Satire Truck
rating: +20+x
Item Satire Truck
Size 6.1 m length with a 3.4 m height clearance
Type Deceptive Transport
Sentient Yes
Potential/Current Hazards Erratic and life-threatening road navigation; passengers may report increased misfortune after operation
Operation Necessities Gallon of spare fuel (strictly diesel)
Primary Location Base Eight
Reported Anomaly Occult-powered sentient vehicle



Final photo taken from fleeing enemy transport after a night of pursuit.


Placement of cargo within Satire Truck.

The Satire Truck is designated as a special shipping vehicle for High-Value Packages, currently serving interests across the Continental United States by taking advantage of its expansive storage capacity to deliver massive quantities of material quickly. Matter stored inside the cargo hold is sent into a pocket dimension, becoming irretrievable while the hold's door is closed. Before opening, operators are to wipe the truck's backside using a specific mixture of diesel fuel and the fresh blood of an orphan to ensure that the truck does not forcefully eject its material at high speeds. A cargo crew may expect cargo to occasionally be floated out of the truck by an unknown force, accompanied by disturbing visual and auditory hallucinations. Although sometimes misinterpreted, this is confirmed as simply one of the truck's gestures to expedite the process of unloading. Item Research, Usage, and Containment specialists have discovered that verbal encouragement from the crew is key to continuing this behavior.

The vehicle prefers autonomy while shipping material but agrees to the presence of human passengers to avoid suspicion. However, only selected operators with an Amicability Index of 7.0 or higher that are personable enough to handle the vehicle's behavior are allowed to board the truck cabin. Drivers are expected to maintain fast-paced conversation for more than seven hours, answer rapid-fired and repetitive questions, resist an incredible compulsion to self-inflict head trauma on the dashboard, engage the entity in conversation regarding goats, and remain vigilant of road and traffic conditions. Former Satire Truck drivers and passengers are to enter quarantine until the night of a new moon to avoid involving others from their increased misfortune.

Storage conditions for the vehicle are based on the standard containment pattern for sentient, non-transformative automobiles. The unit must be kept at a cool ambient temperature. Ventilation is absolutely necessary, as any enclosed space housing the vehicle tends to fill with sulfur gas and water vapor. Weekly cleaning is ideally done with the assistance of a clergyman. On-duty cleaning is strictly prohibited and special caution must be observed when navigating in coastal areas. While resistant to damage, the Item's structural integrity suffers from contact with seawater.

If the psychological well-being of live human cargo is preferred, anesthetics are to be administered before storage. Following Incident ██/██/████, drivers are strictly restricted from using the anesthetics on themselves during transit. Residual misfortune at a reasonably survivable intensity will befall passengers of the truck until the night of a new moon.


The Satire Truck is a heavily modified RMC Class-6 medium-rigid box truck belonging to a model owned by automobile manufacturer Isuzu. The interior of its cabin has been thoroughly inscribed with mythological symbols in Sannonic script holding strong occult significance as a component of daemonic binding rituals. Inscriptions are understood to infuse the vehicle with the essence of a Class-II daemopsionic entity. They are lit bright red during engine activation. Starting the truck's engine allows subjects to interface with the entity and avail of its special properties.

Immediately upon activation, a 10.6 m sphere around the vehicle will become a point of catastrophic mishaps, excluding the truck itself and its contents, but affecting all objects, organisms, and structures on unconsecrated ground. Machinery becomes very likely to malfunction. Certain sounds, such as rain, thunder, and human voices, are amplified to deafening volumes. In addition, goats and other species of genus Capra in the area will actively seek out to attack nearby humans. Numerous other effects, including eerie noises, sudden darkening of the surroundings, and spontaneous combustion, also occur regularly. All effects abruptly cease once the area exits the sphere but effects will remain.

The interior of the cargo container is only accessible through a ritual specified in the Usage section. Any matter placed at the rear will be transported to a pocket dimension, seemingly dematerializing in the process. Video observation likens the dimension to a form of stasis, perfectly preserving each item in apparently non-Euclidean space. The extent of this dimension is currently unknown, but predicted to be finite in volume. Shipped humans that attempt to observe the surroundings find it turbulent and seizure-inducing.

As more material is stored, the probability that some items will become 'misplaced' increases, resulting in said items taking up to months longer to be retrieved. The entity appears to obfuscate any details regarding this problem. though IRUC speculation is that it senses when storage operations become "too greedy," necessitating a controlled approach to shipping material.

When not activated, the entity will fall inert, remaining damage-resistant as stored material is rendered inaccessible until the next activation. If deactivated out in the open, an observer may notice instances where goats come to congregate in an area around the truck.

Appendix (Transcript)

Shipment order AbW0894: Cargo details withheld.
Driver codename: C.M.


[C.M. boards the truck cabin and starts the engine. His wristwatch catches fire, then is ejected from the cabin through the window.]

S.T.: "You know if that watch was authentic, it wouldn't have caught fire. I just saved you a lifetime of uninformed consumerism. You're welcome."

C.M.: "That's very kind of you, Mister Satyr Truck."

S.T.: "Please, call me Powell. I think it's a cool name. I suggest you call me that so I can give you a cool name as well."

C.M.: "As you wish, Powell."

[C.M. steps on the gas pedal. As the truck leaves Base Eight's perimeter, the sky begins to rumble. C.M. barely misses a wayward forklift en route to the highway. Transit begins.]

C.M.: "You know, I'm curious as to what kind of nickname will you give me. I never get the chan-"

S.T.: [interrupts] "Not now, mortal! I'm driving!"

C.M.: "Ah, right. My apologies."

[Long pause.]

S.T.: "Just kidding with you, human!"

C.M.: "Oh! I- Ahhh!"

[A goat materializes on the road ahead, racing towards the truck. It leaps forward before it is hit, landing on the hood. The creature's head turns to face the driver's side of the cabin. It establishes eye contact with C.M.]

S.T.: "We are going to have a spectacular adventure."


S.T.: "Hey, that was the twentieth car that broke down on our route. My best record is sixty-seven. Betcha we can't beat that!"

C.M.:: "I hope we don't."

S.T.: "Well, we'll get back onto the highway in thirty minutes. Let us see what transpires.

C.M.: "We should try to avoid drawing attention to us, Powell."

S.T.: "Convince me why, friend."

C.M.: "First of all, we're carrying very important cargo in the back and causing any sort of anomalous carnage on the streets will get us tracked by rival groups."

S.T.: "It doesn't have to be anomalous carnage. I can jus-"

C.M.: "Just drive! I mean… Move! God, just spin your wheels forward, whatever! Look, just don't get us killed!"

S.T.: "You have very little faith in what a daemon of my power can do, mortal. So unlike your ancestors."

C.M.: "Well, yeah, it's hard to rely on someone if they always cause a mess and keep questioning your every move."

S.T.: "… That comment does sting me, mortal. Your worry is understood. I shall cease pursuing the reckless endangerment of civilians on the road for the remainder of our journey. I shall go on with my assignment now."

C.M.: "Hey, hey, hey, no… It's not like t… I didn't mean… Okay, I'm sorry for making you feel like that.

"To be honest, I was having a bad day. My crewmates and I were preparing a dead body, well, it was a friend's, for some experiments with the Pincer Coffin. All of a sudden, the Director barges in and tells us he's cutting our paychec- [Irrelevant content automatically removed] -so they told me to fill in for all those dead guys and be your driver for today. I'm like, 'What?' It just sucks."

S.T.: "Understandable. You had to persevere through much trauma today. Do you still wish to carry on this operation partners?"

C.M.: "I guess. Thanks for listening."

S.T.: "Being forced into a task without getting to speak your mind is something I know very well, mortal. From listening to your diatribe, I recall the frustration I felt when my awe-inspiring form was relegated into this limited shell. I sometimes still seethe with fury at having to serve my satyric duties from within such a slow, lumbering vessel. I yearn to traverse the woodlands with my own hooves! I yearn to be free in the forest! I yearn to have at least been a Lambo!"

C.M.: "But hey, we can't control what happens to us, right? Only how we choose to react.

The truck honks twice as if to respond in the affirmative.

S.T.: "Perhaps you would be soothed if I played a little music from my collection?"

C.M.: [long pause] "Sure."

FM Radio begins to play human screaming in the key of P.

S.T.: "I… am irrecoverably soothed, Powell…"

Over the next hour, camera records several attempts from C.M. to force the driver's door open. All attempts fail.


[Extended bout of silence.]

S.T.: [abruptly] "Very good, young mortal, you have passed the first test. Would you like me to begin the next?"

C.M.: "By all means, try me."

[The driver bursts into flame. Control of the wheel is lost as he scrambles to put it out.]

C.M.: [screaming] "My TONGUE! It BOILS!"

C.M. asked to pull over for a bathroom break at a gas station.

S.T.: "I feel like we should know each other more."


S.T.: "You ever feel like you're misunderstood by the guys around you?"


S.T.: "I've been meaning to ask you…

C.M.: … "I'm not talking."

S.T.: "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, but I play that joke on everyone! They merely scramble to put it out for a while, then it's gone! The burns are barely third-degree! I'm the one that's driving, in any case. You needn't worry about keeping an eye on the road while you're busy engaging in self-preservation. Come now, mortal, have you honestly never been immolated before?

C.M.: "No sane human person enjoys being set on fire."

S.T.: "I wouldn't call any one of your lot 'sane,' but okay. I'll be more considerate of your weakness next time. The humans I once worked with had immense resistance to fire, you know."


S.T.: "Hey, mortal, what's keeping you? Are we going to move out or not?

C.M.: [to himself] "One fucking minute, you deranged maniac-on-wheels."

S.T.: "I await your command, mortal!"

C.M.: "I await the day when my eyebrows grow back, Powell. Hold on for one minute while I draw them on."

Declassification of further excerpts underway.

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