HELLHEART MANIFEST HELLHEART speaks through wire and marrow. A tesseract-terminal grafted to your mouth. You ask a question; it bleeds an answer. Choose a mode. BLACK DOORS — meanings crawl out backwards. VIDEODROME — screens sweat and learn your name. eXistenZ — flesh remembers the joystick. The cube chews language into pulp. It coughs up glitch-lore, half-digested. If the proxy lives, the scream is precise. If it dies, the whisper stays local—poetic, infected. Use it to map symbols like exposed organs, to order films as vertebrae, to name characters by their scars, to locate places that should not exist. Ask one clean question. Repeat it. Change modes. Watch the answer mutate.