Theater:

Excerpt: The Theater is a scary creepypasta story about an old computer game for the PC that features a character named The Ticket-Taker and another called The Swirly-Head Man.

Have you ever heard of an old PC game called “The Theater”? Yeah, I didn’t think so. Probably because many people say it doesn’t even exist.

You see, The Theater is an old computer game released around the same time as Doom. Today, if you ever find it, it’s only available on crappy bootleg CD-ROMs, which, more often than not, don’t even actually contain the game.

The actual legitimate copies that they say were released back in the day feature a blank cover with nothing but a picture of what has since been named ‘the Ticket-Taker’. He is simply a poorly drawn, pixelated, bald white man with large red lips wearing a red vest over a white shirt and black pants.

He is completely emotionless, though some say that if you smash the disc his face is shown as angry the next time you look at the cover, though this is just dismissed as an urban myth. What is peculiar about The Theater, though, is that there is no developer named on the jewel case, nor is there any game description on the back. It is simply the Ticket-Taker in front of a white backdrop on both sides.

The game was initially known for its inability to install correctly. The installation process immediately locks up the computer when the user reaches the licensing agreement. Another strange thing about the licensing agreement for The Theater is that whenever the development studio is supposed to be named, the text is simply a blank line.

Most people who have claimed to own one of the original CDs say that they figured out how to install the game by simply rebooting their computer on the licensing agreement with the disc still inside. Then, they were prompted to press ‘I AGREE’ on startup and it continued with the installation.

The game then starts up without any introduction besides a main menu that is simply a movie theater’s exterior on an empty city street. The title fades in and then the three menu buttons appear: NEW GAME, LOAD, and OPTIONS.

Selecting OPTIONS immediately crashes the game to the desktop. LOAD is said not to function at all. Even if you do have a saved game, nothing happens when you press it. Thus, NEW GAME is the only working menu option.

Once it is selected you are in the first person view. You are standing in an empty movie theater lobby, with the exception of the Ticket-Taker standing in front of a dark hallway which one can only assume leads to the theaters themselves. There’s nothing to do but look at the poorly-drawn, mostly illegible movie posters or approach the Ticket-Taker. Once the player moves towards the Ticket-Taker a very low-quality sound clip plays saying “THANK YOU, PLEASE ENJOY THE MOVIE” along with a speechbox saying the same thing. You then walk into the hallway and the screen fades to black and you’re back in the empty lobby and you do the exact thing again and again and again.

While this may sound like a really horrible game, a number of peculiar things occur as you continue to play it. The number of times that you have to continue into the hall after giving your ticket to the Ticket-Taker before the strange events happen is unknown. Most state that it’s completely random and could take anywhere from the first playthrough to the four hundredth. What happens, though, has deeply disturbed some players.

The first occurrence is when the player fades back in after walking into the hallway. This time they will notice the Ticket-Taker is completely absent. The player then, without any other options, decides to walk into the dark hallway. The sound clip and text box mentioned previously still play in the absence of the Ticket-Taker, but when the player walks into the hallways the screen does not fade out. It goes pitch black as they walk deeper into the hall, but the player’s footstep sound clip is still playing as they continue to push the up button on their keyboard.

Those claiming to have played the original game report to have felt extremely uncomfortable walking down the hallway, anticipating the whole way something horrible happening. Well, eventually the player is unable to move forward. There is nothing for a few moments before a strange figure appears and stands before the player. It is described as “the Ticket-Taker, but with a swirl for a face” and has been appropriately named the ‘Swirly Head Man’.

The original players of the game say their bodies immediately froze up and their stomachs churned they saw this figure. Nothing happens as the Swirly Head Man stands before them. Then suddenly a piercing screech plays as the game glitches out. This lasts for a few minutes, with the screeching being continuous. Then the player is abruptly returned to the lobby with all the sounds and graphics being as they should be.

The game continues normally for the next couple of ‘cycles’ of entering the hallway, with a couple of the original players claiming the Swirly Head Man would briefly appear and disappear in the corner of the screen as a brisk ‘yelp’ sound effect plays. Then, at some point after meeting the Swirly Head Man, the player sees the Ticket-Taker pacing back and forth (though there is no walking animation – his limbs are completely static, so he just hops up and down slightly as a substitute) with his eyes being wide and his mouth open to simulate a worried facial expression.

Some players noted that the movie posters had been replaced with images of the Swirly Head Man, which caused them to immediately turn away from the posters and approach the Ticket-Taker. Then another, different, low-quality sound clip plays, but the speech box contains nothing but corrupted characters that cause whatever text that would have been in the box to be completely illegible.

Due to the extremely low quality of the sound, it is debated by players what exactly the Ticket-Taker says at this point, though it is widely agreed that he says ‘NEVER REACH THE OTHER LEVELS’. Then the screen fades out once again and returns the player back to their starting point in the lobby, but the Ticket-Taker is gone and the hallway is blocked by a large brick wall. Touching the brick wall will immediately crash the game, and that’s all there is to it.

No one knows what the ‘Other Levels’ are or how to gain access to them, nor is it known why the Swirly Head Man causes such acute fear in those who have seen him in the game. All the original copies of The Theater have either been lost or destroyed. But the creepiest part is the fact that all the original players of the game claim that, in their daily life, they will occasionally see a brief glimpse of the Swirly Head Man out of the corner of their eyes…

Smile Dog:

Excerpt: Smile Dog is a scary creepypasta story about a mysterious picture on the internet called Smile.jpg that depicts a dog with human teeth.

I first met in person with Mary E. in the summer of 2007. I had arranged with her husband of fifteen years, Terence, to see her for an interview. Mary had initially agreed, since I was not a newsman but rather an amateur writer gathering information for a few early college assignments and, if all went according to plan, some pieces of fiction. We scheduled the interview for a particular weekend when I was in Chicago on unrelated business, but at the last moment Mary changed her mind and locked herself in the couple’s bedroom, refusing to meet with me. For half an hour I sat with Terence as we camped outside the bedroom door, I listening and taking notes while he attempted fruitlessly to calm his wife. The things Mary said made little sense but fit with the pattern I was expecting: though I could not see her, I could tell from her voice that she was crying, and more often than not her objections to speaking with me centered around an incoherent diatribe on her dreams — her nightmares. Terence apologized profusely when we ceased the exercise, and I did my best to take it in stride; recall that I wasn’t a reporter in search of a story, but merely a curious young man in search of information. Besides, I thought at the time, I could perhaps find another, similar case if I put my mind and resources to it.

Mary E. was the sysop for a small Chicago-based Bulletin Board System in 1992 when she first encountered smile.jpg and her life changed forever. She and Terence had been married for only five months. Mary was one of an estimated 400 people who saw the image when it was posted as a hyperlink on the BBS, though she is the only one who has spoken openly about the experience. The rest have remained anonymous, or are perhaps dead. In 2005, when I was only in tenth grade, smile.jpg was first brought to my attention by my burgeoning interest in web-based phenomena; Mary was the most often cited victim of what is sometimes referred to as “Smile.dog,” the being smile.jpg is reputed to display. What caught my interest (other than the obvious macabre elements of the cyber-legend and my proclivity toward such things) was the sheer lack of information, usually to the point that people don’t believe it even exists other than as a rumor or hoax.

It is unique because, though the entire phenomenon centers on a picture file, that file is nowhere to be found on the internet; certainly many photomanipulated simulacra litter the web, showing up with the most frequency on sites such as the imageboard 4chan, particularly the /x/-focused paranormal subboard. It is suspected these are fakes because they do not have the effect the true smile.jpg is believed to have, namely sudden onset temporal lobe epilepsy and acute anxiety. This purported reaction in the viewer is one of the reasons the phantom-like smile.jpg is regarded with such disdain, since it is patently absurd, though depending on whom you ask the reluctance to acknowledge smile.jpg’s existence might be just as much out of fear as it is out of disbelief.

Neither smile.jpg nor Smile.dog is mentioned anywhere on Wikipedia, though the website features articles on such other, perhaps more scandalous shocksites as ****** (hello.jpg) or 2girls1cup; any attempt to create a page pertaining to smile.jpg is summarily deleted by any of the encyclopedia’s many admins.

Encounters with smile.jpg are the stuff of internet legend. Mary E.’s story is not unique; there are unverified rumors of smile.jpg showing up in the early days of Usenet and even one persistent tale that in 2002 a hacker flooded the forums of humor and satire website Something Awful with a deluge of Smile.dog pictures, rendering almost half the forum’s users at the time epileptic. It is also said that in the mid-to-late 90s that smile.jpg circulated on usenet and as an attachment of a chain email with the subject line “SMILE!! GOD LOVES YOU!” Yet despite the huge exposure these stunts would generate, there are very few people who admit to having experienced any of them and no trace of the file or any link has ever been discovered.

Those who claim to have seen smile.jpg often weakly joke that they were far too busy to save a copy of the picture to their hard drive. However, all alleged victims offer the same description of the photo: A dog-like creature (usually described as appearing similar to a Siberian husky), illuminated by the flash of the camera, sits in a dim room, the only background detail that is visible being a human hand extending from the darkness near the left side of the frame. The hand is empty, but is usually described as “beckoning.” Of course, most attention is given to the dog (or dog-creature, as some victims are more certain than others about what they claim to have seen). The muzzle of the beast is reputedly split in a wide grin, revealing two rows of very white, very straight, very sharp, very human-looking teeth.

This is, of course, not a description given immediately after viewing the picture, but rather a recollection of the victims, who claim to have seen the picture endlessly repeated in their mind’s eye during the time they are, in reality, having epileptic fits. These fits are reported to continue indeterminably, often while the victims sleep, resulting in very vivid and disturbing nightmares. These may be treated with medication, though in someses it is more effective than others.

Mary E., I assumed, was not on effective medication. That was why after my visit to her apartment in 2007 I sent out feelers to several folklore- and urban legend-oriented newsgroups, websites, and mailing lists, hoping to find the name of a supposed victim of smile.jpg who felt more interested in talking about his experiences. For a time nothing happened and at length I forgot completely about my pursuits, since I had begun my freshman year of college and was quite busy. Mary contacted me via email, however, near the beginning of March 2008.

To: jml@****.com From: marye@****.net Subj: Last summer’s interview Dear Mr. L.,

I am incredibly sorry about my behavior last summer when you came to interview me. I hope you understand that it was no fault of yours, but rather my own problems that led me to act out as I did. I realized that I could have handled the situation more decorously; however, I hope you will forgive me. At the time, I was afraid.

You see, for fifteen years I have been haunted by smile.jpg. Smile.dog comes to me in my sleep every night. I know that sounds silly, but it is true. There is an ineffable quality about my dreams, my nightmares, that makes them completely unlike any real dreams I have ever had. I do not move and do not speak. I simply look ahead, and the only thing ahead of me is the scene from that horrible picture. I see the beckoning hand, and I see Smile.dog. It talks to me.

It is not a dog, of course, though I am not quite sure what it really is. It tells me it will leave me alone if only I do as it asks. All I must do, it says, is “spread the word.” That is how it phrases its demands. And I know exactly what it means: it wants me to show it to someone else.

And I could. The week after my incident I received in the mail a manila envelope with no return address. Inside was only a 3 ½ -inch floppy diskette. Without having to check, I knew precisely what was on it.

I thought for a long time about my options. I could show it to a stranger, a coworker… I could even show it to Terence, as much as the idea disgusted me. And what would happen then? Well, if Smile.dog kept its word I could sleep. Yet if it lied, what would I do? And who was to say something worse would not come for me if I did as the creature asked?

So I did nothing for fifteen years, though I kept the diskette hidden amongst my things. Every night for fifteen years Smile.dog has come to me in my sleep and demanded that I spread the word. For fifteen years I have stood strong, though there have been hard times. Many of my fellow victims on the BBS board where I first encountered smile.jpg stopped posting; I heard some of them committed suicide. Others remained completely silent, simply disappearing off the face of the web. They are the ones I worry about the most.

I sincerely hope you will forgive me, Mr. L., but last summer when you contacted me and my husband about an interview I was near the breaking point. I decided I was going to give you the floppy diskette. I did not care if Smile.dog was lying or not, I wanted it to end. You were a stranger, someone I had no connection with, and I thought I would not feel sorrow when you took the diskette as part of your research and sealed your fate.

Before you arrived I realized what I was doing: was plotting to ruin your life. I could not stand the thought, and in fact I still cannot. I am ashamed, Mr. L., and I hope that this warning will dissuade you from further investigation of smile.jpg. You may in time encounter someone who is, if not weaker than I, then wholly more depraved, someone who will not hesitate to follow Smile.dog’s orders.

Stop while you are still whole.

Sincerely, Mary E.

Terence contacted me later that month with the news that his wife had killed herself. While cleaning up the various things she’d left behind, closing email accounts and the like, he happened upon the above message. He was a man in shambles; he wept as he told me to listen to his wife’s advice. He’d found the diskette, he revealed, and burned it until it was nothing but a stinking pile of blackened plastic. The part that most disturbed him, however, was how the diskette had hissed as it melted. Like some sort of animal, he said.

I will admit that I was a little uncertain about how to respond to this. At first I thought perhaps it was a joke, with the couple belatedly playing with the situation in order to get a rise out of me. A quick check of several Chicago newspapers’ online obituaries, however, proved that Mary E. was indeed dead. There was, of course, no mention of suicide in the article. I decided that, for a time at least, I would not further pursue the subject of smile.jpg, especially since I had finals coming up at the end of May.

But the world has odd ways of testing us. Almost a full year after I’d returned from my disastrous interview with Mary E., I received another email:

To: jml@****.com From: elzahir82@****.com Subj: smile

Hello

I found your e-mail adress thru a mailing list your profile said you are interested in smiledog. I have saw it it is not as bad as every one says I have sent it to you here. Just spreading the word. (:

The final line chilled me to the bone.

According to my email client there was one file attachment called, naturally, smile.jpg. I considered downloading it for some time. It was mostly likely a fake, I imagined, and even if it weren’t I was never wholly convinced of smile.jpg’s peculiar powers. Mary E.’s account had shaken me, yes, but she was probably mentally unbalanced anyway. After all, how could a simple image do what smile.jpg was said to accomplish? What sort of creature was it that could break one’s mind with only the power of the eye? And if such things were patently absurd, then why did the legend exist at all?

If I downloaded the image, if I looked at it, and if Mary turned out to be correct, if Smile.dog came to me in my dreams demanding I spread the word, what would I do? Would I live my life as Mary had, fighting against the urge to give in until I died? Or would I simply spread the word, eager to be put to rest? And if I chose the latter route, how could I do it? Whom would I burden in turn?

If I went through with my earlier intention to write a short article about smile.jpg, I decided, I could attach it as evidence. And anyone who read the article, anyone who took interest, would be affected. And even assuming the smile.jpg attached to the email was genuine, would I be capricious enough to save myself in that manner?

Could I spread the word?

Yes, yes I could.

Ben Drowned:

Excerpt: Ben Drowned (also known as Majora’s Mask) is a scary creepypasta story written by jadusable. It’s about a young man who comes across a bootleg cartridge of the Nintendo 64 game “The Legend of Zelda – Majora’s Mask”. When he plays the game, he begins to suspect it is haunted by the ghost of a boy named Ben who drowned.

I recently moved into my dorm room starting as a Sophomore in college and a friend of mine gave me his old Nintendo 64 to play. I was stoked, to say the least. I could finally play all those old games of my youth I hadn’t touched in least a decade.

His Nintendo 64 came with one yellow controller and a rather shoddy copy of Super Smash Brothers and, while beggars can’t be choosers, it didn’t take long before I got bored of beating up LVL 9 CPUs.

That weekend, I decided to drive around a few neighborhoods about twenty minutes or so off-campus, hitting up the local garage sales. I was hoping to score some good deals from ignorant parents. I ended up picking up a a copy of Pokemon Stadium, Goldeneye, F-Zero, and two other controllers for two dollars.

Satisfied, I began to drive out of the neighborhood when one last house caught my attention. I still have no idea why it did; there were no cars there and only one table was set up with random junk on it. However, something sort of drew me there.

I usually trust my gut on these things, so I got out of the car and was greeted by an old man. His outward appearance was, for lack of a better word, displeasing. It was odd. If you asked me why I thought he looked displeasing, I couldn’t really pinpoint anything.

There was just something about him that put me on edge. I can’t explain it. All I can tell you that if it wasn’t in the middle of the afternoon and there weren’t other people within shouting distance, I wouldn’t have even thought of approaching this man.

He flashed a crooked smile at me and asked what I was looking for. Immediately, I noticed he must be blind in one eye; his right eye had that “glazed over” look about it. I forced myself to look to his left eye, trying not to offend, and asked if he had any old video games.

I was already wondering how I could politely excuse myself from the situation when he would tell me he had no idea what a video game was, but to my surprise he said he had a few in an old box. He assured me he’d be back in a “jiffy” and turned to head back into the garage.

As I watched him hobble away, I couldn’t help but notice what he was selling on his table. Littered across his table were rather…peculiar paintings – various artworks that looked like ink blots a psychiatrist might show you.

Curious, I looked through them. It was obvious why no one was visiting this guy’s garage sale; these weren’t exactly aesthetically pleasing. As I came to the last one, I noticed it looked almost like Majora’s Mask, with the same heart-shaped body with the little spikes protruding outward.

Initially, I just thought that since I was secretly hoping to find that game at these garage sales, some Freudian bullshit was projecting itself into the ink blots. However, given the events that happened after, I’m not so sure now. I should have asked the man about it. I wish I asked the man about it.

After staring at the Majora-shaped blot, I looked up and the old man was suddenly there again, arms-length in front of me and smiling. I’ll admit, I jumped out of reflex and laughed nervously as he handed me a Nintendo 64 cartridge.

It was the standard gray color and had no label. Someone had written Majora on it in black permanent marker. I got butterflies in my stomach as I realized what a coincidence it was and asked how much the old man wanted for it.

The old man smiled and told me I could have it for free. He said it used to belong to a kid around my age that didn’t live here anymore. There was something weird about how he phrased that, but I didn’t really any attention then. I was too caught up in not only finding the game, but getting it for free.

I reminded myself to be a bit skeptical since this looked like a pretty shady cartridge and there was no guarantee it would work. However, the optimist inside me interjected that maybe it was some kind of beta or pirated version of the game. That was all I needed to be back on cloud nine.

I thanked the man, who smiled and wished me well, saying “Goodbye then,” which at the time is what it sounded like to me. All the way in the car ride home, I had a nagging doubt that the man had said something else.

My fears were confirmed when I booted up the game (to my surprise, it worked just fine) and there was one save file simply named, “BEN.” The man was saying, “Goodbye, Ben.” I felt bad for him. He was obviously a grandparent going senile. I, for some reason or another, reminded him of his grandson, “Ben.”

Out of curiosity, I looked at the save file. I could tell he was pretty far in the game; he had almost all of the masks and 3/4 boss remains. I noticed he had used an owl statue to save his game. He was on Day 3 by the Stone Tower Temple with hardly an hour before the moon would crash.

I remember thinking it was a shame he had come so close to beating the game but never finished it. I made a new file named “Link,” out of tradition, and started the game. I was ready to relive my childhood.

For such a shady looking cartridge, I was impressed at how smoothly it ran – literally just like a retail copy of the game, save for few minor hiccups here and there (textures being where they should be, random flashes of cutscenes at odd intervals, nothing too bad).

However, the only thing that was a little unnerving was that, at times, the NPCs would call me “Link” and call me “BEN” at other times. I figured it was a bug, maybe a fluke in the programming, that caused our save files to get mixed up or something.

It did kind of creep me out after a while, though. Around the time I beat Woodfall temple, I regrettably erased the “BEN” file. I had intended to preserve the file out of respect for the game’s original owner. It’s not like I needed two files anyway.

I hoped that would solve the problem. It did and didn’t. Now NPCs wouldn’t call me anything. Where my name should be in the dialogue was a blank space (my save file was still called “Link,” however). Frustrated and with homework to do, I put the game down for a day.

I started playing the game again last night, getting the Lens of Truth and working my way toward completing Snowhead Temple. Now, some of you more hardcore Majora’s Mask players know about the “4th Day” glitch. For those who don’t, you can Google it.

The gist of it is that right as the clock is about to hit 00:00:00 on the final day, you talk to the astronomer and look through the telescope. If you exit the telescope just as the timer hits 00:00:00, the countdown disappears and you essentially have an endless amount of time to finish whatever you were doing.

Deciding to do the glitch to try and finish Snowhead Temple, I went in and tried. I happened to get it right on the first time and the counter at the bottom disappeared.

When I exited the telescope, I found myself in the Majora boss room at the end of the game (the trippy boxed in area), staring at Skull Kid hovering above me. There was no sound, just him floating in the air above me and the background music, which was regular for the area (but still creepy).

Immediately, my palms began to sweat. This was definitely not normal. Skull Kid NEVER appeared here. I tried moving around the area and, no matter where I went, Skull Kid would always be facing me, not saying anything.

Nothing would happen and this kept up for around sixty seconds. I thought the game was bugged or something, but I was beginning to doubt that very much.

I was about to reach for the reset button when text appeared on the screen. “You’re not sure why, but you apparently had a reservation…” I instantly recognized that text. You get that message when you get the Room Key from Anju at the Stock Pot Inn. Why was it playing here?

I refused to entertain the nothing that it was almost as if the game was trying to communicate with me. I started to walk around the room again, testing if that was some sort of trigger that enabled me to interact with something before realizing how stupid I was.

To even think that someone could reprogram the game like this was absurd. Sure enough, though, another message appeared on the screen fifteen seconds later and, like the first one, it was already a preexisting phrase. “Go to the lair of the temple’s boss? Yes/No”

I paused for a second, contemplating what I should press and how the game would react, when I realized I couldn’t select No. Taking a deep breath, I pressed Yes and the screen faded to white, with the words “Dawn of a New Day” and the subtext “||||||||” beneath it.

Where I was transported to filled me with the most intense sense of dread and impending fear I have ever experienced. The only way I can describe the way I felt here is having this feeling of inexplicable depression on a profound scale.

I’m not normally a depressed person, but the way I felt here was a feeling I didn’t even know existed. It was such a twisted, powerful presence that seemed to wash right over me.

I appeared in some kind of weird Twilight Zone version of Clock Town. I walked out of the Clock Tower (as you normally do when you start from the 1st Day) only to find all the inhabitants were gone. Usually with the 4th Day glitch, you can still find the guards and the dog that runs around outside the tower, but they were all gone.

What replaced them was the ominous feeling there was something out there, in the same area as me, and it was watching me. I had four hearts ot my name and the Hero’s Bow, but at this point I wasn’t even considering for my avatar. I felt that I personally was in some kind of danger.

Perhaps the most chilling thing was the music. It was the Song of Healing, ripped straight from the game and played in reverse. The music would get louder, building up so you should expect something to pop out at you, but nothing ever did and the constant loop began to wear on my mental state.

Every now and then, I would hear the faint laugh of the Happy Mask Salesman in the background. It was just quiet enough that I wasn’t sure if I was just hearing things, but just loud enough to keep me determined to find him.

I looked in all four zones of Clock Town only to find nothing…and no one. Textures were missing, too. West Clock town had me walking on air and the entire area felt…broken. Hopelessly broken.

As the reverse Song of Healing repeated for what must have been the 50th time, I remember standing in the middle of South Clock town realizing that I had never felt so alone in a video game before.

As I walked through the ghost town, I don’t know whether it was the combination of the out-of-place textures, the atmosphere, and the haunting melody of the once peaceful and soothing song being butchered and distorted, but I was literally on the verge of tears and I had no idea why. I hardly ever cry, but something had gripped me here and caused this powerful sense of depression that was both foreign and crippling.

I tried leaving Clock Town, but every time I went through one of the exits, the screen would fade to black and I would enter another zone of Clock Town. I tried playing my Ocarina. I wanted to escape; I did NOT want to be here. However, every time I played the Song of Time or Song of Soaring, it would only say, “Your notes echo far, but nothing happens.”

By this point, it was obvious the game didn’t want me to leave, but I had no idea why it was keeping me here. I didn’t want to go inside buildings; I felt I would be too vulnerable to whatever I was terrified of. I don’t know why, but I came up with the idea that if I drowned myself at the Laundry Pool, I could spawn elsewhere and leave.

As I ran toward the pool, it happened. Link grabbed his head and the screen flashed for a brief moment of the Happy Mask Salesman smiling at me – not Link, but ME – with the Skull Kid’s scream playing in the background. When the screen returned, I was staring at the Link Statue usually created by playing the Elegy of Emptiness.

I screamed as the thing stared back at me with that haunting facial expression. I turned around and ran back to South Clock Town. To my horror, the statue followed me in a way I can only describe as being similar to the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who.

Every so often, at random intervals, the animation would play of the statue appearing behind me. It was like the thing was chasing me, or – I don’t even want to say it – haunting me.

By this point, I was on the verge of hysterics. However, not even once did the thought of turning off the console occur to me. I don’t know why, but I was so wrapped up in it. The terror felt all so real. I tried to shake the statue, but it would literally appear right behind me every single time it went off-screen.

Link started to make weird animations I had never seen him do. He would flail his arms around or spasm randomly. The screen would cut to the Happy Mask Salesman smiling again for a brief moment before I was face to face with that statue again.

I ended up running into the Swordsmaster’s Dojo and ran to he back. I don’t know why, but in my panic I wanted some kind of assurance I wasn’t alone. To my dismay, I found no one. As I turned to leave, the statue cornered me in the cubby hole in the back.

I tried attacking the statue with my sword, but to no avail. Confused and backed into a corner, I stared at the statue and waited for it to kill me. Suddenly, the screen flashed again to the Happy Mask Salesman and Link turned to face me, standing upright as a mirror image of the statue and looking at me with his copy. Literally staring at me.

Whatever was left of the fourth wall was completely shattered while I ran out of the dojo, terrified. Suddenly, the game warped me to an underground tunnel. The reverse Song of Healing queued up again as I was given a brief moment of rest before the statue started appearing again… this time aggressively.

I could only take a few steps before it would be summoned behind me again. I hurriedly made my way out of the tunnel and appeared in Southern Clock Town. As I ran aimlessly in a sheer panic, a ReDead suddenly screamed and the screen faded to black. “Dawn of a New Day” and “||||||||” appeared again.

The screen faded in and I was standing atop the Clock Tower with Skull Kid hovering over me again, silent. I looked up and the moon was back, looming just meters above my head, but the Skull Kid stared at me hauntingly with that creepy mask.

A new song was playing: the Stone Tower Temple theme played in reverse. In some sort of desperate attempt, I equipped my bow and fired off a shot at Skull Kid. It actually hit him and he played an animation of him reeling back.

I fired again and, on the third arrow, a text box appeared that said, “That won’t do you any good. Hee-hee.” I was picked up off the ground, levitated upwards on my back, and Link screamed as he burst into flames, instantly killing him.

I jumped when this happened. I had never seen this move used by ANYONE in the game and, in addition, Skull Kid didn’t even have any moves! As the dead scene played, my lifeless body still burning, the Skull Kid laughed and the screen faded to black.

I reappeared in the same place. I decided to charge him, but the same thing happened. Link’s body was lifted off the ground by some unknown force and burst into flames, again killing him. This time, during the death scene, the faint sounds of the reverse Song of Healing could be heard.

On my third and final try, I noticed there was no music playing; all there was was eerie silence. I remembered that in the original encounter with Skull Kid, you were supposed to use the ocarina to either travel back in time or Summon the Giants. I attempted to play the Song of Time, but before I could hit the last note Link’s body once again burst into flames and he died.

As the death scene neared its end, the game began to chug. It was as if the cartridge was trying to process a lot of something. When the screen came to, it was the same scene as the first three times, except Link was lying on the ground, dead, in a position I had never seen in the game before.

His head was tilted toward the camera and Skull Kid was floating above him. I couldn’t move or press any buttons. All I could do was stare at Link’s body. After around 30 seconds of this, the game faded out with the message “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” before kicking me to the title screen.

Upon getting back to the title screen and starting again, I noticed my save file was gone. Instead of “Link” was “YOUR TURN.” “YOUR TURN” had three hearts and no masks or items. I selected this file and was returned to the Clock Tower Rooftop scene of Link dead and the Skull Kid hovering over, with the Skull Kid’s laugh looping again and again.

I quickly hit reset and when the game booted up again there was one more save file added below “YOUR TURN”: “BEN.” That save file is right back where it was before I deleted it, at the Stone Tower Temple with the moon almost crashing.

I turned the game off at that point. I’m not superstitious, but this is WAY too screwed up – even for me. I haven’t played it at all today. I didn’t even get any sleep last night. I kept hearing the reverse Song of Healing in my head and couldn’t get past that sense of dread I felt while exploring Clock Town.

I drove back to the old man’s house today with a buddy of mine (no way was I going there alone) to ask him some questions, only to find there’s a for sale sign in the front yard. When I rang the doorbell, no one was home.

So now I’m back here, writing down the rest of my thoughts and recording what happened. Sorry if some of this has grammatical errors and whatnot; I’m running on no sleep here.

I’m terrified of this game, even moreso now that I relived it a second time just writing this down. However, I feel like there’s still more to it than meets the eye and there’s something calling me to investigate this further.

I think “BEN” is something in this equation, but I don’t know what. If I could get hold of the old man, I would be able to find some answers. I need another day or so to recuperate before tackling this game again, however. I feel it’s already taken a toll on my sanity, but next time I do this I’m going to record the entire thing.

The idea to record only came to me toward the end, so you only see the last few minutes of what I saw (including the Skull Kid and Elegy statue), but it’s on Youtube here:

The story continues in Ben Drowned Part 2

The Ben Drowned Series: Ben Drowned 1 Day Four Ben Drowned 2 Ben Ben Drowned 3 Drowned Ben Drowned 4 Jadusable Ben Drowned 5 The Truth