uptime 382h43m · built 2026-09-22T05:35:18Z · requests 69236
Quick run — for custom batches, add prompts on the Prompts page and Start. Story templates live in meta/story-templates.txt.
ACT II — THE CONTROL ROOM — (watching other people fight:1.3) (the same recurring cast, consistent faces, bodies and clothing across every image, identical character design:1.2) Featuring Sergeant Kade, armourer, forearms like winch cable, a welding mask pushed up on the forehead, drums of ammunition stacked behind; also Lieutenant Dana Sorren, frame pilot, a flight suit with three kill marks, hair cropped under a helmet, a photograph taped inside the cockpit; and at the back of the room, Corporal Bright, trainee pilot, too young for the suit, a helmet two sizes large, chewed fingernails on the control sticks. a gunner checking the turret travel by hand, in the darkened room with the map projected on the wall. No light but sodium lamps hazing the apron, and the room reads proud of a hard-won frame. (Dark room lit by monitors, backs of heads, one pilot's face). a 14mm with the screens wrapping the room; cockpit framing with instruments crowding the edges; graded ice blue, steel and orange lamp. Watching a screen that is not theirs: the one who thinks the war is already lost. Written down but never reported: a drink taken at an hour nobody saw. Across the headsets: a hand on a shoulder instead of a sentence. BREAK a boarding ladder rung huge at the edge; on the tiled floor, mud caked on frame feet, oil pooled in a drain trench; and going cold on a desk, fitters eating on a crate, a rat along the cable trays. Filling the far wall: the city skyline smoking. The turn: an order given twice and then withdrawn. BREAK a pilot who has not slept, a replacement pilot nobody has met, a rotation list with the same names on it. BREAK Reflected in the screens: light running along a rail, the polished brass of a worn instrument bezel, hot metal spitting sparks, chrome catching hangar light. (mecha control room, screens, cinematic:1.2) ice blue, steel and orange lamp. Avoid text, lettering, watermark, signature, extra fingers, deformed hands, extra limbs, blurry, low detail, jpeg artifacts, organic monsters, medieval weaponry, fantasy magic, hand-drawn linework. · queued — waiting for the driver
prompt: the group losing their backup dancer and winning without one unfolds inside a noir city at midnight where the encore is heavy rain: A star in a sparkly mini dress caught mid-twirl at the end of a stage in a rain-hood puffer in highlighter yellow and a long braid draped over one shoulder plays the moment at a hotel rooftop pool at blue hour — She sings the ad-lib with a finger raised to the sky. holding a mic stand like a dance partner under disco ball shards drifting across the venue. the ad-lib that silences the whole arena cuts through; moon jellyfish drifting through the arena aisles crowds the frame. the light stick that won't turn on, switched mid-wave nearly breaks the take; gratitude overflowing as the crowd sings every word back holds it together. a fan-chant message decoded mid-song in the screens pulses in the a confetti cannon field mid-fire, gold flakes in the air; a cameraman threading a steady-cam cable around the stage crowds around. Palette sunset peach into electric blue, mood vulnerable and raw in the ballad bridge. Shot as an aerial drone shot pulling back over the arena — a 50mm neutral observer, focus locked on the rhinestones of her jacket, flash-stilled at 1/250s, every sequin tack-sharp with headroom tight, the mic cutting the lower frame; keyed rim-only backlight, her front lit only by the stage floor bounce; a fan-level fancam from the third row, caught on the last note of the killing part; graded desaturated backstage documentary with grain.. BREAK Detail: a fabric banner that unfurls on the final chorus, live cameras on rolling dollies capturing every angle, sequins catching light in a ripple wave, denim frayed at the hem and catching the strobe light and sweat beads mid-air off the forehead, the skirt flaring frozen at peak spin; lens flare cutting across the frame from the front blinder, a prism spray shattering off the sequins off a star-field video panning behind the ballad; the playful eye-roll at a member's joke, the half-smile at the camera operator with a a giant moon prop hanging low over the stage wink.
exact prompt sent: imagine the group losing their backup dancer and winning without one unfolds inside a noir city at midnight where the encore is heavy rain: A star in a sparkly mini dress caught mid-twirl at the end of a stage in a rain-hood puffer in highlighter yellow and a long braid draped over one shoulder plays the moment at a hotel rooftop pool at blue hour — She sings the ad-lib with a finger raised to the sky. holding a mic stand like a dance partner under disco ball shards drifting across the venue. the ad-lib that silences the whole arena cuts through; moon jellyfish drifting through the arena aisles crowds the frame. the light stick that won't turn on, switched mid-wave nearly breaks the take; gratitude overflowing as the crowd sings every word back holds it together. a fan-chant message decoded mid-song in the screens pulses in the a confetti cannon field mid-fire, gold flakes in the air; a cameraman threading a steady-cam cable around the stage crowds around. Palette sunset peach into electric blue, mood vulnerable and raw in the ballad bridge. Shot as an aerial drone shot pulling back over the arena — a 50mm neutral observer, focus locked on the rhinestones of her jacket, flash-stilled at 1/250s, every sequin tack-sharp with headroom tight, the mic cutting the lower frame; keyed rim-only backlight, her front lit only by the stage floor bounce; a fan-level fancam from the third row, caught on the last note of the killing part; graded desaturated backstage documentary with grain.. BREAK Detail: a fabric banner that unfurls on the final chorus, live cameras on rolling dollies capturing every angle, sequins catching light in a ripple wave, denim frayed at the hem and catching the strobe light and sweat beads mid-air off the forehead, the skirt flaring frozen at peak spin; lens flare cutting across the frame from the front blinder, a prism spray shattering off the sequins off a star-field video panning behind the ballad; the playful eye-roll at a member's joke, the half-smile at the camera operator with a a giant moon prop hanging low over the stage wink.