Every AI Horror Project Lies to You. I Built One That Refuses.
This is a submission for the Hacktoberfest Open-Source AI Challenge Week 4: Ghost in the Machine A Hacktoberfest 2026 submission for "Ghost in the Machine" A digital séance for dead websites — with an invariant that cost me happy and sad at the same time , lots lesson learned, and the broken CORS p

Hacktoberfest Open-Source AI Challenge: Ghost in the Machine Submission 👻🌼
This is a submission for the Hacktoberfest Open-Source AI Challenge Week 4: Ghost in the Machine
A Hacktoberfest 2026 submission for "Ghost in the Machine"
A digital séance for dead websites — with an invariant that cost me happy and sad at the same time, lots lesson learned, and the broken CORS policy.
There's a very specific kind of grief that comes with losing a website.
Not the grief of losing a person — that's different, sharper. This is the slow ache of remembering a URL that used to mean something, and typing it into a browser that returns a blank parking page. Geocities. Friendster. Vine. SixDegrees. Boo.com and even MySpace? Every single one of them used to exist. They had users. They had servers. They had cooling fans that ran at 3 AM because someone, somewhere, was still scrolling.
And then they just... stopped. Not with a bang. With a redirect.
But here's what took me the longest to get right — and the thing I want to lead with:
Most "haunted AI" projects work the same way: you point a model at a URL, and the model happily hallucinates a spooky story. Try dev.to and it'll tell you about "a defunct developer community that perished in a tragic server fire." dev.to is not defunct. dev.to is literally hosting the challenge I'm submitting this article to.
So before OSSUARY ever calls an LLM, it asks one question: is this domain actually dead?
Four independent signals have to agree — DNS, WHOIS, Wayback Machine, Wikipedia. If any of them contradicts, OSSUARY refuses with HTTP 422 ( "still_breathing" ) and logs the refusal in Sentry with a tag kind: paranormal, system: gate. Every refusal is an event. Every refusal is part of the story.
That single decision — refusing to lie — turned a toy into something I actually believe in.
OSSUARY is a digital séance for the internet's dead. You whisper a dead domain into the altar, and the ghost of that domain speaks back — a first-person narrative, generated by an open-weight model, voiced by AI, archived forever in a database.
How it interprets "Ghost in the Machine": most horror-AI demos treat the machine as a source of fiction. I wanted the opposite — the machine as archivist. The ghost isn't invented. It's reconstructed from real data: the last packet the server ever sent, the last snapshot the Wayback Machine ever took, the last line Wikipedia ever wrote before the shutdown was finalized.
Every one of these systems can fail. When one does, it doesn't produce an error screen — it produces a diegetic message:
"The echo faded before it could be recorded." (Backboard timeout) "The ghost has lost its voice." (ElevenLabs quota)
The refusal gate is enforced in three places in the codebase:
Digital necromancy tool that summons the ghosts of dead domains and servers.
The myspace.com case is my favorite edge case. The domain is still alive (it's a music portal now), but the social network you remember died in 2011. OSSUARY makes an editorial decision to treat repurposed domains as "dead services" — because the ghost we want to summon is the Myspace of 2005, not the music portal of 2026.
A digital necromancy ritual for the internet's dead.
Live Ritual · Demo · Report Bug · Request Feature
Hacktoberfest 2026 · Ghost in the Machine
"Every ghost-story project points a model at dead code. OSSUARY checks if it's dead first."
OSSUARY is a séance for the internet's forgotten corners. Whisper a domain that no longer exists — a dead startup, an abandoned fanpage, a service killed by an acquisition — and the ghost of that domain will speak back. It pulls its last heartbeat from the Wayback Machine, its obituary from Wikipedia, its echoes from SerpApi, and weaves them into a first-person narrative, voiced aloud by ElevenLabs and preserved forever in MongoDB Atlas.
But here's the twist that makes it more than a horror toy: