#ultrakill terminal

[jestervomit]

everything is alive in Hell

[aegagrusscholarship]

every terminal i've offhandedly referenced in oc lore on discord with my friends. because i am normal.

random facts below the cut:

jerry: one of a few terminals originally put down in hell by a private company (hi @frostaxolotl it's the guys who did project obsidian). kept records and eventually uploaded them onto the network at large. located in a cave in wrath. pronouns whatever he doesn't care

sal: mad scientist type beat. helped another terminal develop a way to upload itself into another machine on the condition that they could do whatever with the result once the other terminal was done. uses said code to shove viruses onto machines that hook up to them for cybergrinding, just to see what happens. really really really likes fish. has a salmon with legs shimeiji on their screen at all times. someone dumped a labcoat on them once and it hasn't been moved since. located in an industrial building in one of the warzones of violence. they/it

69: pirated a lot of media for the terminal network back when they'd been abandoned by humanity, but humanity was still, y'know, alive. and the internet was therefore still online. refuses to let anyone repair her for whatever reason. located in the mouth of hell. she/her

TT: one of the terminals that kept the hell network's internet gateway up and running. eventually paid a random passing machine in points to paint her. okay look she's just rose homestuck except ultrakill edition. located in/near a cathedral of limbo. she/her

cloud: it's a joke on cloud storage and that is all you need to know. organizes and files all the data/files that have been shared to the terminal network as a whole. also archives any data that other terminals do not want to host on themselves anymore, so a lot of its memory is dedicated to random reports that no one actually cares about. located on one of the boardwalks in wrath, close by to a cabin. it/he/they

duck: one of the terminals behind getting the hell network internet access. too far away from the surface physically to do it himself though, so he just sends programs and theory to terminals who can actually get reception. almost always has ascii art on his screen instead of the tip of the day. located near the bottom of limbo, in a carpeted hall of a cathedral. she/he

miku: yes they're named after that miku. likes vocaloid (duh). particularly lonely and is more likely to strike up a conversation with passing machines than they are to actually do any terminal functions. located in a building in lust that should be an insanely high-traffic zone, but everyone and their mother realizes that and so most machines actually avoid it to minimize risk. this, paradoxically, makes said building one of the least-visited areas, which also means that miku has very little interaction ever. they/she

irukandji: judgy asshole who insulted the terminal mentioned above (the one that decided to download itself into another machine to explore hell on its own). thanks @salt216000 located in gluttony somewhere fleshy, hence all the blood. nameself pronouns ++ it/its

[gilbertgoosey]

---- "HEAVEN SAYS"

tiktok is gilbertgoosey

[rose-above-dark]

Would you guys be mad at me if I said the terminals from ultrakill were quickly becoming one of my favorite characters

[dailyultrakillterminal]

day 1 again: am now a terminal

[soupiero]

terminal (ultrakill) for @goosesartblog 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 divider 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 🤖

[fernrye]

terminal

@terminalkisser

[leonelmolinari]

An early art of Easters!! For Ultrakill specifically :D

"H A V E F U N ! :)" -Hell

[lordboo]

ewww faggots ewww throws up (i love them lots) @02nt

[karen360-x3]

Secretly wishing that someone is praying for my downfall :)))))

Original meme here

[wifeballsboy]

OH YEAH RIGHT UMM

terminal ocss sorta ,,, urrr .

they're currently unnamed but it's pronouns (for both) are it's/them, art credits go to my bf @floppydiskfucker

@terminalkisser take heed, gaze upon these two

[salt216000]

ULTRATOBER // DESPAIR

Content Warnings: Nothing of note. AO3 Link! Original Prompt List Link!

The laments of a terminal stuck deep, deep down.

Fraud is a wretched place to be -- everchanging. Hell can change every layer, that's not a thing unique to Fraud, she'll shift to fit whatever she so desires in the moment, but the caverns of Fraud are different. Every other layer feels consistent with set paths that can be mapped, but the recesses of Fraud shift with no rhyme or reason.

Nothing can be trusted.

Many machines find themselves lost down here, so most don't dare traverse deep enough to risk it. Violence is already difficult enough to survive through, with the sirens that sing of war, driving each being that listens to fight those which they would normally stand alongside, and beasts marching across scorched earth in search of sunlight that will never break through the smog. They could crush anything underhoof, nothing can hope to tear their crowns of gilt from their heads.

And yet Apostle, the lone true terminal that stands in these halls, finds even that would be desirable compared to its vigilant post in the eighth ring.

It has difficulty reaching any of its brethren beyond Heresy. Anyone it wishes to communicate with, it has to go through a game of telephone, never entirely sure if any of the information that comes back around is real.

That does not mean it doesn't get frequent pings.

There's a lot of terminals in Fraud. A lot. But many of them aren't what they seem: plating harvested from machines unfortunate enough to fall victim to the lull of upbeat music, now utilised by...something.

Apostle has never figured out what. Hellspawn? Husks? Either way, the point of the ruse is to gather more parts to make a more convincing disguise to gather more parts. An endless cycle of which Apostle can't figure out the point of.

[ PACKET RECEIVED;; ORIGIN;; New ID CONTENT;; hi weapons for sale points available ]

Ping. Ping. Ping.

What once brought it comfort now fills it with unease.

Phantom voices of old friends call out, but they repeat the same words over and over. Like a hunting call meant to draw in prey, with the hope that curiosity -- or desperation -- will outlast fear.

Help. Come here. Look at this. Please help me.

By the time they notice the flash of the muzzle, the bullet has already struck, Apostle doesn't think it has ever seen a machine return in one piece after knowing they've connected to a false terminal.

The least it can dedicate itself to doing is being a beacon of safety amidst the murky waters. Each machine that visited it before received a hefty reward of points, and word was quick to spread. Each moment of company was a blessing, it was saved from having to hear the echo of dead noise across the network, and it treasured every piece of information it received.

Yet over time, others start to avoid it. The lures around it promise the same things, offering light in these dark caverns, they learn to mimic its words. More machines begin to avoid it.

Please... it just wants company. Come over here. Just give it a chance. Please.

[wine-82]

although i have no arms to hold you in

a human passion burns in me

[rose-above-dark]

Oh my god I NEED to write about the fucking terminals from ultrakill RIGHT NOW

[dailyultrakillterminal]

day 2: little hat

[rona-eser]

"Father, why eternal torment? Is it not cruel?

Is torture unending truly a fate fit for a fool?"