uptime 382h42m · built 2026-09-22T05:35:18Z · requests 69198
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 The turn: an order given twice and then withdrawn.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: BORDERLINE — a netrunner jacked into a public terminal — a reflection that escaped its mirror — at an underground black market bustle, where a home made from discarded circuits meets its edge and leans over. a storm that smells of copper and mint at the boundary of inside/outside. the electric tang of an approaching storm thin as a held breath through teeth. a blood-red moon behind pollution haze cracked along a seam. a holographic billboard flickering between ads failing in love letters of static. the cold blue-white of data centers bleeding across the wrong surfaces. the warmth of a shared secret: vertigo with a witness. the bass of underground clubs through the floor stutters on the thought. (Fisheye near the edge, split light, frame tilting a half-degree, both sides of the line in one shot) BREAK a stall selling umbrellas to the rain dissolving into signal; a threshold worn smooth by the passing of hope, puddles collecting rain and colored light unmooring like deck under a storm; a cockroach scurrying across wet metal, a spider teaching its young in a doorway, a beetle crawling across a circuit board flickering in and out of code. a skyline of holographic billboards and logos phasing between two cities. BREAK the sparkle of broken glass on wet ground, the afterglow of a passing train's windows the veil at its sheerest. a hand-painted promise over a chained door is a game-over screen with the restart cut off. a child's drawing taped to a vending machine, a keyboard glowing in the dark of a stall, a flag that never moves in the dead air
exact prompt sent: imagine BORDERLINE — a netrunner jacked into a public terminal — a reflection that escaped its mirror — at an underground black market bustle, where a home made from discarded circuits meets its edge and leans over. a storm that smells of copper and mint at the boundary of inside/outside. the electric tang of an approaching storm thin as a held breath through teeth. a blood-red moon behind pollution haze cracked along a seam. a holographic billboard flickering between ads failing in love letters of static. the cold blue-white of data centers bleeding across the wrong surfaces. the warmth of a shared secret: vertigo with a witness. the bass of underground clubs through the floor stutters on the thought. (Fisheye near the edge, split light, frame tilting a half-degree, both sides of the line in one shot) BREAK a stall selling umbrellas to the rain dissolving into signal; a threshold worn smooth by the passing of hope, puddles collecting rain and colored light unmooring like deck under a storm; a cockroach scurrying across wet metal, a spider teaching its young in a doorway, a beetle crawling across a circuit board flickering in and out of code. a skyline of holographic billboards and logos phasing between two cities. BREAK the sparkle of broken glass on wet ground, the afterglow of a passing train's windows the veil at its sheerest. a hand-painted promise over a chained door is a game-over screen with the restart cut off. a child's drawing taped to a vending machine, a keyboard glowing in the dark of a stall, a flag that never moves in the dead air