Cohesion

Okay, I know this has been done before, and the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. However, that's also the definition of the scientific method. Since I'm a scientist and my grip on sanity is WELL known to be mediocre at best, I feel like I'm on the right track.

Anyway, what I would like all of you, brave runners/fighters/whatever we're calling ourselves now is to list ALL the blogs you're following. Don't worry about repeating others, doesn't matter. Raw data is what I need. Also, along with each listing I need you to put up some extra info.

1. Activity - When did they last put in an entry? Data can be sparse so we'll go by Current (Within 2 weeks), Monthly, Sporadic, Dormant, Final

2. Status - How deeply is the blogger into this? Fully Aware, Haunted, Unaware, Relation, Observer, Innocent.

3. Mentality - How are they treating the scenario? Fighter, Runner, Hiding, Confused, Hallowed

For example:

White Elephants - Robert Sage - Current - Fully Aware - Fighter (Put in a link here)
A Hint Of Serendipity - Zero - Final - Fully Aware - Fighter
The Tutorial - M - Monthly - Fully Aware - Runner
Time To Talk - Cathy - Current - Haunted (Now Fully Aware) - Hiding (For now)
Eleventh Hour - Cynthia - Current - Fully Aware - Hallowed

Once I get a suitable list up of enough blogs and data, I'm going to be sending out contact feelers to people. Start up an info net, develop a Watchtower program, coordinate safe spots, and start hunting down high level Revenants.

I'm not gonna lie. This isn't going to be safe, smart, or easy. You want no part of the Coalition? Go with our blessings, take up M's rules and may God and/or Luck be with you.

If you're in? Then let's get that girl home.

New Purpose

Okay folks, had a moment to relax, collected my insurance money, taking a paid vacation. (Thank you redlight, for giving me SUCH a good work history.) And now, I have a purpose.

Cathy, if you're still active after that fire, Cynthia is now my priority. I'm going to try and find her.

I have two leads actually. Cathy says she couldn't see Cynthia's page and posts. Who do we know that has that trick? I'm going to find my dear devoted associate, and then...Ava what's a good cricket term for 'beat the living hell out of that jackass until I learn something and then beat him some more after that'? This is more than just a random hunch though. redlight left his own journals and scribbles as well as babbled to himself CONSTANTLY. He KNOWS where the others are, save for you Reach, they don't respect the little weasel (Surprise surprise) but they consult with him. Probably because he's got higher faculties left.

Also I wont lie, this is TOTAL payback as well.

My second lead? It's a greenlight memory. I remember greenlight being (or at least thinking that he was) in a building, no idea where, but it was an abandoned one, and pretty big. Three red brick walls and one grey concrete...I think. Either way, all four walls were upright and intact, but the roof was missing. Outside the building is pretty much nothing but generic scrub. Inside, there's a couple of trees, and a massive amount of undergrowth and moss and other plant life.

greenlight drew that place a couple of times, along with stick figure children with ---. He labeled it as 'Playhouse.'

Either way, Cathy...I'm going to find your girl. I give no promises on status or sanity, I'm sorry but I wont give you false hope like that. I may have a few tricks, but I'm not a miracle worker.

However, I wont let you suffer. I wont let you feel that gasp of awful hope at every knock at the door or every stranger you see on the street, hoping that it's her, only to suffer a little more when it never is her.

I will bring her home. I promise.

And you all are going to help me, damnit. Requests, theories, experiments, and other instructions will follow. We've been too disorganized and concerned with saving our own skins. Time to step it up.

The Gory Details

So, here I am in a nice hotel, showered, bandaged, well-fed, and again hooked up to a wifi that's far too expensive for its own good. A moment of peace and tranquility. Yeah, don't worry I know it's too damn good to be true and that's why I got a new bat. Cricket this time. Thought I'd pay a little nod of solidarity to the Librarian. Plus, I can't wait to hear the sound it's gonna make on that prick's skull.

Anyway, you want to hear about the great grand and glorious escape. Alright. Well, it started with me in total despair, staring at my collection of Canned Foods You Never Really Eat Are Not Sure When You Got And Usually Give Away On Thanksgiving, you probably have one too. I stared at a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli that had flames on the label (Spicy Italian, told you these were old cans). Then I got the idea.

Really, it was more of a 'If I'm going down...' kind of thing. I was in a dark place, and (so I thought) alone. Also I think redlight had been watching Fight Club in the living room for the umpteenth time (More mind games, trust me, he and me are two VERY different people) and that's where I got the idea.

I got out a pot and started to make myself some of that ravioli. But I cranked up one of the other burners on my gas stove further. Past the auto-lighter quick enough that it didn't turn it on. Then I left the pot to boil and the gas to leak, and got to the other side of the room and put the kitchen table on its side to put it between me and the stove. I half-prentended to have another fit of rage and despair, tossing things and crying/screaming, ending with a fetal position crouch.

It honestly was not as impressive as you might think it would be. After what seemed to be far far too long there was a FWHOOMP a flash of light, and suddenly all those papers with scribbles, the torn wallpaper, and some semi-nice window curtains that I got at IKEA were up in flames. The fire alarm went off, and redlight ran into the room.

That's when I jumped him. I felt something...graze me...like the feeling you get when you almost have a headache? I don't know. I think it was redlight trying to put me under again (Yeah, watch out, the bastard's got special tricks from ---) but he couldn't do it. I think I know why.

Halloweds lose their juice when they're afraid.

Either way the guy was strong enough to smash his elbow into my nose. But I grabbed my pot of boiling ravioli and wailed on him with it. He staggered back dazed, and then I grabbed his left arm (I was going a bit primal here) and I shoved it down the garbage disposal and flicked on the switch.

He screamed and pulled his hands out after just three seconds, but I saw his hand. It wasn't mangled or nasty, it just looked like someone had hacked at his fingers with a potato peeler a bit. He just ran off after that, like the coward we all know he is.

By then the fire was...pretty bad, it had gotten to other rooms in the house, smoke was thick, air was thicker. I was pretty sure I was going to die. Remember third grade fire safety, I dropped to the ground and started to crawl to the door. My nose bleeding, apparently my ears were bleeding too (From the report at the hospital), and I'm pretty sure some part of my clothes were slightly on fire now as well. I cleared out of the kitchen, and then I saw ---.

--- was just standing there in the hall. No tentacles, no creepy mental sounds, no whispers, just me on the floor, and --- standing there. (Oh, by the by, it's NOT a tie. That 'lapel' area? It...throbbed.) I look at ---, and --- tilts ---'s head to 'look' at me.

We can debate from now until forever on how smart it is, if it's actually malevolent or not, and a thousand other ideas of its nature. That thing looked at me, and I think...

Zeke...I know this will probably make no sense to you but I have to ask...in the warehouse did you see or hear the black leaves?

It's probably a lingering hallucination, ignore it if it doesn't make sense.

Anyway, someone must have seen the fire and called 911, because I hear sirens then. --- just walked away, deeper into my house, but it didn't take a genius to know that --- was gone.

I passed out then, and woke up in the hospital.

And now you know the rest of the story.

Free

I'm free.
I'm in a hospital, but I'm free.
They charge too damn much for wifi here, it's late, and I'm full of morphine, so I'll make this quick. I'll tell the whole story later. Cliff notes version now.

I got out by setting my place on fire.
Fought redlight, he broke my nose, I shoved his hand down the trash disposal and turned it on.
Bastard ran, still alive.
Stared --- in the 'face' before --- left when the fire trucks showed.
Firemen found me and pulled me out. Got me here. Said it was a nasty gas accident...which it was. Heheheh. Thank you Chef Boyardee, my escape partner.
I remember a lot of stuff I forgot.
greenlight was insane, couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
But I can.
And not everything greenlight saw was insanity.
Gonna heal up. Rest.
Then...back to work.
Good to be back.
Let's kick some emaciated ass.

Told you this was just the beginning. Heh.

Poor Robbie's crying again...all alone.

This is your fault. Your arrogance and hubris. Defying me just out of spite or pride, and never considering Rob's suffering.

When five people say 'Please, I Want You To End Robert.' I'll let him see you.

Until then...and listennnn to the sound of silence!


Regards,

r

New Deal

Ah, Robbie's crying again. He won't mind me doing this then. Not like he could stop me, curled up into the fetal position like that.

Oh, don't try to tell him about this though. You know how the HYBRIDS can't see some of those videos? Same deal.

Anyway, onto business.
The old deal is still intact as always.
But now there's a new one. Why does he not STOP? Why do they look to him? He's LOST!

You folks get to say when Robbie's hell ends.When will they accept it? When will HE accept it? I NEED him to stop
I won't lie. When I say 'end,' it's exactly what you think it is. However, and as you all know I am not a liar, it will be swift and painless. He That Is...I do not know why He That Is cannot kill him...this way will work
If...oh lets get a good consensus...let's see...43 followers? Okay, if 15 different people ask, then Robbie will stop gibbering to himself and talking to walls. That's a good percentage, don't you think? This way will work...if He That Is and I cannot kill him...then it will be they that do so for us.
Anyway, until you decide to do the kind thing, Rob remains where he is...actually this is just the start. It WILL get worse. Then better. Then MUCH worse. Then I'll fix him again. Then, knowing him and his insistence on fighting He That Is, he'll end up back on the kitchen floor. Over and over and over. Fun stuff. This will work. He will fall.

It's up to you to choose how long it goes.

As always, you just need to say 'Please.'

Manners are important.

Regards,

r
It hurts you know. I wake up and every part of my body hurts. I can't take it...I actually considered in a moment of weakness...but when I made a dive for the knife drawer, I blacked out again. --- LIKES me alive.

I don't sleep anymore. I just black out. Then someone else goes to work and acts normal. Then someone else comes home and scrawls on the walls, speaking in nonsensical babble. Preaching about Excalibur, Grendel, and Roland. Nonsense giving poetical gravitas by use of a large vocabulary and pseudo-Jungian terms.

Then I wake up...on the floor...filthy...aching in pain.

--- is in my house. In the guestroom, if you can take the irony. And I can't do a damn thing about it. I can't leave the kitchen. I blackout otherwise. At least as long as --- is here, then --- isn't outside. Not that being in two places at once ever gave --- pause before.

I try. I try so hard...

redlight laughs at me from the living room, and I can't tell if it's my laughter or not. Either way, I hate him.

Still, the bastards left me the computer, and a kitchen full of stuff. I won't give in.

Maybe the lunacy is right, with Fizzbomb and the others being free, because it's a damn sight better than being someone --- keeps alive.

Back

I'm back. I woke up on the kitchen floor. They graciously left my laptop in here. I'm covered in dirt and my nails are bloody. I was outside, digging in the ground. No reason. No sane reason. I also clawed at my wallpaper along one wall and smeared dirt and a little blood all over it. The floor is covered with broken pens and scribbled paper. Just Operator Symbols and...more of that nonsense that I posted.

I'm apparently so happy that she's gone. That she's 'free' and I want others to follow in her example. That it's the only way to hurt him. Yes, if there's no one left to speak about him, that would do it now wouldn't it?

It hurts you know. I wake up and every part of my body hurts. I can't take it...I actually considered in a moment of weakness...but when I made a dive for the knife drawer, I blacked out again. --- LIKES me alive.

I don't sleep anymore. I just black out. Then someone else goes to work and acts normal. Then someone else comes home and scrawls on the walls, speaking in nonsensical babble. Preaching about Excalibur, Grendel, and Roland. Nonsense giving poetical gravitas by use of a large vocabulary and pseudo-Jungian terms.

Then I wake up...on the floor...filthy...aching in pain.

--- is in my house. In the guestroom, if you can take the irony. And I can't do a damn thing about it. I can't leave the kitchen. I blackout otherwise. At least as long as --- is here, then --- isn't outside. Not that being in two places at once ever gave --- pause before.

I try. I try so hard...

redlight laughs at me from the living room, and I can't tell if it's my laughter or not. Either way, I hate him.

Still, the bastards left me the computer, and a kitchen full of stuff. I won't give in.

Maybe the lunacy is right, with Fizzbomb and the others being free, because it's a damn sight better than being someone --- keeps alive.

greenlight

Draw upon us all
I hear Fizzbomb
Took a while to tune in
She's free now
Her song is beautiful.
Such a triumph
It's how we're all free
In the end, how we win
Burn Him with our own fires
Blazing gloriously
Our Last Song Deafening them
Fight him, fight him, fight him
Fall and be free
That is how we win
That is how we win
That is how we win
I see her falling...her flames...beautiful...

Odd behavior

--- hasn't been seen in my area now. No accounts of missing kids. I have a friend who works at the hospital in pediatrics who says that cases of 'emotional distress' are down to regular national levels (Which are still too damn high in my opinion. But that's a topic better explored by psychologists and cynical comedians.)

It's not my presence. It didn't change like this back when the 'Fighters' were at their peak. Something else is happening. I'll look into this. See what else is out there.

I black out regularly now. Lost time is common. Mostly at work. Has part of me 'become' my job? We're wandering back into Sarte nonsense.

I'm not going to let them beat me. Not ---, not redlight, not even whatever insanity bubbles up in my own mind.

They want me around? Fine. They want to break me again and again? Fine. They're ignoring the fact that I'm going to get back up again and again.

I lost my mind trying to see the big picture. Trying to sweep it all away in one grand gesture. It almost worked, and I did fall.

Now, it's just the small stuff. Every kid I force --- away from is one more kid safe for one more day. Every theory I come up with is one more theory closer. Every day I'm still alive, sane or not, is another day I can tell --- to go shove it up his ass.

Tomorrow, I may end up on the floor of my kitchen, weeping and hallucinating...but the next day I may be back up, trying something involving slinkys and Christian rock.

You're not supposed to think about White Elephants to make the carpet fly. Doesn't mean I can't tie redlight to the carpet and throw it off a balcony.

Okay, losing it a little...but you all know what I mean.

Cycles

Okay, so...I read up on everything that I've supposedly done. Apparently I went a little crazy, and the minor I took in Mythology sort of caused me to go crazier. Jungian archetypes mixed in with a little pseudoscience and a lot of hysterical bullshit. Interesting stuff, but mostly self-aggrandizing crap. Hype and propaganda.

Of course that might have been the point. Or not. I'm not that person anymore, nor am I that person in the notes.  For those who ask, you saw them earlier. I've checked the cache on this blog. I've also change the password to try and keep redlight out.

I hope so at least. I want to try and disprove the theory that redlight and myself are the same entity. (Lord I hate Fight Club for making that a cliche...still a good movie though) Right now I sadly don't have any evidence. Well...nothing that disproves the theory at least. I only see him when I'm alone, and he doesn't interact with anyone else online, while I'm also active.

Episodes of DID and Time Loss are common experiences around...I dislike using the Entity's proper name for some reason still, but I don't want to return to /Construct/ as that way lies lunacy. I'll just use --- instead. Reduce him to an Abstract, although I want to look into the significance of redlight's He That Is title.

Anyway, I'm also experiencing incidents of uncontrollable coughing. Another common occurrence, but...I have a plan. Apparently, for a while, the Title system, and immersing myself into the identity of...well...whatever I was...was enough to protect me a little from the effects of --- presence and attention.

Also, memetic weapons work as a form of protection. The Fire Extinguisher worked too for a while. I have a new theory, looking over my notes.

Weapons cannot work. It's a classic trait of Monsters, blades breaking upon it's back, scales impervious, etc.

Memetic 'weapons,' the Operator Symbol, and the Fire Extinguisher worked. These are not weapons. These are Defensive Tools. Items that install a sense of safety, security, and protection.

I have an emergency first aid kit in my house. Inside it is one of those little unfold-able thermal blankets. During a coughing fit, accompanied by minor delusions (Voices, Whispers, small specks of light, etc.) I got it out and wrapped it around me. The effects subsided after two minutes and did not return.

This is probably a temporary item, as are all elements currently. However, I'm certain that similar items will have similar effects, possibly.

No sightings of either --- or redlight.
Have experienced an estimated time loss of 30 minutes.
I keep hearing voices, if it's redlight or ---, or my own voice when I was completely insane...I don't know.

It says I can't escape. I dream of an old man in an asylum, regaining his sanity only to be driven mad again and again. Watching as corpses pile up around him...impotent and helpless. Worse than useless. Leading people to their doom...and --- keeps me alive...because I'm it's greatest ally...

Ugh, have to stop. Regain composure...unable to delete this crap though. Nausea and coughing fits otherwise...damn it.

Keep working. It's my only option. It's my only fate.

Questions

Okay, ummm...who are you guys and how do you know me?

Who was that guy in the park? I mean I read a little up on this guy, but come on...it's a guy wearing a suit and pantyhose over his face exploiting this story. Right?

I'm trying to make sense of this stuff...especially the stuff that I apparently wrote myself when I was in the hospital after the car crash. It's all disjointed though. No one's organized enough, but it's the only connection I have.

Also, who the hell is this guy in the red hoodie that I keep seeing across the street from my bus stop? He's got that circle with the x on it on his hood, so is he involved?

Who was I?

Rob. Rob. Rob. You disappoint me.

It seems he just can't help himself.

Why couldn't he just have let things be?

Trouble is I can't exactly remove memories of a family member's passing...not without dealing with FAR too many people. That stupid cousin of his...

Then he sees Him by the playground across from his work (He That Is must feed, would you begrude a Lion watching his prey in the veldt?), and what does he do?

Approaches Him, which scares off the Kids, causes Him to slip back into the woods...and now he's calling the police and looking on the damn web about this.

I know you people will grab him back, so grateful to have one of your standard bearers back...

You have no idea how annoying it is that I'm forbidden to just remove him.

Fine. He wants back in? Let's go Robbie. I know EXACTLY what your fate is going to be...

Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...
Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb...


I'll make you all BEG me to remove him.

Nausea

Let it never be said that I wasn't a generous man,


Hard to concentrate. Harder to write. I wake up on planes, or in the middle of meetings. My life is not my own anymore. A character in a story.


Can't access the blog anymore. I don't remember my password.


I had a college friend who was, still is, a writer. Little short stories, horror stories, heh. He says the old phrase 'My character took a life of its own' is a signature of a poor writer with a poorer imagination. Characters do what the author tells them to do, nothing more. 


Gah, I look at my writing. If it isn't nonsense that turns the Core Theory into a joke, it's faux philosophic babble. Sarte mostly.


I understand what I must be trying to figure out. The nature of the sickness, the insanity, the time skips. It has something to do with the imbuing of Him onto myself. Just as this suitcase at my feet has become MY suitcase while also being a Black Suitcase, a $29.99 suitcase, My Second Business Suitcase, The Suitcase I spilled coffee on that one time and now there's a stain there, and a Hartmann knock-off. 


It is all these things, but also none of them. It's a suitcase. Not even that, just some leather and metal really. 


Yet when I think of definitions of Myself, in these lucid periods, I only can think of 'Robert, a Victim of the Slenderman.' Any other sense of self just seems...alien to me. Thus, I am his to use like an object on a shelf. I have no other identity. It's what's happening to the others, what will happen to the next victims.


Look at M. What is he now? Is there anything other to his being than a Runner?


It's one of His subtle tricks. You stop being who you were, and slowly lose yourself to this thing. The Hallowed are proof really.


Robert (Sage) is no longer me. That's another person really. Unhinged, insane, driven mad by the fight, but I know that he doesn't suffer. I'll give myself over to that eventually. He's stronger anyway. However Robert (Sage) tried to do too much, burnt out, let himself drink his own kool-aid, and now...well...babble and insanity.


It almost worked.


I'm not giving up though. There's ways around this. Robert (Sage), for all his lunacy, is still holding Him back and gaining a following. The Core Theory has a shred of solid ground. 


I will keep on working on this until I am dead.


The Chain contingency plan is stupid, but it's the only thing I can come up with right now. Don't know if the file will be deleted by the office, or if the person who sees this will start it, or if someone breaks the chain down the line. Also it endangers others, something I promised I'd never do. 


I'm so tired. 


vs,r yo eoyj okB tep ud oy qieja yjrm rgwewa dyo;; giow


I thought it would be kind to put up the last bit of Robbie's little 'chain.' I hate cliffhangers, and just to show you how hard Rob here crashed. As always, the offer's open, just say 'please.'

Regards,

r

Stupid stuff

I don't know why Rob is bothering me this crap. I get an email from this guy I met like twice in my life, it has a password to this blog, instructions to post this, change the password, and then mail this scrambled stuff to some guy I sorta knew from College.

I know Rob, so I called him up about this. He doesn't know anything. Says that this blog got hit by some crazy fiction spammers...something like the whole 'I love bees' thing way back. He says to ignore it, probably a scam to get email passwords and such to spam porn ads or whatever, to just junk the whole thing.

So, I did.

Favor

Okay, Robbie told me to post this when I got pinged by his blog. Keeping out of this stuff. Too weird for me.

The problem is to find that point where a person starts to begin to...I don't have the right term for it. Hard to think. Don't know how long this lucid period will last, so need to make the most of it. It's a concept of one's place in the universe I suppose. I am who I am. I exist in this current time. I understand the world to this extent.


Maybe that's why He's so frightening. The Lovecraftian concept taken to a new height. Back then, the concept that humanity was not only alone in the universe, but insignificant as well, was terrifying and unsettling. That is why Lovecraft was so effective. Now that concept has been more...tolerated...by society. So it's lost it's sting.


Now there's Him. He can be anywhere, He is Unstoppable, and you end up losing your own spot in the universe...subjugated and sublimated by Him. You are not insignificant...you are just powerless. An eternal line of 'Opening Scene Victims' in a horror movie. That's frightening. That sense of powerlessness. The point of the Core Theory is to change that, or at least alter it.


My father and my uncle used to use chess to decide who had to muck out the stables (They grew up on a farm.) and my father would lose a lot. So he studied, and trained, and learned. Then he won one game, then another, and then a whole week.


The next week my uncle said 'Now we're going to play darts.'


Of course, that does me no good if He's the one dictating what game I play, and messing with my mind.


I have an idea though. Looking into Sartre. Specifically Nausea. Well...for the few hours of the day that I still have my mind. (Haven't noticed a pattern in the timing. Not yet, at least. Try to record that as well.)

Hello

Hi, my name's Sophie. I work for this call center for a medical company. I don't know who this guy was that worked at this computer but...he...look I turn it on and I see a file titled 'For You, Important.' In it is a link to this blog, and a word document with the username and password for this blog, instructions to change the password, and this thing below titled 'To Post' and then about thirty pages of that weird scrambled stuff you get when you try to run a graphics program on a text program.

Having all of this here is creepy. So, I'm posting it, and then deleting everything. Good bye.

You have to understand something important about concepts. They can't exist in a static state or a one time only occurrence, they have to be performed, tested, examined, redone, and then realigned. Always redone over and over again until it's refined to a level of razor sharpness. 


Stories only work if they're constantly retold.


A theory HAS to be restarted and retested. Other wise the data becomes stagnant and useless.


The only problem is that I know soon that I'm going to be worse than useless. Delusional, misleading, I may get people killed. Clever thing made me into a trap. I'm already starting to see things and babble. Time loss is common place now. Set this up, hope it works, continue the Core Theory research, and keep my mind clear of fantasy and drama.


Do NOT involve whomever drops the breadcrumbs. Corruption far too easy, that was my mistake, made gamble, won a little, made bigger gamble, won a bit more, made even bigger gamble, lost it, went all in to get it back, and now I'm not sane anymore. Risk is inevitable, but there's a difference between risk and being stupid. To any I have hurt, I am sorry.


Also, and I hope to God no one is still using them, drop all titles. They're traps now. Variable nature of the creature has adapted to them. 


Hopefully this will start the next round of studies of the Core Theory. It's unreliable, but then again so is my mind. Expect babble and delusions. If by some miracle I'm still alive, try and find me in whatever hole I'm in babbling to myself.


Given up on the idea of weaponry and fighting. It's too counterproductive.


Since I'm losing my mind, losing time, losing myself, I've decided to work on that. The new goal of the Core Theory, other than the Ultimate Neutralization of Him, is to develop a way that Runners can maintain their sanity.


Hopefully, I'll finish this avenue of research before I lose my own.