← Twisted Tales with Heidi Wong
Twisted Tales with Heidi Wong
Polybius: The Arcade Game That Drives You Insane | Creepypastas
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- [00:02]
Heidi Wong
Hi listeners. Exciting news Crime House plus and Murder True Crime Stories are celebrating America's 250th by dropping a four part limited series on the crimes that build America. These are the crimes and cases that gave us Miranda rights, sparked criminal profiling, and a murder that built America's missing children movement. Follow Murder True Crime Stories for new episodes every Monday leading up to July 4th. Or you can listen to all of them right now with Crime House Plus. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com or if you're listening on Apple Podcasts, tap try free at the top of this show's page.
- [00:48]
Carter Roy
This is crime house.
- [00:55]
Heidi Wong
An arcade cabinet appears overnight. No logo, no artwork, just a plain black box and a name glowing in pale green letters. Polybius. The lines for it stretch around the room. Kids get in fights, waiting for a turn, but instead of walking away with a high score, they end up with migraines that they can't explain and nightmares that they can't shake. And then the men in dark suits arrive and the game vanishes. Nobody hears about this until 19 years later when a story pops up on a random Internet forum, making people wonder. Was Polybius real, an urban legend, or something else entirely? Welcome to Twisted A Crime House Original. I'm Heidi Wong. Every week I'll take you deep into humanity's darkest stories and the creepiest corners of the Internet. If you've ever had a haunted moment or a twisted tale of your own, I want to hear about it. Drop it in the comments. The creepier the better. Crime House exists because of listeners like you want to support Twisted Tales and get episodes a day early and ad free. Subscribe to Crime House. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com or if you listen on Apple Podcasts, tap try free at the top of the Twisted Tales show page. We're also on YouTube with full video episodes. Just search and subscribe to Twisted Tales with Heidi Wong so you can watch the horror come to life. Today's episode is about Polybius, an arcade game from 1981 with mysterious origins and nefarious purposes. If it ever existed. But unlike a lot of Internet urban legends, it's hard to tell where the stories end and the truth begins, because some people actually remember playing it. Queen Carvania stood haloed by the morning sun. An army hung on her every word. My champions, I have sold my chariot on Carvana. Twas a lovely suv, an inexpensive, inexplicably queenly offer. They're even coming to the castle to collect it. Tonight we feast an offer you can feast on. Sell your car today on Carvana. Pickup fees may apply.
- [03:09]
Greta Johnson and Jason Concepcion
House of the Dragon is Back and so is the Official Podcast Join hosts Greta Johnson and Jason Concepcion on HBO Max's official House of the Dragon podcast as they break down every episode and speak with the show's writers, cast and crew members. It's an all out war in Westeros and you never know what to expect when battling with dragons. Watch the official Game of Thrones podcast House of the Dragon on HBO Max or listen wherever you get your podcasts.
- [03:40]
Heidi Wong
This one's a bit different because it's not a lengthy creepypasta. It's a lot like the backrooms in the sense that it started off as something small to just a short post on an obscure gaming website and it became something much, much bigger. And it's one of those things where people weren't sure if it was real at first. So the story grew into something huge until it didn't matter if the source material was real because people decided it was. Now let's go back to 1981. The golden age of arcade gaming is in full swing. Pac man came out the year before and completely broke people's brains. Donkey Kong is everywhere. Kids are skipping school to play Galaga. Couch cushions everywhere are getting flipped in a desperate search for extra quarters. Parents across the country are freaking out about it, and it's hard to blame them. Sure, we think of arcades as places for harmless fun, but maybe that's our stranger things nostalgia talking. Arcades were dark, loud, and designed specifically to separate kids from their money. By the early 1980s, local governments were passing laws to restrict them. Some cities banned minors from arcades during school hours. Others required arcade owners to keep the lights on above a minimum brightness level. The machines were designed to be addictive and everybody could see it, and nobody really knew what to do about it. This is the environment Polybius came into at an arcade in suburban Portland, Oregon. Nobody remember remembered it being delivered. There was no big announcement or excitement over a new game coming in. It was just there one day, tucked in between the other cabinets. But it stood out. Not for the reason you might think. The other games were covered in vivid artwork with spaceships, monsters, or fighter pilots. The brighter the better. But not this one. It was plain, painted completely black. The only thing on it was its name in pale, glowing letters. And it was different in terms of the gameplay too. According to the people who claimed to have seen it, the gameplay was abstract and hypnotic, lines and shapes shifting at high speed, pulling you forward. Some accounts Say it was a lot like Tempest, the Atari vector shooter released around the same time. There are theories that maybe Polybius was a beta version of it, and there's a precedent for that. Atari actually used to put unmarked early versions of their games to get reactions from players. But compared to Tempus, Polypius pushed things a lot further. It wasn't just a shooter. It had puzzle elements, too. Others say the game had no logic at all, just an escalating visual intensity until something in your brain simply couldn't keep up. And everyone who claims to remember it agrees on one it was addictive in a way that went beyond anything else. In that arcade, massive lines formed for a chance to play it. Fights broke out over the machine. Kids who never fixated on any particular game were coming back every day, spending every quarter they had, all on Polybius. And then they started getting sick. They had migraines, nausea, and they couldn't sleep. And when they did get some rest, they had night terrors so vivid they couldn't shake them for days. Some reported memory loss. They started to play, and then all of a sudden, an hour had just vanished. And with nothing in between. Some said they felt like they couldn't control their own thoughts in the days after playing, that something had gotten in and rearranged things. Some claim the game gave them seizures, and none of that stopped them from going back. The weird gameplay, the dangerous side effects, that was all weird enough on its own. But what took this to the next level was the men in black. Every few days, men in dark suits came to inspect the game, but not to collect the coins or even to do maintenance on it. They just opened the machine and took something out of it, like a strange storage medium, according to some accounts, although nobody could say exactly what they were taking or where it went. Then they left without a word, and soon enough, the game was too. A few weeks after it appeared, the cabinet was gone. There was no explanation or announcement for people to get one last chance to play it. Polybius was gone, almost like it had never been there at all. And nobody wrote about it. Not in any newspaper, not in any gaming magazine, not anywhere. In fact, the first mention that's ever been found about it wasn't until February 6, 2000, 19 years after the game supposedly appeared. It was a post on a website called coinopt.org, which is a database of classic arcade games in the gaming community. Back then, a site like this carried real weight. It was where you went to settle arguments about release dates, manufacturer details, or obscure Cabinet variants. If a game appeared on Coin Op with a copyright date in a title screen image, it felt like proof that it was real. So when someone wrote about Polybius, it didn't seem unusual until people read the post. The person who made it said they'd gotten a computer file of the game. They said it had only been released in one or two arcades in a suburb of Portland. In terms of gameplay, it was, quote, weird looking, kind of abstract, fast action with some puzzle elements. Okay, normal enough. Someone got a copy of an obscure game and wanted to write about it. But then it got into the weird stuff. The memory loss, the men in black suits, the game's sudden disappearance. Supposedly, the CIA wanted to test people's reaction to psychological effects. That's the data they were recording. And to back it up, the post included a single image, a title screen showing the game's name, and below it, a copyright line. Right away, this post got a lot of traction. People wanted to know more, starting with the company behind the game. Just from the looks of it, it seemed legit. When you break down the name, it's the German word for something like sense deletion, which sounds pretty dark considering the effects that Polybius had on people. But that's not the only thing people realized about the company. For people who actually knew German, the grammar didn't really work. It was like someone pulled two terms from a dictionary and smashed them together. Which could mean that it was fake. But at the same time, there are plenty of companies with nonsensical names out there. It's also the exact kind of name that a classified government project might use when creating a front company in a hurry. Nobody has ever found any record of Zenithen existing. No business registration, no copyright filing, no former employees, no address, nothing. Which again, is either because the company didn't exist, or because it was precisely the kind of entity that wouldn't have left records. A small operation running fast, built not to be found. The lack of answers left people with a question. The Internet turned over and over for years. Did Polybius actually exist? Or had some people used a niche gaming database to plant the seed of an urban legend and wait to see if it grew? Either way, the story was spreading. It went from that single Coinopt.org post to gaming forums across the Internet. And in September 2003, about three and a half years after the first post, GamePro magazine included Polybius in an article about gaming Urban Legends. Here's where it gets interesting. Because the article listed it as inconclusive and declined to Call it an outright fake. And shortly after that, it people started coming forward with memories of the game. Their accounts popped up on forum posts, comment sections on gaming sites, and eventually Reddit threads. People coming forward to say that I was there, I saw it, I played it. And they were specific. They described the sound that the machine made, the particular quality of the screen glow. One person said the screen emitted a tone that you could feel in your back teeth. Not everyone agreed on what the gameplay was actually like, though. Someone remembered it more like a maze game. Another said it was purely abstract shapes with no logic at all. But that could still have a rational explanation. This was now over 20 years since the game supposedly appeared. It could just be people with hazy memories, which wouldn't be surprising considering what the game did to them. Or maybe it was people who read a video vague description online and filled it in with their own imaginations. Or they could just be making it up for fun. With so much uncertainty circling around, it was hard to know what was real, which could have been the entire point. The 19 year gap is the thing that I keep going back to. If a game was genuinely causing seizures and blackouts, I feel like someone would have said something. The local news may be an old doctor's note or some kind of complaint, but on the other hand, arcades in 1981 didn't have review aggregators or social media. If you played something strange, you told your friends, that's it. And I think that ambiguity is what makes this legend work so well, especially for people who discovered it when that post was finally made in 2000. Then there's the variations in the eyewitness accounts. Inconsistent memory is classically what happens when when people are independently misremembering a real but fuzzy event. It's also what happens when people are constructing memories from a vague description that they write online. So that doesn't really give any answers either. And the Internet in 2000 was the wild west in a way that's genuinely hard to remember now. There were no fact checkers, no Wikipedia, no community of debunkers with the infrastructure to investigate a claim in check just a few hours. Something could live on the Internet for years before anyone had the tools to seriously look into it. And by the time that they did, there was so much out there that it was hard to separate the truth from fiction.
- [13:49]
Greta Johnson and Jason Concepcion
House of the Dragon is back, and so is the official podcast. Join hosts Greta Johnson and Jason Concepcion on HBO Max's official House of the Dragon podcast as they break down every episode and speak with the show's writers, cast and crew members. It's an all out war in Westeros and you never know what to expect when battling with dragons. Watch the official Game of Thrones podcast, House of the Dragon on HBO Max or listen wherever you get your podcasts.
- [14:20]
Carter Roy
Hi listeners, it's Carter Roy, host of Murder True Crime Stories. I wanted to let you know that Crime House plus and Murder True Crime Stories are celebrating America's 250th by dropping a four part limited series on the crimes that built America. These are the crimes and cases that gave us Miranda rights, sparked criminal profiling and a murder that built America's missing children movement. Follow Murder True Crime Stories for a new episode every Monday leading up to July 4th. Or you can binge all of them right now ad free with Crime House Plus. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com or if you're listening on Apple Podcasts tap try free at the top of this show's page
- [15:08]
Heidi Wong
the Colonels cooked up a new $10 bucket of the day just for you. Monday 24 Nuggets for $10 Tuesday 8 piece fried chicken for $10 Wednesday 10 wings for $10 Thursday 8 tenders for $10 Friday 24 oh, you guessed it, didn't you? $10 finger licking machine the $10 bucket of the day deal every weekday only at KFC. It's finger licking goo prices and participation variable supplies last round available on third party ordering platforms, tax extra. You might think this story is too strange to be true, but here's the thing. Weird stuff was genuinely happening around Portland Arcades in 1981. On November 27th of that year at the Malibu grand prix Arcade, a 12 year old named Brian Morrow tried to break the world record for Asteroids. He played for 28 hours straight and according to the local newspaper, he did it while wearing a full tuxedo. Which honestly, that's a commitment. And after 28 hours of gaming, soda and orange juice, he collapsed with severe stomach pain and and spent two days in bed. Sadly, he didn't get the record score. So we've got some addictive gameplay and health problems, but not to the level Polybius supposedly had. However, Brian's attempt on Asteroids wasn't the only game related injury in Portland. In fact, on that same day at that Same Arcade, a 14 year old named Michael Lopez was playing Tempest, which if you remember is the game that people compare to Polybius. And as Michael played, he suddenly felt lights flashing inside his brain. He stumbled outside, was sick in the parking lot, and was later found on his front lawn writhing and screaming. His parents called an ambulance. It was his first migraine. He told the newspaper that it was so bad, he thought that he was dying. Two kids in Portland, same arcade, same day. Both ended up incapacitated by a video game. And that's not the only real life connection to Polypius, because 10 days later, the FBI raided that arcade and several others in the Portland area. So now we have our men in black. But in this case, we know the investigation was about gambling. A lot of arcades in Portland had quietly modified their coin op machines to pay out cash, essentially running illegal slot machines inside what looked like a family entertainment venue. The FBI found out what was going on and sent agents to check it out. They'd examine the cabinets, open them up, check for modification software, and document what they found. They also wrote down the names of the top scorers on each machine's leaderboard, who were either gamblers or potential witnesses. In all, they made 52 arrests across Portland in 1981. Now, picture what that looked like to a kid in the arcade at the time. Strange men in dark suits moving through the space like they own it. Nobody explains who they are. They stop at a machine, open it up, write something in a notepad, then they close it and move on to the next one. And in some cases, they took the cabinets with them when they left. Just like what supposedly happened with Polybius. I'd love to get your thoughts on this, because there's a lot of possibilities here. Was Polybius a part of all of that? Was there a real cabinet that someone played, felt genuinely sick from, watched the men in suits examine, and then told their friends about in a story that passed down from person to person for two decades before it finally found the Internet? Or did someone who knew about these Portland incidents use them as raw material to plant a story on a niche Internet database and watch it spread? And then there's the other possibility, that Polybius was actually real. And with all this other stuff happening, it got swept under the rug. I know the last one is a long shot, but the story refused to die. Because in 2006, six years after the original post, someone left a comment on that Coinopt.org entry. The commenter's name was Steven Roach, and he said that he was one of the programmers who built Polybius. Steven said that the company was a small company based in Czech Republic. It was founded in 1978, and the name was just a mashup of German words that they thought sounded cool, but apparently they knew what they were doing when it came to making arcade games. They were approached by what Stephen called a nameless Southern American company to design a new game, one with puzzle elements and a new approach to graphics. Steven said what they made was so good they couldn't stop playing it. In fact, it was so good that their investors worried it was too addictive to and might be harmful. But they went ahead with a limited release and then they found the game gave a 13 year old boy in Portland a seizure. According to Stephen, the investors sent the company's directors to Portland to check it out. That was the Men in Black that people saw. After that, Stephen said they disbanded the company to avoid any more damage to their reputations. But he truly believed that Polybius was ahead of its time and could have changed the face of gaming. It was an interesting story and not many people believed it. There was no way to verify it. And the post itself didn't exactly scream I'm legit. As just one example, Stephen spelled the very long company name in a bunch of different ways. And the moderators at CoinOpt didn't buy it either. They added to the original post saying that Stephen Roach was a fraud and that one of them was actually flying to Ukraine to get more information. But after that, there weren't any updates. Nobody was ever able to find out more about the game. But they were able to find out who Steven Roach was. According to writer Catherine Despira, he was real and not a programmer. According to Despira's reporting, Steven ran behavioral modification centers for teens. Basically, parents would pay him to kidnap their wayward kids and take them to these centers to fix them. Insanely problematic and in a lot of cases, not very legal, which was why Stephen had traveled around the world doing this. And he'd eventually end up in the Czech Republic. So at this point the whole thing was starting to fall apart. There was nobody out there who could actually verify that Polybius was real. And people were starting to think that the whole story was just a way to drive more traffic to coinopt.org because Steven Roach did give a follow up interview with to a small gaming publication called Game Pulse and said that someone named Ulrich Kohler came up with the company's name. And it turned out that the founder of Coin Op was named Kurt Kohler. By this point, it had been six years since that original post. The Internet was looking more like we know it today. And people were able to poke holes in stories a lot faster than they could before. And the consensus was that Polybius had no, never existed, which is either kind of disappointing or a big relief, depending on how you look at it. But like we've seen in other Creepypasta stories, just because the original source wasn't real, that didn't mean that it didn't take on a life of its own. And in the years since that little post on coinopt.org, polybius has become the most famous game that never existed. The Steven Roach comment is one one of the most interesting parts about this entire legend, and not because I think it's real, but the way the community responded to it tells you everything about what people wanted from this story. They wanted there to be someone who knew, although when we think about who he really was, it's a good thing that it wasn't real. I really love that whoever did make up the story was able to blend all of these real events that happened in Portland into one big story. It's the same air of believability we saw with Ted the Caver, another early creepypasta. It took something real and turned it into something terrifying. And with how the early Internet worked, it wasn't easy for people to separate the truth from the fiction, at least not at first. And as we're about to see, it doesn't matter that it wasn't real, because people took the idea of Polybius and turned it into something all on their own. I feel like summer is when I notice the little time savers the most, and Instacart is definitely one of them for me. Instead of planning my day around a grocery run, I can just open the app, build my cart, and move on with my day. I use delivery via Instacart a lot for weekly essentials like fresh produce, snacks, and everything I need for quick meals. I love that I can be specific about what I want, and I'm still getting that level of quality. And when plans come up out of nowhere, it's easy to adjust. I can place an order and have what I need without rearranging everything. It just keeps things simple. It's honestly one less thing to think about, which I really appreciate. This time of year, Instacart brings convenience, quality and ease right to your door so you can focus on what matters most. Download the Instacart app now and get groceries just how you like. At Amica Insurance, we know it's not just what's inside your home that matters, it's who you share it with. That's why we work even harder to protect it. And as a mutual insurance company, we're built for our customers. We prioritize your insurance needs and are here for you when you need us. Amica Empathy is our best policy. Visit amica.com and get a quote today. Alright, so we can all agree that Polybius never existed. Or at least the 1981 CIA experiment version of it never existed. And the closer you look, the more obvious the hoax is. Starting with the name itself. Polybius was actually an ancient Greek philosopher and historian who was from, get this, a place called Arcadia. So there's your first hint right off the bat. Polybius was famous for his love of puzzles. He invented something called the Polybius Square, which is a 5x5 grid of letters you use to communicate in secret code. And he also is famous for saying historians should only record something if they've actually talked to someone who experienced it. Maybe something people should have thought to do before deciding the game was actually real. Then there's his name itself, which means many lives in Greek. So you've got the King of puzzles born in Arcadia, whose name translates to extra lives. Pretty much the perfect person to dedicate a video game to. And the cool thing is, even though the legendary version of the arcade game Polybius isn't real, people have tried to actually recreate it based on the descriptions in that coinopt.org post. The first version of it came out in 2007 by a developer called Rogue Synapse. The company's owner even registered zineslershan.com to host it. If you give it a try, let me know. And this is far from the only version of it. In 2017, a developer named Jeff Minter released his version of Polybius for PS4 with VR support as a part of the marketing. He even claimed that he played the real Polybius back in England when he was a kid, but even though that wasn't true, he did have a cool connection to the game. Minter worked with two remakes of Tempest, which people had linked to Polybius because of the similar gameplay. And the game came to life in a lot of other ways too, by becoming immortalized in pop culture. Starting, of course, with with The Simpsons in 2006, right around the time that Steven Roach made his post, a Polybius arcade cabinet appeared in the episode Please Homer, don't hammer him with a mark that said Property of the US Government. The episode didn't acknowledge it beyond that, but it was a cool nod to the game. Polybius has also appeared in shows set in the 80s, like the Goldbergs and Paper Girls, and more recently, it also showed up in Loki where it's in the Loki variants hideout. In those other examples, the game was just in the background, and that seemed to be the case in Loki too. But you know Marvel fans, every little Easter egg is discussed and dissected, and the appearance of Polybius got the full treatment. People noticed it because it fits so well into the multiverse concept that Marvel was setting up. Maybe Polybius isn't real in our world. Maybe it existed in another one. The thing that gets me the most about these pop culture appearances is that each one creates a whole new generation of people who would know about Polybius even if they weren't around for its original appearance. A kid who spots the cabinet in Loki and goes down a rabbit hole has a completely different experience of this story than someone who found it in the early 2000s. But they end up in the same place, convinced that something is there, even though they can't say exactly what. And my lasting takeaway from this story is how Polybius plays with memory. People read that one short website entry. Maybe they remembered some of the weird stuff going on in Portland back then, and the story took on a life of its own from there. I love it when this kind of stuff goes from an Internet urban legend or creepypasta into something real, and I might just have to go track down one of those PS4 versions of the game. Portland historian Joe Streckert once compared Polybius to H.P. lovecraft's Necronomicon, the book that warps your mind once you open it. I love that analogy, not just because it describes the urban legend version of Polybius, but because it also describes the version that we've created. It's like some kind of demonic spell brought to life, one that jumped off a website and into reality. Sure, it may not control your mind or drive you insane, but Polypius is here to stay. And with technology tracking us more and more every day, who knows what our video games might do to us? So if you're ever walking through an arcade and can feel a certain cabinet calling, you better not have any quarters. Thanks so much for joining me on this episode of Twisted Tales, a Crime House original. I'd love to hear from you. Have you had any weird encounters with an arcade game? Do you have memory of Polybius, or do you think you do? Leave a comment or review wherever you're tuning in. And if you want to support Twisted Tales and get episodes a day early and ad free, subscribe to Crime House Plus. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com or if you listen on Apple Podcasts tap try free at the top of the Twisted Tales show page and be sure to follow Twisted Tales so we can keep building this community together. I'll be back next week with another story guaranteed to keep you up at night. Until then, stay curious and remember, there's no reason to fear the dark unless you try to hide from it. Having the right people in your corner for life's biggest milestones makes all the difference. Like a friend who's there when you're house hunting or checking out a new ride, State Farm is there too, helping you choose the coverage you need. With a State Farm agent, you know someone is there to help you along the way. And with so many coverage options, it's nice knowing you have help choosing a plan that fits your needs so you can continue celebrating all of life's milestones. Head to statefarm.com to get a quote like a good neighbor, State Farm is there Tires matter. 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