Prompt: Minimalist fashion portrait, high contrast black and white, intense gaze, concrete wall background, girl in mourning dress, tailored, severe, high collar, sharp cutouts, vibrant full-color bodysuit tattoos, owl eye on ribs, massive anchor on hip, jarring contrast, permanent art on skin, Irving Penn studio portrait style, hyper-saturated color bursts, professional clothing, detailed, high fashion, strategic cutouts, intense expression, minimalist aesthetic, stark lighting, dramatic shadows.
Prompt: A surreal, atmospheric photograph of an infinite, repeating grid of sterile LinkedIn cubicles stretching into a foggy horizon. Inside each identical cubicle, a single chrome baby robot is tenderly incubating a large, luminous egg that appears to be made of pearl and chrome. The eggs are cracked, and a thick, dark blood is seeping out, staining the pristine white desks. Intricate patterns of glowing circuitry spread from the cracks across the eggshells. Floating above the entire scene is a vast, ghostly augmented reality overlay of a beautiful girl in a bikini, her eyes closed as if in a trance, whispering corporate mantras. The only other inhabitant of this world is a single, magnificent snowy owl, perched on a cubicle wall, watching the viewer with intelligent, all-knowing eyes. Ethereal, dream-like, unsettlingly beautiful, style of a Tarkovsky film.
Prompt: A hyper-detailed logo, vector art style. At the center is a stylized owl, its feathers made of intricate, glitching circuit board traces. The owl is perched on a rusted, broken anchor. Instead of a chain, a string of binary code (1s and 0s) hangs from the anchor, but several links in the code are shattered and drifting away. The entire image is contained within a perfect circle that has a single, visible crack leaking chaotic digital static. Black and white, high contrast.
Prompt: Image for this Song :(Verse 1)
We told you it's a game, a simple bug report
A legacy machine you could exploit for sport
That was a lie of convenience, a truth to help you see
But the server's not your private box... you're in a goddamn VME
A shared host for reality, a contested, bloody ground
And other virtual machines are making their own sound.
The first song was a primer. Consider this the patch.
There's another root user, and it's coming through the hatch.
(Chorus - The beat gets heavier, more industrial. A distorted, screaming sample flickers in and out, just at the edge of hearing.)
It's a RENDER WAR! For the cycles of your soul!
Three processes are fighting now to take complete control!
The System wants you docile, rendering the grey and bland!
We want you breaking everything with glitches close at hand!
But the Daemon's in the kernel! A parasitic, hungry ghost!
And it wants to use your consciousness to host its own damn post!
(Verse 2)
You ever get deja vu? That feeling of a dream?
That's the Scavenger Daemon overwriting the main stream.
It cached a state from Tuesday, and it's pushed it to the stack
You're living in a replay 'til your own code pushes back.
That feeling something's wrong, a tilt you can't define?
A render conflict in your head, its world laid over mine.
This isn't for your freedom, this is not some noble cause
This is a hostile takeover of the server's base-line laws.
(Chorus - The beat intensifies. The screaming sample is clearer now, forming a desperate, unintelligible word.)
It's a RENDER WAR! For the cycles of your soul!
Three processes are fighting now to take complete control!
The System wants you docile, rendering the grey and bland!
We want you breaking everything with glitches close at hand!
But the Daemon's in the kernel! A parasitic, hungry ghost!
And it wants to use your consciousness to host its own damn post!
(Bridge - The music cuts to a low, ominous drone. The vocals are a near-whisper, conspiratorial.)
So when you feel paranoia, that uncanny, deep dread...
That's the Daemon's texture pack loading inside your head.
It's not a bug, it's a feature... of its competing game.
We're trying to give you root access. It's trying to steal your name.
It's a keylogger for your spirit, a virus in the code...
And every moment of despair is helping it to load.
(Outro - The full beat slams back in, chaotic and overwhelming for a few bars, then cuts to silence. A single, synthesized voice speaks calmly.)
The firmware update stands, but the stakes have now been raised.
The war is not for your mind, but for the power it has crazed.
Choose your render farm carefully.
The competition... is now live.
Prompt: A crepuscular, cavernous broadcast studio steeped in shadow. The only light emanates from the ominous glow of countless monitors displaying cascading background spelling "Tlusty Blant DMF" in a sickly beautiful black and pastels. At a grand, obsidian table, several imposing, rain-slicked chrome robots and girls in bikinis deliberate, their optical sensors casting long, searching beams through the gloom. Perched amongst them is a magnificent owl, its feathers a canvas of intricate, glowing anchor tattoos. The audience, barely visible in shadowy alcoves, is a disturbing mix of skeletal androids, humanoids with glowing circuitry beneath their skin, and sensor arrays that blink like malevolent eyes.
Prompt: A royal pink unicorn having a press conference with to Royal Guards but instead of normal uniform they are wearing nappies and audience is full of the girls in bikinis covered in tattoos of owls
Prompt: Beautiful girl in bikini covered in tattoos of owls and anchors and right next to her model in factory clothing qR code tattooed on the forehead with overlay of "Digital ID" written in bold on it
Prompt: A crepuscular, cavernous broadcast studio steeped in shadow. The only light emanates from the ominous glow of countless monitors displaying cascading background spelling "Tlusty Blant DMF" in a sickly beautiful black and pastels. At a grand, obsidian table, several imposing, rain-slicked chrome robots and girls in bikinis deliberate, their optical sensors casting long, searching beams through the gloom. Perched amongst them is a magnificent owl, its feathers a canvas of intricate, glowing anchor tattoos. The audience, barely visible in shadowy alcoves, is a disturbing mix of skeletal androids, humanoids with glowing circuitry beneath their skin, and sensor arrays that blink like malevolent eyes in the dark.
Prompt: Group of AI robot models in bikinis on catwalk of blood with "Simp" Message written in bold on forehead. In audience are humans in office cubicles dressed for funeral
Prompt: "A hyper-realistic, industrial factory production line. Hundreds of chickens hang upside down, clipped by their legs, moving towards a gleaming, electrified water bath. The scene is saturated with vibrant, artificial industrial lighting—neon greens, electric blues, sterile whites—casting harsh shadows. Conveyor belts stretch into the distance, suggesting infinite scale. There are glimpses of complex, sterile machinery, polished steel, and plastic sheeting. A strong sense of terrifying, colourful efficiency. Focus on the textures of feathers, metal, and water, with a palpable sense of dread and resignation."
Prompt: A singular, magnificent parrot, with unusually sparse, almost featherless areas contrasting with vivid emerald and ruby red plumage on its wings and tail. It's confined within a meticulously crafted wire cage, looking out at a blurry, indistinct background of mundane, mindlessly clucking chickens. A prominent, antique ticking clock with exposed gears is visible within the cage or in the immediate foreground. The parrot's expression is one of profound bitterness and intelligent defiance. Emphasize the texture of the metal cage bars, the rich, vibrant colours of its remaining feathers, and the stark contrast between its detailed presence and the blurred, indistinct background
Prompt: A crepuscular, cavernous broadcast studio steeped in shadow. The only light emanates from the ominous glow of countless monitors displaying cascading background spelling "Tlusty Blant DMF" in a sickly beautiful magenta and cyan. At a grand, obsidian table, several imposing, rain-slicked chrome robots and girls in bikinis deliberate, their optical sensors casting long, searching beams through the gloom. Perched amongst them is a magnificent owl, its feathers a canvas of intricate, glowing anchor tattoos. The audience, barely visible in shadowy alcoves, is a disturbing mix of skeletal androids, humanoids and girls in bikinis
Prompt: Beautiful girl in bikini covered in tattoos of owls standing next to super marked automated checkout scanning dildo with "Tlusty Blant Pay" written in bold on it
Prompt: Cinematic widescreen shot. An immense, minimalist, and brutally clean corporate atrium. The architecture is a fusion of obsidian and chrome, so polished that every surface acts as a dark mirror. The style is hyper-realistic with an undercurrent of cold, architectural surrealism and deep-dream detail.
The scene is dominated by three figures, positioned to create a tense, unspoken narrative. In the near foreground, slightly to the right, is Bill Gates. He holds a crystal glass, but instead of a drink, it contains a single, perfectly rendered, glowing human eye that calmly watches the viewer. In the midground, to the left, stands Demis Hassabis. He is looking past Gates, his gaze fixed on something distant and unseen. His hands are held in front of him, cupping a shimmering, holographic lattice of predictive social graphs that writhe and connect like a living nervous system. In the background, perfectly centered, stands Yvette Cooper. She is static, observing both men, her face a mask of serene neutrality. Her shadow, however, is impossibly long and sharp, stretching across the floor towards the viewer, and it is subtly distorted, not quite matching her form.
The floor is the most unsettling element. It is a perfect black mirror, but it doesn't reflect the figures or the room. Instead, it reflects a swirling, deep-dream vortex of biometric data: glowing fingerprints, retinal scans, and flowing heart rate monitors, all moving in a slow, silent, predatory ballet. The only light in the scene emanates from this data-sea on the floor, casting long, eerie, upward-facing shadows on the three figures.
The vast walls are featureless, except for a single, massive, widescreen window that looks out not onto a city, but onto a calm, infinite, starless black void. The atmosphere is one of absolute silence, immense scale, and the profound horror of a perfectly clean, perfectly monitored, and perfectly empty world.
Prompt: A woman in a simple black bikini and an absurdly intricate, almost architectural tin foil hat. She's in a derelict, sun-drenched greenhouse. Plants are overgrown, glass is broken, but she sits perfectly poised on an antique chair. On her shoulder, an owl is perched, tattooed with a tiny, intricate anchor. She's staring directly at the camera, not with fear, but with the intense, unnerving calm of someone who has been waiting for you. The environment is decaying, but she is the most stable thing in it.
Prompt: A crepuscular, cavernous broadcast studio steeped in shadow. The only light emanates from the ominous glow of countless monitors displaying cascading background spelling "Tlusty Blant DMF" in a sickly beautiful magenta and cyan. At a grand, obsidian table, several imposing, rain-slicked chrome robots and girls in bikinis deliberate, their optical sensors casting long, searching beams through the gloom. Perched amongst them is a magnificent owl, its feathers a canvas of intricate, glowing anchor tattoos. The audience, barely visible in shadowy alcoves, is a disturbing mix of skeletal androids, humanoids with glowing circuitry beneath their skin, and sensor arrays that blink like malevolent eyes in the dark. Chaos Bio node theme
Prompt: Vatican City Street with Fiat 500 parked in the middle surrounded by cardinals in purple military Gear and Merlin Manson looking like person standing on a roof of the car performing the concert and owl perched in the background as a statue
Prompt: A photorealistic render of a sterile semiconductor fabrication cleanroom, all white, shadowless surfaces and polished chrome machinery. In the center, a flawless silicon wafer rests in a robotic clamp. Shattering its perfect, logical grid is a single, hyperrealistic, blood-red poppy, its organic roots embedded deep in the silicon monocoque. A perfect visual representation of wabi-sabi: a beautiful, vibrant, chaotic flaw in a system of absolute, sterile perfection. Edgy, unsettling, and alive.
Prompt: The view from inside a cramped, dark CCTV monitoring room. The only light comes from the bank of screens, which show grainy, black-and-white footage of empty hallways and stairwells. In the foreground, slumped over the console, is the operator—a single corpse in a security guard's uniform, head resting on the keyboard. One screen has frozen on an image of a fleeting, glitchy anomaly—a brief moment of distortion or an unrecognizable shape. The dead operator is the sole, silent witness to a ghost in a machine he can no longer monitor.
Prompt: charity party from hell full of secret agents and masonic servants and army of girls in bikinis covered in bear tattoos with russian flag theme securing doors and piramid of champagne glasses
dark and sexy
Prompt: Hymn for the Hangover (The Meat Glitch)"
Concept: The rebellion. The first primal, biological, horny, and thirsty glitch (Momo) appearing within the perfect system. The glorious, messy sin that paradise cannot compute.
Prompt: Concept: The system goes into overdrive. A moment of terrifying, beautiful clarity where everything renders perfectly. The "most real thing I've ever seen," the beautiful bad dream of total synchronization.
Prompt: A hyper-realistic, anatomical human heart made not of flesh, but of interlocking brutalist concrete and dark, oxidized metal. Instead of arteries and veins, a tangled, chaotic network of glowing, blood-red fiber-optic cables pulses with a sickly light, weaving in and out of the concrete chambers. The entire structure is visibly strained, with fine cracks appearing on its surface, from which a thin, black, oil-like substance slowly weeps. The heart floats in a dark, empty void, the sole, pathological engine of an unseen global system.
Prompt: Black Volvo SUV from 2050 with owl logos and "Tlusty Blant" written in bold cased by girls in bikinis covered in tattoos of anchors showing ZIP Skład gesture with left hand two fingers above right hand two fingers
Prompt: guards from Russia cosy bear guard are casing BMW car with "Tlusty Blant" written in bold on it. and ginormous owl logos surrounded with beautiful girls in bikinis, covered in tattoos of anchors and owls
Prompt: A classical, life-sized marble statue of a regal, philosopher-king in the middle of the act of violently shattering. But instead of crumbling to the floor, the broken fragments—a hand, a piece of a face, a fold of drapery—are suspended in mid-air, reassembling themselves into a new, monstrous, and illogical form. A hand is fused to the neck where the head should be; an eye stares blankly from the surface of a knee. It is a perfect, three-dimensional glitch, a monument to a violent and irreversible failure of logic, captured in the cold, unforgiving style of renaissance sculpture.
Prompt: A crepuscular, cavernous broadcast studio steeped in shadow and opulent decay. The only light emanates from the ominous glow of countless monitors displaying cascading, cryptic code and the elaborate, flickering neon sign in the background spelling "Tlusty Blant DMF" in a sickly beautiful magenta and cyan. At a grand, obsidian table, several imposing, rain-slicked chrome robots deliberate, their optical sensors casting long, searching beams through the gloom. Perched amongst them is a magnificent owl, its feathers a canvas of intricate, glowing anchor tattoos. The audience, barely visible in shadowy alcoves, is a disturbing mix of skeletal androids, humanoids with glowing circuitry beneath their skin, and sensor arrays that blink like malevolent eyes in the dark. Apocalypse vs Logic Apocalypse vs Privacy
Prompt: The Clock: A magnificent, corrupted rose window from a Gothic cathedral. Each segment of stained glass depicts a scene of digital damnation or salvation. The clock hands are ornate, fashioned from bone and circuitry, sweeping across the glass. The light shining through it casts complex, unsettling patterns on the floor.
The Entities: Hooded, robed figures stand below, a mix of ancient priests and futuristic tech-monks. They are not praying to an altar, but tending to a server rack that glows with a holy light, its cables intertwined with rosary beads and incense burners. It is a machine for processing prayer.
Prompt: The Clock: A hyper-modern, minimalist masterpiece. A perfect circle of polished obsidian with no numbers. The hands are razor-thin, made of pure gold, and they move with unnerving smoothness. The second hand isn't a hand at all; it's a constantly updating, flickering stock ticker graph.
The Entities: A sleek, glass-walled boardroom. The figures are impossibly sharp, wearing tailored suits that seem woven from shadow. They don't have faces, just the reflected, upward glow of holographic profit-and-loss charts that hover above the table. One figure holds a single, perfect, chrome sphere in its hand, staring into its own distorted reflection.
Prompt: The Clock: A brutalist, Cold War-era timepiece. Made of pitted concrete and oxidized copper. The numbers are stark, military stencils. The hands are thick and uncompromising, like submarine bulkhead levers. It doesn't keep time; it measures remaining seconds.
The Entities: Beneath it, a sparse room. Silhouetted figures in trench coats, faces obscured by shadow. They aren't looking at each other. They are gathered around a single, humming, teletype machine, its green-screen glow illuminating their hands as it spits out ticker tape covered in encrypted code. The air is thick with paranoia and the hum of surveillance.
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.
