#audevelopment

[understilltale]

UnderStillTale now has a Telegram channel!

(Русский ниже)

I made a cozy little Russian-language space for everything related to my AU — updates, ideas, and fun behind-the-scenes bits.

I’ll be sharing animation sketches, concept art, and lots of small creative moments that usually stay hidden.💜

🔗 https://t.me/understilltale

(✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦)

UnderStillTale теперь в Telegram!

Я сделала уютный канал на русском языке, где буду делиться всем, что связано с AU:

— скетчами анимаций

— концепт-артами

— закулисьем моих работ

— небольшими мыслями и обновлениями

Если хочется заглянуть в творческий процесс и просто быть поближе к UnderStillTale — добро пожаловать 💜

🔗 https://t.me/understilltale

[caesar46]

ARCHIVE-//fract.Σ.CRYSTAL.A01.LUMEN//-10//

STATUS: … THEME: Infection Structure

I have observed it for too long. At first, I thought I understood. But the more I watch, the clearer it becomes: I am nothing more than a small point in its system. Sometimes the filaments “touch” thoughts — cold fingers, whispering their rules. Beacons lure. Crystals grow on their own. And cores… They never die.

СТАТУС: ... ТЕМА: структура заражения.

Я наблюдал её слишком долго. Сначала думал, что понимаю. Но чем больше я смотрю, тем яснее становится: я — лишь маленькая точка в её системе. Иногда нити "касаются" мыслей — холодные пальцы, шепчущие свои правила. Маяки манят. Кристаллы растут сами по себе. Ядра же... Они никогда не умирают.

[understilltale]

Fragments of Worlds, Suspended in Time — ✨chosen by you.✨

AU Expansion: The Rift — your voices shaped this art✨

This piece was born from the recent poll — your choice shaped the vision. And so, I give you Gaster, standing at the edge of the rift, watching the worlds drift apart… (...)

What if the world of UnderStillTale is not limited to familiar places? What if during the split of time and space, entire "islands of memories" were formed - fragments of locations hanging in the void?

In this art, Gaster stands with his back to us, with a notebook in his hands, and enthusiastically records each fragment. Above him are pieces of the world: Grillby's bar, a snowy forest, a waterfall, dark clouds. All this floats in the unknown, as if inviting us to explore what is left.

🌌 But what will he find in these worlds? Answers - or even more questions?

The rupture widens. Layers of space and memory drift, severed from their origin, yet stubbornly alive. Each fragment calls to me—proof that nothing truly vanishes, only rearranges itself. I record, I trace, I marvel… and I wonder—how long until I too am reduced to a fragment?