“Caribous of the Mothership: Antlers or Antennas?”

Filed by Trenton Glass, Exobiology & Unexpected Hoofed Visitors Desk

What started as a simple case of caribous being attracted to alien scents has now escalated into something far stranger:
Several of the caribous at Area 52 appear to have grown… antennas.
Not metaphorical antennas. Not holiday decorations. Not something Casey glued on “as a joke.”
Actual, faintly glowing, humming antenna-like extensions woven into their antlers.

According to Dr. Parallax (who now carries a notebook titled “Caribou Frequencies”), these antenna-antlers are: Bio-receptive, Atmospherically attuned, Mothership-compatible.

In short, the caribous can now ping the mothership the way your phone pings a cell tower.

Area 52 staff have noticed surprising changes: Improved Wi-Fi, better weather predictions, and a soothing hum that helps visitors sleep. One caribou now displays the time in its antlers
Casey calls them “Google Caribou.” Dandy calls them “Soup Sensors.”
No one knows why.

The caribous, now officially called The Antler Array, have taken over frontline defense operations. During last night’s test run, one caribou’s antlers briefly spelled the word “NOPE.”

Dr. Parallax tried to formally train the herd. This lasted 14 minutes.

The caribous took over. Instead of responding to commands, they: Shoved Dr. Parallax into a snowbank, formed a perfect defensive triangle, pointed their antennas toward a suspicious cactus, and assigned ranks among themselves (no one knows how). 

Dr. Parallax brushes off the snow or marshmallows

This makes Area 52 the only facility on Earth protected by extraterrestrial caribous with live cosmic updates. 

We know now why they can fly and why Santa has them pull his sleigh. Come on over and pet a caribou if you dare!!!

“Aliens Attract Caribous: A Seasonal Mystery at Area 52”

Filed by Trenton Glass, Paranormal Ecology Desk

The dunes outside Area 52 are now dotted with… caribous. Not holograms. Not misidentified aliens. Not runaway reindeer.
Actual, confused, northern, snow-loving caribous sniffing around the alien landing pads.
Why? Because the aliens are unintentionally broadcasting a scent frequency that caribous apparently adore.

Sweet-smelling Caribous? Or is it the aliens?

DR. PARALLAX explains: “Our atmospheric stabilizer emits trace amounts of xenoflora pollen. Caribous perceive it as the irresistible smell of cosmic lichen.”
Translation:
The aliens smell like snacks to caribous.

The aliens are thrilled.
“They are soft,” one alien commented, petting a bemused caribou.
“Also, they scream less than humans.”
A promising diplomatic beginning.

After Rachel said, trying to ride a caribou: Goodness knows I have a problem.  And the only problem is when I'm not slamming Vodka." A “Please Do Not Ride the Caribous” sign (put up after Casey tried exactly that).

A warm wind sweeps over the dunes as red and green lights flicker above the domes. The aliens have gathered outside the hangars, sipping Cosmic Cocoa and staring upward.
Suddenly, a glowing object streaks across the violet night, not a saucer this time, but a sleigh-shaped silhouette with eight very confused reindeer.

“We thought it was an invasion,” says Dr. Parallax, “until we heard the bells. No hostile intent, just merriment.”

Moments later, Santa’s voice was allegedly heard over local comms saying:
“Next stop… Mars Colony B, if the coordinates are right!”
“Ho ho ho Area 52, you’ve been... surprisingly nice!”
 

“Krampus and the Aliens: A Winter Tale from Area 52”

Broadcast live from the snow-covered desert, where the stars look a little too close for comfort…

“Good evening, listeners. As winter tightens its icy grip on the Mojave, strange hoofprints and interstellar boot tracks have appeared outside Area 52’s perimeter fence. Some say it’s a prank. Others whisper it’s a cosmic collaboration: Krampus… and the aliens.”

When Krampus Met the Cosmos

Witnesses claim a shimmering portal opened near the Basement Club during the Winter Solstice party and Laternenfest. From it emerged a towering horned figure, dragging chains that clanked in alien harmonics. The crowd froze until one alien, perhaps mistaking Krampus for a long-lost comrade from Tau Ceti, offered him a slice of meteorite pizza.

“It was beautiful,” said DJ Bun G Chord, adjusting his goth headgear. “He nodded, took the slice, and the lights dimmed like… cosmic approval.”

 Naughty List Upload

Sources close to the SEGI Project confirm that Krampus was quickly fascinated by the aliens’ technology. Reports indicate he’s begun digitizing the Naughty List by uploading names to the Area 52 mainframe. Rumor has it that those who ghosted their friends or broke group chat rules have been flagged for “galactic review.”

“It’s not punishment,” said Dr. Parallax, appearing briefly through a glowing vortex. “It’s behavioral calibration.”

Holiday Spirit, Alien Style

Instead of coal, the aliens hand out crystalline memory orbs that replay your kindest acts. They say it’s a form of moral data exchange. Krampus, however, prefers more traditional methods.
“He’s old-school,” laughed Rachel, wiping marshmallow snow off her jacket. “The aliens say he’s chaotic neutral.”

“So, whether you’ve been naughty, nice, or merely interdimensional, keep an eye on the skies and your stockings. This winter, Krampus and the aliens are collaborating for the greater good... or at least, for the better party.”

“Lanterns Beyond the Stars: Area 52 Hosts Its First Laternenfest”

Filed by Rachel Orbit, Cultural Correspondent

“As autumn deepens and the last pumpkin lights flicker out, the aliens at Area 52 have discovered a new Earth tradition that glows with promise: Laternenfest. But in true Area 52 fashion, it’s not just about lanterns… It’s about light, frequency, and questionable fire safety.”

The aliens have lined the dusty walkways with softly humming lanterns that float a few centimeters above ground, fueled not by candles but by bioluminescent plasma orbs harvested from friendly jelly beings under Moonshadow Motors.

Children, humans, and extraterrestrials alike carry paper lanterns shaped like stars, rockets, and suspiciously well-rendered cats.

Anjelikka, dressed in a silver coat trimmed with white light ribbons, declares:

“We wanted to learn something warm from Earth. Lanterns are memories that don’t usually explode.”

Instead of singing traditional songs, participants hum in harmonic waves. The sound resonates across the desert, syncing faintly with the static hum of the Area 52 towers.
When the notes align, the sky briefly turns violet and gold, a gentle echo of The Violet Sky Phenomenon from earlier transmissions.

At the center of the celebration, Dandy ladles steaming Lentil & Starlight Soup for guests, explaining solemnly,
“Every lantern represents a story… and maybe a misplaced spoon.”

DR. PARALLAX COMMENT: “Humans call it Laternenfest. We call it The Gathering of Gentle Photons. It’s a reminder that even light enjoys a party.”

As the night ends, alien-cats chase drifting lanterns into the dunes, tails glowing faintly like comets.

Lanterns rise where the night winds play,
Little lights drift far away.
Through desert hush and silver hue,
They float with wishes old and new.

The aliens hum a soft refrain,
A melody from another plane.
Their lanterns shimmer, green and gold,
With stories Earth has never told.

Anjelikka smiles, her lantern bright,
Guiding hope into the night.
Across two worlds, the glow rings true

Get your FREE lantern at Area 52.

“Laternenfest at Area 52, where even the stars carry candles.”

Why Winter Is Too Harsh for Aliens (“Save an alien. Buy a gacha.”)

They completely misunderstood snow. They arrived thinking fluffy white stuff = marshmallows → delicious! Then they touched it… "Marshmallow is cold. Marshmallow hurts. Marshmallow… lies.”
Now they glare suspiciously at every bag of Jet-Puffed.

Their bodies are made for warmer galaxies. Their home planet’s average temperature: 78°F, year-round.
“WHY IS YOUR AIR TRYING TO FREEZE OUR JUICES?!”
They tried to fix the cold problem by wearing:
pool floaties
bathroom towels
plastic grocery bags as boots

They learned two things:

These are not clothes. Humans laugh way too easily.

Every time it snows, they shriek:

“The sky is shedding frozen dandruff! TAKE COVER!”

Area 52 now has a “No Screaming at the Weather” rule.

Hot chocolate is… confusing
They thought marshmallows had finally returned with a warm attitude. Then they melted. Cue alien trauma.

The Winter Survival Plan:
Sell more gachas = buy thick Earth sweaters
Create fake marshmallow snow: edible AND warm
Petition humans to move Earth closer to the sun
Capture a space heater (or three)

UFOh My Gacha Store — Season of Giving Deals! 

The aliens have scanned Marketplace prices… and laughed. Why pay more out there when the best steals are at Area 52?
Gachas from 5L to 500L
New cosmic crates arriving throughout the season
Collect the Weird. Trade the Wonderful.

Be kind. Be curious. Be abducted by bargains.
Fly to Area 52 and grab gifts before they vanish into the void!

“Save an alien. Buy a gacha.”

“Aliens Open a Gacha Store to Fund Winter Clothes”

Filed by: Casey (returned from fragment backup) AKA Marksmallow Man
Broadcast Status: Cozy, financially responsible

Casey (on-air, with a mug of suspiciously glowing cocoa):

The Aliens, still recovering from last week’s ‘marshmallow incident’ that ended up being… snow, have opened their very first HUMAN-APPROVED business!”

“Temperatures are dropping across the cosmos, and aliens at Area 52 are experiencing, believe it or not, their first winter chill. Their solution? A brand-new UFOh my Gacha Store, raising funds for essential seasonal needs: thermal void-parkas, anti-gravity mittens, scarves that purr (yes, those ones require feeding)”

Anjelikka, Fashion Commander: “Darling, winter is just a poorly dressed season. We’re here to fix that.”
She is also asking that no one attempt to scan the coats again. Alfred multiplied again.

You will find all sorts of things here in the store. Some from faraway places in the galaxy, others from a thrift store down the street. Of course, there are holiday items; the aliens have no use for those, but we know you love to decorate. The prices are cheap if you compare them to the marketplace. 

“Collect the Weird. Trade the Wonderful!
Dr. Parallax: “Warm aliens are happy aliens. Happy aliens abduct fewer tourists. We consider this a win-win.”

Alien-cats tending the register, stuffing scarves into shopping bags while knocking every eighth item onto the floor on purpose.

“Buy more. Winter is coming. And we have… many necks.

“Marshmallow Crap” Turns Out to Be… SNOW?!

Aliens, unprepared, begin dramatic complaining

When the sugary explosion cleared and scientists realized the fluffy white fallout was just snow, panic at Area 52 took a new form:
Not edible
Not warm
Falling aggressively from the sky

The aliens, who thought Earth clouds simply wept whipped cream when upset, were caught off guard.
Field Interview: K’phlaag, Alien Tourist
How are you handling the cold?
K’phlaag: Badly! My species has one temperature setting: cozy.
Why does the sky freeze and attack you!? Do humans not resent this?

Dr. Parallax issued blankets and thermal socks. Rachel tried to teach the aliens how to make hot cocoa. One alien attempted to hibernate inside the jukebox

Alien Reactions to Snow: “AHHHH my limbs are crunchy!” “It burns… but backward!” 
Ate snow. Got mad.  Used it to build “Snowman Overlords.” Still convinced it’s marshmallows 

The cold has caused tractor beams to hiccup. UFO engines to sneeze. Abducted cows to be returned with scarves.
Quote from a confused cow:
“Moo?” (Translation: Why me again?)

⚠️ Public Advisory from the Aliens

“Please deliver hot pizzas to designated saucers. Pepperoni warms the soul.”