Croquembouche's Scrapped Ideas Bin for Crap Ideas

I have disowned any ideas that are currently on this page.

If you see something you like and want to rewrite it or something, go right ahead. I'll even collab with you if you want.

Whatever was here was unscrapped
Reason for scrappage - not funny

Item #: SCP-BULB-J

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: Due to the nature of SCP-BULB-J and its widespread presence in online media, containment is not currently possible. Efforts are ongoing to track down and delete instances of SCP-BULB-J-1. Foundation web crawler I/O-NSYS is to monitor social media for instances of SCP-BULB-J-1. These instances are to be deleted and the offender's details reported to MTF-💡 "Edison's Fellatio". Where the upload of SCP-BULB-J-1 is deemed malicious, MTF-💡 are to take the necessary actions to prevent further uploads.

Victims of SCP-BULB-J are to be given appropriate medical attention as soon as possible.

By necessity, the following document contains multiple cognitohazards. Reader discretion is advised. As this document constitutes an instance of SCP-BULB-J-1, please immediately report to the Memetics Department if you believe you have been infected with SCP-BULB-J.

Description: SCP-BULB-J is a weaponised cognitohazardous meme created and spread online by the Chaos Insurgency that makes the viewer want to put a lightbulb in their mouth.

While only one version of the meme was uploaded, various other versions have been created by those affected. As these retain SCP-BULB-J's anomalous effects, this implies that the anomalous nature of the compulsion is tied to the information rather than the medium. Any medium (such as an image, video or written work) that carries the effects of SCP-BULB-J is designated SCP-BULB-J-1.

The primary method of injection through which SCP-BULB-J exerts is influence is through a memetic hazard tied to text surrounding the relationship between a lightbulb and the human mouth. The text explains that the shape of a lightbulb results in it being very easy to place inside a mouth. It goes on to explain that because of the clenching of jaw muscles for being held open by the lightbulb, as well as the fact that to remove the lightbulb would involve the application of pressure on its non-spherical surface, attempting to remove the lightbulb causes it to shatter and harm the victim.

Tests indicate that approximately 70% of those exposed to SCP-BULB-J accept the infection and experience a desire to place a lightbulb in their mouth. Roughly 5% of those actually go on to do so, although this is mostly those who would engage in impulse behaviours by default. As such it is believed that only the initial propagation of the idea is anomalous.

As of yet, a successful removal of a lightbulb from a mouth has not been documented.

Reason for scrappage: I don't think this would be well-recieved

Item #: SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
is to be contained within a standard humanoid containment cell, but only requires one quarter portion of standard rations per day.

Personnel are required to avoid physically pronouncing SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
and are instead to refer to it as "the subject' or similar when speaking. Fast-acting sedatives, strong enough to induce unconsciousness, are to be kept in emergency supplies at all Sites.

Description: SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
resembles a male human, elderly in appearance, approximately 50 cm tall although all limbs, head etc are proportioned normally - i.e. SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
appears to be "shrunk down".

SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
claims to be several hundred years old, although the exact number varies between interviews, and describes itself as 'the last SCP ever contained by the Foundation'. It claims to have been sent back in time from the future, although its description of the future are so abstract that they cannot be verified.

The only notable anomalous effect extends to the designated SCP number of SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
— despite all efforts otherwise, the number renders digitally as an infinite series of nines. In the event that an attempt is made to reassign it — as has been attempted many times — when the document is saved, any SCP number that refers to SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
will revert itself. The effect extends to printed documentation (although the nines will simply run off the right-hand-side of the page, including in regions where the printer would normally be unable to reach) and to speech. Personnel who attempt to pronounce SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
will find themselves unable to stop, normally causing a significant amount of panic. If left unattended, they will continue indefinitely, up to the point at which they exhaust their initial breath and will begin to suffocate. The process can be interrupted by any drug that causes the affected personnel to lose consciousness.

SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
alone possesses the ability to pronounce its own number — it does so using a conceptual method of communication, as opposed to speech, that has not yet been discovered in our timeline. Personnel receiving such communications frequently report a brief, sharp pain in their forehead.

Addendum 01: Interview Log

Interviewer: Dr. Lemniscate
Interviewee: SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
Note: In the interest of brevity and saving ink, the name of SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
has been shortened to 'Subject' for this interview.


Dr. Lemniscate: Good morning, SCP— uh… good morning. I have a few questions for you.

Subject: Good morning to you. Go ahead.

Dr. Lemniscate: You claim to be 'the last SCP ever contained by the Foundation'. Could you explain this?

Subject: Well, it's in my number, isn't it? You can't get higher than infinity. I am, by definition, the last SCP assigned.

Dr. Lemniscate: Right. But that's not how numbers work — there's a finite amount of SCPs to be assigned. You can't get infinity.

Subject: Sure, I'm with you there. But… I'm not the last SCP that is contained after a long series of other SCPs, I'm literally the last one. By definition. Like, if you'd've started containing with the first SCP getting the biggest number and the last getting the smallest, then I'd be 001.

Dr. Lemniscate: I still don't understand, but I suspect I'm not going to so let's move on. You claim to have been sent back in time from the future. From when? And why?

Subject: If I told you what year I'm from, your pen would run out before you could write it down. And I was sent back to give you hope, to tell you that the Foundation continues to exist beyond time, into the deep future.

Dr. Lemniscate: …right. What kind of future is that, exactly?

Subject: It's, uh… it's hard to describe it in your words.

Dr. Lemniscate: Can you try?

Subject: It's… small? I guess it must be small, because you guys are all much bigger than me.

Dr. Lemniscate: Thanks for that. Carrying on, why can't we reassign you to a more manageable number?

Subject: Ah, that's an easy one. There's a skip in the future that basically fucks around with numbers. Like, it messes with baseline logic itself. You guys made some memetic thing that locks down the identities of SCP numbers in the human headspace — that's why you can't change my number.

Dr. Lemniscate: I see. Do you know which SCP caused that, just so we can be on guard?

Subject: I do, it's SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999698

Dr. Lemniscate: (winces) Is that… is that not your designation?

Subject: Oh, sorry. It ends in 698.

Dr. Lemniscate: Right. Last question, then, why is there a "J" before your SCP number?

Subject: Well, it can't exactly go afterwards, can it?

Dr. Lemniscate: I— nevermind.

[END LOG]

Addendum 02: While no consensus has been reached over whether or not SCP‑J‑9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
is actually from our future, its two anomalous traits — its size and the unchangeable nature of its number — remain unexplained. Until another explanation is proposed, its story will be assumed to be true.
Reason for scrappage: honestly have no fucking clue where I was going with this

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Containment Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: A maximum of three D-Class personnel are to know SCP-XXXX-1 at any given time. Researchers assigned to SCP-XXXX are to undergo Typane-Roleaux hypnotherapy to destroy the possibility of them ever being able to speak at least one of Xhosa or Welsh. Researchers assigned to SCP-XXXX should avoid attempting to comprehend SCP-XXXX-1.

None of SCP-XXXX may be kept on file. If any of its members are required for testing, it is to be recalculated. Pending advancements in computational technology, research requests must therefore be made at least a year in advance.

Worldwide research into mathematics and/or language is to be monitored for derivation of SCP-XXXX, which is to be prevented by any means necessary.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a set of eight phrases, SCP-XXXX-1 through 8. At this time it cannot be known whether the contents of the phrases themselves contain meaning or if they are gibberish. The exact

The existence of SCP-XXXX was first hypothesised by Foundation researchers in 1999. It was not until 2012 that the computational techniques required to investigate the proposed memetic space had been developed.

Calculations completed in January 2020 reveal that not only does SCP-XXXX exist, but that it contains eight members:

Member Length (words) Length (languages)
SCP-XXXX-1 8 2
SCP-XXXX-2 5.051E+11 80
SCP-XXXX-3 9.001E+19 604
SCP-XXXX-4 4.674E+35 2103
SCP-XXXX-5 2.991E+82 > 70001
SCP-XXXX-6 2.400E+141 > 7000
SCP-XXXX-7 6.833E+604 > 7000
SCP-XXXX-8 6.833E+6042 > 7000

SCP-XXXX-2 alone would take more than seven thousand years to read out loud. It and the members of SCP-XXXX below it are not considered to be a threat at this time.

SCP-XXXX-1 consists of eight words in a mixture of the Celtic language Welsh and the Nguni language Xhosa.

Dr. Renne:

Dr. Jackson: Hm. Y'know, it's… it's tricky. Have you… have you ever seen those pictures of… of people's shadows after a nuclear bomb?

Dr. Renne: I have seen images of Hiroshima, yes, though I suspect that what you're thinking of may be influenced by mainstream media.

Dr. Jackson: Maybe. But it was like that — I saw a shadow of something that used to be there. I look at those pictures and I think, that person was living their life and then they saw something and panicked and a split second later their life was over. I got that feeling from the shadow. Like it was alive, and then it heard the gunshot, and then it panicked, and now it's gone.

Dr. Renne: Did you actually see anything, though?

Dr. Jackson: I felt it. Same way you feel someone watching you—

Dr. Renne: Sure, but did you see anything? With your eyes?

Dr. Jackson: It's hard to say.

Dr. Renne: It's just that you and four others described it as… to quote Anna, "a shadow person", which to me implies that it was visible.

cqb