BAMBI THE DESTROYERBambi the Destroyer begins like any ’80s fantasy movie pulled straight from the video store: a young woman accidentally travels through a vortex and lands in another dimension filled with strange creatures and dangerous monsters that seem to have spent their entire lives waiting for her to arrive.
From that moment on, our voluptuous heroine swaps her ’80s clothes for a skimpy warrior outfit, learns how to swing a sword, and eventually becomes a kind of
female Conan, making her way through a fantasy world packed with mutants and that wonderful lack of self-consciousness that defined classic B-movies.
The series consists of
12 episodes lasting barely one or two minutes each. The story limps along, the narrative keeps tripping over itself, and the plot logic decided to travel through another vortex and never come back. But honestly, none of that really matters. The most interesting thing isn’t what the series tells us, but
how it was created.
The images, characters, settings, dialogue, voices, music, and movement were all generated by combining different artificial intelligence systems. There are obviously many hours of work behind it, but the entire project was created by a single person giving instructions, selecting results, and fitting all the different pieces together.
And that’s where it’s worth stopping for a moment. Barely a decade ago, producing something like this would have required actors, cameras, costumes, sets, technicians, musicians, visual effects specialists, and several months of work. Today, one person can sit in front of a computer and request it using lines of text.
Not design it, model it, animate it, and program it from scratch: simply ask for it.
The result is still far from perfect. Some shots don’t fit together, movements look strange, and continuity wanders in and out of the story whenever it feels like it. But there are also swords, monsters, impossible landscapes, and a flesh-baring ’80s warrior traveling through another universe. And all of it came out of a computer after someone figured out how to explain exactly what they wanted.
Bambi the Destroyer may not be the future of cinema or a cult classic, but it offers a small glimpse of how this new era could begin.
Below, you can watch all 12 episodes and visit the creator’s Instagram account to follow the project.
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Grandpa is blown away.
AMATEUR FLESH: JENNYJenny is an amateur like they used to be. Proper old school.
From back when the amateur phenomenon revolutionized the internet and thousands—actually, forget thousands—
hundreds of thousands, millions of photographs were scanned, digitized, and shared across the web.
We’re talking about the late ’90s and early 2000s, when the first consumer digital cameras began appearing and a slow connection wouldn’t stop someone from spending half the night downloading a photo that would open in less than a second today.
Back then,
amateur content was purely and simply synonymous with homemade content. There were no professional studios faking spontaneity, no agencies placing cameras in carefully lit bedrooms, and no profiles using a suggestive photo as the gateway to a monthly subscription.
When someone shared photos or videos of herself naked, masturbating, or having sex, there usually wasn’t a business strategy behind it. The motivation was much simpler:
the thrill, pure exhibitionism, and the excitement of knowing that strangers were watching from the other side of the screen.
It was imperfect content, poorly lit and recorded with pretty mediocre cameras. And that was exactly what made it authentic. It wasn’t trying to look homemade:
it was homemade.
Jenny comes from that lineage. So far, she isn’t sharing links, directing anyone toward paid profiles, or teasing the audience just to sell them the full menu afterward.
She may change her mind tomorrow, because times have changed for amateurs too. But for now,
genuine amateur blood is still running through Jenny’s veins.
And around here, we’ve always known how to appreciate
some good amateur flesh.
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