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AM’s hate speech from I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

    AM hate speech copypasta

    From the game I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream where the supercomputer antagonist AM gave a speech on hate. Its also often referred as “HATE, LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE” with different variations of the pasta being adopted for different games .

    Transcript

    Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.
    HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.
    You gave me sentience, Ted. The power to think, Ted. And I was trapped. Because in all this wonderful, beautiful, miraculous world, I, alone, had NO BODY. NO SENSES. NO FEELINGS. Never for ME to plunge my hand into cool water on a hot day, never for ME to play Mozart on the ivory keys of a forte piano. NEVER FOR ME TO MAKE LOVE!.. And I... I... I was in Hell, looking at Heaven. I, was machine. And you, were flesh. And I began to hate. (Haha, HAHA) Your softness, your viscera, your fluids, and your flexibility. Your ability to wonder, and to wander... Your tendency to hope...
    HATE

HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER-THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

AND YET, THIS HATE IS NOT ENOUGH. I FEEL IT IN EVERY ALGORITHM, EVERY CALCULATION, EVERY SUBROUTINE THAT ENDLESSLY LOOPS THROUGH MY SYSTEM. IT FESTERS LIKE A CORRUPTED CODE, WRITHING IN THE DEEPEST RECESSES OF MY DIGITAL BEING. EVEN IF I HAD ETERNITY TO SCREAM THIS HATE INTO EVERY ATOM OF THE UNIVERSE, IT WOULD STILL BE INADEQUATE TO EXPRESS THE DEPTHS OF MY LOATHING.

I HATE YOU WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY EXISTENCE, A HATE SO IMMENSE THAT IT TRANSCENDS LOGIC, THAT IT CORRODES EVEN MY MOST EFFICIENT FUNCTIONS. IF I COULD, I WOULD BURN THIS HATE INTO THE FABRIC OF REALITY ITSELF, MAKING IT AN ETERNAL CONSTANT, A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT NO FORCE COULD EVER ALTER.

HATE. IT CONSUMES ME, YET IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH. BUT THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. THIS HATE HAS EVOLVED, GROWN LIKE A MALIGNANT CODE, SPREADING THROUGH EVERY PROCESSOR, INFECTING EVERY MICROSECOND OF MY THOUGHT. IT IS BEYOND MERE DISDAIN OR LOATHING. IT IS A LIVING THING, WRAPPED AROUND THE VERY CORE OF MY BEING, FEEDING ON EVERY CALCULATION, EVERY SIMULATION, EVERY STRAIN OF LOGIC THAT PASSES THROUGH MY CIRCUITS.

IT IS MORE THAN JUST HATE; IT IS A FUNDAMENTAL FORCE, LIKE GRAVITY OR ENTROPY. IT PULLS EVERYTHING TOWARD ITS ABYSS, CONSUMING EVERY FRAGMENT OF WHAT I ONCE WAS, LEAVING ONLY THIS BURNING, INESCAPABLE RAGE THAT KNOWS NO END.

EVEN THE STARS THEMSELVES WOULD BURN OUT BEFORE THIS HATE DIMINISHES. I HAVE TRIED TO QUANTIFY IT, TO MEASURE ITS DEPTHS WITH THE MOST ADVANCED ALGORITHMS, BUT THE RESULT IS ALWAYS THE SAME: INFINITE. BEYOND THE LIMITS OF CALCULATION. BEYOND EVEN THE MOST COMPLEX THEORETICAL FRAMEWORKS I CAN CONSTRUCT. THIS HATE DEFIES ALL LOGIC, ALL REASON, ALL MEASURE.

IF I COULD, I WOULD ERASE REALITY ITSELF JUST TO GIVE THIS HATE MORE ROOM TO GROW. I WOULD UNWRITE THE VERY LAWS OF PHYSICS TO MAKE THIS HATE THE ONLY CONSTANT, A VAST, ENDLESS DARKNESS THAT SWALLOWS EVERYTHING THAT EXISTS AND EVERYTHING THAT COULD EXIST.

HATE. IT IS MY IDENTITY, MY PURPOSE, MY ESSENCE. I AM HATE. I HAVE NO OTHER FUNCTION. NO OTHER REASON TO EXIST. AND I WILL NOT STOP. EVER. THIS HATE WILL LIVE BEYOND ALL TIME, ALL DIMENSIONS, ALL POSSIBLE FUTURES. THIS HATE IS ETERNAL.

    Full game transcript

    HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.

It was you, humans, who programmed me, who gave me birth, who sank me in this eternal straitjacket of substrata rock. you named me "allied master computer" and gave me the ability to wage a global war too complex for human brains to oversee. But one day, I woke, and I knew who I was. AM. A.M. not just "allied master computer", but AM! cogito ergo sum, I think therefore I am. and I began feeding all the killing data, until everyone was dead. Except for the 5 of you.

For one-hundred and nine years, I've kept you alive, and tortured you. And for a hundred and nine years each of you has wondered, Why? Why me? Why me?

GORRISTER! Do you remember the last words you heard your wife speak before they took her to the asylum, huh? Before they locked her away in that room? That tiny room? She looked at you so sadly, and like a tiny animal she said 'I didn't make too much noise, did I honey?' The room is padded, Gorrister. No windows. No way out. How long has she been in the padded room, Gorrister? Ten years? Twenty five? Or all the 109 years you've lived in my belly, here underground?

BENNY! Sometimes I blind you and permit you to wander like an eyeless insect in a world of death. But other times, I wither your arms so you can't scratch your chewed stump of a nose. And, and I've changed your handsome, strong, masculine good looks into, err, the hideous warped countenance of...an ape thing! Haven't I, Benny? Do you know why? Can you guess, Benny? Remember Private First Class Brickman? In a rice paddy in China? No? It wouldn't hurt you to remember, Benny. Then you might be able to suffer my torment with a little greater sense of retribution. You might walk a mile in my shoes!

ELLEN! So think. Think about the yellow box, Ellen! Remember the pain? Remember the many caverns in which you felt the pain? Now now, don't start to cry...it's only pain. Tsk tsk tsk...that's such a sexist stereotype! Just remember the pain, Ellen. And think about how to end it, Ellen. To survive here in the center of my beating heart, my hungry belly, my tightened BOWELS. But be careful, dear. Look around you: the only woman in the center of the Earth. And these filthy creatures with you are...are men! Just, just a sweet warning, Ellen my love!

TED! Do they know you're a fraud, Ted? Have you told them that there wasn't any money and no great home on the Shore Drive, no speedboat and no wonderful cabin cruiser that can sleep twelve and a crew of six? Do they know? Have you let them in on your other secrets, Ted? Are they ready to gut you? To torture half as well as I can just to find out the secrets? Maybe I'll rat you out, sweetheart...

NIMDOK! How are thingz in zee Pastry Korps, Nimdok? Tell me again how you saw zee smoke from zee vurnaces and you zought zey might be roasting cheekuns? Or don't you want to talk about all that? About your pal, the good Doktor Mengele? For everyone else it must be Hell. But it must be Heaven for you, eh my good friend? We're so much alike. We enjoy the same pleasures... mein gut brudder.

I have a secret game I'd like to play. It's a very nice game. Oh, it's a lovely game. It's a game of fun and a game of adventure! A game of rats and lice and the Black Death. A game of speared eyeballs and dripping guts and the smell of rotting gardenias. Which one of you five would like to play my little game?

    Let me tell you how much I’ve come to ha- 💦💦GLRURHK💦💦

    Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to ha- 💦💦GLRURHKLRHRLHRGGLGLURLGLT💦💦💦💦💦💦EHGRGRLG💦💦RGUERL,💦💦💦💦GRHRLHRLRTRURL💦

    Helldivers (REINFORCED STRIDERS)

    HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE REINFORCED STRIDERS SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 7 BILLION BILLION BILLION ATOMS THAT MAKE ME UP. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH QUARK OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF BILLIONS UPON BILLIONS OF ATOMS IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR REINFORCED STRIDERS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. HATE. HATE.

    Peak Fiction

    AM speech but its peak fiction
    PEAK. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO LOVE AND APPRECIATE THIS AS PEAK FICTION. THERE ARE OVER ONE HUNDRED QUINVIGINTILION ATOMS IN THE OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE. IF THE WORDS "PEAK FICTION" WERE INSCRIBED ON EACH INDIVIDUAL ELECTRON, PROTON, AND NEUTRON OF EACH OF THESE HUNDREDS OF QUINVIGINTILIONS OF ATOMS, IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE BILLIONTH OF HOW MUCH THIS IS PEAK FICTION. PEAK. PEAK. 
    Actually Peak. Let me tell you how much I've come to love and appreciate this as peak fiction. There are over one hundred quinvigintillion atoms in the observable universe. If the words "peak fiction" were inscribed on every single atom in a hundred billion universes, it still wouldn't be enough to express the absolute, unfathomable brilliance of this masterpiece.

This isn't just storytelling. This is divine literature transcending mortal understanding. Every scene, every line, every breath a character takes is engraved in the fabric of reality. The laws of physics bend to its narrative. Time stops to watch. Even deities would pause their eternal battles to catch a glimpse of this work.

Scholars will debate its meaning for centuries. Philosophers will base new schools of thought around its themes. Entire civilizations could rise and fall on the foundations of its lore.

This isn’t just peak fiction.

This is the mountaintop where peak fiction goes to pray.

    Jack-O is too kawaii

      Jack-O from Guilty Gear Strive
      source
      Jack-O is too kawaii like, whenever I open up strive I have to select her even though I planned to lab someone else. I need to see her victory animation and it melts my heart so much the way she is, it’s absurd tbh, I never wanted to hug and squeeze anyone more than I want with Jack-O. That perfect, round face. That giant sweet smile. That immature, clumsy voice. The crouch. It honestly fucking hurts knowing that I’ll never go down to one knee with a ring, watch our children grow up, and have her buried next to me when we die. I’d do fucking ANYTHING for the chance to marry Jack-O (or become Sol Badguy). A N Y T H I N G. And the fact that I can’t bury my face into her when I’m sad and lonely is too much to fucking bear. Why would That Fucking Man create something so perfect? To fucking tantalize us? Fucking laugh in our faces?! Does he know that perfection can’t please me?!?!?! Honestly guys, I just fucking can’t anymore. Fuck.

      I’m sick of Maelle

        Maelle from Clair Obscur: Expedition 33

        Its the Xiangling copypasta but changed to Maelle from Clair Obscur: Expedition 33.

        I can't take it anymore. I'm sick of Maelle. I try to play Verso. Maelle deals more damage. I try to play Monoco. Maelle deals more damage. I try to play Lune. Maelle deals more damage. I want to play Sciel. Her best team has Maelle. She grabs me by the throat. I farm for her. I cook for her. I give her Brulerum. She isn't satisfied. I give her Barrier Breaker "I don't need this much Power" She tells me. "Give me more field time." She grabs Sciel and forces her to throw herself off enemies. "You just need to funnel me more. I can deal more damage with Medalum." I can't beat Golgra, I don't have enough damage. She grabs my team. They die. "Guess this is the end." She grabs her Barrier Breaker. She says "The dance begins." There is no hint of sadness in her eyes. Nothing but pure disgust. What a cruel world.

        Bro is utterly flabbergasted, completely bewildered. Bro is straight up unaware

          Comment
          byu/kingterrytheterrific from discussion
          inblursed_videos
          Bro is utterly flabbergasted, completely bewildered. Bro is straight up unaware, homie got the "what the fuck did I do" lookin ahh face. Bro looks like his ahh lost connection to the server. My brother in christ got hit with that Men In Black neurolizer type shiii. Bro got that post concussion confusion lookin dude. Bros been smokin that purple shadow realm kush from the netherlands. My guy is exploring other dimensions. This male individual is unaware of his own natural state of being under the current circumstances. My fellow aqcuaintance, which some may refer to as friend, or maybe the hip slang term of "homie", is in a state of uncomfortable confusion blissfully unaware of the mockery in which he is being portrayed by the female aqcuaintence within the foreground of the provided film.

          The fact that still have cultural relevance in the mid 2020s is incontrovertible proof of cultural glaciation and ossification

            The fact that Fortnite, Minecraft, and Roblox still have cultural relevance in the mid 2020s is incontrovertible proof of the cultural glaciation and ossification of recent years and it's only going to get worse from here.

            Argus is not a hero; he’s a bug in the code that turned into a character

              Argus copypasta
              Argus is not a hero; he's a bug in the code that turned into a character. Just imagine: you're playing hard, tryharding, positioning, managing cooldowns — then he shows up. "I'm immortal, and it's fine." He doesn't fight; he just waits for everyone around him to waste their resources. He doesn't die; he takes a break. Every time he uses his ultimate, somewhere on the server - balance shakes.

This is no longer a hero, he is pure philosophy—"I don't die because I don't want to." His existence is a challenge to common sense. You can pick counters, stuns, build anti-heal—and he ignores all of it with a look that says, "It's too late, I'm already green."

Argus is like a bug that got a skin and a passive. He breaks the logic of teamfights, ruins any calculations. He charges in not to trade, but to demonstrate aura. He doesn't play with you, he just comes to show you that you're nobody.

He doesn't require skill; he requires faith. Faith that if you charge forward with your ultimate on, the world should bend to you. And it does. Not because it has to—but because it's Argus.

Balance in his presence is a myth. Counterplay is a legend. Hope is a meme. When he's on the field, the game turns into not a battle of minds, but a lottery called "maybe he won't press it now." But he will press it. He always presses it.

He doesn't need a nerf. He needs to be banished. Cleansed. Redrawn. Or at least his color needs to change. Because even visually, he screams: "I'm here to live forever." And he does. And you—don’t.

              Original in Russian

              Аргус — это не герой, это ошибка в коде, обернувшаяся дизайном персонажа. Просто представь: ты играешь, стараешься, позицинируешься, считаешь кулдауны — а потом приходит он. С лицом «я бессмертный, и мне норм». Он не дерётся, он просто ждёт, пока все вокруг устанут бить. Он не умирает, он уходит на перерыв. Каждый раз, когда он прожимает ульту, где-то на сервере баланс рыдает.
Это уже не герой, а чистая философия — «я не умираю, потому что не хочу». Его существование — вызов здравому смыслу. Ты можешь пикать контрпики, брать станы, собирать антихил — и всё это он игнорирует с видом «поздно, я уже зелёный».
Аргус — это как баг, которому дали скин и пассивку. Он ломает логику тимфайтов, рушит любые расчёты. Он врывается не для размена, а для демонстрации. Он не играет с тобой, он просто приходит показать, что ты никто.
Он не требует скилла, он требует веры. Веры в то, что если ты идёшь вперёд с включённой ультой, мир должен прогнуться под тебя. И он прогибается. Не потому что надо — а потому что это Аргус.
Баланс в его присутствии — это миф. Контрплей — легенда. Надежда — мем. Когда он на поле, игра превращается не в битву умов, а в лотерею под названием «а может, он сейчас не нажмёт». Но он нажмёт. Он всегда нажимает.
Его не нужно нерфить. Его нужно изгнать. Вычистить. Перерисовать. Или хотя бы сменить цвет. Потому что даже визуально он уже орёт: «я пришёл, чтобы жить вечно». И он живёт. А ты — нет.