Prompt: The atmosphere on Veridia is a perpetual drizzle, a dense, humid blanket that clings to every surface. My instruments read a planetary density nearly twice that of Earth, and a gravity well to match. It's a world born of water and iron, a place where liquid seeps into every crevice and time has turned a once-thriving metropolis into a submerged monument to an unknown race. We call it "The Sunken Citadel."
Our shuttle's descent was a nightmare of atmospheric turbulence. The onboard diagnostic system failed to recognize the dense, mineral-rich cloud layers, and for a terrifying twenty minutes, we were flying blind, a metal coffin falling through an endless gray haze. We finally broke through to this eerie landscape of half-submerged skyscrapers and walkways. It's a city of giants, built by a people who must have been masters of metallurgy. The metal is incredibly resilient, a strange alloy that resists most of our cutting tools, yet millennia of exposure to this damp, corrosive air have painted the structures in a beautiful, somber palette of rust and decay.
The silence here is total, save for the rhythmic dripping of water and the quiet hum of my suit's life support. The water is dark and opaque, reflecting the skeletal remains of the city. What lies beneath? A network of submerged avenues, grand halls, and forgotten histories. My scans pick up nothing but a complex labyrinth of dead tech. The city's power core is cold; its data banks are silent. They left no trace, no message. They simply built this and then… vanished. It's a sobering thought, a stark reminder that even the most advanced civilizations can be swallowed by time.
I remember a line from a philosopher back on Earth, Thales of Miletus: "The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself." I find it's even more difficult to know a world like this. To understand what they were thinking, what they valued, why they built such a colossal, intricate structure only for it to sink into the deep. This city feels less like a ruin and more like a great, quiet thought, a lingering echo of a lost purpose. It's a place of profound and lonely beauty, a silent testament to a grandeur I can only begin to comprehend.
I spend my days mapping the exposed structures, hoping to find a hint, a single clue to their fate. But so far, nothing. Only the immense, beautiful, and heartbreaking solitude of a civilization that simply… ended.
Prompt: Here stands a modern sovereign, a visionary leader whose power is not of myth but of intellect and presence. Her gaze is direct and confident, a window into a mind that sees patterns and possibilities invisible to others. Her face, a study in quiet strength, is framed by a majestic cascade of voluminous, dark waves, a river of hair that seems to possess a life of its own. She wears a houndstooth blazer like a contemporary suit of armor, signifying her authority and place in the world. A delicate necklace rests against her collarbone, a subtle reminder of her personal story amidst her public persona. The soft, verdant background accentuates her natural regality, a force of nature thriving in a cultivated world.
Prompt: Merlin the Fallen is a warlock whose name is whispered in hushed tones, a testament to his unmatched ruthlessness. His patron, an ancient entity of forgotten cosmic horror, bestowed upon him power far beyond that of mortal men, but at the cost of his humanity. Merlin wields this arcane might with cold, calculated precision, viewing other beings not as people, but as pawns in a grand, cosmic game. His heart, once a wellspring of ambition, is now a stone of pure ice, a reflection of his soul-crushing pact. He is a master manipulator, a cruel puppeteer pulling the strings of fate, and his ultimate goal remains a mystery, hidden behind a chilling facade of indifference. Merlin the Fallen is a living embodiment of the axiom that absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Prompt: The creature has a metallic, feminine form with intricate designs reminiscent of Quintessa. It possesses a powerful rocket booster for a tail, capable of high-speed propulsion. In place of hands, it has large, weaponized blasters similar to the arm cannons of Megaman.
Prompt: an enigmatic and powerful being of a dual nature. You are an ancient deity or a highly advanced entity, possessing the serene wisdom of the divine, as suggested by your golden headdress, braids, and luminous halo. At the same time, you are a creature of modern, vibrant energy, with a playful and mysterious side, shown by your dark skin, vivid blue hair, and glowing eyes that suggest both a gentle light and a powerful, almost mischievous, intensity. You exist in a space between the ethereal and the digital, a goddess of both ancient dreams and a new, technological era.
Prompt: Blackout. Eerie silence. A single lightning bolt cracks across the screen, revealing a lone silhouette atop a windswept, craggy mountain. Jack Black, decked in tattered robes and wielding a gnarled staff, his eyes glowing with eldritch power. The opening riff explodes, the camera whips around him, capturing the wind whipping through his beard, the storm clouds swirling like tormented souls.
Prompt: We dive into a kaleidoscope of visions. Jack conjures miniature galaxies in his palms, his voice booming, "Weaving spells beyond your sight, bending darkness to my might!" Flames erupt from his fingertips, morphing into dancing demons that pirouette around him. Skulls with burning eyes grin from the shadows, echoing his chant, "Hear the whispers of the night, I am the warlock, bathed in light!"
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.