Note: So, after a discussion in the chat box this was my attempt at creating an AI-generated report to see what comedy value and actual capabilities AI has to offer, so please don't be fooled into thinking this is real (can't wait for someone to ask 'is this still there?'). I used Chat GPT for the text, which came up with most of the overall story, although I input a few specific brief prompts to create certain amusing scenarios. The images were done with Bing Image Generator. The text has had a rough edit and trimmed it down a bit - it's still so long so I've tried to break it up with plenty of pics. Obviously it's a bit of a p take of many of the urbex tropes, so be warned it's quite cursed. Feel free to move to a general section if best. Enjoy!
THE HISTORY
Multipalls Asylum, originally named Wessex County Asylum, emerged during the early 20th century as a reflection of evolving attitudes towards mental health. Founded in the Edwardian era, the asylum's construction was marked by the prevailing belief that centralized institutions could provide both care and containment for individuals struggling with mental illnesses. Designed by renowned architect Henry Travers, the asylum's architecture bore the hallmark of Edwardian grandeur, characterized by ornate Gothic detailing and imposing stone structures. Completed in 1907, the facility aimed to offer advanced treatments for a wide spectrum of mental disorders.
Plan of Wessex County Asylum
Eventually, with dwindling admissions and increasing financial strain, the asylum finally closed its doors in 1978. Its majestic buildings stood as a testament to a bygone era, offering glimpses into the complexities of mental health history and the earnest attempts to address these challenges during the Edwardian period. Today, the remnants of Multipalls Asylum serve as a haunting reminder of the asylum's past, inviting reflection on the progress made in mental health care and the lingering echoes of the patients who once sought refuge within its walls.
The admin block in 1909
THE EXPLORE
Prior to the mission, extensive research was conducted to gather information about Multipalls. Our team equipped themselves with the necessary gear, including flashlights, cameras, first-aid kits, and communication devices. We assembled near the outskirts just after sunset and assessed the exterior perimeter, taking note of the decay and overgrown vegetation that surrounded the massive structure. Epsilon, the security expert, began bypassing the external security measures to gain access to the asylum. This proved to be a challenging task, as the security measures in place were designed to deter trespassers. This included a high perimeter fence topped with barbed wire and motion-sensor cameras. To overcome these measures, Epsilon came up with a clever plan. Using a combination of wire cutters, strategically placed cardboard cutouts, and a well-timed diversion, Epsilon was able to disable the cameras and create a temporary blind spot.
As we made our way to the entrance, they encountered a rusted, imposing gate, which seemed to be the final barrier before accessing the asylum grounds. The gate swung open with a low, ominous creak, echoing through the still night air.THE HISTORY
Multipalls Asylum, originally named Wessex County Asylum, emerged during the early 20th century as a reflection of evolving attitudes towards mental health. Founded in the Edwardian era, the asylum's construction was marked by the prevailing belief that centralized institutions could provide both care and containment for individuals struggling with mental illnesses. Designed by renowned architect Henry Travers, the asylum's architecture bore the hallmark of Edwardian grandeur, characterized by ornate Gothic detailing and imposing stone structures. Completed in 1907, the facility aimed to offer advanced treatments for a wide spectrum of mental disorders.
Plan of Wessex County Asylum
Eventually, with dwindling admissions and increasing financial strain, the asylum finally closed its doors in 1978. Its majestic buildings stood as a testament to a bygone era, offering glimpses into the complexities of mental health history and the earnest attempts to address these challenges during the Edwardian period. Today, the remnants of Multipalls Asylum serve as a haunting reminder of the asylum's past, inviting reflection on the progress made in mental health care and the lingering echoes of the patients who once sought refuge within its walls.
The admin block in 1909
THE EXPLORE
Prior to the mission, extensive research was conducted to gather information about Multipalls. Our team equipped themselves with the necessary gear, including flashlights, cameras, first-aid kits, and communication devices. We assembled near the outskirts just after sunset and assessed the exterior perimeter, taking note of the decay and overgrown vegetation that surrounded the massive structure. Epsilon, the security expert, began bypassing the external security measures to gain access to the asylum. This proved to be a challenging task, as the security measures in place were designed to deter trespassers. This included a high perimeter fence topped with barbed wire and motion-sensor cameras. To overcome these measures, Epsilon came up with a clever plan. Using a combination of wire cutters, strategically placed cardboard cutouts, and a well-timed diversion, Epsilon was able to disable the cameras and create a temporary blind spot.
Now inside the asylum grounds, we approached the main entrance, which was barricaded with heavy wooden planks. While exploring the area, we stumbled upon a forgotten maintenance shed nearby. Inside, we discovered a forgotten stash of tools and equipment left behind by the asylum's former caretakers. This unexpected find provided us with the necessary materials to remove the barricade. Whilst inspecting the barrier, a curious squirrel appeared, seemingly intrigued by the team's activities. The squirrel hopped around, occasionally pausing to stare at the crew with inquisitive eyes. Amidst the serious mission atmosphere, we couldn't help but chuckle at the squirrel's audacity. Delta quickly snapped a candid picture of the squirrel seemingly plotting its own covert mission.
For a brief moment, we forgot about the eerie nature of their surroundings and shared a lighthearted laugh, appreciating the unpredictability of urbex. The squirrel became an unexpected mascot, affectionately referred to as "Agent Nutmeg" for the remainder of the mission. Although the humorous encounter provided a much-needed break, we remained focused on the mission and proceeded with caution, venturing into the asylum.
Once inside, we descended into a labyrinth of long, eerie corridors. The dimly lit hallways were adorned with peeling wallpaper, broken glass, and remnants of old medical equipment. Gamma diligently documented any discernible details about the asylum's history, collecting information about treatment methods, patient records, and architectural features. Beta, the technical specialist, utilized advanced imaging equipment to detect hidden areas within the asylum. This allowed us to explore areas that were not easily accessible, such as the basement and the attic.
As we ventured further in, the atmosphere became increasingly unsettling. Creaking floors, distant echoes, and unexplained gusts of wind intensified the feeling of being watched. Delta skillfully captured haunting images that portrayed the asylum's eerie ambiance.
During the exploration of Multipalls Asylum, there was a moment that brought about a mixture of embarrassment and laughter among the team members. Gamma, the researcher, found themselves in a rather cheeky and amusing situation. As the team delved into the asylum's administrative sections, Gamma was engrossed in meticulously examining a pile of old documents. Lost in their research, Gamma failed to notice a slightly uneven section of the floor. Just as they took a step forward, their foot caught on the protruding floorboard, causing them to stumble forward in a rather clumsy manner. In a comedic twist of fate, Gamma's stumble resulted in a loud and comical noise echoing throughout the otherwise silent asylum. The noise reverberated off the decaying walls, making it seem louder than it actually was. The unexpected disruption startled the rest of the team, causing us to freeze momentarily before bursting into laughter.
While documenting the asylum's interior, we encountered remnants of past lives. Patient rooms, treatment areas, and communal spaces stood frozen in time, evoking a sense of both sadness and curiosity. Evidence of the patients' existence, such as personal belongings and handwritten letters, offered a glimpse into their lives within these walls. Documents shed light on the asylum's operations and its eventual closure due to changing mental health practices. It became apparent that the treatment of patients at the Wessex County Asylum fell far short of modern standards.
The recreation hall
We made a significant discovery when we stumbled upon the padded cells within the facility. These cells were designed to provide a secure and controlled environment for patients who required intensive care or exhibited violent behavior.
Venturing through the labyrinthine corridors, we noticed a distinct change in the atmosphere and architectural features. The hallways became narrower, and the air seemed heavier, creating a sense of foreboding. Dim lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows on the walls. We soon came across a set of heavy, reinforced doors. With curiosity piqued, Delta cautiously opened them, revealing a row of small, claustrophobic rooms lined with worn and faded padding. The padded cells, with their thick walls and floor padding, painted a haunting picture of the asylum's troubled past. They stood as a stark reminder of the asylum's history and the methods used in the treatment of patients during that era.
The explore became quite engrossing, and time seemed to fly by. Hours had passed since the last break, and the urgent call of nature began to make itself known to Beta. However, finding a suitable place for a restroom break within the abandoned asylum proved to be quite a challenge. With each passing minute, Beta's discomfort grew, and they started searching desperately for a secluded spot. Finally, in a moment of desperation, Beta spotted an old, abandoned restroom tucked away in a corner of the asylum. Eagerly, they made their way towards it, thinking they had finally found relief.
To their dismay, as Beta reached the restroom door, they discovered it was nothing more than a dilapidated façade. The toilet inside had long been removed, leaving behind a hollow space that offered no solace. The rest of us, noticing Beta's puzzled expression, couldn't help but burst into laughter. We made jokes about the "phantom toilet" and Beta’s quest for the elusive facility.
Fortunately, the team managed to find a suitable solution soon after, and it was no longer a cause for concern. But it was a reminder of the challenges one can encounter during an exploration, even the basic human needs that must be met amidst the exploration of eerie and forgotten locations.
Undeterred by the dangers that lay ahead, we embarked on a daring expedition into the miles of forgotten utility tunnels beneath Multipalls. Armed with dim flashlights and a mix of excitement and trepidation, we navigated through the labyrinthine passages that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. Going deeper into the subterranean world, we were keenly aware of the asbestos hazard that lurked in the shadows. The whispered warnings of the material's lethal nature lingered our minds, spurring us to proceed with caution. The tunnels, once bustling with maintenance workers and the hum of machinery, now echoed with the footsteps.
After what felt like an eternity, we reached a cavernous chamber—the long-forgotten boiler room. The flashlights revealed a colossal metal boiler, its surface cloaked in a sinister shade of blue asbestos that seemed to emanate a malevolent energy. Known ominously as 'the devil's belly fluff,' this toxic material was notorious for its deadly consequences. We stood in a mixture of awe and dread, a silent acknowledgment of the peril we were willingly facing. The air within the room felt heavy, not just from the asbestos-laden atmosphere, but from the weight of the past. The boiler stood as a haunting relic, a testament to an era when safety regulations were lax and the dangers of asbestos were not fully understood. As they cautiously circled the massive structure, a sense of unease settled upon the team.
Reaching the outside via an airing court, there was a stillness broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional caw of a lone crow. Pushing through the tangled vines, I finally stumbled upon the base of the water tower, its corroded frame reaching up like a skeletal finger towards the grey sky. With a mix of trepidation and fascination, I began the ascent. The tower's surface was rough against my palms, a testament to the years of neglect it had endured. As I climbed higher, glimpses of the asylum's dilapidated buildings came into view, windows shattered like forgotten memories, and walls covered in ivy and graffiti.
Reaching the top, my breath caught not only from the physical exertion but from the breathtaking view that unfolded before me. The entire asylum grounds lay below, a mosaic of decay and nature's reclamation. With a mixture of awe and reverence, I looked out over the landscape, understanding that the water tower held more than just a vantage point—it held the ghosts of countless stories, waiting to be heard by those willing to listen amidst the eerie beauty.
Now back inside, in a surreal twist of fate, I found myself sprinting through the dimly lit corridors of an abandoned asylum, my heart pounding as the echoing sound of rubbery footsteps grew closer behind me. Turning a corner, my breath caught in my throat as I came face to face with the unmistakable, bizarre figure of Mr. Blobby. His pink and yellow polka-dotted body seemed even more unsettling in the eerie surroundings. With each clumsy step, he closed in on me, his bulbous eyes fixed on me in a strangely determined manner. Fear and confusion intertwined as I navigated the decaying hallways, the laughter of this unexpected pursuer haunting my every move. Driven by a surge of adrenaline and a primal need for survival, I pushed myself to the limit, racing through the corridors. The echoing laughter of Mr. Blobby reverberated around me, heightening the sense of urgency. My heart raced as I maneuvered through shattered windows, debris-strewn hallways, and decrepit rooms. With every twist and turn, I strategized my escape, using the asylum's eerie architecture to my advantage. Finally, I spotted a half-opened door leading to an overgrown courtyard. Bursting through it, I felt the cool night air against my skin and the faint moonlight guiding my way. I felt a mixture of relief and disbelief at my narrow escape from the clutches of the enigmatic Mr. Blobby.
Later, whilst navigating the corridors, my heart raced as I stumbled again upon a figure huddled in a shadowy corner. My breath caught as I recognized the pink and yellow polka-dotted pattern, but as I cautiously approached, a wave of realization washed over me—it wasn't Mr. Blobby after all. Instead, the figure revealed itself to be a nude model, her expression a mix of vulnerability and embarrassment. The dilapidated surroundings seemed to enhance the juxtaposition of her presence, making me ponder the stories that had led her here. As our eyes met, I could sense a shared moment of understanding—the weight of preconceptions and assumptions lifted, replaced by a connection that transcended appearances. In that abandoned asylum, an unexpected encounter became a poignant reminder of the complexity of individuals and the stories they carry within.
After several hours of meticulous exploration, we decided to conclude the mission due to increasing discomfort and exhaustion. As we made a cautious exit from the depths of the hospital, our senses were heightened, attuned to every creaking floorboard and distant sound. Navigating the dimly lit corridors, I stumbled upon a cracked door ajar, revealing a small room illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp. The adrenaline-fueled tension immediately shifted to a mix of surprise and awkwardness as we saw a security guard slumbering in his chair, trousers down and evidence of a mid-shift nap. An uneasy silence settled among us as we exchanged wide-eyed glances, realizing the surreal nature of the scene before them. With whispered laughter and hushed voices, we tiptoed past the sleeping guard.
As the first rays of sunrise broke through the lingering mist, we emerged from the eerie depths of Multipalls Hospital, our footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. The thrill of our urbex mission still coursed through our veins, a blend of excitement and trepidation that had kept us exploring throughout the night. As we crossed the threshold and stepped into the open air, a sense of relief mingled with melancholy. The hospital, once a bastion of healing, now stood as a monument to forgotten stories. We carried with us the memories of our clandestine journey, a surreal escapade illuminated by flashlights and adrenaline. With one last lingering look at the imposing facade, we left Multipalls behind.
I returned to the abandoned asylum the next day for some externals. An eerie stillness hung in the air, creating an unsettling atmosphere. The dilapidated building exuded a sense of forgotten history and secrets waiting to be unraveled. Just as I approached the entrance, a sudden burst of noise shattered the silence—the rumble of a tourbus engine and the excited chatter of goontubers, armed with cameras and a thirst for the macabre. Their presence juxtaposed the desolation of the asylum, creating an unexpected collision of worlds. As they streamed out of the bus, capturing every angle with their lenses, I couldn't help but wonder how the asylum's haunting past would blend with the vibrant immediacy of their digital content. It was as if the ghosts of the past were witnessing a new kind of invasion—one driven not by fear, but by a quest for likes and shares.
The End.
Thanks for reading folks hope you enjoyed, it was hilarious to make whilst at times also being quite impressive what AI is capable of, especially with the images. Also love how the text would describe something stupid before putting a profound twist on it. The images of the architecture must definitely be drawn from real images, can certainly see similarities with real asylums. I was particularly impressed by how it seems to have picked up on the hexagon ceiling pattern seen at St Johns and Warley and put it on the padded cell.
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