Project Nightshade:
The Potato Conspiracy

Day Fourteen to Eighteen: Massive Cover-up.

From: sephiroth rulz52 | Posted: 2/6/2003 10:11:10 AM
holy **** that's scary! you were right to try and stop them, even if it was a mr potato head thing. It could very likely have been a man. I would have done the same thing.
From: DragonSlayer07 | Posted: 2/6/2003 3:19:48 PM
so would i but i woulda done things differently.simon's motto:"shoot first, shoot later, shoot some more, then when everybody's dead(except yourself)then try to get a question answered."
From: MetaKnight4 | Posted: 2/7/2003 4:11:09 PM
If there's a computer, why isn't he posting to tell us he's OK? </sarcasm>
From: Mewtarthio | Posted: 2/7/2003 5:37:57 PM
This is becoming much more than "Witness to a terrible sight at the landfill." And don't talk about how the shark in the cornfield is impossible; this is a story about potatoes taking over the world.
From: Master Mind | Posted: 2/7/2003 8:31:40 PM
Absolutley pathetic. If it was MIB, or any kind of organization, they would have had other patrolling the landfill for spies or something. You would have been caught, if this took place at all, which it didn't.
From: Navck | Posted: 2/8/2003 10:03:41 PM
Well is he still alive? Can't he respond?
From: Ulyaoth | Posted: 2/8/2003 10:26:59 PM
Probably having too much "FUN" with his new lady friend.
From: Vyyk | Posted: 2/8/2003 10:37:56 PM
For all of you guys who still think this is real, listen. I've seen him on other boards talking about his favorite books. Would you be on another message board chatting about your favorite book, while being chased by potato men? I think not.
From: Heltak | Posted: 2/9/2003 7:00:05 AM
Nobody thinks its real, but we enjoy the story so we pretend to think its real! *Grabs Vyyk and makes him eat THE POTATO!*
From: gothor | Posted: 2/9/2003 5:20:04 PM
Gothor here. Message #18. (Forgot to number that last one. But I guess nobody cares, right?) I remember telling the girl who saved me that I'd tell her about the "taytos" tomorrow. But I slept through tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, sick with a high fever. I remember her looking down at me with a look of concern... pressing her cool hand to my forehead... and telling me, "Like hell I'm going to let you go online! Quit acting the maggot and get some rest." Never tell a guy suffering from weird fever dreams that he's "acting the maggot". He might take it literally. Yesterday, I finally felt good enough to stumble out of bed. The shadow of my nightmares hung over me, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember any one in particular. My mouth tasted awful. I needed something to drink. Then she walked in, dressed in a green flannel shirt that somehow looked flattering on her. "Feeling better, lad?" "Water," I croaked. She returned with a pitcher and a tall glass of water. It tasted better than anything. "You need some breakfast, t'get your strength up." I shook my head. She her expression darkened. "Are you refusing my offer then?" "Er, no. I just... oh hell, go ahead. I'm starving." She smiled and sprang off to the kitchen. I propped myself up against the bed, happy with the novelty of sitting upright. A half an hour later she returned with a big plate. She knelt down in front of me and held it up to my face. "You must really be cravin' these, you didn't shut up about 'em since ye got arrived. So 'ere ya go. Bacon and hasbrowns!" I screamed and knocked the plate out of her hand. Food went flying everywhere. But Instead of mindlessly babbling about the wonders of potatoes, she looked as if she was about to kill me. "Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. See, I've got this phobia..." She arched an eyebrow. "A tayter phobia?" "Yeah. Can't stand the sight of them. They send me into hysterics." She sighed and began picking up scattered hashbrowns and bacon. "You're a weird one, whoever you are. But you've shared my bed for half a week now, so I suppose we should be introduced. I'm Samantha. What's your name?" I told her. "But everyone calls me Gothor." "Goth-or?" "No, Go-Thor." After she left (to make some eggs this time!), I climbed into the chair at her desk and turned on her computer. Samantha had nursed me back to health. She definitely wasn't a zombie or an agent. But if I was going to tell her everything, I'd need to find some evidence. Otherwise, she really would think I was a "header". The search was a success. I found something incredible. Something that could help me blow the lid off this thing, so, nevermind what that crazy Doc said, I won't even have to set foot in Blackfoot. But Sam's bugging me to get offline now, so... Gothor out. (A man has his priorities.)
From: TheBasilisk | Posted: 2/9/2003 7:54:21 PM
Very cool. Keep it up, Gothor!
Note from Thor
I tried, citizen Basilisk, I tried. But I was armed with that which they fear the most: Information. Immediately after promising proof of the conspiracy, a GameFAQs moderator decided that after two and a half weeks, Project Nightshade had to be shut down. Maybe I got too close to the truth. Maybe the moderator ate the potato. Or maybe it was Vyyk. Whatever the reason, I cannot be silenced so easily. Soon I will post more of my story (along with the shocking evidence that GameFAQ's didn't want you to see) on a new medium for Project Nightshade, one which will allow readers to read my testimony and share their own PPE's (Paranormal Potato Experiences.) Until then... don't eat the potato. Gothor out.

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- Gothor out.

More stuff by J.R. Antrim.