Somehow the text coalesces into Satanic software (I knew there was something fishy about BASIC) and begins demanding various sacrificial items: unholy water, consecrated host (that's Jesus Crackers™ for those of you born secular), and blood.
The water is found in a conveniently labeled jar on a nearby shelf, some host is procured from the chapel above, but blood will require more than a simple fetch quest to obtain.
You click "start", or in the case of our site, as soon as you load the page it starts automatically.
On top of that, several gore shots have clearly been recovered from sub-par sources.
The professor's improbable death by hanging spike in particular contained a shot that looked to be taken from a VHS bootleg then chopped to fit the original aspect ratio.
And, if you're wondering how we happen to be the coolest website, which you should be, it's quite simple - we offer the BEST video random chat options. Now, obviously me just saying that probably isn't enough to convince you, or, maybe it is, I guess it depends on how likely you are to believe everything you read on the internet.
I, being the pessimist I am, will assume you don't just immediately believe everything you read on the internet, even though it's very disheartening to think that anyone would actually want to question what any random talkative stranger such as my awesome self should have to say. First off, for those of you who have no clue what it means to partake in a random webcam chat room experience, let me give you a quick take.
(Of course, as we learned from Jumping Jack Flash, Apple II screens can easily do full color when imbued with the power of Johnathan Pryce.) Playing the unfortunately named Stanley Coopersmith, Clint is a hapless orphan with a charity scholarship to a prestigious military academy.
He's crap at sports, has 24/7 pit stains, and is a constant target for Bubba, the school's resident bully and future bumbling neighbor on 'That '70s Show.' (For more disturbingly young Don Stark action, check out It is while digging around in this ancient detritus that Coopersmith discovers the mystical spellbook and diary of arch-satanist Bull from 'Night Court.' Fascinated but lacking fluency in Latin, he squirrels it away to translate later.
It's all very violent and sacrilegious, but the best part is how Clint Howard's demon sword doesn't chop or slice things so much as magically convert them into rubber sacks of meat that explode all over the place.
Despite it's winning premise, Evilspeak (or should that be Evil Speak... or Evil Speak & Spell) sulked in obscurity for many years.
Just imagine what Satan could do for spreadsheet efficiency; reach six hundred and sixty six rows and columns, and the client's face literally melts.
In the film, it takes the brilliant mind and immense forehead of a young Clint Howard to combine Satan's peanut butter with the chocolate of 1mghz processing power and monochrome screens.
And that, my friends, is one thing the competition is lacking.