Untitled Archive 113cb8

A disclaimer:

I went back and forth on whether I should include 113cb8 on my website at all. My ultimate choice should be obvious, since you’re reading this. But I typically reserve this site for things I make, versus things I find. This will have to be the exception.

What it is:

113cb8, which I tend to refer to as “Sacrificial Village” due to its content, first appeared as an external drive on my computer in January of this year.

I can’t say for how long it may have been lurking in the side of my Finder window, waiting for me to notice, but one night I realized while I was organizing my files: I had zero clue what this drive was, or why it was there.

Within it was, quite simply, a mess. Tons of GIFs. Lots of corrupted stuff. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it definitely wasn’t supposed to be there, so I ejected it. This was on a work PC, mind you; I didn’t want to beckon some corporate security fiasco.

A screenshot I nabbed of some of the drive contents.

Later the next week, I noticed the drive was back in my Finder sidebar.

I told IT, they ejected it again, fiddled with my network settings, and assured me it wouldn’t return. Obviously, it was back the next night.

By this point, my bank statements still looked good and no one had jacked my identity, so I decided to investigate a little bit, mainly out of curiosity. Interestingly enough, the contents were different now. The GIFs were gone. Most of everything was gone, apart from a single text file.

I opened that file to take a peek. It was a garbled mess inside. I took a video of the contents because, at this point, this was all just a little too strange.

Eventually, I closed the file, ejected the drive again, and went to bed.

This is the point where I need you to trust me.

Very late that night, my computer (which is in my bedroom) woke up from its sleep state. Consequently, it also woke me up from my sleep state. A video is worth a thousand four-letter words on this one, which you can find below. Ignore the conditions of my room, if you can.

The website

Freaky as that is, I won’t dwell on it for too long. It took me a long while to shake off how that moment made me feel. Let’s focus on what we found.

What was on the screen was not a GIF, which is what I expected. In fact, there was no external drive connected to my PC at all, which I also expected.

Instead, what I found was a Chrome window, expanded to fill the screen. Beyond the imagery itself (which we’ll get into), something about that part really made me uneasy. It was like someone wanted it as big as possible. Like it wanted to be seen, to wake me up. I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine.

Full disclosure: The webpage you see there is still up.

I think you’d be able to guess the URL yourself, so I am going to save you the chase and just put a link below. I will also show a bit of it on this page, in case you don’t want to get involved in this sort of online freakishness first hand.

What I will say is this: I’ve scanned this site countless times to ensure it’s not going to destroy my computer. I’ve spent a decent amount of time on it myself. As far as I can tell, it’s technologically harmless.

Here it is: https://www.untitled-archive-113cb8.com/

The content

Okay, so what’s on it?

At a practical level, the site is just a stacked set of images, both GIFs and JPGs. There is no “real” text on the entire site. Perhaps this is why AIs don’t seem to like looking at it. Not sure. But dropping this into Claude isn’t going to tell you much.

However, it is still a website, so you can see file names and such in the source. Almost all files are some variation of “miracle.[number].[file type]”, for whatever that’s worth. You’d have to ask whoever made it.

As for what the site depicts, that’s harder to say. The best I can tell, it’s a recollection of some event, somewhere, over the course of a night. What I will call the “title” — which I’ve put at the top of the gallery above — reads “SACRIFICIAL VILLAGE // 10:54 AM”. The site then works its way towards that time, starting at 2:12 AM. It does not come off as a happy story.

This image seems to be important, if you see it on-site. I get the sense it's meant to be the moon, which is referred to often in the text.

The sound

While the images on the site are unsettling, I find the sound to be much worse — and it only gets louder the further you progress down the page. Browsers will mercifully try to block this sound by default, but click anywhere and it will trigger.

As far as I can tell, the track’s on a loop. The file name backs that up: It is simply called: “chant.1.mp3.” It’s about a minute long.

Some more full disclosure: I do not think listening to this sound is good for you. I am not putting it on this page for this reason. It is droning, desolate, and it sticks in your ears long after you leave the page.

My time spent listening to it has had… side-effects. Headaches, mainly. Consume in moderation, or don’t at all.

Who made this?

The question we’re all asking.

Shortly after finding this site — or, rather, it finding me — I went looking for its origins. WHOIS turns up basically nothing.

So, I started emailing, looking for anyone who could fill me in on who registered it or an email I could contact about it. I even pretended to be interested in buying the extremely esoteric URL. Again and again, the details I needed were redacted for privacy. I never got those answers. I’d probably need a subpoena. It bothers me to this day.

But I had one thing. A URL registration date: February 7th, 2026.

I checked my calendar. It’s the day the site woke me up. I’ve stopped digging.