“Krampus Sighted Over Area 52!”

“Good evening. This is WTTQ Channel 10 with a Special Holiday Alert. 

Residents of Area 52 are advised to stay indoors, bring in their caribou, and avoid dangling candy canes from windows.”

At approximately 19:42 local time, multiple witnesses reported a large goat-like entity flying over Area 52.
Initial assumptions that it was an alien holiday guest were dismissed when sensors detected:
Iron chains
Hoof impacts on rooftops
A surprisingly judgmental aura

The aliens immediately identified it as Earth Entity KR-ΔMP-US, commonly known as Krampus.

“We expected Santa.
This is… not Santa.”
Anjelikka, Area 52 Resident
“He flew right past the landing pad. Even my cats hid, and they’re normally fine with interdimensional horrors.”

Alien Command activated Festive Containment Protocol 12, which includes:
Deploying wolves (wearing jingle collars for morale).
Switching the mood lights from purple to “protective green.”
Broadcasting a looping message:

“Attention, Krampus: All beings here have been moderately good.”

DJ Casey switched tonight’s playlist to “Run, Run, Rudolph But Faster.”

What Is Krampus Doing at Area 52?
Experts propose three possibilities:
He’s lost.
GPS does not function well around wormholes. He’s inspecting the aliens’ naughty/nice logs.
(The aliens strongly deny wrongdoing.)
He’s looking for someone who still hasn’t unpacked their inventory since 2017.

If that’s you… Good luck. He also advises people to buy at the UFOh my Gacha Store or else.

Meteorologist Trenton Glass says the storm front tonight may include:
Light snow swirling holiday particles and sporadic hooves from above.

Residents should remain calm and avoid feeding strange shadow-creatures.

“We will keep you updated throughout the night.
For now, this is Trenton for WTTQ Channel 10, reminding you:
If you hear chains, hide the gingerbread.”

"Stop, do not take the reporter!" Anjelikka is trying her best 011 power. (no luck)

The Newest Trend Sweeping Through Area 52 (and Possibly Time Itself)

Everyone at Area 52 has been talking about it: the aliens, the wolves, the caribou with antennas, even the janitor bot that isn’t supposed to speak.

They’re all buzzing about the same phenomenon:
Quantum Leaping Manifestation 

A technique so powerful, so unpredictable, and so confusing that even Dr. Parallax said:
“Please stop doing this near the reactor.”

Aliens at Area 52 claim they invented it after misinterpreting human motivational posters.
Their results so far:
One alien manifested “a bigger coffee mug.”
They leapt too hard and ended up in 1978 next to a disco ball.
Another wanted “a warmer winter outfit.”
They jumped timelines and found themselves wearing a full Krampus costume.
A third tried to manifest “a date.”
They ended up accidentally summoning three caribou and a confused delivery driver.

Progress? Maybe.

Anjelikka tried it once.
She leapt so gracefully that she briefly phased into a reality where:
The Retreat had perfect Wi-Fi
Black Friday actually existed
And all the gachas were sorted alphabetically, which feels unrealistic
She returned immediately because it “felt suspicious.”

It started, as these things usually do, with someone saying:
“How hard can quantum leaping really be?”

Her name was Zyn, one of the newer aliens at Area 52, bright turquoise, with three eyes, a good attitude, and questionable decision-making. She had been watching humans manifest things on TikTok and became convinced she could do it better.
So she tried Quantum Leaping Manifestation.

And leapt into the wrong timeline.

Zyn stood at the glowing teleport circle behind the Gacha Store, thinking very hard about her desire:
“I want a peaceful timeline! With warm weather! And snacks!”
She jumped.
There was a fizz.
A pop.
A sound like someone ripping open a bag of chips in slow motion.
And then she was gone.

P.S. Stop by and pick up some from another timeline gacha items for the price you could never get anywhere else.

Quantum Leaping Manifestation is fun and powerful, but please stop doing it near Area 52.

WTTQ CHANNEL 10 EXCLUSIVE “Astrid the Alien Catfished by a So-Called ‘Linden’”

ANCHOR DEVON (looking overly serious):
“Tonight at 10, an emotional scandal rocks Area 52. Astrid, the lavender-skinned alien with impeccable eyeliner and the patience of a cosmic monk, has been catfished.”

Krampus could be the imposter; we do not know.

DR. PARALLAX: “It was bound to happen. She’s too trusting. She believes anyone with a glowing badge is ‘official.’”

According to sources, Astrid believed she had been messaging a “Linden Liaison of Interspecies Social Integration,” who claimed: They could get her a premium parcel on Jupiter,
They were experts in alien-human romance, and they had “special permissions to boost her inventory limit to infinite.”

This last claim should have been a red flag. But Astrid has 29,000 outfits and dreams big.

The catfisher (username: TotallyRealLinden_42) sent suspicious lines such as:
“Hello, I’m from The Lab. Want to see my secret region?”
“Please give me your HUD settings so I can upgrade your cosmic experience.”
“I can turn your landing point into a wormhole.”
Astrid later admitted:
“Honestly, the wormhole part sounded legit.”

The wolves on duty sniffed the chat history and immediately declared the “Linden” to be:

“98% human, 2% nonsense, 0% official.”

One wolf added in a written statement:

“We could smell the deception. And the fear. And the microwaved lasagna.”

Astrid confessed she felt devastated, betrayed… and mildly insulted.

“They told me my avatar shape looked ‘default.’
I haven’t been this offended since the humans called my antenna earrings ‘quirky.’”

Investigators discovered that the catfisher didn’t work for the Lab at all. In fact, he worked in Second Life’s unofficial underground pillow-gacha resale market, notorious for lures, scams, and the occasional emotional support groundhog.

Astrid is now giving a TED Talk (Trans-Dimensional Extra-Dimensional Talk) titled:

“Don’t Get Catfished Across Dimensions:
Red Flags Even Aliens Shouldn’t Ignore.”
Her top tips include:
If someone says they can look inside your inventory “with their mind,” block them.
Never believe a stranger who claims the Region Restarts follows their personal schedule.
Real Lindens don’t flirt. The universe would implode.

“There Will Be NO Black Friday at the Retreat”

Residents of the Retreat woke up this morning to an official announcement from the Council of Dimensional Well-Being (and one extremely annoyed alien translator):
 “NO BLACK FRIDAY AT THE RETREAT.”

Why? Because last year’s attempt ended in:
Three wormholes caused by “doorbuster deals”.
A stampede of drunk alien-cats chasing half-priced gravity boots.
Dandy accidentally opened a portal to 1974, looking for a sale on lentils.
Anjelikka has bought a coat that contains a previous owner’s memories and refuses to return it.
Devon tries to livestream the chaos, only to get sucked into a clearance rack dimension.
And Rachel (the alien) insisted that “50% off” is a form of Earth trickery designed to summon capitalism demons.

“The Retreat is a sanctuary of calm, meditation, and questionable cosmic happenings.
We cannot risk destabilizing the timelines for discount toasters again.”

The alien wellness committee added: “If humans wish to participate in Black Friday, they may do so in Earth malls, provided they accept the risk of encountering unmasked shoppers and discounted microwaves.”

The caribou (with antennas) simply blinked twice, which experts translated as:
“Absolutely not.”
Instead of Black Friday, the Retreat will host:

Calm Friday, a quiet event involving tea, slow-floating, and no capitalism.

Dear Pixelette,

Why can’t I buy anything on Black Friday at the Retreat?
I woke up early, logged in, grabbed my Linden wallet, stretched my clicking finger, and strutted to the shops… only to find: signs that say “NO CAPITALISM TODAY,” a meditating alien-cat at the door chanting “ohmmm-but-no-sales-ohmmm,” and a caribou with antennas physically blocking the entrance like a fluffy bouncer.

One vendor told me the “fabric of consumer reality is unstable” and tried to sell me a rock instead. Another said they were “cleansing their chakras from last year’s coupon incident.”

PIXELLETTE, ALL I WANTED WAS A 50% OFF SWEATER THAT MAKES ME LOOK MILDLY MYSTERIOUS.

Is there any way to get deals here?
Or should I surrender and join Calm Friday?

Signed,
Sales-Blocked in the Stars

Dear Sales-Blocked,

First, breathe.
You cannot bargain with a caribou. Especially one wired directly to the mothership.
Here’s the truth: The Retreat does not allow Black Friday because last year, a single discounted crop-top ripped a hole in the sky big enough for three confused angels, two dimension-traveling wolves, and one very embarrassed Devon to fall through.
They still talk about that. This year, the aliens voted 13 to 2 (the two dissenting votes were from the alien-cats, who misunderstood and thought “Black Friday” meant “unlimited tuna”).

Your options now are:
Join Calm Friday
Drink tea. Float. Pretend you never loved coupons. Go to Area 52's Gacha Store.
Attempt to negotiate with the caribou. Good luck. They are immune to charm and coupons.
Wait until “Slightly Discounted Tuesday”
It’s the Retreat’s compromise holiday. Things are 7% off. No one knows why.
Let Anjelikka dress you. She doesn’t do discounts, but she does do destiny.

In any case, the universe has spoken:
No sweater is worth tearing open a rift again.

Luminously yours,
Pixelette

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? COVID HAS HIT AREA 52”

Filed by Trenton Glass, who is definitely wearing two masks and possibly a hazmat poncho.

Earlier today, health officials at Area 52 confirmed that COVID-19 has somehow, impossibly, reached the alien compound.
This immediately raised several questions: Can aliens even get Covid? Did the virus hitch a ride on someone’s teleport script? Who coughed in the wrong direction?
The answers are:
Yes, Maybe, and Devon. Probably Devon. We will just blame him anyway. Read about his rise to fame.

Reports from the Hangar Clinic describe alien patients experiencing:
Color shifts (green → teal → “distressed mauve”)
Random gravity fluctuations
Telepathic sneezing (which feels like someone yelling “ACHOO” inside your spine)
A strong craving for applesauce
One alien reportedly whispered, “My aura feels stuffy.”

Lockdown Measures

Area 52 has now been enacted:
Hovercraft distancing all ships must float 6 meters apart
Mandatory mask fields forcefields that smell faintly of lavender
No more communal saucer buffets
All mind-meld sessions postponed
Cats (alien or otherwise) must wear tiny face shields

Dandy attempted to make lentil soup for everyone, but the steam set off the hangar's biohazard alarms. Again.

Anjelikka:
“ABSOLUTELY NOT. I didn’t survive three timelines and fifteen bad teleport scripts to catch alien-Covid.” (In real life, Anjelikka has a bad case of Covid right now, send your well wishes via Discord or in the comments)
Rachel (the alien): “This is why we shouldn’t have shared straws with the caribou.”
Trenton: “I told you letting them lick the handrails was a bad idea.”

Good News?
Dr. Parallax claims the alien immune system works like a 1990s fax machine:
slow, loud, but eventually functional.
He also reports the virus appears less severe in extraterrestrial physiology, causing mostly:
Mild glowing
Temporary floating
Excessive politeness

WTTQ SPECIAL REPORT “When an Alien Is Summoned for Jury Duty”

 Filed by Trenton Glass, who swears this actually happened, and honestly… it might have.

An alien at Area 52 opens their mailbox (which they installed upside-down because that “felt correct”) and finds a letter addressed to:
“Z’NARLAX OF THE FOURTH SPIRAL, a.k.a. ‘Steve’.”
Confused, the alien scans the letter and concludes it must be: a threat, a party invitation, or a test of Earth loyalty, a punchline with no joke. They attend anyway.

The alien tries to fly their ship to the courthouse. This is immediately discouraged by local authorities. They attempt to park it in a normal parking spot. It hovers. It hums. It causes 12 car alarms and one fainting incident.

The judge asks if any potential jurors have conflicts of interest. The alien raises a hand:
“I once mind-melded with a suspect species in 2004.” The courtroom becomes very, very quiet. The alien clarifies: “Also, I cannot promise I won’t read everyone’s thoughts. It is a reflex. Like blinking.”
Dismissed.
Immediately dismissed.

The alien attempts to blend in by: Eating all the snacks, reading People Magazine with the intensity of someone studying a sacred scroll, asking strangers, “What is a Kardashian, and why is it multiplying?” People begin sitting farther away.

During orientation, the alien asks: “If the defendant lies, may I emit a corrective sound beam?”
Everyone assumes this is a joke. It is not. Later, the alien loudly whispers, “Why do humans trust their justice system?” An excellent question. Not helpful here.

The alien is officially excused from duty due to potential telepathic interference, electromagnetic interference, Social interference, and snack interference

They leave triumphantly, believing they have passed yet another Earth ritual.
They tell the other aliens at Area 52:
“I have completed Jury Duty. I am now qualified to judge all human behavior.”

PS: Nobody will judge you if you buy gifts from the UFOh my Gacha Shop.

WTTQ Channel 10 Holiday Special: Christmas Lights

“How the Aliens Interpret Earth Christmas Lights” 

(Filed by Trenton Glass, who insists this is all scientifically accurate even though it absolutely isn’t.)

Aliens believe Christmas lights are humanity’s dramatic way of saying:
“We are overwhelmed. Please send snacks.” The brighter the house, the more distressed the humans must be. Entire subdivisions look like they’re begging for intergalactic therapy.

To aliens, blinking patterns translate into short messages such as:

“Buy more presents.” “Help, my neighbor is competitive.” “The ladder is stuck. Send help.”
One alien swears a rooftop display in Sector B spelled:
“PLEASE MAKE MY FAMILY LEAVE BY 9PM.”

Aliens don’t understand inflatables.
They truly believe humans deploy giant balloon Santas as a soft defensive perimeter, guarding against Home invasion, door-to-door salespeople, and the HOA.

One alien tried to “communicate with” a 12-foot inflatable Rudolph.
The result: antler puncture, two hours of air deflation, three hours of confusion.

When aliens see an entire house glowing like a small sun, they assume humans are locked in a sacred holiday battle called “The Light-Off.” Winner: Whoever blinds the most aircraft.
Area 52 aliens tried to participate once. The power grid cried.

Aliens laugh every time they see a house with those spinning green dots.

They think humans are experimenting with beginner-level starfield tech and failing adorably. One alien said, “They’re trying so hard. Let’s clap.”

Aliens assume dangling white lights signal to predators, “Beware: we survived last winter.”
This has made at least 12 aliens deeply afraid of cul-de-sacs.

Aliens believe Christmas lights are humanity’s way of saying:

“We don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re festive about it.”

And honestly?
They respect that.