Interviews with Prospective Groups of Interest
rating: +313+x

WANTED: GROUP OF INTEREST

A hero is only as good as the villain.

The SCP Foundation is looking for prospective Groups of Interest, which can attempt to oppose the SCP Foundation and emphasise the obvious superiority of the SCP Foundation.

Interviews will be conducted on ██/██/████ at Dr. Clef's office. Interview date is protected by a memetic seal that can only be bypassed by specific beings. If the interview date is visible to you, you really should participate in the interview.

There will be free drinks.


Dr. Clef: So, you sell video games.

Nolan Bushnell: Evil video games.

Dr. Clef: Right. And these games, they hurt or kill their players?

Nolan Bushnell: Or drive them insane, or something, yeah.

Dr. Clef: Isn't killing your customers kind of a bad business model?

Nolan Bushnell: [shrugs] It makes more sense when you're high.

Dr. Clef: I should hope so.


Dr. Clef: Who are you again?

ASCI Director: The American Secure Containment Initiative.

Dr. Clef: You can't just take two out of our three slogans like that.

ASCI Director: You're the ones who took our title. We're your predecessor, one of them at least.

Dr. Clef: If you're gonna become us, why are you here?

ASCI Director: Apparently, predecessors are still classified as minor GoIs.

Dr. Clef: Buddy, didn't you see the job ad? We're looking for villains. If you will become us in the future, you can't be the villains. That will make us, the heroes, look bad.

ASCI Director: I can at least join the winning side, right?

Dr. Clef: … I'm afraid you're mistaken, friend. You will never join the winning side. You're just a stale reductionist representative. Folks like me are forever the winning side, but we always find use for lackeys and cannon fodder. [smiles]


Dr. Clef: So, you're the daughter of one of our Staffs who had gained multiversal knowledge?

The Black Queen: Huh, I wouldn't say it like that, but. basically, yes…

Dr. Clef: In that case, I don't know what sort of villain you can be. I mean, right now, I can only imagine you as a rip-off of this weird caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.

The Black Queen: Wait! My goal is to destroy the Foundation, AND I'm not alone, me and my Sisters share the same goal.

Dr. Clef: Listen, I don't think that little kids are the best opponents…

Dr. Clef is interrupted by the sudden entrance of 380 other Black Queens. Some of them look exhausted and some others apologize for being late.

Dr. Clef, muttering to himself: Okay… when was the moment this interview turned into a World War Z remake?


The guy you ate lunch with: Hello.

Dr. Clef: I'm sorry, who are you?

The girl who sat behind you: Don't you remember?

Dr. Clef: Don't think so.

Your best friend: We went to school together!

Dr. Clef: Uh, I was homeschooled.

The first girl you kissed: What about the road trip?

Dr. Clef: What road trip? I hate driving.

That guy you used to smoke weed with: You know, in the summer of '76. After we graduated.

Dr. Clef: I was, like, 10 years old. Are you sure you came to the right interview?

Youdonotrecognizethebodiesinthewater: You seriously don't recognize me.

Dr. Clef: Nope.

One of the band geeks: Ah, forget this.

[All your friends leave you behind.]

Dr. Clef: Looks like somebody peaked in high school.


An interdimensional portal openes and an ancient daevite beast steps out.

Dr. Clef: Take a seat.

Daevite: Eldritch screeching

Dr. Clef: Fuck this.


[Dr. Clef notices a large rectangular envelope that has been on his desk this entire time.]

Dr. Clef: Huh? What's this?

[Dr. Clef opens the envelope, revealing a large brass plaque.]

Dr. Clef: "Department of Abnormalities?"

[Dr. Clef inspects the envelope and the reverse side of the plaque for any further information, but finds none.]

Dr. Clef: Huh.

[Dr. Clef shrugs and tosses the plaque into the waste bin beside his desk.]


Robo-Dude: I AM ROBO-DUDE, A INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF DR. WONDERTAINMENT. I AM HERE TO COLLECT THE FREE DRINKS, ROBO-PAL.

Dr. Clef: Why? You are a robot.

Robo-Dude: NOT FOR ME BUT DR. WONDERTAINMENT. I AM HERE TO COLLECT THE FREE DRINKS FOR DR. WONDERTAINMENT.

Dr. Clef: Why don't he come and get them himself?

Robo-Dude: DO NOT INTIMIDATE ROBO-DUDE. DR. WONDERTAINMENT IS A BUSY TOY MAKER AND THIS VERSION OF ROBO-DUDE COMES EQUIPPED WITH AN ATOMIC GRENADE IN THE EVENT YOU FAIL TO FOLLOW UP WITH THE PROMISED FREE DRINKS.

Dr. Clef: Kinda extreme for a toy… Kids these days are so lucky. Anyway, the drinks are at that table next to the bowl of chips, which is mine so no touching that.

Robo-Dude: THANK YOU, ROBO-PAL.

Dr. Clef: You know Dr. Wondertainment should pay an actual visit next time. They could make-

[Robo-Dude grabs all the drinks and vanishes in a bright blue light]

Dr. Clef: Did he really just take all the damn soda?


Dr. Clef: So that's your entire mission? Finding a grave for Genghis Khan?

Berke Khan: He asked for an unmarked grave, and that is what he shall receive!

Dr. Clef: So what, you're searching through time for an unmarked grave?

Berke Khan: Precisely! We shall travel until we find a time when nobody remembers Genghis Khan, and then we shall return to the past to continue our campaigns, with the spoils of the future!

Dr. Clef: But you're only going forward in time?

Berke Khan: Always forward!

Dr. Clef: So really, all we need to do is fund a couple of low budget movies and books every so often, and keep good records on the most deadly conqueror in the history of mankind? We don't even have to be accurate, we could even whitewash Genghis.

Berke Khan: What's a movie?

Dr. Clef: Look, I know who your father is.

Berke Khan: No! I must continue my travels.

Berke Khan uses his Roman time machine to travel into the future.

Dr. Clef: Nobody had ever heard of Genghis Khan in 1160. Just saying.


Dr. Clef: So, bottom line, you're a circus?

Herman Fuller: Not just any circus, my good man. Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting is The Circus, the Greatest Show in all the Worlds! Surely you've heard of us.

Dr. Clef:

Herman Fuller: You're joking.

Dr. Clef: Well, I remember there were a few good scips about you a few years ago, then there was almost nothing until last year when we started getting all these weird stories coming in for some reason.

Herman Fuller: That's right, we've got a cannon now!

Dr. Clef: A canon?

Herman Fuller: That's right, Alty, a 90-foot-long cannon: solid cast iron, fires balls three feet wide, and is accurate to within 3 miles. Don't tell me that doesn't make us a formidable enemy!

Dr. Clef: Look, Mr. Fuller, every time we try to raid your Circus you just vanish into thin air. We're looking for an enemy that's a little more… menacing.

Herman Fuller: More menacing? More menacing? Sir, you show me one six-year-old in the world who isn't afraid of Clowns and then say we're not menacing!

Dr. Clef: We don't employ six-year-olds, so that's a moot point. Hey, come to think of it, last I read you weren't even still in charge of the Circus of the Disquieting.

Herman Fuller: I assure you, sir, I have no idea what you're talking about.

Dr. Clef: In fact, you're supposed to be in containment. You're a mediocrely rated SCP now.

Herman Fuller: I have had enough of these preposterous accusations! Good day sir!

Dr. Clef: Don't get your strings caught in the door on your way out, Pinocchio.


Dr. Clef: I'm sorry, but how the FUCK do you get away with being HMFSCP? I thought the ASCI were uncreative.

HMFSCP Commissioner: Yes, I'm well aware of the irony in our name.

Dr. Clef: So… another predecessor group, huh?

HMFSCP Commissioner: Yes! We are His slash Her Majesty's Foundation for the Secure Containment of the Paranormal, protecting the people of Britain and her colonies from all the aberrations this world may set upon us!

Dr. Clef: …Is that it?

HMFSCP Commissioner: No! Sometimes people say we're called His slash Her Majesty's Foundation for the Study of Creatures and Phasmogoria!

Dr. Clef: Is this, like, an alternate version of you that speaks how I expected you to?

HMFSCP Commissioner: No! We just can't decide on a name!

Dr. Clef: [Scribbling onto a sticky-note] Lackeys… and… cannon… fodder.


Dr. Clef: General, weren't you guys defeated in the Pacific War?

Kakure Shogun: Yes, that happened. Circumstances beyond IJAMEA's control, to be precise. But we have survived the war, and infiltrated almost all segments of society.

Dr. Clef: Standard secret organisation, eh?

Kakure Shogun: We have factions like the Kakure Shogun and Jirai. In English, they are 'hidden generals' and 'landmine' respectively.

Dr. Clef: General, look. We already have ORIA and GRU-P for our obligatory foreign organisation GoI. Three's a crowd. And yellow peril's so dead. Your group has absolutely no appeal at all.

Kakure Shogun: Doctor, I will not tolerate Orientalism. This is about the sacrifices of many people who died at war. Can you just let people die for nothing?

Dr. Clef: Speaking of dying, we beat your entire group. And that's your place, buddy. [snaps finger]

[Kakure Shogun is replaced with a human skeleton, which quickly crumbles to dust.]


The man whose face cannot be photographed: So, what's your group called?

A being with the head of a rabbit: We don't have a name, unfortunately.

The scientist who smiles widely and wears a big hat: What? why not?

The leporine visitor: Our names were taken from us long ago. Now we seek to reclaim them.

The doctor who sticks unrolled cinnamon twists in his nose: Taken? How's that supposed to work?

The fur-covered stranger: A great magical working. We aided your organization in a war against a terrible foe, but then you betrayed us, banished us to another realm, and stole our names to keep us from returning.

The interviewer with the long nose: Oh, so you want revenge?

The long-eared one: Hardly! We only wish to reclaim our names, so that we might return home.

The being who carries a ukelele: Oh. Can't you just…make up new ones?

Some rabbit guy: What?

The dude that all women find repulsive: You know, make up a fake name. It's not that hard.

A furry fairy:

The person who lies often: Well?

John Smith: …you know what, never mind.

[John Smith gets up to leave.]

A somewhat confused researcher: Um, okay.


[Dr. Clef stares blankly at the empty chair in his office, nodding his head.]

Dr. Clef: I see you are truly Nobody. I think we can fit you in whenever we feel like it. Next!


Dr Clef: And… you represent?

Generic Waffen-SS Commander: I am here on behalf of ze Obskurakorps of ze Third Reich. Hei- [He is cut short by a bullet to the head.]

Dr Clef: Yeah, no. Fuck Nazis.


Dr Clef: Anyone there?

???: ⛧ I̶̺̼̊ͅ ̴̭͎̖̒̕h̸͔̱̍̌a̶͔͔̒ț̸̀ę̶̝̟̝͚̽ ̷̺̲̤̯͊̃̉͂ͅy̷̠̦͚̪̽̏̔ơ̵͍̕ư̶͙͍̱̺̈͆̈́ͅ ⛧

Dr Clef: I swear we had someone penciled in for this time slot.

???: ⛧ I̶̺̼̊ͅ ̴̭͎̖̒̕h̸͔̱̍̌a̶͔͔̒ț̸̀ę̶̝̟̝͚̽ ̷̺̲̤̯͊̃̉͂ͅy̷̠̦͚̪̽̏̔ơ̵͍̕ư̶͙͍̱̺̈͆̈́ͅ ⛧ ⛧ I̶̺̼̊ͅ ̴̭͎̖̒̕h̸͔̱̍̌a̶͔͔̒ț̸̀ę̶̝̟̝͚̽ ̷̺̲̤̯͊̃̉͂ͅy̷̠̦͚̪̽̏̔ơ̵͍̕ư̶͙͍̱̺̈͆̈́ͅ ⛧ ⛧ I̶̺̼̊ͅ ̴̭͎̖̒̕h̸͔̱̍̌a̶͔͔̒ț̸̀ę̶̝̟̝͚̽ ̷̺̲̤̯͊̃̉͂ͅy̷̠̦͚̪̽̏̔ơ̵͍̕ư̶͙͍̱̺̈͆̈́ͅ ⛧

Dr. Clef checks the daily schedule to verify meeting time.

???: ⛥ D̵̜̼̈͆ŏ̸̭̤͇̈̽n̷̦̝̪͎̓̅̑͝'̷̅̿̈͜t̸͉̎̿ ̶̨͙̠̙̈́̑̆̚i̷͈̹̫͗͂́͝g̸̠̻̗̬̲͝n̵͖̬̈́̉͗̋͜ö̶̹̙̪͍̬́̽͝͝r̵̢̥̠̝͛e̸̢̻̽ ̸̺̿͑m̶̞͎͝e̶̛̳͂̚!̴̡͎̩̑̏͝ ⛧

Dr Clef: Yeah, I definitely arranged for them to get an after-lunch interview right now.

???: ⛥ L̴̪̆͋̀͘I̸̥̩̍́̉̋ͅS̶̢̤͚̤͌̅Ṯ̷̢̳̘̀̓̇̏͘È̷̬͇̱̃̃́͝N̴̈́ͅ ̴̥̬̔̚T̶͙̖̠̋͘̕͠Ơ̵͔͔͙̈́̎̇̎ ̵̧̹̹̆M̷̻̗̟̈̄͜Y̷̹͔̭̩̒̆̈́͝ ̷͖̭͍̩̂͘S̶̨͍̳̙̲̐̂̂̃C̸͔͎̯̘̑̇̊̎R̷̥̗͉̅̑̏͒̚E̸̦̾͘A̶̲̭̾M̶̨͉̬͔̬̑̕Ś̴͖̞̑̅͜ ⛥

Dr Clef: Guess it's a no-show then.

???: This is why I hate you.

Dr Clef: What a shame.


Dr. Clef: So uh… What was the name of your group again?

Richard Dawkins: We are the most esteemed guardians of truth and reason, the Society of the Atheist Partisans of-

Dr. Clef: Alright you can stop there. We'll work on shortening that name later. Or at the very least come up with a cool backronym. Tell me more about your whole militant atheist schtick.

Richard Dawkins: What's there to explain? We use our superior intellectual prowess to rightfully disprove the frankly moronic notions of religion and the supernatural.

Dr. Clef: Uh huh, and how does that work in a setting where those things are more or less self-evident for important guys like us?

Richard Dawkins: Don't be daft! Your so-called "anomalies" are all but mere hoaxes. All of them.

Dr. Clef: We've got what's basically a Weeping Angel locked up. How do you explain that?

Richard Dawkins: I… Er-well-

Dr. Clef: And don't your guys use anomalies sometimes?

Richard Dawkins: I-I'm afraid I have to take my leave. I promised ZICRON Seamus I'd go fedora shopping with him.

[Mr. Dawkins sprints out of Dr. Clef's office.]


Grand Karcist Ion: Pleasure to meet you, Clef.

Dr. Clef: Indeed, Grand Karcist. Please tell me more about this Sarkicism.

Grand Karcist Ion: [visibly irritated] Firstly, I would prefer if you do not use the s-word. This is 2017. We should not be subject to such language.

Dr. Clef: I'm sorry, 'hon. Keep on talking.

Grand Karcist Ion: I represent the Nälkä, an ancient religion dated back to what you would call the Bronze Age. Our faith's tenets include the shepherding of the flesh-

Dr. Clef: Ah, that's your schtick! You can be the obligatory antagonists if we need some body horror and unspeakably ancient religion! Thank you for coming down today, Grand Karcist.

Grand Karcist Ion: Wait! I haven't told you our deity's UST with the Broken God and our equally ancient war with the Church of the Broken God!

Dr Clef: That's a bit unnecessarily complicated. Besides, the focus should be the Foundation. If you're so fixated with the Church of the Broken God, why don't you go to their interview site?

[Grand Karcist Ion disappears from Dr. Clef's office.]

Dr. Clef: Our original proposition still stands, if you're still interested!


[Dr. Clef leans forward and peers over the desk at the ██-year old █████ sitting on the other side.]

Dr. Clef: Aren't you a little young to be a GoI?

SCP-231-7: Oh, I'm not the GoI. I'm here on behalf of the Scarlet King, also known as blackbox-blackbox-blackbox-blackbox, the Devourer of Worlds.

Dr. Clef: He sent a ██-year-old to do his bidding?

SCP-231-7: Well, we are called the Children of the Scarlet King.

Dr. Clef: Fair point, but I still think I ought to interview the guy in charge if he's gonna be a GoI.

SCP-231-7: No can do. The Scarlet King is currently imprisoned, bound in an extradimensional prison by seven chains.

Dr. Clef: Isn't that a little cliche?

SCP-231-7: Ah, but listen to this. See, I'm the chain, in a metaphysical sense. Or, rather, my child is.

[Dr. Clef scrutinizes the ██-year-old █████. She does not appear to be pregnant.]

SCP-231-7: We have to wait until right before you contain us, so there can be suspense.

Dr. Clef: Ah. And how, exactly, are you supposed to be contained?

SCP-231-7: Way ahead of you. We made detailed notes.

[SCP-231-7 hands Dr. Clef a spiral notebook. He opens it and is visibly surprised.]

Dr. Clef: This says we have to [DATA EXPUNGED] you every 24 hours.

SCP-231-7: Well, of course. I mean, I'm containing an Apollyon-class entity.

Dr. Clef: Apollyon? What the Hell is that?

SCP-231-7: It's even worse than Keter! Isn't that edgy?

[Disgusted, Dr. Clef hands the notebook back to SCP-231-7.]

Dr. Clef: Sorry, this is the lolFoundation, not the edgyFoundation.

SCP-231-7: So you're not going to [DATA EXPUNGED] me?

Dr. Clef: Um, no.

SCP-231-7: …not even once?

Dr. Clef: Okay, we're done here.


[There is a knock at the door. Dr. Clef goes to answer it, and finds an unmarked cardboard box.]

[Opening it, he finds several unidentified black rectangles, possessing no identifying markings.]

Dr. Clef: And they said I should throw this thing out.

[Dr. Clef inserts one of the rectangles into a currently unidentified machine sitting on a dusty bookshelf. He then powers on an unidentified screen.]

[A yellow logo plastered on a cyan background appears, fading to what appears to be a talk show set. An unidentified figure sits alone.]

Unidentified Figure: VK Technical Media Solutions.

[The figure stands up.]

Unidentified Figure: Your life's already a joke. Why not laugh along?

[A stock laugh track can be heard, before Dr. Clef powers the screen down.]

Dr. Clef: Huh. Was that so hard?


Dr. Clef: Okay… So you're giant space birds who report wizard news and watch over refugees…

[Dr. Clef slides the resume back over the table.]

Dr. Clef: Sorry, the position is filled.

Seventh Wandsman of Trell: What? What are you talking about?

Dr. Clef: We already have the Serpent's Hand and they're basically the same thing.

Seventh Wandsman of Trell: No we aren't! We're preservers of knowledge who do our own research! And we're explorers of the multiverse and we deal with crippling dysphoria all the time-

Dr. Clef: I'm afraid the Serpent's Hand is really queer too.

Seventh Wandsman of Trell: But the Serpent's Hand is basically a local Earth thing! We do stuff in all of the multiverse and off planet too!

[Dr. Clef presses a button on his desk.]

Dr. Clef: Security, please remove the chicken from my office.

Seventh Wandsman of Trell: Wait! No! We have a focus on power of the press, and a beef with the Hanged King, and Lot of Sodom from the Bible being all angsty, and- bgawk!

[The interviewee is dragged from the room by his neck.]

Dr. Clef: Next!


[The representative from the Shark Punching Centre opens the door to the interview room and walks in. However, he is blocked by a solid brick wall. On the wall, the following is inscribed: "No. We may be lolFoundation, but we have standards too."]


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