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Animation
Probe: Master! I have gathered information on the Earthlings! The results, they're scary!
Adu Du: Hey? What is it, Probe?
Probe: T-t-take a look at this, Master! Look at what the humans are doing to green aliens like you! First, they chop the aliens into little pieces!
(Adu Du winces)
Probe: Then they put them in boiling hot water!
(Adu Du screams)
Probe: And finally, they force their kids to eat the aliens! Every last one of them!
(Adu Du briefly passes out)
Adu Du: How could they be cruel to us green aliens, like me?
Probe: Hey, good thing I'm purple!
Adu Du: Hey? What is it, Probe?
Probe: T-t-take a look at this, Master! Look at what the humans are doing to green aliens like you! First, they chop the aliens into little pieces!
(Adu Du winces)
Probe: Then they put them in boiling hot water!
(Adu Du screams)
Probe: And finally, they force their kids to eat the aliens! Every last one of them!
(Adu Du briefly passes out)
Adu Du: How could they be cruel to us green aliens, like me?
Probe: Hey, good thing I'm purple!
Comic Books
The vast constellation of meat and bone shifts, rippling and twitching. Par%l does not understand what the Breaker-Apart is doing. There is no frame of reference. Par%l has never seen a face before.
Par%l has never seen a smile.
Par%l has never seen a smile.
Fan Works
After the situation surrounding Ragesh 3 was settled, to the satisfaction of all save the Narn, Mr. Garibaldi invited me to join him in doing his second favorite thing in the universe. In an effort to understand more about Earthers, I agreed. I found it quite puzzling, however. We watched something called "Duck Dodgers in the 24½th Century" — which, since by Earth reckoning it is only the 23½ century, I found confusing. Apparently, this is what was called a "cartoon show," and Mr. Garibaldi appeared to find it quite amusing. It appears to have been a source of entertainment on Earth two centuries ago. He also introduced me to an Earth food called "popcorn." Apparently, one eats popcorn while watching these sources of entertainment, although I have yet to understand the purpose of this ritual. Mr. Garibaldi attempted to explain the humor in this "cartoon" to me, but I must admit that I fail to understand it; although Commander Sinclair has mentioned that Mr. Garibaldi's sense of humor is somewhat unusual. Hopefully, with more study, I will be able to understand this aspect of Earth culture better.
— Delenn's Diary, a Writers' Haven Babylon 5 fanfic
It was malformed and incomplete, but its essentials were clear enough. It looked like a great wrinkled tumor, like cellular competition gone wild — as though the very processes that defined life had somehow turned against it instead. It was obscenely vascularized; it must have consumed oxygen and nutrients far out of proportion to its mass. I could not see how anything like that could even exist, how it could have reached that size without being outcompeted by more efficient morphologies.
Nor could I imagine what it did. But then I began to look with new eyes at these offshoots, these biped shapes my own cells had so scrupulously and unthinkingly copied when they reshaped me for this world. Unused to inventory — why catalog body parts that only turn into other things at the slightest provocation? — I really saw, for the first time, that swollen structure atop each body. So much larger than it should be: a bony hemisphere into which a million ganglionic interfaces could fit with room to spare. Every offshoot had one. Each piece of biomass carried one of these huge twisted clots of tissue.
I realized something else, too: the eyes, the ears of my dead skin had fed into this thing before Copper pulled it free. A massive bundle of fibers ran along the skin's longitudinal axis, right up the middle of the endoskeleton, directly into the dark sticky cavity where the growth had rested. That misshapen structure had been wired into the whole skin, like some kind of somatocognitive interface but vastly more massive. It was almost as if...
No.
That was how it worked. That was how these empty skins moved of their own volition, why I'd found no other network to integrate. There it was: not distributed throughout the body but balled up into itself, dark and dense and encysted. I had found the ghost in these machines.
I felt sick.
I shared my flesh with thinking cancer.
Nor could I imagine what it did. But then I began to look with new eyes at these offshoots, these biped shapes my own cells had so scrupulously and unthinkingly copied when they reshaped me for this world. Unused to inventory — why catalog body parts that only turn into other things at the slightest provocation? — I really saw, for the first time, that swollen structure atop each body. So much larger than it should be: a bony hemisphere into which a million ganglionic interfaces could fit with room to spare. Every offshoot had one. Each piece of biomass carried one of these huge twisted clots of tissue.
I realized something else, too: the eyes, the ears of my dead skin had fed into this thing before Copper pulled it free. A massive bundle of fibers ran along the skin's longitudinal axis, right up the middle of the endoskeleton, directly into the dark sticky cavity where the growth had rested. That misshapen structure had been wired into the whole skin, like some kind of somatocognitive interface but vastly more massive. It was almost as if...
No.
That was how it worked. That was how these empty skins moved of their own volition, why I'd found no other network to integrate. There it was: not distributed throughout the body but balled up into itself, dark and dense and encysted. I had found the ghost in these machines.
I felt sick.
I shared my flesh with thinking cancer.
— The Thing learning what the human brain is, The Things
Sophie: Ok, I have a question. Who here looked at the blueprints and saw the drawings of humans in the library? [...] Everyone but Lee. Lee, you see these real weird-looking Pokémon. They're smooth and tall and lanky and... To everyone else, you something similar to what was kind of depicted in the blueprints. You see humans, or at least that's your best guess. They don't quite look like the drawings that you saw, they're missing a bunch of arms and legs, you thought they had a lot more, but... it looks like there's humans. They're far away from you right now but you can kind of see them in the distance and you see them standing there with Pokémon. You see a trainer standing there with a Jumpluff, and they're just holding a Jumpluff and you see them just sort of playing with this Pokémon.
Kai: Man, those things over there look really weird and gross.
Lee: What the fuck are those guys?! Those are weird-ass Pokémon.
Parker: They're not Pokémon, they're humans.
Kai: Yeah, they look like humans. Except with less arms.
Lee: What the fuck are humans?
Morgan: Have they... de-volved?
Parker: I don't know. I'm not sure if they're smart enough to speak, but maybe we can try.
Kai: Man, those things over there look really weird and gross.
Lee: What the fuck are those guys?! Those are weird-ass Pokémon.
Parker: They're not Pokémon, they're humans.
Kai: Yeah, they look like humans. Except with less arms.
Lee: What the fuck are humans?
Morgan: Have they... de-volved?
Parker: I don't know. I'm not sure if they're smart enough to speak, but maybe we can try.
— Mystery Dungeon with Critical Chaos
, Episode 8
, Episode 8 Film — Live-Action
"Poor creatures. Why must we destroy you? I'll tell you why. Order is the tide of creation. But yours is a species that worships...the one over the many. You glorify your intelligence... because it allows you to believe anything. That you have a destiny. That you have a right. That you have a cause. That you are special. That you are great. But in truth, you are born insane. And such misery... cannot be allowed... to spread!"
Koopa Police Radio: Alien species escaping from police detention.
Luigi: Aliens? We gotta deal with aliens, too?
Mario: Luigi, we're the aliens.
Luigi: We are? Whoa, cool!
Luigi: Aliens? We gotta deal with aliens, too?
Mario: Luigi, we're the aliens.
Luigi: We are? Whoa, cool!
Literature
Sometimes we think we want to know what our dogs think. We don't, not really. Someone who watches us with unclouded eyes and sees us for who we really are is more frightening than a man with a gun.
— The Evolution of Trickster Stories Among the Dogs of North Park After the Change, Kij Johnson
For two hundred and fifty years, the kzinti had not attacked human space. They had nothing to attack with. For two hundred and fifty years, men had not attacked the kzinti worlds; and no kzin could understand it. Men confused them terribly.
Shitload: This world is shit, yo. How do you people be gettin' around in this, all in these bodies and shit? You act all scared that I'm gonna kill ya, when it's the best thing I could do for you, yo. Deadworld, man, it's alternating layers of rot and shit and shit like that.
Dave: Deadworld? Is that where you're from?
Shitload: No, dude. That’s where you're from. It's where we are now. This place, it's a horror show. If the guy next to you decides to knock you out of this world forever, he can do it with just a piece of metal or, hell, even his bare hand. Well, you know. Right?
Dave: I've never killed anybody.
Shitload: You blobs, you sit there, chillin' in this room and I can smell the rot of dead animals soaking in the acid of your guts. You suck the life from the innocent creatures of this world just so you can clock another day. You're machines that run on the terror and pain and mutilation of other lives. You'll scrape the world clean of every green and living thing until starvation goes 1-8-7 on every one of your sorry asses, your desperation to put off death leadin' to the ultimate death of everybody and everything. Dude, I can't believe you ain't all paralyzed by the pure, naked horror of this place.
John: Uh...thanks?
Dave: Deadworld? Is that where you're from?
Shitload: No, dude. That’s where you're from. It's where we are now. This place, it's a horror show. If the guy next to you decides to knock you out of this world forever, he can do it with just a piece of metal or, hell, even his bare hand. Well, you know. Right?
Dave: I've never killed anybody.
Shitload: You blobs, you sit there, chillin' in this room and I can smell the rot of dead animals soaking in the acid of your guts. You suck the life from the innocent creatures of this world just so you can clock another day. You're machines that run on the terror and pain and mutilation of other lives. You'll scrape the world clean of every green and living thing until starvation goes 1-8-7 on every one of your sorry asses, your desperation to put off death leadin' to the ultimate death of everybody and everything. Dude, I can't believe you ain't all paralyzed by the pure, naked horror of this place.
John: Uh...thanks?
"They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So...what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So...what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
Live-Action TV
"Mork calling Orson! Come in, Orson!"
— Mork From Ork, at the end of each episode of Mork & Mindy
Tabletop Games
"So ancestors are people who did the procreation thing to make more people before you were born? Like how many people? That's a lot of the procreation thing. Ew. You're disgusting."
— Xanathar, Beholder "sage", Dungeons & Dragons: Xanathar's Guide to Everything
"They're horrible, mistress. As soft and pale as larvae, but reared up and stretched out. All of them have articulated feelers ending in fleshy pedipalps, but some have stingers as well. Their antennae frills lie listless, or else chopped short in some sort of ritual scarification. They cover themselves in folds of discarded webbing, and communicate solely through wet hoots and whistles. All attempts by our scouts to establish normal communications have been met with fear and violence.
They've already breached the tunnels, my queen. They appear almost blind, yet their fumblings are drawing them ever closer to the birthing chambers. Shall the legion advance?"
They've already breached the tunnels, my queen. They appear almost blind, yet their fumblings are drawing them ever closer to the birthing chambers. Shall the legion advance?"
— Soldier of the Forever Queen of Nchak, translated report of first humanoid contact, Pathfinder
Humans were a bad enemy to fight — which also made them a good enemy, for Orks made little distinction between the two concepts. No matter how many humans were killed, there were always more to take their place, shiploads of them brimming with vengeance. Humans were like a weed, like a disease, almost impossible to cleanse from a world. For a greenskin, that made them something more than an enemy, for a fight against a favored enemy was a joyous thing. Orks loved going to war with humans, because defeating the humans meant something.
"'Oomans are pink and soft, not green and tough like da Boyz. They'z all the same size, too — no big'uns or little'uns, so they'z always arguing about who's in charge, 'cos there's no way of telling 'cept for badges an' ooniforms and fings. Anuvver fing — when they do sumfink, they try to make it look like sumfink else to confuse everybody. When one of 'em wants to lord it over the uvvers, 'e says "I'm very speshul so'z you gotta worship me," or "I know summink wot you lot don't know, so yer better lissen good." Da funny fing is, 'arf of 'em believe it and da over 'arf don't, so 'e 'as to hit 'em all anyway or run fer it. Wot a lot of mukkin' about if yer asks me. An' while they'z all arguin' wiv each other over who's da boss, da Orks can sneak up an' clobber da lot."
— An Ork's view of humanity and its failings, Warhammer 40,000
Video Games
"A 12,000-year-old fossil of a creature with an odd internal skeleton. Its small skull indicates the creature was likely primitive with little intelligence. This specimen appears to have been fossilized in the middle of some kind of ritual."
— Sunken Scroll 26, Splatoon
"Their skins appear non-transferable."
"When bisected, neither half grows back."
"Genders are more easily discerned by the pitch of their cries."
"Creature appears to seek its maternal unit."
"Bones are surprisingly inflexible."
"Tears appear to serve no purpose."
"Are no organs safely removable?"
"Flailing appears to be a universal response."
"Human melting point remains inconsistent."
"I find their elbows obscene."
"To date, none have survived preliminary testing."
"When bisected, neither half grows back."
"Genders are more easily discerned by the pitch of their cries."
"Creature appears to seek its maternal unit."
"Bones are surprisingly inflexible."
"Tears appear to serve no purpose."
"Are no organs safely removable?"
"Flailing appears to be a universal response."
"Human melting point remains inconsistent."
"I find their elbows obscene."
"To date, none have survived preliminary testing."
"The others are gone. They were victims of a malevolent transformation! Their scales had rotted to soft, vulnerable flesh. Slowly suffocating without gills! The worst was their eyes! Close-set, and forced to squint through fleshy slits! I shudder recalling the horrific and unclean warmth of their blood as I rinsed my talons."
— Journal Entry, Darkest Dungeon
Webcomics
"One you see as alien likely looks back with similar sentiment."
— Dan Shive, in The Rant posted with the El Goonish Shive strip for 22 Jan 2018 (regarding the the motives of The Will Of Magic)
(regarding the the motives of The Will Of Magic) Web Original
me: all our teeth fall out as children and then they all grow back stronger
alien: okay, i mean...that definitely sounds fake, but...okay.
alien: okay, i mean...that definitely sounds fake, but...okay.
"you know, me brother's never seen a human before. aside from porn, of course. you guys do some weird shit."
Dr. ██████: Now, why did you kill those farmers?
SCP-682: [no verbal communication]
Dr. ██████: If you don't talk now, we will remove you from this attempt and place you back into—
SCP-682: [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: Pardon? [motions to move microphone closer]
SCP-682: [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: Speak up. [to Personnel D-085] Move the mic up closer.
SCP-682: ...they were [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: [to Personnel D-085] That microphone has only so much gain, move it closer to it!
Personnel D-085: His throat's messed up, man, look at it! He ain't talking— [gasps and screams]
SCP-682: (appearing to assault D-085's body) ...they were... disgusting.
Dr. ██████: [retreats from the room]
SCP-682: [no verbal communication]
Dr. ██████: If you don't talk now, we will remove you from this attempt and place you back into—
SCP-682: [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: Pardon? [motions to move microphone closer]
SCP-682: [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: Speak up. [to Personnel D-085] Move the mic up closer.
SCP-682: ...they were [incomprehensible]
Dr. ██████: [to Personnel D-085] That microphone has only so much gain, move it closer to it!
Personnel D-085: His throat's messed up, man, look at it! He ain't talking— [gasps and screams]
SCP-682: (appearing to assault D-085's body) ...they were... disgusting.
Dr. ██████: [retreats from the room]
Western Animation
Jasper: Any earthling that invades my space gets crushed. Took me forever to yank those puny green earthlings out of the ground.
Steven: [bemused] You mean grass?
Jasper: I don't know their names!
Steven: [bemused] You mean grass?
Jasper: I don't know their names!
