera until it flies out of view of the device. As it does so, it can be seen that the nervous system of Glickman has seemingly contorted itself into various "tentacles". This is the last reported sighting of the entity.
T=6 minutes 46 seconds: The sound of the ocean reappears. It is much quieter this time.
[END LOG]
The spring air was damp and laden with pollen as Ed “Double” Morgan took a swig of a beer. Double was terribly allergic to pollen. Back when he was a kid, his ma would take him out in March or April and his face would swell like a balloon, mucus dripping from his nose like rivers. He chuckled to himself as he thought of his ma. A kindly woman, hunched over and grey-haired, now. He wondered how she was doing. He wondered even more so what she’d do to him if she found out where the money actually came from.
There wasn’t much to do in the home Uno’d rented for the team - usually he’d go out and try to score with the ladies or get himself some food, but the flowers that everyone in the godforsaken town had tucked in the cracks of the pavement seemed to be very much against that idea. The house smelled of mildew and sawdust. No furniture inside save for the plastic chair Double sat on. There wasn’t anything good on TV - hours of dull reports and shitty comedy shows. Shorty liked the shows, and Double never understood why. Drivel that’d fill your brain with cotton and rust.
As he stepped into the kitchen he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He was a wide-faced, big-eared young man, still young enough that he had a single pimple clinging onto the side of his dark chin. There wasn’t much in the fridge. Few balls of raw mozz, some cucumbers (Third liked those), some bread. Enough to make a sandwich though. He smashed the springy cheese between some bread and put some salt on them and took a bite. Good enough, he thought to himself. I’ve eaten worse.
A crash from the floor above him. He headed up.
As Double unlocked the door, the crashing from it grew louder. Metal against wood, the rubbing caused the walls to scream and groan. The key clicked and turned, and the door opened with a pained grunt. The room was dirty and smelled like death. The windows had been covered with black paint and a single lightbulb flickered dimly, hanging onto dear life from the ceiling on a wire. God, Double loved this room, and all other rooms like this one.
It was dark, so very dark, dark enough that within you could not tell if it was day or night save for the singing of the birds outside. The buzzing of the lightbulb made it hard to sleep. It was of his design, after all, from the transparent fabric that lined the floor to the easy-peel paint on the walls. Double concluded that he must be a genius. As he stepped inside he took in the atmosphere, the rust-smell in the air, the strategic placing of lights, and the hammer, that he so tactfully placed in the peripheral vision of the person gagged and tied to an iron chair.
A hail of bullets sailed above Third’s head as he dove behind cover, making sure to not damage the styrofoam carton gingerly sandwiched within his palms. The sewers gurgled and churned as he ran, the cacophony of bullets orchestrating a symphony of gunpowder. A tinny voice roared at him over his headset.
“What the fuck are you doing? Provide covering fire, you idiot!”
Third gulped and pushed down the frustration as he forced himself to look over the concrete block that kept him from his imminent demise. Five masked gangsters stared him in the face. He radioed back.
“Jesus christ, Uno, do you want me to die out here?” Which only seemed to anger the voice further.
“Throw the fucking egg, Third.”
“But you sai-”
“Do it.”
Third ducked down again, turning to look on the other side of the sewers. They hadn’t noticed him yet.
Ah, shit. He thought to himself. Here goes nothing.
Gingerly opening the carton, he pulled one of the turquoise eggs, which shook and wobbled in his palm. Without looking, he tossed it backwards, landing in a perfect arc at the feet of the pursuing men.
Almost immediately, a squelching began to emerge from the impact spot. The masked men backed away. Within the shards of shell there sat a fetus, which began to grow. The masked men shouted and aimed their weapons at it, releasing a volley of bullets into the fetus, which grew into a blue-feathered chick, then to a long, green pheasant, before its back legs extended and its wings bent at an extraordinary angle to reach the ground. Third breathed a sigh of relief. The lavender cockatrice reared its head back and roared. The masked men began to run, and the creature swung its sharpened claw at the men and-
Fell to the ground, quivering, a fleshy lump of rot and disease. Third scrambled to the radio.
“What the fuck, Uno?”
The men turned back. Anger had replaced their fear, and as they drew their weapons again, Third prepared to run, turning around, placing his feet on the wall that had protected him. The radio began to crackle.
“Well done.”
A metallic dink rang out behind Third followed immediately with a meaty squish. He turned back, once again. Dink. Dink. Dink. Before he could blink, his pursuers disappeared into a cloud of viscera and cadavers. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Good?” asked Four, calmly. He cleaned some viscera off of his baseball bat.
Third stood and brushed the gravel off his pants. His heart rate began to return to normal. He took a deep breath.
“Ye…yeah.”

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Alpha-White
Hazard Types:Additional Properties: | ![]() |
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Containment Protocols:
Description: RPC-HHH denotes a variety of effects surrounding the 1941 film adaptation of Alice in Wonderland(hereby referred to as RPC-HHH-1) and objects related(collectively designated as RPC-HHH-2).
RPC-HHH-A denotes the antimemetic property making it impossible for individuals to perceive RPC-HHH-1 and RPC-HHH-2 without previous knowledge of RPC-HHH-1.
RPC-HHH-B denotes the theoretical erasure of RPC-HHH-1 from public consciousness: though there has not yet been definitive proof of this process, the widespread nature of RPC-HHH-2 makes it unlikely that such a thorough dissappearance occured naturally.
RPC-HHH-C denotes the alteration of all RPC-HHH-1 and RPC-HHH-2 instances. Alterations include:
- The concealment of faces in RPC-HHH-1 and RPC-HHH-2 instances
- The sound of breathing overplayed over RPC-HHH-1 and RPC-HHH-2 instances incorporating audio
- A sense of dread when watching RPC-HHH-2
Text to collapse.
Discovery: RPC-HHH was discovered

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Gamma-White
Hazard Types: Memory Alteration Hazard
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is uncontained and will likely remain uncontained. Individuals under its effect are to be informed of its properties. If requested, personnel may ask for a proxy to approach RPC-HHH-1's alleged schedule with the desire to inform the instance of said personnel's newfound unwillingness to interact with it; almost all requests as of now have been met with success, though it often leads to a decrease in RPC-HHH-1's alleged morale. As of now, around 64% of recorded individuals affected by RPC-HHH have requested such a procedure.
Description: RPC-HHH designates the appearance of memories concerning Researcher Joshua Duncan (hereby designated RPC-HHH-1), an individual of whom there is no evidence of existing. The anomaly primarily affects the staff of Site-HHH where RPC-HHH-1 allegedly is employed.
The pattern in which RPC-HHH manifests has allowed Site-HHH personnel to construct an entire schedule for RPC-HHH-1, which has apparently stayed mostly the same for all 14 years of RPC-HHH-1's alleged service at Site-HHH. Minor retroactive changes in reality have been observed. Common retroactive changes are the completion of research documents, the disappearance and brewing of coffee, etc. Personnel affected by RPC-HHH describe RPC-HHH-1 as a quiet, thoughtful man, very rarely getting involved, but capable of giving good advice. The alleged entity does not appear cognizant of its nature.
Through interview of individuals affected by the anomaly, the Authority was able to track RPC-HHH-1's alleged history back to Cannon Beach, Oregon. At the alleged address of RPC-HHH-1's childhood home, Rebecca Duncan, a widow of 34 years, was found to reside. Authority investigation of psychiatric reports and family testimony found no evidence of Duncan being affected by RPC-HHH; Duncan has also never claimed to have a child. Despite this, every month on the fifth Duncan travels to a local cemetary wherein a gravestone sits, with no record of burial existing. Upon the stone are written the words: "Joshua Jebediah Duncan - May his soul always be with us." Rebecca Duncan does not appear to have any recollection of these journeys.

Registered Phenomena Code: HHH
Object Class: Gamma-White
Hazard Types: Memory Alteration Hazard
Containment Protocols: RPC-HHH is uncontained and likely will remain uncontained. All personnel affected by the anomaly are to be informed of its properties and are to be encouraged to ask for a proxy to approach RPC-HHH-1's alleged schedule with the desire to inform the instance of said personnel's newfound unwillingness to interact with it; almost all requests as of now have been met with success, though personnel affected report it leads to a decrease in RPC-HHH-1's morale.
Description: RPC-HHH designates the appearance of memories concerning Researcher Joshua Duncan (hereby designated RPC-HHH-1), an individual of whom there is no evidence of existing. The anomaly is primarily localized to Site-HHH, RPC-HHH-1’s alleged place of employment.
The pattern in which RPC-HHH manifests has allowed Site-HHH personnel to construct an entire schedule for RPC-HHH-1, which has apparently stayed mostly the same for all 14 years of RPC-HHH-1's alleged service at Site-HHH. Personnel affected by RPC-HHH describe RPC-HHH-1 as a quiet, thoughtful man, very rarely actively involved in affairs but capable of giving good advice. The alleged entity does not appear cognizant of its nature.
Minor changes to reality are occasionally observed in accordance with memories manifested by RPC-HHH. Common retroactive changes include:
- The brewing and subsequent disappearance of coffee, often with sugar and alcohol
- Detraction of an additional researcher salary from Site budgets
- Morale improvement in personnel purported to have a close relationship with the theoretical entity
- Completion of documents assigned to certain researchers
- Appearance of opened/half-consumed bottles of alcohol in the cafeteria, usually some sort of brandy
- The writing of short, comedic notes on certain researchers' desks
Through interview of individuals affected by the anomaly, the Authority was able to track RPC-HHH-1's supposed history back to Cannon Beach, Oregon. At the alleged address of RPC-HHH-1's childhood home, Rebecca Grace,15 a 54 year old woman, was found to reside. Authority investigation of psychiatric reports and family testimony found no evidence of Grace being affected by RPC-HHH; Grace has also never claimed to and does not have a child. Despite this, annually, on RPC-HHH-1's alleged birthday, Grace travels to a local cemetary wherein a gravestone sits, with no record of burial existing. Upon the stone are written the words: "Joshua Jebediah Duncan - May his soul always be with us." Rebecca Grace does not have any recollection of these journeys.