GM Description: "You reach the locker. It’s a standard reinforced steel door, but painted with 14 layers of acoustic gel. The humming stops. Absolute silence. Then, a voice – soft, childlike, coming from inside the locker – says: 'Who’s there? I’ve been so lonely.'"
The SCP's Rules (The GM's Cheat Sheet):
Sample Dialogue for SCP-XXXX:
"Please. Just a crack. I only want to see the light." [Mimicking a dead researcher] "Dr. Thorne... don't you remember me? It's Sarah. You left me here." "The calibration code is 1-8-8-7. Wait. No. That's wrong. That's the code that unlocks the emergency purge." (Lies to trick them).
Give each player a laminated badge (digital or physical) with their role.
| Role | Name | Special Ability (RP Only) | Secret Flaw | | :--- | :--- | :--- | :--- | | Team Lead | Dr. Aris Thorne | Calm Under Pressure: Once per session, ignore one sanity check penalty. | Obsessed with proving the Foundation's methods are flawed. | | Tactical Officer | Cpt. Maya Rojas | Field Protocol: +2 to any security or lockdown roll. | Suffers from tinnitus (occasional auditory hallucinations). | | Researcher | Dr. Wei Chen | Anomaly Lore: Can recall obscure SCP files (GM gives a hint). | Curiosity overrides caution. | | Technician | Eli Voss (Civilian) | Fix Anything: Can re-route power or bypass a non-anomalous lock. | Claustrophobic (penalty in small spaces). |
NARRATOR (GM): The control room smells like burnt coffee. A single monitor shows a grainy feed of a concrete stairwell. It goes down forever. Dr. Vance taps a clipboard nervously. SCP- Roleplay Script
DR. VANCE: "Listen up. 087 is a hostile staircase. You go down, you see a face on the fourth floor landing. You do not scream. You do not run. You maintain 80 decibels of white noise via your helmet speakers. If you hear crying that is not your own... look at your shoes. Any questions?"
MTF CHEN: "Yeah. Why is a D-Class leading the way?"
DR. VANCE: "Because he has nothing to lose, and you have expensive training. Subject 4421, you step onto the first stair. What do you see?"
(The group approaches the blast door. Red light is flashing. A low, wet scratching sound comes from inside.)
GM: Describe the atmosphere. “The corridor smells of rust and ozone. Through the one-way glass observation window, you see SCP-XXXX. It is kneeling in the corner of its white cell, back facing you. Its shoulders are shaking. On the far wall, a massive painting glistens wetly – still fresh. The oil is so red it seems to glow in the dark.”
Agent Cole: Presses his ear to the door. “Is it… crying?” GM Description: "You reach the locker
Researcher Varma: Checks psychometric scanner. “Not crying. Resonating. Dr. Fisk, any reality fluctuations?”
Dr. Fisk (via radio): “Wait. Yes. Minor. 0.3 Hume deviation. But it’s not centered on the anomaly. It’s centered on… D-9921. Curious.”
(The door hisses open. SCP-XXXX does not turn. It raises one long finger and points at the painting.)
GM: “The painting depicts a single room. A child’s bedroom. There’s a mobile of stars above a crib. A woman in a lab coat is standing over the crib, but her face is a melted swirl of colors. And in the corner, a shadow with too many teeth is reaching for the child’s ankle. The title – if it has one – seems to be written in the corner in tiny, perfect script: ‘Mother’s Last Mistake.’”
D-9921: Goggles fogging up. “Oh, that’s… that’s not creepy. That’s just a Tuesday for me. Can I go now?”
Researcher Varma: Stepping closer, fascinated. “No. Describe the woman’s lab coat. What color?” Sample Dialogue for SCP-XXXX:
Agent Cole: Grabs Varma’s shoulder. “Ten second rule, doc. You’ve been looking for 8.”
GM: “Roll a Sanity check, Varma. (Secret: She fails automatically because of her backstory.) You realize with a jolt – that lab coat is the exact shade of teal from your mother’s Foundation uniform. The same uniform your mother wore the week she disappeared into SCP-████’s testing chamber.”
Researcher Varma: Voice shaking. “That’s… that’s not my memory. I don’t have a sibling. Cole, pull me back.”
(Agent Cole yanks her behind the blast shield. D-9921, left alone for 2 seconds, stares at the painting without goggles – his had fogged and he wiped them off.)
GM: “D-9921, you feel a cold hand wrap around your ankle. You look down. There is no hand. But there is a bruise forming in the shape of tiny fingers. And you suddenly remember a night you never had: being three years old, watching your mother – a Foundation scientist – argue with a shadow in the corner of your crib. She left you there. She chose the work over you.”
D-9921: Screams and falls backward. “THAT’S NOT MY MOM! I DON’T HAVE A MOM!”
(Reality bends. The lights flicker. Dr. Fisk on the radio: “Hume levels spiking! D-9921 is the catalyst! The painting isn’t a memory – it’s a prediction of a reality bend!”)
A successful script contains four distinct sections. Skipping any of these usually leads to a chaotic "murder-hobo" session rather than a tense horror story.