The Rainbow Experiments

Note: The following creepypasta is an unofficial fanmade story that takes place in the universe of Rainbow Friends, it is not canon in any way whatsoever. I have been working on this story for quite some time so I hope you enjoy.

The Rainbow Friends Play Place, as it is now, is a strange reminder of a time long gone, its walls filled with bright colors that hide the scary things inside. What people don't know is that it all began with secret U.S. military projects during the 1960s Vietnam War. Documents buried beneath decades of classified seals tell of "Project Spectrum," a CIA-backed experiment aimed at weaponizing psychological conditioning and chemical manipulation to create soldiers impervious to fear.

Project Spectrum was supposed to be a failure in the official books. Its aim was to use how the human brain reacts to strong emotions—fear, joy, anger—to change those reactions and eventually make people better in combat. But as rumors about this project went on, things became clear: it was not about training but about something much more dangerous taking place.

One of the lead researchers working on Project Spectrum was a man named Dr. Felix Carter, a brilliant if somewhat bizarre neuroscientist. Carter was excessively dedicated to creating the ultimate soldier, a fighter who would be able to endure the worst without deteriorating.

Rumors as to Carter's motivations hinted at a personal loss: his younger brother, a soldier, had been captured and killed in an ambush while serving in Vietnam.

For Carter, the war wasn't just about nations; it was personal. He believed people could be made stronger, to better deal with the horrors of war. But the means he used would one day come to be seen as inhuman.

One such method involved the use of psychoactive compounds developed under MKUltra. Soldiers were dosed with substances that would keep them in hallucinatory states for days on end, brains chemically pried open like lab rats. But as the experiments began to show strange results—changes not just in behavior but in physiology—Carter became even more ambitious. Subjects would report vivid, recurring visions of colors and shapes, and Carter began assigning emotional states to specific hues, naming his growing catalog after the spectrum of colors.

Subject 34 was one of the first to receive Carter's full treatment. He was a prisoner of war who had become a test subject, and his transformation was terrifying. He was flooded with things meant to change how he survived, given chemicals to remove fear, and hit with violent images over and over. The experiment succeeded too much. When 34 came out of the chamber, he was no longer a human. His skin had turned a strange, sickly blue color; his eyes bulged too much, and he moved in a heavy, hunting way.

The researchers called him "Blue," though he was no mascot. Blue was a source of fear—a creature that only chased and disabled anything that moved. His deep screams were said to echo through the jungle, causing panic in the soldiers nearby. Carter, however, saw Blue as a success, believing he could help create an army of strong fighters.

But Blue was not alone.

As Project Spectrum continued, more "Friends" began to appear. Each bore the marks of Carter's bizarre experiments:

Green: Subject 45, a bad subject to whom sensory deprivation experiments have proven catastrophic. He turned into a blind but sensitive, sharp predator who navigates with acute hearing—four spindly legs like an arachnid alien makes for a strange killer in the dark.

Orange: Subject 59 was a child soldier, tricked into joining, who was put through starvation tests. When the experiments ended, Orange exhibited animal-like behavior, constantly on the lookout for food; his thin body and quick movements gave away the fact that he was always hungry.

Purple: The ghost in the machine. Purple was never fully recorded; it's more of a mystical being that is believed to exist in the ventilation systems of the jungle lab, created by an experiment that combined sensory data with physical matter. Others believe Purple is the specter of countless lives lost during the project—a ghost of guilt come to terrorize the facility.

Each "Friend" became a cautionary tale about the dangers of ambition taken too far. But still, Carter pushed on. His obsession grew, shifting from the need to defeat the enemy to a frantic desire for personal glory.

By 1968, tales of the inhumane activities of Project Spectrum had started to reach the highest levels of authority. Soldiers posted around the facility began to disappear, and the creatures started to exhibit behaviors that were impossible to contain. The jungles around the lab grew silent, except for the unnatural cries of Blue, Green, and the others. Superstitious locals claimed the area was cursed.

The project was shut down abruptly after some disastrous incident. Released documents only refer to it as "The Red Night." Details are scant, but surviving witnesses speak of a night when the creatures broke from their enclosures and slaughtered both staff and soldiers. Carter was presumed dead, his body never recovered.

But Carter wasn't gone. Years later, word was that a man exactly like him had been in small-town America, had taken over an old play place, and made it look just like his nightmares. When the Play Place opened in the 1980s, it looked like a fun family place. But former workers have shared odd stories—strange laughter heard after closing time, people who went missing without explanation, and rooms that were not on the plans. Carter, now called Red, is said to have made the play place a place for his experiments.

The Rainbow Friends were no longer just a failed experiment—they had now become entertainment. They, being well hidden in plain view and transformed into something like beasts that frighten the guests at night—coats of bright color covered up the strange origins filled with playfulness characteristic to children.

When the Play Place opened to the public, it had already started to create a long, harmful impact on the small, struggling town of Redfield.

Redfield was in the middle of the United States, just a small spot on the map with old houses and shops. When Felix Carter, now known as "Red," came to town, the people welcomed him with open arms. His offer of jobs and tourism looked like a chance for the struggling community to survive.

The Play Place became an almost instant hit with local families. Its bright, cartoon-like characters and thrilling rides made it a local wonder. Still, from the very beginning, something was off. Parents would talk of strange noises coming from behind closed doors, and children who ventured too far into the tunnels and crawlspaces often returned looking frightened, silent, and unwilling to discuss what they had seen.

Then the disappearances started.

It began with the drifters—people who came and went in Redfield. A janitor here, a delivery driver there. Each would vanish without a clue. Then it got worse: a teenager who sneaked in after hours for fun; a young couple who rented the event space for a private party. Each time, the official word from Red's PR team was solid—accidents, misunderstandings, or just "no proof of any crime.". But the town understood more. People started leaving Redfield by droves, abandoning their homes, shuttering businesses, and warning others to steer clear. Those who stayed spoke of hearing screams at night, muffled by the thick, stagnant air around the Play Place. The building itself, however, remained open, and Redfield continued to sink into desolation as the encroaching darkness consumed it.

And as time passed, Red grew more confident in his experiments and was no longer constrained by rules or morals. Blue, the first and most well-known of the Rainbow Friends, underwent many "improvements" during this time. People said that he began to show signs of awareness, even though his mind was broken, stuck between animal instincts and bits of who he used to be.

One of the old memos from Redfield's local government speaks about a very weird incident with Blue. In 1983, during a rare inspection in the Play Place, the officer swore seeing something crawl through the shadows. His unfiled report described that creature as "about human-like, with big eyes and an odd blue skin."

"Blue is no longer a failed experiment," Red reportedly told his staff after the inspector visited. "He is changing. He remembers."

But what did Blue remember? Some people who left Red's team thought that Blue kept bits of his original identity as Subject 34, the prisoner of war who became a test subject in Vietnam.

The constant lights and sounds were to break his spirit, but they may have kept small, disconnected parts of his mind unknowingly. These showed up in odd behaviors: standing very still in some places as if expecting something; making sad, whale-like sounds late at night; and, most worryingly, raising his hand toward his handlers in a way that looked like a salute.

Blue's mixed loyalty made him both scary and sad, a soldier who had been hurt and fixed, tied forever to the orders of his maker. Red wanted more than the Play Place. Underneath the building lay a vast network of tunnels and rooms, leftovers from an old Cold War fallout shelter. Red saw this as an opportunity. Over the years, he made the underground maze bigger, building hidden labs, containment cells, and observation rooms.

It was down here, far below the surface, that the real horrors happened. Survivors—very few of them—told about what they saw:

Rows of tanks held thick, sticky liquid, where embryo-like shapes moved and shook, their features not fully formed.

Chambers filled with bright, colored light, where the shrieks of people echoed, never to be silenced.

Walls covered with drawings, formulas, and messy writing—most of it illegible, but emblazoned with phrases like "PERFECTION IS NEAR" and "FEAR IS THE BRIDGE."

Among those notes were references to something called "Operation Rainbow," which was supposed to be a continuation of Project Spectrum. Red had discovered some old CIA records regarding his work in Vietnam and used that to enhance his experiments. He wasn't just creating monsters; he was attempting to find something deeper, something fundamental that was hidden within human thoughts.

Blue was the muscle, and Green was the spotter.

His origins, in failed experiments on sensory deprivation, left him among the most terrifying of presences in the Play Place. Though blind, he was somehow achingly conscious, and Green could pinpoint movement and sound almost magically, in a manner so sinister that those straying too near his home would report of being stalked silently and finding their breath caught sharply in their throats, because of how, unbearably slow in pace, that thin figure in their dreams was now coming at them.

Green's design was calculated to be psychological. Red knew that fear of the unseen was more potent than fear of the known. Survivors of Green's "games" spoke about the mental toll they underwent: hours spent in utter silence, the soft shuffle of Green's steps the only sound breaking the suffocating quiet.

Yet, like Blue, Green showed some signs of being human. Some thought that Green's sharp senses were a problem, leaving him feeling too much all the time. There were stories of him stopping quickly, looking like he was too much under stress, his long arms shaking as he held his head. Whether these moments were for show or real feelings of his broken mind, no one could tell.

Orange is the smallest and most unpredictable of the Rainbow Friends. He showed desperation. His background as Subject 59, a child soldier who had been starved and broken, was apparent in every aspect of his design. The experiments had stolen his humanity and replaced it with simple instincts.

Staff who worked at the Play Place recalled hearing Orange's claws scrape against metal walls well into the night, and a loud chattering echoing through the building. The worst part of their shift was feeding time. Feeding time was the scariest part of their shifts. Orange would go wild, running around his space very quickly, eating anything that was in front of him.

Even with his scary behavior, Orange sometimes showed a strange childlike innocence. Visitors said they saw him holding toys that children must have left behind, shaking with his thin body contorted in a corner of his space. Some thought the Orange was not only hungry but also in need of comfort—a sad reminder of the boy he used to be.

As Red continued to experiment, he became more obsessive than scientific. Former employees said he was a man driven by a desire to go beyond being human. He saw the Rainbow Friends not as failures but rather as necessary steps toward perfection.

Red started living as a recluse, spending weeks at a time down in the tunnels beneath the Play Place. People said he would talk to his creations with a soft and soothing voice, as if they were his children. "They're not monsters," he once told one of the staff members. "They're the future."

But even as Red went mad, fissures began to appear in his empire. Accidents started to happen more frequently. Creatures that were formerly contained in their cages began showing up in strange locations. People talked about how Purple—the secretive Friend that almost nobody knew anything about—had taken control of the ventilation system and was using it to spy on visitors and workers alike.

The Rainbow Friends were no longer experiments. They were evolving, and their creator was losing control.

It was on that sweltering summer night of 1985 when The Play Place started to take its nosedive. A group of thrill seekers snuck in after hours—teens from a neighboring town carrying flashlights and camcorders. They aimed to find out the truth behind the rumors about The Play Place. What they stumbled upon would change everything, showing the terrifying secrets hiding behind its happy face.

The footage found on their camcorder—jumpy and fragmented—has become something of an urban legend. Starting with shots of the group laughing and checking out empty halls adorned with colorful murals that contrast with increasing worry in their voices, it begins jovially enough. But the further in they go, the less they laugh. The camera catches fleeting visions of unexplainable things: a shadow darting down the hall, soft growls emanating from the walls, and the laughter of a child coming from nowhere.

Their descent into the lower levels was the beginning of the end. The footage becomes chaotic: there is running, shouting, and strange noises. The group starts to fall apart, one by one. The last clear shot is of Blue, his massive body emerging from the darkness, his mouth twisted into an eerie grin as the camera hits the floor.

The next day, the authorities could find no signs of the teens. Their families, who demanded answers, were met with quiet, subtle threats. The Play Place did shut down for some unknown time. Red disappeared, leaving behind only mysterious notes and the confusing terrors he created.

Years later, journalist Marie Nolan, with the help of leaked documents, eyewitness stories, and a strong will to get to the bottom of the story, decided to research what had happened at the Play Place and dug up the background of Red and his experiments. Mariele discovered an unmistakable nexus between the Play Place and Project Spectrum. The released CIA papers told the tale of Red's role in Vietnam, his later "disgrace," and his goal of reviving the failed project. And further, she had uncovered signals that confirmed Red didn't work alone. "Very well-placed" anonymous sources pointed out mysterious sponsors—business groups and government officials—that had underwritten his tests years after the end of the war. Marie's search led her to the remains of the Play Place, overgrown now and crumbling down. She entered the building, her heart pounding in her chest, and took note of every little detail. What she found was worse than she had imagined: the sublevels were still intact, their walls scorched with chemicals, stained with blood; vats of murky liquid contained half-developed creatures floating silently within.

The tunnels were filled with quiet noises—scratching, shuffling, and sometimes strange growls. In the deepest room, she found Red's personal journal, and its pages were filled with thoughts that sounded insane. He wrote of the "perfect spectrum," a balance of color and feeling that could reach beyond what it means to be human. He spoke of the Rainbow Friends as not mistakes but rather steps toward a greater purpose. The final entry was chilling: "They will find me, but it won't matter. The work is eternal. The Rainbow will never fade.". Marie left the Play Place with the journal and her recordings, but she never could publish what she found. Days after she came back, she disappeared without anyone knowing where she went. Her car was found left behind near a state park, with her things untouched. All that was left was her strange last message, shared online just hours before she vanished: "It's not over. It's never over. He's still out there." Today, the Play Place stands as a warning against too much ambition.

Its colors are faded and peeling, and in place of children's voices, the wind blows. Locals avoid the area, but those few who venture close swear they hear soft voices calling out for help. It is not known what happened to Red. Some say he died in the tunnels, taken by the very monsters which he had created. Others believe that he still lives on, continuing his experiments at some far-off location. People claim to have seen "Rainbow Friends" in vacant buildings, forests, and even sewers all over the country, leading to rumors that Red's creations got out and are spreading. The story of the Rainbow Friends is not just a scary story but a serious one about how cruel people can be. It is a warning in every bright color of the rainbow that sometimes even the most colorful things can hide very dark secrets.