SPECIMEN #06: WildCode GB

 

[FIELD REPORT – /x/ Thread | Archived Submission, 2006]

IMAGE: Fixed-frame photo of Game Boy Color cartridge, screen stuck on image of faceless white creature in a forest clearing.
VECTOR: Nintendo Game Boy Color (c. 1998) + Unlicensed Cartridge
CAPTURE SITE: Forest Edge, Wienerwald

I was ten when it happened.

My cousin Alex used to bring this weird Game Boy cartridge every time we visited our grandma’s house. It wasn’t a normal game. The label was faded, just said WildCode in scratched lettering. No Nintendo logo, no manual.

The game was strange too. All grayscale. You played as a small pixelated child walking through a never-ending forest. There was no music—just a soft static hiss. Sometimes, behind the trees, a shape would appear. Tall. White. Featureless. Then it would vanish.

Alex was obsessed with it. Played for hours. Said he’d “almost figured it out.” Said the monster would talk to him sometimes if he stood still long enough.

One day he didn’t come back for dinner. We searched for hours. Police got involved. Dogs, flashlights, helicopters.

Nothing.

Two days later, they found his Game Boy at the edge of the woods. Still on. Battery full, somehow.

The screen was frozen—an image of the white creature, standing in the middle of a clearing. Facing the player. Almost… closer than usual. Like it had stepped forward.

They never found Alex.

His parents tried to reset the game. The image wouldn’t go away. Cartridge wouldn’t eject. Tech guys said it was corrupted data. But it glowed faintly in the dark.

Years later, I went back to the forest. Just to feel something. I swear I heard the 8-bit footsteps in the grass behind me. Like someone was still playing.

If you ever see a cartridge labeled WildCode, don’t put it in your Game Boy.
It doesn’t need you to play.

It’s still playing on its own.

SPECIMEN #05: "Dream loop.hmtl"

[FIELD REPORT – Anon /x/ Thread | 4chan Archive]

When I was 14, I had a nightmare during finals week. I’d been pulling all-nighters, scrolling between homework tabs and Reddit, my brain fried from caffeine and noise. That night, my laptop overheated and shut off mid-essay. I passed out with the screen burned into my eyelids.

I dreamed of snow. A silent field. White and endless. I was barefoot, shivering. Then I saw them—two massive wolves. Pale as bone, circling me. They didn’t growl, didn’t rush. They bit slowly, deliberately. Their mouths were warm. One looked at me with eyes that weren’t animal. They were mine.

I woke up crying. Couldn’t look at a screen for days. I wrote it down and forgot it.

Years passed.

This winter, after weeks of burnout and insomnia from remote work, I felt that same static in my chest. I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t sleep. My devices buzzed with updates, deadlines, noise.

One night, I left my apartment and walked into the woods behind my building. I wasn’t sure why—just needed silence. Needed to disconnect.

That’s when I found it.

A golden laptop, half-sunken in wet leaves. Open, glowing.

It had no logo, no ports. But the screen was on.

Frozen on an image:white wolves, mid-snarl. One had blood on its snout. The other looked out of the screen, straight at me.

I didn’t move. I knew that image. Not just from the dream—but pixel by pixel. It was exactly the frame I had seen in my nightmare ten years ago. Down to the position of the fur. Down to the fog in the background.

The screen didn’t flicker. The image didn’t shift. But the longer I stared, the more I felt something inside the computer staring back. Quietly. Waiting.

I backed away.

I returned the next morning. The laptop was still there. Still on. Same frame.

I didn’t touch it. Just took a photo. My phone battery dropped to 0% immediately after.

I haven’t slept since.
Sometimes I hear panting behind me when I scroll too long.

If you find the device—
Don’t open it.
It doesn’t need to move to watch you.

SPECIMEN #04: "Whisper Lens"

[FIELD REPORT – Anon /x/ Thread | 4chan Archive]

I was ten when this happened. My whole family had rented a cabin in the woods for New Year's—cooking, music, laughter. The kind of noise that fills the air until it suddenly… doesn’t.

That afternoon, one of my cousins whispered to me that she had found a secret trail behind the trees. We snuck off together. No one noticed.

The deeper we went, the quieter it got. Even the snow felt wrong—too soft, like it was hiding something underneath. We both started hearing this strange clicking sound, like a mechanical insect. Faint, but constant. And whispers, layered over each other. Coming from nowhere, and everywhere.

My cousin said it felt like something wanted us to follow it. And I agreed. Not because I believed her—because I felt it too. Like being tugged by a thread tied to your ribs.

Then we saw it.

A digital camera, resting perfectly in a patch of wet grass. Not buried. Not burned. Just… waiting.

It was on.
The screen showed a single photo. A dark forest. Ours, maybe. But glowing red figures stood in the background—thin, stretched, almost human. They looked like they were turning toward us.

We didn’t speak. We just stared.

Then we heard the voices of our parents—real ones this time—calling, yelling. We ran back, the sound snapping us out of whatever that place was.

We never told them what we found. But we went back later.

The camera was gone.

Sometimes I still hear that clicking when I’m near deep woods. And sometimes, when I close my eyes in the dark, I see that photo again.

Not on a screen.
Inside my head.
And the figures are closer now.

SPECIMEN #03: Route34.img

 

FIELD REPORT – File #002: Route 34 / Southern Peru

Hi, I want to tell you this story. It happened back in 2013, when I was 15.

I was on a road trip through southern Peru with my mom and my aunt. We were in my aunt’s old SUV—the kind that growls like a sick animal when it crawls down mountain roads. I was in the back seat, headphones on, watching a movie I’d downloaded on my laptop.

It was night. The headlights barely cut through the mist, and I had started drifting off. Suddenly, I heard my mom shouting my name—like she was far away. I pulled my headphones off. The car had stopped.

My aunt wasn’t moving. Her hands gripped the wheel. And in the rearview mirror, I saw her eyes.
White. Completely white.

She wasn’t blinking. She wasn’t breathing. She was just staring into the mirror.
Staring straight at me.

My laptop froze. The image on the screen—a still from my movie, a dark road from the backseat view, and those white eyes in the rearview mirror—got stuck. No matter what I did—turning it off, closing the lid, removing the battery—it stayed.

Like the screen wasn’t a screen anymore, but a window trapped in that moment.

When we got back to Lima, I tried turning it on again. Nothing.
Until one night, in my room, it powered on by itself.
Just that same image. Again.
And something new: a figure in the passenger seat that hadn’t been there before.

That was the last time I touched it. I shoved it in a backpack, drove back to that same road, and threw it into the woods.
Sometimes I wonder if someone else found it.
And if they saw it turn on too.

---

Warning: If you find this laptop, don’t open it at night.
Don’t look at the mirror.

---

Let me know if you want this version formatted directly for your blog, or if you’d like a matching QR code to place under the painting.

SPECIMEN #02: “FIREFEED” (DIY Linux Terminal Setup – HP Monitor, Logitech Keyboard, Kensington Trackball)

 

[FIELD REPORT – Anon /x/ Thread | Reddit Archive]

Meta-data

VECTOR: HP LCD Monitor + Logitech K120 Keyboard + Kensington Trackball Mouse
CAPTURE SITE: Meadow clearing, south trail, Mödling Forest
RECOVERY STATUS: Unpowered, but screen permanently “active”
ANOMALY TYPE: Video Loop / Flame Entity Class

The other night I went camping with my girlfriend.
We’d talked about it forever—just the two of us, alone in the woods, no phones, no signal, just trees and sky. She picked the site. A weird little clearing with crushed grass, like something heavy had lain there before.

The vibe was strange from the beginning. It was quiet in a way that made your ears ring. And there was this metallic scent in the air—like burnt plastic and ozone.

We set up the tent. Around midnight, we saw a glow behind the trees. Not moonlight. Not fire. Something colder. Flickering.

We followed it, thinking it might be some other campers. But there was no one there. Just… this thing.

An old monitor, half-buried in the grass. Still plugged into a keyboard and trackball, but no tower. No power source. And the screen—
It was on.

It looked like a paused YouTube video. Five seconds into something. Three streaks of flame floating in a forest scene. A sidebar of thumbnails, all distorted or… watching us?

We didn’t touch it at first. Just stared.

Then the video started playing on its own.

But the fire didn’t move. Instead, the trees around us did.

That’s when my girlfriend screamed. The trees behind us—were rearranged. They didn’t match the way we came. Like the landscape had glitched.
She ran. I followed. We left everything. The tent, the bags. All of it.

I came back the next morning. She wouldn’t come. Said it made her sick just to think about it.

The monitor was still there. Still on. The same frame, frozen again.
I tried to unplug it, but there were no cables. Nothing was powering it.

I left it. Took a picture with my phone. My screen went black right after. Never worked again.

They say some devices remember what they've seen. This one might be showing it. Or replaying it.

If you find it—don’t sit too long in front of the screen.
And don’t click play.

SPECIMEN #01: “Quadruped” (Canon PowerShot A480)

 

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• Imagen: Your night photo (device in grass, painting of the stalking being).

• Meta-datos:

  • VECTOR: Cámara Digital Canon PowerShot A480 (c. 2008)

  • LOCALIZACIÓN DE CAPTURA: Zona Pantanosa, Bosque de Mödling

    


• Texto:

  [FIELD REPORT – Anon /x/ Thread | 4chan Archive]
  
  

  I was walking through the Mödling forest, like I do every day after school. I know that path by heart. I’ve been taking it since I was ten, heading home from town.

  But that Friday, I stayed out later than usual. I drank some cheap wine by the river with a girl I like. I waited until the sun had fully set before heading back.

  The path home was the same, but everything felt... wrong. As if the forest had rearranged itself while I was away. I didn’t recognize anything. I walked and walked, but nothing looked familiar. And then—that feeling. Like someone was watching me.

  I started hearing footsteps. In the grass. Matching mine. When I stopped, they stopped. When I sped up, they sped up.

  Panic set in. I tripped and fell. The weeds swallowed me like a living shroud. And then—it emerged in front of me.

  I don’t know what it was. Four legs. Joints bending the wrong way. Its skin shimmered like it was covered in wax or grease. I pulled out my Canon PowerShot—just an old habit—and tried to snap a photo. The flash went off by accident.

  The creature turned. It looked me in the eyes. They glowed in the dark. Its face was covered in something that looked like raw flesh.

  That’s where my memory ends.

  My mom found me the next morning. She had gone out to look for me. I was near home, on the edge of the forest.

  I thought maybe I had dreamed it, until I checked my camera. There it was: a blurred, gleaming image. The screen was coated in some thick substance—part wax, part… something else. It couldn’t be deleted. The image wouldn’t go away.

  I tried turning the camera off. Nothing. Tried breaking it. Nothing. It was like the picture had sealed itself inside the screen. Like it had trapped something.

  That night, I went back into the forest. I buried the camera where I’d found it.

  I don’t know what that thing was, but I still feel like it’s looking for me.

  Don’t dig it up.

  
  

  
  

Entry #001: WHAT WE HUNT

This blog is a compilation of strange reports and fragments found on anonymous forums like 4chan, old imageboards, and dead corners of the Internet.

Most of these stories weren’t written by me. They circulated as broken posts, blurred screenshots, maps with no context. But they all shared something in common:

They describe the discovery of abandoned tech objects in forests, deserts, tunnels, and ruins.

Old devices.
Dead phones.

All showed signs of being hand-painted. As if someone was trying to seal something inside.

The most recurring theory is that these are "sealed portals".
That screens don’t just show images —they can trap them.
And that certain ghosts —born from digital decay— are now imprisoned inside forever.

The original storytellers vanish. Some used code-names like !!painter404, netghost, .DREI. I just collect what's left behind.

This blog is an archive:

• Of what we’ve found.

• Of what others left behind.

• Of the ghosts that now have nowhere else to go.

If you ever find a painted device: document it, don’t plug it in, and don’t approach it after dark.

Signed: A. V.
Project Geisterjäger