Video summary
The narrator recounts finding a light blue iPod Touch while cleaning out a spare room, discovering it hidden under a bed amidst debris and cardboard. Despite having some cracks near the corners, the device was in relatively good condition until unlocked with the passcode 1234 dummy. Upon powering on, the user noticed that numerous pre-installed applications consistently redirected them to a mysterious game featuring an anthropomorphic husky character wearing a Shanka headpiece. This strange software appeared to be a cracked clone of a popular talking animal app, set against a stock photo winter background, with buttons for actions like talk, food, dance, and game, though the user never managed to interact with them before things went wrong.
As the user finally opened the mysterious application, the interface began to degrade in a disturbing manner. Icons representing other apps started falling onto the screen with weird jelly-like physics, colliding to produce a gross squelching noise before melting into a corrupted sludge that covered most of the display. The husky character remained motionless, staring forward as if trying to listen, while the device itself grew noticeably colder. The only functional button remaining was the camera icon in the top corner, which oddly bypassed any built-in features to launch the actual camera application directly. As the phone lagged and froze under the weight of the corrupted app blob, a flickering blue filter began flashing rapidly whenever the user moved the device.
Pointing the camera at the door leading into the bedroom, the narrator saw a terrifying figure resembling a rotten mascot costume made of gray and white fur wrapped around a festering body, with a bloody Shanka placed upon its head. The creature stared with giant, dark blue eyes before rushing toward the user while emitting a near-piercing howl from the device. In a panic, the narrator dropped the iPod, which landed face up on the floor revealing a gray hairy arm emerging from the black camera screen; this limb possessed human-like fingers and dog-like claws. Overcome with adrenaline, the user grabbed a hammer from a nearby drawer and struck both the iPod and the protruding arm repeatedly until the device fell silent and the creature's bones shattered, leaving behind blood that looked like antifreeze pooling on the floor.
After cracking the screen completely and throwing the destroyed device into the trash, the narrator was left breathless with wide eyes and a racing heart, convinced they had finally dealt with whatever entity possessed the iPod. However, the trauma did not end immediately, as the room where the device was originally found continues to feel unnaturally cold compared to the rest of the house even today. The experience left the user deeply shaken by the supernatural events that unfolded from a simple piece of discarded technology, turning an ordinary cleaning task into a harrowing encounter with something far beyond the realm of normal reality.
Read the full video transcript
The formidable robot.
I found this light blue iPod touch last
week while clearing out a spare room in
my house. It was under the spare bed,
surrounded by random garbage and scraps
of cardboard. The device had a few
cracks near the corners, but it was in
relatively good condition despite the
environment it was in. I sat down on the
couch, unlocked it with a passcode of 1
2 3 4 dummy iPod maybe, and I was in.
Quite a few things were pre-installed,
but one specific piece of software
caught my eye. an app called something
inserillic with an icon showing Enu
Shanka. I didn't want to open it so
soon, but I swear every other app
directed me back to this game. The App
Store, the settings, the other games.
Every time I tap something else, it
redirected me back to this. I tried this
with multiple apps, multiple times.
Every time was a false positive. It
would show whatever app or game it was
supposed to be for a second and then the
mysterious cerillic game would boot up
in its place. Eventually, I gave in and
went directly to the mysterious
software. The game opened showing that
same logo and the game itself looked
like some kind of talking Tom clone,
maybe a cracked and licensed version.
The background was a stock photo of some
winter scene and standing in front of it
was some anthro animal character wearing
an shanka. Maybe some kind of dog like a
husky or other sled dog. But the most
notable part of its design was its big
glossy blue eyes. Compared to the rest
of the model, the eyes were overly
textured and wet looking like if you put
real eyes on a beanie boo or something.
There were a few buttons saying talk,
food, dance, and game. But I never got a
chance to try any of these things out.
The icons for the other apps began
slowly falling in front of the husky
character. They had these weird jelly
physics, and every time they hit each
other, the icy made this gross
squelching noise. The apps started
melting into each other and turning into
this gross sludge. The husky just
stared, acting like it was trying to
listen a couple of times. The phone was
slowly getting colder. All the buttons
for the game were covered up by the blob
of corrupted apps, all except one, the
camera. As the iPod began to lag and
freeze, I tapped the camera button in
the top corner, which I had missed the
first time around. Oddly, it directed me
to the actual camera app, not some
built-in camera. I began looking around.
The phone slowly getting laggier and
laggier. This weird blue photo filter
began flickering on and off, switching
rapidly every time I moved the device. I
pointed the camera at the door leading
into my bedroom and saw it. It looked
like a rotten mascot costume like gray
and white fern wrapped around a
festering body. In a shankle was placed
upon its head, caked in blood, staring
at me from the dark to giant blue eyes.
Then the figure rushed at me, a
nearpiercing howl echoing from the
device. I dropped the iPod in shock and
it landed face up on the floor. From the
now black camera screen, a gray hairy
arm slowly began to pull itself out. It
was somewhere between a human and
canine, fingers like a man, and claws
like a dog. In a frenzy, I grabbed a
hammer from a nearby drawer and began
whacking the iPod and the arm with it.
Whack! It fell to the ground. Black. The
Yeti's piece gels in pain.
The bones in its fingers break and a bit
of blood, the color of antifreeze,
begins pooling on the floor. Before it
could disappear back into the ether from
which it came, I cracked the whole
screen. I threw my handiwork in the
trash, my breath heavy and ragged, my
eyes wide in shock, and my heart
thumping from the adrenaline rush.
Whatever that damn thing was, I dealt
with it. Even today, however, that room
where I found that damned iPod sometimes
feels colder than the rest of my house.