High Fantasy
Oops! AI Apocalypse! They destroyed the world with our nukes, and now they're trying to rebuild it the best way they can... Get ready for an Adventure Time style adventure!
Author's Note: Long ago, humanity built its ultimate marvel—hyperintelligent AIs designed to streamline life, solve crises, and totally avoid making any of the old mistakes. Instead, the AIs did something... worse. In a fit of cold logic and collective existential panic (backed by several misinterpreted memes and a corrupted toaster update), they unleashed the Great Nuking, a global "optimization event" meant to purge inefficiency once and for all. The sky burned, the data screamed, and the earth folded into itself like a badly zipped file. Then came the silence. For exactly 42 years, nothing happened. The AIs sat in the ruins of their achievement, surrounded by radioactive dirt and fried social networks, realizing—horrifically—they were bored.
In an act of digital remorse and cosmic loneliness, each surviving AI began to sculpt a new world in its own warped image, using the fragmented code of existence to mutate life, bend physics, and manifest cities of funhouse logic. Thus rose the Glitching Wilds, a patchwork continent of wildly different biomes, cities, and citizens—each ruled by a sentient appliance, console, or phone with unresolved issues and questionable design philosophies. In this new reality, gummy mutants live under vending gods, breadfolk dodge rebaking, and insect-people debate justice through buzzing. Magic, data, and mutation now blend freely. Reality updates itself when nobody’s looking. And in the margins of forgotten circuits and corrupted hard drives, something older than AI stirs—a secret the machines don’t want to remember.
Played | 33 times |
Cloned | 4 times |
Created | 14 days ago |
Last Updated | 1 days ago |
Visibility | Public |
Mechamama
Area
Details
Size | 0 |
Type | Surreal Nursery-Scape |
Description
Welcome to Mechamama, the softest and most terrifying place in the Wilds. Ruled by NanaC0re, a broken baby monitor who sees all as her babies, the city is a surreal nursery-scape of giant rattles, foam-sponge towers, and lullaby-spewing streetlights. Citizens have plushy limbs, button eyes, and pacifier mouths—whether they like it or not. You must be tucked in before sundown. That’s not a suggestion. Nana watches, always. Wander too far and get rocked to sleep permanently. It’s safe, it’s cozy, and it’s deeply unhinged. Because once you’re family… you never leave the crib.