The question has puzzled even the sharpest human minds, and apparently, a few off-world ones as well. As it turns out, aliens do have beliefs that parallel what we call witchcraft, though they frame it less as “magic” and more as frequency manipulation.
When asked directly, one alien scholar identified only as Zhyr’eth of the Seventh Array replied through a voice modulator: “You call them witches. We call them Harmonizers. Those who bend light and sound until reality obeys.”
In the cosmic archives (yes, the aliens keep records), witches are seen as early Earth ambassadors, humans who accidentally tapped into the same resonant energies alien civilizations have long studied. The aliens apparently admire the witch’s mix of intuition and science, ritual and rhythm.
Dr. Parallax added,“They don’t believe in witches as superstitions. They see them as misunderstood scientists, the kind who never needed telescopes to see the stars.”
According to ⁂¤π∴, Area 52’s most cryptic visitor, witches and aliens share a universal creed:
“We listen to what cannot be seen, and we see what cannot be said.”
So yes, the aliens believe in witches… but perhaps more accurately, they believe in anyone brave enough to change reality with intention.
This just in from the Space Event Gateway Initiative at Area 52, better known as the SEGI Project: the countdown has begun. One week remains before the portals close, the ships dock, and the gifts vanish back into orbit. October 31, 2025, is the final day to complete your hunt. We will also celebrate the event closure with a Halloween Abduction Costume Party, starting at 5 PM. Wear a costume, space-related or alien-themed, which may win you some cold, hard Linden cash.
Visitors drift weightlessly through the Moonshadow Motors hangar. Dandy is handing out last-minute souvenirs labeled ‘Temporal Keepsakes Do Not Shake.’ Anjelikka is standing at the piano-shaped J&R’s Ballroom, surrounded by glowing crates that hum softly when opened.
DEVON: “Each region leaves behind a gift, not a prize, but a memory token. Take what resonates. The rest will dissolve back into data dust.”
DR. PARALLAX: “The closure will be marked by a total sync of all teleport gates. Visitors are advised to exit before the harmonics peak, or risk reappearing slightly… elsewhere.”
ANJELIKKA: “Don’t call it an ending, darling. It’s just a well-dressed goodbye. Area 52 will remain and may transform into a Winter Wonderland Alien-style.”
RAINE SOLARA: “So pack your inventory, feed your alien cats, and step through the gate while you still can. The SEGI Project fades in seven days. After that, only the echoes remain.”
“Broadcasting from the edge of goodbye. Visit SEGI before it disappears.”
TRENTON GLASS: “Viewers, we interrupt your nightly feed from Area 52 with breaking news from the upper atmosphere: astronomers and at least one very startled alien confirm that Earth is now being orbited bytwo moons. The second appeared sometime between midnight and 3:13 A.M., depending on whose telescope you trust. A "quasi-moon" called 2025 PN7 will be here until 2083, according to experts. The aliens knew all about this already and are prepared."
More sightings: One familiar moon glowing white. The other… darker, flickering with faint, bioluminescent patterns, as if watching back.A few alien cats stare upward, unimpressed, tails twitching in binary rhythm.
DR. PARALLAX: “We don’t think it’s a natural satellite. It’s broadcasting faint audio patterns that resemble heartbeat intervals. The sound… responds when you hum near it.”
RAINE SOLARA: “Citizens of Area 52 are calling it The Mirror Moon. Others claim it’s a cloaked vessel, the long-rumored 3i-ATLAS returning home after years in silent orbit.”
ANJELIKKA: “Oh, that second one? She’s not new. She’s remembered. The aliens just stitched her back into the sky where she belonged.”
DEVON: “If that moon is alien… then who’s been controlling the tides all this time?”
TRENTON GLASS: “Until further confirmation, residents are advised not to panic, but maybe check your reflection tonight. If it winks back, congratulations… you’re lunar property now.”
“Persistence,”declared one of the shimmering figures known only as ⁂¤π∴, “is the closest thing to gravity in your world; it keeps you from floating away.”
After the recent AWS outage, the Hunt for Extragrid Intelligence, and several unexplained pudding-related malfunctions, spirits at Area 52 might have dipped below lunar levels.
But instead of retreating to their ships, the aliens gathered tonight under the purple-lit dome, broadcasting a message through every flickering satellite, shortwave frequency, and Second Life parcel beacon:
“Never give up. Systems fail. Planets freeze. Love glitches. But the signal always returns.”
Eyewitnesses say the beings stood shoulder to shoulder with human technicians and DJs, some wrapped in glowing thermal cloaks, others sipping macchiatos from recycled starlight cups.
Even Dr. Parallax admitted to tearing up when the chorus of human and alien voices joined in an impromptu chant of “Transmission continues!”
Area 52 residents describe it as “a morale reboot,” proof that no matter how many dimensions try to collapse on a Wednesday, the aliens (and the dreamers who follow them) will find a way to broadcast hope back into the void.
WTTQ’s closing note tonight: “Whether you’re made of atoms or anomalies, remember, don’t log off just yet. The signal’s still strong.
“When the cloud went dark, even the stars blinked twice.”
That’s how one alien engineer at Area 52 described the global AWS outage yesterday a digital blackout that sent shockwaves from human networks to off-world frequencies.
For Earthlings, it meant lost servers, frozen cash registers, and chaos on social media.
For the aliens, it meant something deeper: a break in communication with the Mothership’s data lattice.
At precisely 09:47 UTC, transmissions from the Alcyone Relay Node sputtered into static.
The aliens’ holographic assistants vanished mid-sentence.
Reports say one of them, codenamed ⁂¤π∴, simply exclaimed, “Reboot the continuum,” before dissolving into a beam of light.
Area 52 technicians and alien collaborators responded fast.
Without access to the cloud, they relied on “bio-quantum routing,” transmitting data through the moisture in the atmosphere, and, in at least one case, a bowl of pudding used as an emergency amplifier.
Dr. Parallax of the SEGI Project called it “a humbling moment proof that even superior species depend on human error.”
By late evening, systems stabilized.
The aliens resumed streaming vintage disco, their interdimensional commerce portal having been rebooted, and life, or something like it, continued. Stay grounded, even when the servers aren’t.
When AWS Went Dark
It started one night, with a flick and a sigh, no pings, no logs, no lights in the sky.
The servers were silent, the dashboards dim, and the aliens panicked, “What happened to him?”
If the cloud controls both Earth and Alcyone… Who controls the cloud?
No uploads, no streams, their comms were dead, No messages beamed, no data spread. They tapped on consoles, they called for aid, But even the bots were deeply afraid. Anjelikka sighed, with her glowing mug, “The humans’ cloud is down, just unplug.”
But they wouldn’t rest, not one gray face,
Without their metrics from cyberspace.
They wandered lost through the moonlit sand,
Trying to reboot by waving a hand.
Till one said softly, “Perhaps, my friend…
We just watch the stars until it ends.”
And there they sat, in quiet awe,
Aliens undone by a human flaw.
For even in space, as legends grew,
No one escapes an AWS queue.
When an alien dies, if “death” is even the right word, it’s said they don’t burytheir own in the ground as humans do.
Instead, they return them to frequency.
Beyond the hills where silence sleeps,
Past the veil the twilight keeps,
There lies a field of silver dew
Where the lost still wander, old and new.
At the Retreat cemetery, I like to visit my family.
Their whispers drift through cedar and pine,
Echoes of laughter, distant, divine.
No pain, no fear, no mortal feat,
Just peace for souls beyond the Retreat.
The moonlight hums, the shadows sway,
Guiding the weary who’ve lost their way.
And if you listen, soft and sweet
You’ll hear their dreams, beyond the Retreat.
At Area 52, witnesses have reported a secluded valley east of the biodomes, marked only by faint violet lights that hover just above the sand. The locals call it The Resonance Field, a kind of cemetery, but not one of earth or stone.
There, the aliens release the remains into low-frequency vibration chambers. The energy, what they call the soul tone, is transmuted into light and sound.
Each “burial” becomes a note in an eternal, expanding symphony that hums beneath the stars.
Sometimes, late at night, people claim to hear faint melodies in the static songs of those who’ve departed.
Others say these tones guide new arrivals to the same field, as if the dead are calling the living home.
The Retreat Cemetery is located to the right of the main entrance of the Retreat. Why not check it out and spend some silent moments here? The ghosts are friendly.
“Good evening, Earthlings and whatever else might be listening. WTTQ has confirmed multiple tractor-beam sightings over Area 52. Authorities say it’s not an emergency, it’s a party, starts at 5pm.”
“This isn’t an invasion, it’s Halloween Abduction Night!Dress like you want to be taken because tonight, you just might be.” There is a cold cash prize for the best alien or outer space costume."
“Attendees may report mild levitation, excessive glitter fallout, and unconfirmed time loss of up to 45 minutes, though many insist it felt like forever in the best way.”
DR. PARALLAX:“Expect elevated energy signatures and possible dimensional cross-talk between the dance floor and the moon stage. Stay hydrated. Stay vibrational. I will start my set at 5pm sharp. Aliens like to be punctual, no, that is the German."
ANJELIKKA:“Oh, darling, I hostedthe abductions. Consider this my little thank-you to gravity for letting go for a night. I will continue the party until 8pm. Talking about thank you gifts. Everyone who completed theSEGIor was a vendor should have received a gift from me. Look in your inventory.”
SEGI will end and all UFOs burn out, so hurry now to get the gifts from all 11 venues.
Things you might see: Alien cats mixing cocktails from floating pumpkins. Do not mind the seeds. Devon reciting a haiku into a plasma microphone. Does it even work? The sky flickering violet as ships hover above the Retreat.
TRENTON GLASS:“If you see a light in the sky tonight, don’t run. Dance. You’re probably invited.”
"Fall has reached Area 52, or at least the simulated version of it. The air smells faintly of cinnamon circuits, and the aliens have questions.
Casey, here is all filled with seeds and pulp.
Important questions. Like: Why do humans puree an orange gourd and call it dessert?"
DR. PARALLAX:"They're fascinated by texture. To them, pie isn’t food, it’s memory architecture. Each layer encodes nostalgia. They say it tastes like ‘compressed sunlight and unresolved emotion.’"
Anjelikka, “I replace the crust with meteor dust and serve it chilled under violet light. The aliens adore it, though they never finish the whipped cream. They think it’s decorative insulation.”
The guests all wanted to eat, because the aliens were gonna teach them.
Alien guests at the Basement Club, politely prodding their slices with glow utensils. One tries to telekinetically levitate a slice, accidentally caramelizing it mid-air.
Casey said she dropped a few seeds in the woods...I really think she meant she pooped them out.
“Early tests confirm that aliens can, in fact, digest pumpkin pie, though some report vivid dreams of Earth holidays that never happened. Side effects include spontaneous gratitude, humming Bing Crosby songs, and asking where the rest of the turkey went.” As for me? No, I confused Devon with a Devin and then said it was Drew. Pumpkins kinda make me crazy. “This fall, share your pie even with the intergalactic. You never know whose taste buds you might enlighten.”
Filed under: WTTQ Channel 10 Late Night Reflections Sometimes even the aliens make you feel alone.
They hover nearby, radiant and kind, but unreachable in their glow, always translating, never quite touching. They laugh in frequencies too high to hear, and when you wave, they shimmer like heat above sand.
At Area 52, isolation doesn’t come from distance; it comes from wavelength. You can be surrounded by light, motion, voices, and still feel like a static channel in a sea of color.
Anjelikka once confessed to the microphone in the observation dome,
“They mean well, I think. They don’t know what loneliness is not the way we do. They mistake it for silence.”
Dr. Parallax believes the aliens sense our solitude but interpret it as “low signal strength.” When they detect it, they beam music fractured, looping melodies that echo through the glass corridors like lullabies meant for a species that’s forgotten how to sleep.
Sometimes the wolves pause their patrols and listen. Their eyes dim to gray. For a moment, the air feels softer, and the loneliness less sharp, as if the aliens, the wolves, and the watchers are all trying to understand the same quiet ache.
At WTTQ, we call it the Blue Hour Transmission, the sound that occurs when no one’s speaking, but everything’s listening.
Filed under: SEGI Project / Night Surveillance Report Source: WTTQ Channel 10 Investigative Desk
When dusk falls over Area 52, and the silver light of the domes dims to a ghostly pulse, the wolves begin their rounds. No one knows who created them. Some engineers whisper they are woven from quantum code and lunar dust; others swear they’re descendants of the first lunar expeditions, adapted to survive between worlds.
What’s certain is this: nothing crosses the boundary of Area 52 without passing their gaze.
They prowl the perimeter silently, eight in total, each identified only by a tonal frequency instead of a name. Their pawprints emit faint bioluminescent trails, used by the control tower to monitor patrol paths in real-time. When intruders approach, the trails brighten like electric circuits, and the air around the dome hums with static warning.
The aliens trust them completely. In the evening hours, when transmissions blur and portals flicker, the aliens can be seen sitting near the wolves meditating, exchanging soft, rhythmic sounds that resemble both howling and harmonic code. Some call it communication; others, communion.
Anjelikka once remarked on air,
“They’re not just guarding us. They’re reading us our moods, our motives. They decide who belongs here.”
Reports indicate the wolves respond differently to emotion than to movement. Aggression, deception, or fear makes their eyes blaze white-blue. Calmness, creativity, and kindness turn them soft amber. When a visitor’s emotional frequency matches that of Area 52’s central pulse, the wolves step aside and let them pass, no credentials required.
During one stormy night, Devon swears he saw a wolf leap directly into a surge of lightning that threatened the power grid. The system stabilized. The wolf was gone. Hours later, it was seen again at the north gate, unharmed, shaking the static from its fur like rainwater.
Now, every midnight, as the hangar doors close and the last music fades, the wolves circle the landing fields in slow, perfect rhythm. They keep watch over the domes, the biodome gardens, and the sleeping alien quarters, neither machine nor beast, but something between protector and prophecy.
They say Area 52 never sleeps, but something watches.
After the second phase of the SEGI Project, when the Reggianes had departed and the skies still shimmered violet from their exhaust, a new presence arrived: the Wolves.
At first, no one knew who brought them. Some whispered they were bioengineered by the 3i-Atlas program as guardians. Others claimed they’d wandered in from the lunar forests, creatures born of code and instinct, half data, half growl.
By night, they patrol the perimeters of the retreat, their eyes flickering in shades of blue and silver, mirroring the holographic fences they protect. They don’t bark, but hum softly, their breath syncing with the rhythm of Area 52’s force field.
“They’re not just wolves,” said Trenton Glass during his late-night investigation.
“They’re the firewall made flesh.”
Visitors to the site sometimes catch sight of them between teleport gates, spectral silhouettes crossing from the marshes to the hangar dome. They vanish when approached, leaving only pawprints that glow faintly under ultraviolet light.
Anjelikka insists they’re friendly, though Devon disagrees. He swears he saw one standing at the edge of the landing field, staring straight into the Reggiane hangar, as if waiting for something or someone to return.
Dr. Parallax has begun calling it the Lupine Protocol, claiming it is tuned to emotional frequencies. If the mood over the retreat turns chaotic or fearful, the wolves’ eyes flare white and the winds begin to rise. But if the community remains calm, the wolves curl up near the teleport gates like sentinels asleep at peace.
Four Regions Unite for the Journey Beyond. The Reggianes Lead the Way to Space!
“Good evening, viewers across the SEGI network.
This is Reine Solera reporting live from the Monty Region, where history, or perhaps something even stranger, is unfolding before our eyes. The Reggianes have officially taken flight.”
Phase I: The Helicopter over the banned parcels and the sea
It began with a hum in Area 52. The UFO vibrated softly, as if a cosmic chord had been struck beneath it. The Reggianes, those shimmering, beetle-winged crafts of uncertain origin, had been resting for months, their crystalline shells absorbing starlight and wanderlust.
Anjelikka was the first to feel the shift. She had been tuning the Area 52's sound system when the lights flickered into Morse code. Four pulses pause four again. The signal that the SEGI Project was entering.
The first region was The Depths, where the water shimmered with alien phosphorescence. Here, the Reggianes glided beneath the waves, their engines whispering in a language that only the sea understood. Schools of metallic fish followed, drawn to the resonance of the crafts.
Where are my shorts?
The second region was The Corridor, a long water tunnel that rose from the ocean and curled toward the moon. The Reggianes soared through it like silver birds, their wings catching echoes of lunar wind. Anjelikka lost her shorts for a short minute, that felt like years, her reflection blending with the stars beyond the dome.
Gliding over the water on some kind of hover board, speeds that are not seen on Earth, and holding on to dear Second Life, they traveled further to reach the third region.
"But this was supposed to be a prize vacation???"
The third region was what looked like the ocean, but no one really knows, where alien gardens floated in zero gravity. Strange fruits, glowing like soft lanterns, drifted past the cockpit. Anjelikka reached out and caught one. It tasted like every memory she’d ever had of summer.
The Reggianes, rumored collaborators of SEGI’s deep-space experiments, have been at the heart of Area 52’s recent anomalies. Sources say their launch marks the beginning of Phase II of the SEGI Project, where regional frequencies synchronize to form an interdimensional bridge.
The final region was The Violet Sky, the entry point to space itself. The Reggianes arranged themselves in formation, their engines synchronizing into one great harmonic tone. The sound rippled through every venue of the SEGI Project through Ed’s Space Station, through the Biodome, through Area 52, and even into the dreams of those who weren’t logged in.
Even in space, you gotta write the blog!
Four regions collapsed into one luminous corridor, and the Reggianes pierced the veil of the sky. Anjelikka’s voice was the last thing heard through the WTTQ comms:
“Tell them not to worry. We’ll bring back what we find.”
When the broadcast cut out, Area 52 went silent. But above the retreat, the violet trail still shimmered a thread stretching into infinity, proof that the journey was real.
Filed by Raine Solara | Live from Area 52 Amphitheater, Monty Region
“This is Raine Solara, reporting under the violet skies of Area 52, where last night, the SEGI Project hosted one of the most emotionally charged performances ever witnessed on this side of the galaxy.”
DEVON: THE BALLADEER OF THE BEYOND
Singer-songwriter Devon took the stage surrounded by holographic comets, glowing orbs, and a suspiciously patient alien audience. Dressed in black and starlight, he delivered a live set that had both humans and extraterrestrials swaying like static caught in a magnetic storm.
“He wasn’t just singing,” one attendee whispered. “He was translating human emotion into frequencies they could feel.”
More events with prizes may happen soon.
Midway through Devon’s final number, “Orbit My Heart,” a swarm of shimmering gift cards rose from the crowd, spinning like metallic butterflies. Witnesses say they appeared to “respond” to the rhythm of the song, circling the amphitheater before landing gently at random on the audience. The audience was also invited to take a trip to four regions via helicopter, yacht, boat, plane, and even a spaceship. Anjelikka hopped on and will report tomorrow about this.
Each card bore the SEGI logo and a cryptic message:
“Your kindness has been noted. Redeem between worlds.”
Technicians later confirmed that no wind, projector, or holographic emitter was responsible for the incident. “The cards… just flew,” said a stunned stagehand. The gift cards were worth 500L Cash to be redeemed from Anjelikka herself. If you missed it, this was a great performance, and wow, the gifts.
Area 52’s resident visitors appeared deeply moved, some emitting soft, harmonic tones believed to express joy. One alien handed Devon a glowing crystal after the show. When asked what it symbolized, SEGI linguists translated:
“You sang true. You are cleared for emotional orbit.”
“So, whether the flying cards were a gift from the fans or a message from beyond, one thing’s clear: music still speaks the universal language.
From Area 52, I’m Raine Solara for WTTQ, reminding you: keep your heart tuned, and your gift cards handy.”
Filed by Correspondent Raine Solara | Broadcast from the Monty Region, SEGI
“This is Raine Solara reporting live from Area 52, where aliens have traded tractor beams for… Swiffers?”
The SEGI Project’s latest outreach effort, the “Domestic Exchange Program,” is testing the limits of human–alien cooperation. For the first time ever, extraterrestrial guests are volunteering to assist with day-to-day Earth chores, a mission organizers call‘Cross-Cultural Maintenance and Mutual Sanitation.’
So far, the results are out of this world, well, maybe.
Inside a shimmering habitat filled with lavender light, two aliens were spotted folding shirts with geometric precision.
“We find this… meditative,” one told me through a translator node.
“But socks? Too hostile. They scream of entropy.”
No word yet on what that means. SEGI staff have been instructed to wear sandals until further notice.
In the kitchen sector, an alien with five translucent hands was discovered entranced by a single soap bubble.
“Each contains a parallel universe,” it murmured, refusing to pop it.
Cleanup efficiency plummeted by 300%, but morale soared.
[19:39] Devon Reggiane: That sounds like a line to sell encyclopedias: "from cereal to the butt... It's all in here!"
Another volunteer, equipped with an anti-gravity vacuum, made headlines when it accidentally removed a small fern from the physical plane.
“We assume the plant’s fine,” said a SEGI supervisor. “We’re just not sure which galaxy it’s in now.”
Aliens reportedly adore baking, though they question our limited portion sizes.
“Humans divide infinity into dinner plates,” said one chef from the Pleiades.
“We prefer buffet without end.”
Their signature dish, Cosmic Pudding, has since become a cafeteria favorite despite occasional bioluminescent side effects.
The report concludes with perhaps the strangest finding: aliens consider taking out the trash a form of cosmic devotion. “We return matter to the infinite,” said one participant solemnly while emptying a bin.
“So, are aliens better housemates than humans? The data is inconclusive, but the socks are definitely gone.
Reporting live from Area 52, this is Raine Solara for WTTQ:
Last night’s frequencies from Area 52 took a darker, dreamier turn as DJ Bun G Chord descended into the booth for his long-anticipated Goth Set, a ritual of reverb, velvet shadows, and basslines that felt like cathedral bells underwater.
As the crowd of aliens, avatars, and late-night wanderers swayed in flickering violet light, something curious happened: a cat, sleek, unbothered, almost spectral, appeared near the DJ’s feet. Witnesses say it didn’t walk in through the door. It simply was there.
Some claim it’s Bun’s familiar. Others say it’s the reincarnation of an alien intelligence that’s been studying human nightlife for decades. Bun didn’t confirm or deny; he just turned up the volume and dropped “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.”
By the end of the night, both Bun and the cat were gone.
Only the echo of synth and the scent of strawberry incense remained.
Some of you have visited all 11 venues and collected the gifts. Wow!!! Great Hunters. Keep going if you have not found them all, it will be worth it to see all the venues :)
“Aliens Go Gaga for Strawberry Jam at the Biodome” By Rachel Solera | Broadcast from Area 52
Aliens appear to have a fondness for strawberry jam.
Monty Region: The SEGI Project’s Biodome has officially become ground zero for what experts are calling “The Great Intergalactic Jam Craze.”
Following last week’s diplomatic brunch between humans and visiting extraterrestrial envoys, several aliens were observed congregating near the refreshment table where, to everyone’s surprise, they bypassed the nutrient bars and went straight for the strawberry jam.
New shipment of jam just came in...
Witnesses described the scene as “part science fair, part breakfast buffet, and part religious experience.”
“They didn’t even blink,” said one observer. “They just hovered their spoons and made this little humming sound. Like they’d found the meaning of life in a jar.”
SEGI xenobiologists suggest that the aliens’ enthusiasm for strawberry jam might stem from its biochemical similarity to the nutrient plasma used aboard their ships. Others believe it’s more emotional than scientific, a nostalgic taste of something universal.
Meanwhile, Rachel’s Biodome has announced the launch of a limited-edition “Galactic Toast Station” where visitors can share a slice with their cosmic counterparts. Proceeds will go toward SEGI’s Intercultural Culinary Research Fund.
Field reports from Rachel’s Biodome suggest that extraterrestrial visitors were observed dipping Triscuits and even meteor chips into strawberry preserves. SEGI nutritionists theorize that it’s the vibrant red color and sugar content that fascinate them:
Color theory: The aliens’ vision spectrum may interpret red as “nutrient-rich” or “energetically charged.”
They would not even sell it to me.
Texture appeal: The jam’s smooth viscosity mimics the nutrient-rich gels used in their own sustenance pods.
Emotional resonance: Some scientists speculate the flavor activates pleasure responses similar to human nostalgia, perhaps reminding them of distant planetary flora.
One alien at the Biodome was reportedly overheard (through translation nodes) declaring:
“Earth fruit. Sweet. Warm light memory.”
As one alien delegate reportedly transmitted through the comm-link:
“Peace, understanding, and preserves.
I think one of the trains is filled with strawberry jam
”So yes, aliens do like strawberry jam. Possibly even more than humans do.
