This blog contains content related to my own original independent project with the current working title CVM or Cursed Vending Machines. This is both a creative writing exercise where I am writing my own original story, as well as an opportunity to create narrative shorts within Unreal Engine.
Scattered across alleys, rest stops, basements, and abandoned buildings, a network of anomalous vending machines persists—unremarkable to the unaware, yet impossibly wrong to those who know. These machines don't just vend snacks; they alter memory, demand tribute, and sometimes, take more than they give.
Some are drawn in willingly. Some are tricked. And some return... different.
The Clutchers, impulsive explorers from a group known as the Palmliners, treat each machine like a dare—documenting their snacks, rules, and the strange behaviors of the vending units. The Lanterns, cautious and burdened by loss, believe the machines might hold answers—or even salvation—for those who’ve disappeared. And the Drawn are what remain of the unlucky: individuals consumed by the machines’ influence, now barely human, glimpsed in reflections or heard whispering from the glass.
As the machines continue to spread and adapt, stories of strange snacks, coded rituals, and missing persons keep surfacing online—quiet signals that something malevolent is vending itself into reality.
In the forgotten corners of the world, vending machines sit untouched—silent, flickering, waiting. Those who use them risk vanishing into something else entirely. From the reckless Clutchers to the watchful Lanterns, to the haunted Drawn, strange rituals and whispered logs trace the machines’ influence—though few dare admit they’re more than just machines.
These posts are coming from the point of view of a character named Drawback who experienced a traumatic event related to a CVM and has taken it upon themself to share what they know and try to warn people away from these machines. The Instagram account where this content will be shared is his own and the posts are short videos that are one of two things, a short animation that shows a computer monitor with the text of a log appearing on screen as if it is currently being typed, or animated short that is someone experiencing an event related to a CVM. More details of the story and its rules are below!
CVM is currently a series of log like entries similar to that of other projects like the SCP foundation which can be found here: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com
My intention for this project is to share portions of the story/logs via Instagram reels in a series of posts with the occasional 3D animation to accompany it. The shorter posts sharing logs will use this image:
I have never worked in the 9:16 aspect ratio compared to the inverse 16:9 which I am very familiar with so this project presents me with some fun challenges. Some of these challenges or things I would like to learn or refine my skills on are:
Improving my optimization skills (while these will be rendered, I want to push my self to improve as much as possible in the realm of optimization due to my interests in virtual production)
On the trend of virtual production I also want to use the least amount of compositing possible and achieve everything I can in engine. some of the things I am potentially looking at trying are:
trick reflections, characters show up in reflections but when the camera turns to their physical location they are absent
"post effects" like film grain, chromatic aberration and lens distortion/flares- most of this is already pretty easy in Unreal Engine but I want to see how I can improve them or better implement them
Achieve a higher level of control with fog and atmosphere. many of my projects have included fog and atmosphere though I often find my self spending large amounts of time trouble shooting and then often they are not the best optimized so they work for renders but less so in real time
Learn Chaos tools in Unreal Engine, cloth, destruction and the new fluid sims tools
improve my skills in PCG workflows
Learn vertex painting in Unreal Engine (I have used it before but a refresher and use with high quality nanite materials would be nice)
And finally the big one after having spoken with industry professionals in virtual production: PERFORMANCE CAPTURE! I have used the AR kit live link stuff for the real time performance capture but I want to try the new tools that released with UE 5.6 as well as try other workflows to achieve a higher quality and ideally animate a full character
Like I mentioned above I am using the 9:16 aspect ratio to achieve a vertical framing ideal for mobile content such as YouTube shorts, Instagram reels and other equivalent platforms. I may look into the more traditional 16:9 for the purposes of demo reel content and keep that in mind when building my scenes as I feel this would look cleaner overall but we will see, maybe I can find a better way to professionally present a mobile aspect ratio in my reel.
Aspect ratio for "reel" style content: 9:16 (1080 x 1920), Sensor Size: 12.7mm x 22.6mm (can be adjusted according to framing as long as ratio is retained)
Aspect ratio for a traditional Instagram post: 4:5 (1080 x 1350), Sensor Size: 22.6mm x 28.25mm (can be adjusted according to framing as long as ratio is retained)
PIPELINE:
3D scene in Unreal Engine with some subtle camera animations and detailed background (to be added too as more posts are made)
Modeling of screen surface to match physical CRT aspect ratios
Potential for dynamic lighting and trick reflections to be used as mentioned above
Screen surface for CRT monitor is made into a video texture which will play content made in After Effects
Inside After Effects a CRT style video will be made (the low resolution look and pixelization, scanlines and other artifacts)
Video will be imported to Unreal Engine and attached to the video texture
Rendering
Any additional comp and color grading
Sound design work (maybe I can find some collaborators for that? we will see)
Post it!
The world of the CVM's is currently split into 3 factions with a shadowy fourth force acting in tandem. These groups include:
The Palmliners — a loosely organized group scattered across the world, with a notable concentration in the United States. They connect through obscure online forums, encrypted chat rooms, and, in some cities, physical clubhouses that members treat as pilgrimage sites. Like the other groups described below, the Palmliners keep and share logs detailing their encounters with the CVMs (Cursed Vending Machines) and the anomalous snacks they dispense.
In addition to their logs, many members trade snacks — despite the inherent danger in holding, bartering, or consuming them. Every Palmliner operates under a codename or display name, as it’s widely believed that the machines treat names as a kind of currency or leverage. Some claim the machines already know your name — but speaking it aloud seals something. They are divided into three ranks:
Clutchers — the newcomers. Often young, impulsive, or simply desperate, Clutchers approach the machines with more curiosity than caution. They’re the most likely to treat the snacks like collectibles, trading and cataloging them without fully grasping the consequences. Some don’t last long. Their logs are scattered, chaotic, and often end mid-thought.
Drawback, the figure through whom this archive unfolds, is one of them- though he has already been burned.
Stackers — the seasoned and steady. Whether through personal experience or secondhand scars, Stackers have learned to approach the machines with respect. They contribute the majority of logs the Palmliners rely on, piecing together patterns and anomalies over time. While they still trade snacks, it’s done with caution — every exchange weighed carefully. To them, the machines aren’t curiosities, but systems. Puzzles. Ecosystems. Dangerous ones. And they’re determined to decode them, even if it costs them.
Scorchers — the veterans marked by loss. Almost no one reaches this rank without being burned — sometimes literally, always deeply. Scorchers carry scars: personal losses they rarely speak of, and memories that feel borrowed or stolen. Few dare trade snacks anymore. Fewer still approach the machines themselves.
Instead, they keep meticulous logs, cryptic notations, and often alter their gear in ways that baffle newer members — radios that only tune to static, goggles lined with foil, or notebooks sealed with wax. To outsiders, it's madness. To Palmliners, it’s ritual.
They are held in deep respect — almost reverence — by others. Their words carry weight. Their warnings are rarely questioned. Clutchers sometimes mock them, but only once. Most learn quickly.
Among them is The Scorched — a myth in motion. He travels the country in a battered van, exchanging knowledge, sometimes snacks, and always riddles. In extremely rare cases, a machine has vended a snack wrapped in one of his notes, or even just a log entry in his handwriting, with no snack at all — a previously undocumented occurrence that many believe hints at a deeper connection between him and the machines themselves.
The Discarded — a cryptic, decentralized collective concerned not with snacks, but with those affected by the machines. Scattered across encrypted channels, forgotten forums, and vanishing message boards, their focus is the Drawn — the lost, the altered, the seen-but-changed. They do not chase vending machines for answers, but for symptoms. Their mission is to observe, to intervene, and—if possible—to reclaim from the brink of total loss.
They do not share their names. Many of them have burned theirs already.
The Discarded operate under a loose, informal ranking — not by authority, but by exposure. No one moves up intentionally. You descend into it.
Watchers - The first to step in. Most Watchers are those who’ve encountered something they couldn’t explain — a friend acting strangely after a vending incident, a photo that shouldn't exist, or a mirror that didn’t return what it should have. They begin by noticing, and then by collecting.
Watchers monitor rumors and sightings, tagging posts, noting urban legends, and building quiet lists. They rarely intervene. They are told not to — not until they understand what they’re watching. Most Watchers vanish from the group before becoming anything more.
Some disappear literally.
Markers - The ones who connect the dots. Markers collect data on the Drawn — identifying patterns, timelines, and points of contact. They contribute the majority of the Discarded’s living log: who was taken, when, and how they changed. They analyze videos, comb through corrupted files, and cross-reference strange behavior with vending machine sightings and snack logs scavenged from Palmliners.
Many Markers begin to show signs of strain — paranoia, obsessive behavior, or pattern-seeking that borders on the religious. A few have claimed to see the Drawn in reflections or dreams. Some believe this is a necessary step to move forward. Others take it as a warning.
Wards - These are the interventionists — few in number, and fewer still who stay. Wards attempt the impossible: to halt or reverse the Drawn process. They perform rituals whispered about in older threads — mirrored gestures, symbolic acts, offerings placed by machines, or even direct communication with the Drawn.
Most Wards disappear. Some leave logs behind — distorted audio, corrupted video files, or scrawled notes uploaded through broken proxies. One famously left only the phrase:
"Her reflection blinked second."
To become a Ward is to stand in direct proximity to the Drawn. It is a role no one volunteers for twice.
Some believe there is another level beyond the Wards — a silent rank with no name, filled by those who were almost Drawn, but returned changed. These are the ones who never speak, never log, and are watched closely even by their peers. The Discarded never speak of them openly. But their usernames remain active.
The Lanterns - are not thrill-seekers or scavengers. They are custodians, pilgrims, and, some would say, fools. Where Palmliners chase snacks and the Discarded chase the Drawn, the Lanterns do both — but for one purpose: to reach them.
They believe — truly believe — that the Drawn can be rescued. That the vending machines, though dangerous, can be understood. That if they watch long enough, wait carefully enough, act precisely enough… someone might come back.
Their mission is one of study, intervention, and hope — however misguided. The other groups view the Lanterns with a mixture of admiration and pity. Palmliners call them “Watchfires.” The Discarded call them “the second Drawn.”
Lanterns do not argue with this. They simply keep watch.
The Lanterns are organized around “ranks” that function more like roles in a sacred order than tiers of power. Advancement is not a promotion — it’s a burden. Each title reflects a different relationship to the machines, to the Drawn, and to the weight of memory.
Lanterns do not speak their real names. They sign logs with glyphs, metaphors, or fragments of forgotten phrases. Some members only ever use the symbols carved into the underside of old snack wrappers.
Kindling - The first flame. Kindling are the newest members — often found, not recruited. Many are drawn in after encountering a Drawn firsthand, or following a vending incident they could not explain. They are fragile, curious, and often traumatized. They are not permitted to act, only to observe.
Kindling are trained in quiet — taught to take logs, to recognize anomalies in reflections, and to study the soft behaviors of machines. Some burn out early, consumed by obsession or fear. Others graduate to the next burden.
Watchfires - The keepers of the archive. Watchfires maintain the Lanterns' vast logbooks — both digital and physical — and monitor active vending machines known to exhibit high anomaly ratings. Some are stationed in physical spaces, acting as long-term observers. Others move from site to site, maintaining temporary records and fielding encoded communications from Kindling.
They are also caretakers of The Shifting Log — the original log written by the current Lanternkeeper after the only confirmed multi-drawn event, which claimed their entire family. The log appears to subtly alter itself over time. Some Watchfires believe it’s a memory infection. Others treat it as scripture.
Wickbearers - Field agents. Wickbearers are the few who intervene — setting offerings, attempting mirror rituals, or seeking to make contact with Drawn individuals. The role is not taken lightly. Intervention can only be authorized under deeply specific circumstances, often requiring full consensus among senior Watchfires.
Wickbearers are typically paired — one to act, one to observe. When they act alone, it is called a “Blind Walk,” and it is considered almost suicidal. Many do not return. Those who do leave strange, fragmented logs behind — some in tongues they never studied.
The Lanternkeeper - No one knows their real name. No one remembers if they were always the Lanternkeeper or became them after that event. What is known: they experienced the only known multi-drawn event, in which their entire family vanished following a traumatic incident involving a vending machine.
They left behind a log — cryptic, encoded, and said to shift over the years. Some claim it is alive. Others believe it is a confession, too large to read all at once. The Lanternkeeper no longer appears publicly. They speak only through glyph-marked responses, left on logs by trusted Watchfires.
Some Lanterns believe the Lanternkeeper has already been Drawn, and that the voice issuing commands is a remnant.
They still obey.
The Drawn - They were once like us. They used the machines. Ate the snacks. Took too many. Took the wrong one. Took one meant for someone else. Or maybe they did nothing wrong at all. Now, they are Drawn — altered in ways that make no medical or psychological sense. Most disappear completely, others linger in altered states pre-destined: changed, hollowed, rewritten. Some say they are dead. Others say they are somewhere else. But one truth repeats across dozens of logs and countless whispers:
The Drawn are still here.
In mirrors. In static. In the chrome faceplate of a vending slot. They are reflected, but never present. Present, but never reachable.
The Discarded’s Classification of the Drawn - Because the Drawn defy categorization, the Discarded developed a rough and informal system to track sightings and phenomena. It’s flawed and always changing — but over time, certain types have emerged. These are not “levels” or “stages.” They’re behaviors. Presences. Patterns.
Echo-Class - The most frequently encountered. Echoes appear only in reflections — glass, chrome, standing water, vending slot covers. They mimic the observer, lag by a few seconds, or replay old gestures. Some seem sentient. Others loop endlessly.
They are often tied to specific machines, believed to be either where the Drawn vanished — or where they were last seen.
“She blinked when I didn’t. I moved left. She stayed still. Then smiled.”
Residual-Class - Not seen, but unmistakably present. Residuals affect surroundings — lights dim, radios sputter, watches tick backward. EMF readings spike. The air chills. Static floods phones. Some say the machines themselves emit these pulses when a Residual is near.
It’s as if the Drawn leave behind a pressure, like a footprint in the atmosphere.
“I stepped near the machine and every ad panel went dark. Ten seconds later, they came back — but the time was wrong. Off by days.”
Sleeper-Class (Precursor) - These individuals are not fully Drawn — yet. They still function, interact, and move through daily life. But something is wrong beneath the surface. They may develop memory gaps. Write logs they don’t remember writing. Seek out machines unconsciously. Some begin to show signs of being watched — or mirrored. Most are unaware of their condition. Others know something’s happening but mistake it for mental illness or sleep deprivation.
Among the Discarded, Sleepers are viewed with dread — both as potential warnings, and as ticking time bombs. No confirmed Sleeper has ever reversed course. Every tracked case ends the same way: a log, a disappearance, and then an Echo.
“She started logging again. Said she felt like she had to. But her notes are written in third-person now. And she’s started sleeping in front of the machine. Said it hums like her mother’s voice.”
Cross-Class / Unsorted - The Drawn who resist pattern. They appear in multiple locations. Across reflections. Through multiple mediums — a mirror in Kansas, a voice over a detuned radio in Chicago. They show up in dreams shared between people who’ve never met. These Drawn act as though they’re still active participants — cataloging, watching, writing logs. But they are no longer part of the world.
Nell is the most notorious Cross-Class Drawn. Her logs continued to appear after her disappearance, and she has been seen by Palmliners near vending machines in multiple states.
She waves. Sometimes smiles. She never speaks.
“I saw her in the glass. She mouthed my name. Not my handle. My name.”
This concludes the factions and groups I have fleshed out so far that will slowly be revealed in the coming logs and such. There is now one point of discussion left: Machine Behavior and Snack Classification. so without further ado I present to you...
Snack Classification - The snacks vended by the CVM's are broken down and categorized into 4 different classes based off there level of danger, and supernatural abilities as follows:
Heart Class - “You remember it like it mattered — even if it never happened.”
Heart-class snacks are tied to sentimental memory — though it’s not always your own. These snacks trigger strong emotional responses, often manifesting as false nostalgia, vivid dreams, or flashes of lives you never lived.
They frequently taste real — comforting, familiar, even delicious. This only makes them more dangerous.
Used by the machine to lure, lull, and lower your guard.
Spade Class - “You start forgetting your own thoughts. Then you start speaking theirs.”
Spade-class snacks have a direct link to the Drawn. While not every Spade leads to becoming one, many precede sightings, mirror events, or memory interference. They are known to cause identity drift, behavior changes, and draw attention from entities that should not see you.
Some believe Spades are warnings — others think they’re invitations.
Treat these as signs you’ve gone too far — or that it’s too late.
Diamond Class - “You got what you wanted. Now hope it doesn’t want anything back.”
Diamond-class snacks are rare, and often coveted for their powerful and unusual effects. They’re most often linked to cryptid encounters, spatial anomalies, or enhancements that can bend the rules of reality. Many users report increased perception, brief invisibility, or slipping between places.
But the machines always collect their debt — and Diamonds demand interest.
Useful. Dangerous. Always too good to be true.
Club Class - “You weren’t chosen. You were judged.”
Club-class snacks are viewed as punishments — not rewards. These are not offered. They are assigned. Nearly always accompanied by strange packaging, heavy atmosphere, or ominous warnings. Most refuse to eat them. Those who do… rarely do so twice.
Even trading these snacks is dangerous — many report failed attempts to pass them on, or that they always “find their way back.”
The machines treat every snack like a contract. But Clubs? Clubs are law.
Rules for Disposing of a Snack - Not every snack should be consumed. Some should never have been vended at all. When a snack is deemed too risky to consume, too volatile to trade, or simply wrong, disposal is considered. But even this is dangerous. The machines treat each snack as a kind of contract — to ignore or defy it invites consequences. Below are the most widely accepted disposal guidelines gathered from decades of logs:
Rule 01: Never Discard a Snack Casually.
Throwing a snack in a public trash can, a ditch, or leaving it behind breaks the perceived contract.
Consequence: The snack often returns — in your bag, your car, your home. Sometimes it's changed.
Worst Case: You’re followed by something that believes you owe a debt.
Rule 02: Do Not Destroy the Packaging Without a Plan.
Some snacks are more container than content. Tearing open a wrapper can activate the snack or its effects.
Consequence: Unwrapping it may count as “accepting” it.
Best Practice: Keep the snack fully intact during disposal.
Rule 03: Bury, Burn, or Banish — With Intention
Disposal methods must involve ritual, intention, or containment. Some verified methods include:
Burying the snack at least three feet deep, preferably in salted soil.
Burning it with incense or herbs known to interfere with machine emissions (lavender, cedar, sulfur).
throwing the snack into a flowing body of water like a fast moving river or other current, some decide to encase the snack in resin, cement or wax believing it to decrease the chances of the snack returning.
Trading it to The Scorcher (rumored to accept cursed items, though only at great cost).
If no method is used:
Consequence: The snack may begin to deteriorate reality around it — objects warp, electronics fail, mirrors reflect things they shouldn't.
Rule 04: Never Feed a Snack to Someone Unaware
Giving the snack to someone who doesn’t know what it is — even as a joke — is considered the lowest act among Palmliners.
Consequence: The snack may still bind to you. Or worse: the machine may now watch you both.
Repeat Offenders: Known to disappear. Or become Drawn.
Rule 05: Record the Disposal
Always write a log of how the snack was disposed of — time, date, method, and any immediate effects.
Consequence of Skipping: Some believe the machine leaves the log for you, if you fail to make your own. That version is… never kind.
Final Note from a Scorcher’s Journal:
“Disposal doesn’t mean escape. It’s just asking nicely to be left alone. Sometimes the machine agrees. Sometimes it doesn’t. Keep your name close. Keep your snacks closer. And keep something sharp by the door.”
Vending Behavior and Payment - “They don’t want your coins. They want a piece of you.” — Entry scrawled on the underside of a Stacker’s snack tray lid
Behavior Patterns (Observed, Not Understood)
Cursed Vending Machines — CVMs — appear in locations long forgotten or rarely observed: subway platforms with no schedule, locked basements, trail stops with no listed park, gas stations missing from maps. They do not draw attention. In fact, they seem to avoid it. Save for the rare few that hide in plain sight — a cursed machine nestled among the standard, indistinguishable at first glance. One may sit humming quietly in the corner of a crowded grocery store, or flickering gently on a bustling subway platform, waiting for the right person to pause, just long enough.
They flicker when approached, even if unplugged.
They relocate — not visibly, but provably. One day it’s there. The next, it isn’t.
They vend only when they choose to — and sometimes without prompting.
Some require interaction, others seem to observe and then respond.
No two are exactly the same, though many share cosmetic similarities — stickers in defunct languages, coin slots sealed with resin, buttons labeled with symbols no one remembers learning.
The machines do not use money, not in the traditional sense. Payment is conceptual, personal, and often unwitting. Common forms of accepted “payment” include:
Names — Spoken aloud, typed into nearby devices, or even written and left nearby. First names are potent. Full names are risky. Some believe the machine already knows, but waits for acknowledgment.
Memories — Some machines respond when users bring personal items tied to strong emotion (photos, heirlooms). Afterward, those memories may blur or shift.
Time — Rare logs speak of users losing time after using a machine. Some return with watches hours ahead. Some return days later, unaged.
Blood — Not common. But in extreme cases, especially with Spade-class machines, contact with the coin slot or buttons results in pinprick wounds. A trade sealed in blood.
Emotion — This is harder to define. But elevated heart rate, fear, grief, desperation — these states appear to activate certain machines. It’s unknown if this is a trigger or a taste.
Echoes — In rare cases, the machine vends in exchange for proximity to something that has already been offered before: a location, a scent, a song. Something resonant.\
Important Notes About Payment:
You don’t always know what you’ve paid — at least not right away.
The snack is the receipt. What it does, what it says, is the machine’s message back.
Repeated use of the same machine often leads to escalation. You are remembered.
“They don’t want quarters. They want meaning. And they’ll take it in whatever shape you leave unguarded.”
— Scorcher log 48-A, "On the Price of Curiosity"