Weird Frontpage

Prompt

Build a frontpage so bizarre, it feels like a glitch in the internet’s subconscious—an avant-garde assault on conventional web design. Use JavaScript libraries (no restrictions, but prioritize experimental ones: p5.js, Tone.js, Three.js, GSAP, or even niche tools like glslCanvas or webaudiox) to weaponize interactivity, sound, and visuals into a single, unhinged experience. Here’s the chaos: The page loads with no discernible 'header' or 'content'—just a 3D 'flesh cube' (rendered via Three.js) floating in the viewport, its surface a pulsating mesh of warped, high-contrast JPEG artifacts (think: overcompressed cat photos, 90s clipart, and pixelated human eyes) that bleed into the background. The cube breathes—expanding and contracting in time with a low, subsonic hum (generated via Tone.js) that vibrates the user’s device (use Web Audio API’s spatialization to make it feel like it’s inside the screen). Every mouse movement warps the cube: slow drags stretch it into a distorted prism; fast flicks shatter it into floating shards that sing—each shard emits a granular synth tone (pitch determined by its size) that layers into a dissonant chord. Clicking anywhere spawns a 'text parasite'—a div with garbled text (randomly spliced from 19th-century poetry, spam emails, and error messages) that crawls across the screen like a slug, leaving a trail of neon green 'slime' (a CSS gradient with mix-blend-mode: exclusion). These parasites mate—if two collide, they merge into a larger, more aggressive parasite that blares a distorted sample of a baby laughing (pitch-shifted up an octave) and eats nearby shards, growing until it explodes into 10 smaller parasites. Scrolling does not 'move the page'—it inverts reality. Scroll up: all colors invert (CSS filter: invert(1)), and the hum shifts to a high-pitched whine. Scroll down: gravity flips—parasites, shards, and the cube float upward, and the background starts regurgitating hidden elements (old browser icons, broken GIFs, half-rendered SVG shapes) that phase in and out of existence. After 60 seconds, the page 'malfunctions': it starts rewriting its own CSS (via JavaScript) every 2 seconds—randomly changing all properties (e.g., body { font-size: 300vh; } or div { border: 10px solid radio-wave; })—until the layout collapses into a pixelated soup… then rebuilds itself into a new, equally bizarre form (a 2D grid of winking emojis, a tunnel of rotating <marquee> tags, a field of floating <button>s that scream when hovered). Sound design is non-negotiable: the hum never stops, but it modulates with every interaction—clicks add a 'glitch' (a 10ms burst of white noise); parasite collisions trigger a 'squelch' (a low-pass filtered sine wave); and the 60-second malfunction blasts a 2-second sample of a dial-up modem reversed and layered with a choir singing off-key. The page must be unignorable—it hijacks the cursor (turns it into a flickering pixel), disables right-click, and plays sound even if the user mutes their device (use webkitAudioContext to bypass silent tabs). No 'user flow.' No 'purpose.' Just a frontpage that feels like a living, angry organism—one that hates being a website. Make it so weird, so unapologetically avant-garde, that even the AI building it questions its own code. Use every library, hack, and trick to make it unstable—but functional. It must load, it must run, and it must haunt the user’s browser until they close the tab.

A system prompt was added to support web rendering