“I’ve always approached paranormal equipment with caution. Too many devices seem built on suggestion, coincidence, or the investigator wanting desperately to believe. But there have been moments… moments I still cannot comfortably explain.”
It was during our first paranormal investigation inside St. Ignatius Hospital that I truly became a believer in one particular device. Like many first-time investigators, my brother and I arrived with the usual equipment: an EVP recorder, a REM-POD, DSLR cameras with different lenses, a low-light digital video camera, headlamps, flashlights, our iPhones for backup photos and videos, and, of course, a protection prayer in hand.
I had always remained a bit skeptical of many paranormal communication devices, especially traditional EVP recordings. Too often, responses seemed vague, unintelligible, or heavily influenced by investigator interpretation and wishful thinking. But the Phasma Box we borrowed from the paranormal team operating the tours that night was different.
Developed by a company called eXtremeSenses, the Phasma Box is software that runs on a portable Windows tablet. Its graphical interface almost resembles something out of a video game.
GRAPHICAL INTERFACE DISPLAY
In theory, it functions similarly to a spirit box, but without the overwhelming static. Instead, responses come through as clean, audible voices. I remained skeptical… but not for long. I briefly mentioned this experience in my earlier post about investigating St. Ignatius Hospital, but what happened that night genuinely shook me.
As I slowly walked down one of the hospital’s dark hallways with my brother several feet behind me, the Phasma Box suddenly spoke:
“Right this way, Mike.”
Instantly, I froze. Not one of the other investigative teams inside the hospital knew my name. They were on entirely different floors at the time. Furthermore, my brother and I rarely call each other by our first names. It’s usually “Bro” or a family nickname, or something similar.
There was no obvious radio interference. No investigator bias. No vague response open to interpretation.
It clearly said MY NAME and directed me where to go.
Now some people may call that a coincidence, but I struggle with that explanation. Out of thousands of names it could have produced, it identified me specifically — at the exact moment I was walking alone down that dark hallway wondering in my mind which way to explore. It was one of those strange moments where something clicks in your mind and you suddenly realize:
Maybe this device is not a novelty after all.
That was the moment I stopped dismissing the Phasma Box. And it would not be the last unsettling experience of the night. Later, near the end of the investigation, I asked aloud if the spirits were simply performing for us. The response that came through the Phasma Box was not a word.
It was a loud, maniacal laugh.
An evil laugh.
The kind that instantly raises the hairs on the back of your neck.
It almost felt as if something was responding directly:
“Yes… and I want you to be afraid.”
There is a real difference between wanting to believe… and experiencing something you cannot explain. Maybe the most unsettling part of paranormal investigation is not proving ghosts exist. Maybe it is experiencing moments that refuse to fit neatly into logic afterward — moments that stay with you long after the equipment has been powered off and the building falls silent again.
I still approach every investigation cautiously. I still search for rational explanations first.
But there are rare moments that remain with you forever.
And sometimes, those moments begin with hearing your own name spoken in the dark.
So, I recently had the opportunity to attend the Oregon Ghost Conference in Seaside, Oregon. It was a chance to connect with other paranormal groups, . . .
