Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Cracking the Codes / a Creepypasta


What kind of source? At first I thought it was referring to the source of my problem. But thinking over "Piggy's" cryptic nature, I wondered if it could be more of a code than anything. It's now pretty clear that this thing can mess with me by writing on walls, and if I've learned any genre savviness from my ARG excursions it's that the enemy can mess with your source code.

Your... source code.

And that is when I checked the page sources of all the entries with that tag. Lo and behold, hidden in the HTML in comment tags were the following messages:

melodramatics and unneccessary ramblings

"he's watching me now. Just keep that in mind. He KNOWS. He SEES."

-A victim, somehow?
-Somebody imitating me?

The Birthday Party:

It leads to this image:
There was no "YouKnowWho01.jpg" or anything of the sort uploaded. So this image is alone. Still, this confirms "the birthday party" is somehow involved. The purple and "whosafraid" repeated in the background are a bit disconcerting.

I'll keep out for more "source" posts, if "Piggy" keeps using them, that is. Does it want the codes to be cracked?

Still no updates on the crayon message. This one is really creeping me out.


There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning.
As he looked around the inside of the cabin, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by several portraits, all painted in incredibl detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred and malice. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning, the hunter awoke -- he turned, blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

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