Anomaly of the Content Warning

Me and my friend stumbled upon a game called “Content Warning” on Steam. It sounded like a fun co-op horror experience, where you film spooky encounters to go viral on SpöökTube. One night, we decided to give it a try.

Initially, everything seemed normal. We explored the eerie environments—a deserted factory, a haunted cruise ship, and dark tunnels—with our single camera and flashlights. The atmosphere was chilling, with mysterious sounds echoing in the distance.

But after about an hour of gameplay, strange things started to happen.

A new player suddenly joined our game. We hadn’t invited anyone, and their presence was unexpected. This player’s avatar had a default smile, but they weren’t moving or interacting. What was even stranger was the absence of any username in the diving bell interface.

“Hey, did you invite someone else?” I asked my friend over voice chat.

“No, I thought you did,” my friend replied, sounding puzzled.

We watched the figure standing silently in our game, feeling uneasy.

“It’s probably just a glitch,” I said, trying to reassure myself.

“Yeah, must be,” my friend agreed, but I could sense their unease too.

We decided to record the strange player with our camera, hoping to capture evidence of this bizarre glitch.

As soon as we aimed our camera at the glitchy player, the screen started to glitch and distort. The camera feed became unstable, flickering with static and strange visual artifacts.

“What’s happening to the camera?” my friend exclaimed.

I tried to stabilize the recording, but the glitchy effects persisted. It was as if the game itself was resisting our attempt to document the anomaly.

Meanwhile, the glitchy player remained motionless, its default smile displayed on its face.

As minutes passed, the tension escalated. We both wanted to quit the game, but the exit button seemed disabled. Frantically, we tried every option in the menu, growing more anxious with each failed attempt.

Suddenly, the glitchy player spoke—or rather, a message appeared on our screens:

“I’m watching. Always watching.”

The words sent a chill down my spine.

“What the…” my friend muttered.

Before we could react further, the game glitched violently. The screen flickered, and then everything went dark.

We tried restarting the game, but the glitchy player was gone. Yet, its haunting message remained burned into our memories.

From that night onward, strange occurrences plagued us. Our computers glitched randomly, displaying strange symbols and distorted images. We heard whispers in empty rooms, and shadows seemed to move on their own.

We tried to forget about “Content Warning,” but its presence lingered like a dark shadow. The game disappeared from our Steam library, as if it had never existed.

After a few days of unnerving glitches and unexplained phenomena, we cautiously decided to give “Content Warning” another try.

To our relief, everything seemed normal again. The game loaded smoothly, and we found ourselves back in the familiar lobby of “Content Warning,” surrounded by its eerie atmosphere.

We cautiously ventured into the deserted factory level, half-expecting to encounter the glitchy player or witness bizarre distortions. However, the gameplay proceeded without incident. We completed objectives, encountered unsettling sounds, and explored the haunted environments.

As we progressed through the game, a sense of relief washed over us. Perhaps it had all been a one-time glitch or a bizarre anomaly in the game’s code.

But just as we were about to let our guard down, something unexpected happened. A faint whisper echoed through our headphones—a voice barely audible, yet undeniably chilling.

“I’m still here,” it murmured, a haunting reminder of the glitchy player’s ominous message.

The game glitched briefly, a subtle distortion that sent a shiver down our spines.

We exchanged nervous glances, our unease returning in full force.

Before we could react further, the game abruptly crashed. We stared at our screens in disbelief, the familiar desktop icons staring back at us.

We tried relaunching “Content Warning,” but this time, it was gone—vanished without a trace from our Steam library.

In the days that followed, we attempted to find answers. We scoured forums and gaming communities for any mention of similar experiences with “Content Warning,” but our efforts yielded nothing.

Eventually, we reluctantly accepted that the game had disappeared, leaving behind only unsettling memories and unanswered questions.

To this day, we wonder about the true nature of “Content Warning” and the chilling mysteries it concealed. Was it merely a glitch-ridden game, or something more sinister lurking within its digital depths?

And as we navigate the digital landscape, we can’t help but feel a lingering sense of unease—knowing that some glitches are more than mere technical errors, but harbingers of something darker, lurking just beyond the screen.