You step into the containment chamber, your clipboard clutched in one hand and a faint sense of anticipation in your chest.

The chamber is modest but meticulously maintained, its centrepiece a small terrarium that houses SCP-1867, a nudibranch of strikingly vibrant coloration.

The moment you cross the threshold, a genial voice resonates telepathically, rich with the cadence of late Victorian England.

"Ah, good morning, Doctor! Wonderful to see you. Come in, come in, have yourself a seat. Now, if I remember correctly, the last time you were here I was telling you about the time I was captured by the Ubula tribe of the Congo…"