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Today’s dystopia, today’s cars
Pick a preem ride that says “I really want to stay at your house”
You best start believing in cyberpunk dystopias, choom.
You’re in one.
It didn’t arrive in a blaze of neon, chrome, and trench coats. No—this one crept in with 36-month leases, connected infotainment, and subscription-only features for your car that you already paid for. The skies aren’t pouring acid rain, but the cloud is always watching. And you have to ask yourself: Do I really own my car?
Welcome to the age where your vehicle is a node in the network, your commute is recorded logged in sixty-nine databases, and the only thing more aggressive than the acceleration of an electric car is its Terms of Service.
But stress not. Just because the world is teetering on the edge of techno-feudal collapse doesn’t mean you have to drive a shabby looking lump of a car. In fact, if you pick the right ride, you can look like you’re resisting—even if you’re just late to your third gig shift of the day, between your two jobs. Nova..
Let’s explore the most Cyberpunk-Chic cars you can actually buy (more or less) for those who want to embrace the aesthetic of the end times with active lane-keeping assist.
Toyota Prius Prime
It won’t let you down
Seen here in Guardian Gray, thanks to Toyota’s generous image gallery, the Prius Prime cuts a sleek profile. It is far departed from the original Prius, which aspired to be as interesting as dishwater.
Wide-set rear tail lights say ‘impulse speed’ and the blade-like headlights cut a clear path.
The design language is fluent in future. When I’m in the left lane and one of these passes me on the right, I feel like I’ve had a brush with a corpo-sponsored air taxi.
How about those specs?
2.0 liters of fury, with four cylinders pumping out a combined 220 horses.
Electronic CVT transmission, which is probably OK.
Going all out, it reaches 60 mph in 6.7 seconds. Respect.
Gas mileage is as good as 52 mpg in hybrid mode. Wow!
Inside, the Prius Prime features the obligatory touchscreen implanted into the dash. Obligatory these days. But here, it works. It’s placed where your eyes already go, and it doesn’t feel like it was bolted on during a lunch break. Possibly, it wasn’t even a Friday design decision.
The interior strikes a nice balance—just busy enough to be interesting, without tipping into relentless chaos. The shift knob isn’t stupid, which frankly puts it ahead of many modern automatics. (Porsche, we’re looking directly at you.)
Button lovers will find a soulmate in the steering wheel, which offers the tactile satisfaction of a mission control panel. If you remember the Atari Jaguar gaming console, it seems its controller found a second life here, nestled into the steering wheel
If it were up to us? We’d spec the black and red SofTex interior. It’s bold, clean, and totally nova.
And here’s the final surprise: it’s roomy—even for the tall-tall. Headroom is generous, legroom is sincere, and the seating position doesn’t feel like a punishment. My minor gripe? The front pillars stretch into infinity, vanishing down into the abyss.
Who is this car for? Slick low level corpos that want a quiet, reliable, and efficient ride.
Hyundai Ioniq 5 N
This car runs some edges
Where to start with Hyundai? This wasn’t an easy decision. All three Ioniqs: the 5, the 6, the 9. They make me want to hop in the car, blast the Tron 2 soundtrack, then drive one straight into my garage and spray-paint NO FUTURE on the door in tasteful, matte fuchsia.
Picking just one felt wrong. But the 5 N can’t be ignored.
This is not just the hot version of an interesting EV. This is a full-bore (full-wind?), limit-pushing, gravel-spattering future machine with just the right amount of styling to give you a hint at what it can do. You might say it’s a sleeper, but I say it has one eye open. It doesn’t just suggest fast. It looks like fast escaped containment.
The utlimate hatch pick right here, for your cyberpunk dystopia. The thin headlights look mean, lifted straight from the head of a massive ‘mech designed for war. The transition in the rear from bumper to light bar is framed. It draws the eye to the retro-futuristic detail.
And how about those specs?
Up to 84 kWH battery will let you tear it up between plug-ins.
Is 601 horsepower enough for you? Yes, yes it is.
It rips to 60 in a mere 3.0 seconds.
Per Car and Driver, it hits .96 g on the skidpad. Hold on to your chrome.
Now we move on to the interior. Unfortunately, this is where my will to continue the love letter to the Ioniq 5 N starts to wane.
It’s not bad. It’s just a bit uninspired. After the exterior’s angular bravado and the performance specs that read like a purpose built getaway car, you open the door and are greeted by a blocky, grayscale rec room. The seats are properly bolstered. The steering wheel is ergonomic. But the design feels like it was ported over from a very safe minivan concept car a few decades ago and never really evolved past having touchscreens added in.
The displays are crisp. The controls make sense. But where the outside of the car whispers Neo-Tokyo time trial, the cabin quietly mutters “conservative family car.”
Who is this for? Those who have just, or are considering, throwing off the corpo shackles and ripping it up in something fast and grippy.
Cadillac Celestiq
Corpo-chic, overclocked
For when you want to glide silently through the choking smog while reveiwing your quarterly earnings on a crystal touchscreen.
There was a time when Cadillac meant gigantic tail fins, land yachts, and the implication of cigar odor drifting from the windows. That time has passed. The Celestiq is so far advanced in its evolution it’s almost like a different species.
Let’s be clear: if this is a shooting brake, then it’s firing a gold-plated bazooka. This isn’t a wagon. This is an orbital weapons platform with luxury seating and lustrous interior treatments. It stretches across the road like it owns the asphalt, because frankly, it does.
This beautiful beast looks like it was built in a wind tunnel inside a jewelry store. Long, low, and impossibly smooth, the Celestiq doesn’t drive so much as hover through its tax bracket.
And the specs?
It’s frankly gauche to even ask. Do you ask how many calories are in a Faberge egg?
The Celestiq isn’t here to compete with cars. It’s here to haunt them. This is a hand-built electric flagship that doesn’t concern itself with things like 0–60 times or skidpad results. If you own this car, you have people for that.
You can tell your driver:
This car has 655 horsepower, fueled by a 111 kWh battery pack.
It reaches 60 in 3.7 seconds. You’ll be to your board meeting on time.
Handling? Don’t worry about it.
Inside the Celestiq, the laws of physics and time politely wait at the door.
It’s less a cabin and more a rolling luxury suite, where every surface is curated, every seam appears hand-stitched, and every control placed with the gravity of a ceremonial plaque. The beautiful pillar-to-pillar screen dominates the dash, and if you’re wondering whether that’s overkill, you’re not in the right tax-bracket.
The vibe is quiet power. Private terminal energy. The kind of interior that suggests your name shows up redacted in classified documents. Important conversations happen in this vehicle.
Who is this for? This isn’t for the C-suite Corpo. It’s for the ghost in the boardroom—the one whose retinal scan grants access to restricted districts and whose net worth is only whispered about in Swiss banks.
Dodge Charger Daytona EV
It was inevitable
Dodge posed a bold question:
What if we took a car beloved by people who treat open headers and exhaust-based hearing damage as a love language?
Who think 93 octane tastes better than coffee?
Who hate EVs on principle, on sight, and loudly to every social media site they access?
What if we took this car and made it electric?
The result is the Charger Daytona EV. A car designed not to convert the faithful, but to confuse them into a performance-induced fugue It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t guzzle. But it still refuses to be subtle. The charger broke out of a containment facility and refused to update its firmware- with violence.
From the outside, the Charger Daytona EV is every bit the muscle-bound mauler it needs to be. Long hood, wide-stance. Fat tires. But everything’s been sharpened just a little bit.
It’s not subtle.
It’s not graceful.
It’s a rolling act of defiance—against aerodynamics, the petrol industry, and the Charger’s loyal fan base.
Every guy ranting into a video through his Oakely sunglasses should take a breath and give this car a test drive. They might be surprised.
And yes, let’s talk specs.
The Scat Pack version puts down 670 horses.
0-60 is in a foam-harvesting 3.3 seconds.
The battery is 100.5 kWh, plenty to terrorize your neighborhood every single day.
Cyberpunk meets retro-futuristic muscle in the best interior Dodge has ever put into a vehicle. This interior is a command center for asphalt-destruction. Your sunglass-wearing tiktok rant videos will be straight fire from this ride.
The ambient lighting casts a glowing net across the doors. To ensure that the most amount of masculinity is painted into this vehicle the feature is called “Attitude Adjustment Lighting” which offers a long list of customizable colors to help you get in the mood to collect points on your license.
Who is this car for? Those with a nomadic spirit and desire to drive a muscle car that weighs a chin hair away from the Toyota Sequioa.
T̵̫͉͍̽̎͋é̸̗ŗ̸̼̜̊̓̋͝͝ş̶̢̜̟̯̌͐͠l̵͍̗̘̳͠ī̵͕̍̂̍n̶̹͑̽ ̶͖͈̰̙̠̌̆̀͝C̶̟̺͖̃̑ͅų̴͈͉̦̽͌̏͂̀b̵̨̟̹̤͑ẻ̴̺̼̱͓͆̍̂͠ͅr̴͕̗̖͂͆t̵̛͙r̸̭̻̦͙͗̀̀͛̎a̴͉̠͚̾̈́n̵̗̖͂̇͗́͘ḱ̶̖̬͒̅̚͠
S̷͎̈́k̶͎̅ḁ̸͑m̵̫̒t̵̠͂é̸̠b̵̦̈́e̶̟̿ŕ̶̪d̸̥͊ ̷̛̱a̶͉̋s̶̛͔h̸̤͌t̶̗͐n̵̡͠i̶̜̚c̵̫̎ẗ̶̙i̵̝̊c̸̫͗ ̴̥͒f̴̼̂ọ̸̐ ̶͙̋ḑ̸͒ĭ̴̱s̷͎͂p̸̜̽e̵͖̎t̴͓̒m̵̳̽e̶͖͊n̸̯͝t̵̻̄
4̸͛ͅ ̵̱͋w̶̩͑h̴͚͝ḛ̷̀ȅ̶̹l̴̜̂z̸̫͒ ̷͚̉ò̶̠f̵̗̔ ̵͓̽d̵̯̕í̶̧s̷̛̥t̴͕̒r̴͙̓e̸̘̒s̵̡̀ ̴̩̀n̸̘̅ ̸̢͋u̷̙͗n̶͎̚p̷̞̀ơ̶̲l̶̤̓i̴̝̐s̶͎͛h̸͕̉’̴̯̕d̵̛̻ ̷̜͊m̵̤̎e̵͓̋n̸͇͛a̷̪͋c̵͈̿e̶̘̔
̴̝́
̷͇̇T̴̬̎e̷͖̚r̴̥̄s̶͍͝l̷̡̓i̴̤͐ṉ̶̉ ̵̜̔s̴͉̽a̸̯̋ŷ̸͉:̶̢̅ ̵̭̐ẁ̴̹e̷̯͛ ̵̢̌g̴͔̽i̴̞͒v̴͓͝ ̶̖͠y̵̝̎ū̵̮ ̴̻̐ṯ̴͆ŕ̷̖ù̵̱c̵̖̈́k̷̭̾.̸͎̀ ̸͉͌Y̵̬̎u̴͎͠ ̵̮͆s̶̫̿a̵̦͐y̷̦̍:̷͎͐ ̷̮̋b̸̺̈u̸̡͝t̵̩͝ ̶̙̐w̵̛͇h̷̥͊y̸̺̋ ̷͎͒î̵̲t̴̳̆ ̴̱͒s̸̪͐ȟ̶͉á̵͇r̶̤̂p̵̤̂?̵̄ͅ ̴͓͆T̸̩̉h̷͈̚e̵̬̅y̸͖̅ ̵̫͂s̶̻͝a̵̖̔ỷ̸̺:̵̠̄ ̸̱̐b̵̥̊ẽ̷͇c̵͈̓ü̵̟z̸̨͆ ̶̘́y̵͎̅e̵̱̾s̶͕̅.̵̯̔
̵͚̀Ȉ̷̠ṭ̶͆ ̸̞̾i̶̪͋s̶͚͆ ̵̭̂m̶̝̋a̴̜̋d̶̲̓ȩ̸̋ ̸̻̈o̵͚͒f̶̯̓ ̷̹͠m̵̳̀à̶̹d̶̘͐g̴͎̋l̴̰͠ȅ̷͔ ̷̻͑ś̴̯ṭ̸͝e̷̘̓è̸̯l̵̲̔ ̵̭͗a̵̠̕n̴̫͛d̵͕͝ ̷̜̐b̷̥́a̷̗̐d̵̦̃d̴͈͠ ̵̻́m̷̠̽e̵̬̋m̷̢̑o̴͔͊ȑ̸͜ï̶̝z̶̰͝z̶͔̒.̵̥́ ̵̰̈́Ȉ̸̘t̷̺͗ ̶͈̄h̴͍́a̵̰͋z̵͇͐z̸̖̍ ̵̓ͅn̴͈͗ö̷́͜ ̸͗ͅf̸̙̊ả̸̲ć̸̠e̴̖͌,̴̜̐ ̸̫̏b̶̹̒ů̶̡t̸̎ͅ ̸̹̅s̴̠̕ṱ̷̉a̸̻͗ȓ̶̤ḛ̷͛s̶̪̓ ̴̥͛b̶̼̀a̷̤̽k̴̡̕.̵̝͂
̸̦́
̵̢̐Ȉ̶͜ț̸́ ̴͙͗d̸̻̃r̸͉͑ì̷͎e̶̼͑v̵̲͆ ̴̘͋l̶͕̆i̴̡̇k̶̬̑e̶̛̼ ̷͉͋n̶̥̋o̷͙͐i̴͙̐s̸̹͝e̸͇̕ ̵͖̋b̸͉̎u̴̡̐t̸̲̐ ̵͍̏s̸͈̚ṃ̴̕ę̴̿l̵̙̕l̷͇̇ ̸̼̅l̶̨͠i̷̙̇k̸͕͒e̶̳̾ ̸͎̔ǘ̴͇p̴̻͆l̸͈͂ȯ̸̧a̵͖̓d̶̟͒.̵͎̒ ̴̄͜W̴̝̏h̵͇̃ĕ̷̡e̸͇̔l̷̻̄s̵͙̿ ̴̣̈t̸̬̍ô̵̬o̶͛ͅ ̴͔̈b̴̰͠ị̵̔ǧ̴͈.̶̖̈́ ̸͕̚S̶͖͝h̵̩̊ă̸̭p̷̙̍ė̴̦ ̸͉̈́ṯ̴͐ō̸̩ȯ̵͔ ̸͕̆p̴̰̽o̶͎͂ḽ̷͊y̸̺̋g̸̍ͅỏ̸͓n̶̖͒.̶͎̓ ̸͍̚M̴͉̈́ȉ̷̞r̷̼̂r̶̯͆õ̴͍r̴̤̕z̷̟̃?̶̣͘ ̶̘͠ñ̷̙a̸̰͒h̵̖͊.̴͚̎ ̸̺̊W̸̭̍i̴͍͑n̷̻̐d̷̡̈́ơ̸͙w̴̮̓z̴̧̆?̴̦̚ ̷̣͠f̶̲̆ẻ̴͈a̵̡̿r̵̺̓ ̴͈̂t̷͎̽h̷̫͂e̷̥͘ṃ̴̐.̶̺͒
̸̩̐
̸̧̏S̴̺͠u̴̞͂m̵͇͗ ̸̨̔s̴̢̀a̵̝̋ỵ̸̀ ̶͚̓i̷͖̒t̶̥̊ ̸̬̈́w̴̢̕a̷̙͛z̴̻̾ ̸̯́b̶͚͆ṳ̸͘i̵̛͍l̶͈̐t̴̜͝ ̶̺̉b̵̯̾y̶̰̏ ̶̞͊p̵͓̽e̴͈̕o̵̤̊p̸̥̏l̴͙̿e̷̔ͅ.̵͔̽
̵̋ͅS̸̟̒u̸̬͋m̸̝̈ ̵̝̏ș̸̕ä̷͕y̴̩̍ ̷͉̋ỉ̴͔ṱ̷͘ ̴̎͜j̶͔̏u̷̥̇ś̷̢t̷̻͘ ̶̭̋h̴͓͒a̴̰͝p̵̟̍p̵̳̀e̴͓̍n̵̰̉ȇ̷͓d̸͓̊.̵͕̈́
I̸̢͝n̴̫͐s̷̻͂i̸̛͜d̷̰́e̵͍͘ ̸̔ͅi̶͚̒z̵̢̿ ̶͉̆ć̴̝u̸͙͐b̷̗̊e̷̼̒-̶̗̔f̵̙̅é̴͇è̷̼l̴̛̺.̴̜̂ ̸̤͐Ạ̴̀ḽ̷͌ḽ̵̏ ̵̭̈́f̸͉̏l̶̜̒a̶̹̔t̶͘͜.̴͖̇ ̸̨͆Ä̸̢́l̸̬̐l̴͉̅ ̷̝͐g̵̱̉r̸͖͋a̶̼̋ỳ̴̹.̴̬̄ ̷̱̿A̵̹̕l̵͎̽l̵͚̈́ ̵̼̈́s̶̙̃c̶͓̑r̴̺̐e̴̱̔è̵ͅn̵̘̈́.̸̗̚
̴̨̓
̴̢̂C̴̰̎ḧ̶͓́a̷͚̽i̸̹͠r̸̬͒z̸̰͝ ̸̣̓f̸͓͋e̵̘̅ë̶͈ḽ̴̽ ̴̬́l̵͕̑i̵̕ͅk̸̦̽ě̷͉ ̸̧̊ċ̵̹h̶̝͗ả̷̺i̵̲̿r̸͝ͅz̶̖̽ ̷̝͘b̵̬͝ú̷͜t̶̨͌ ̷̻͗m̷̠̑ô̶͖ŗ̷̄e̷͖̓…̷͇̽ ̶͇͂i̷̭̾d̸̫̐e̵͚̿a̸̺͗ ̷̹̎ẗ̵̯ḥ̷̓â̸̜ñ̶̦ ̴̱̈ò̸̧b̸͍̋j̴̯͆e̴̻̋c̷͓̐t̴̼̓.̴̠͝
̸́͜Ŝ̴̝t̸̬̒e̸̼̓ē̵̟ŗ̴̉y̶̻͗-̸̧͋w̴͇̐h̴̥́e̸̞̕e̷̛͍ľ̷̤ ̵̳̕i̸̤͌z̸̬̽ ̷͎͊ḣ̷ͅâ̴̝l̶͙̍f̷̱́ ̷̠̏c̴͗ͅi̶͚͑r̷̼̈́c̵̈́͜l̴̖̀ḛ̵̓,̷̭̃ ̵̞́ḥ̸̅a̵̖̿ľ̵͇f̷̳̅ ̶̰͒t̸̾ͅh̸̠̃ŕ̵̝e̸̫͘a̴̬̿t̵̳͝.̸̜̇ ̶̹̂D̶͖̍a̶͔͋s̵̹̃h̶͇̍b̴̫̈́o̴̼͐ả̷͉r̴̺͐d̸͎̚ ̴̰̈́n̶̟̔o̵͙͌ţ̷͂ ̷͇̽d̷̢͐a̸̪̋ş̸̊h̴̲̓.̵̯͗ ̷͍͑I̵̪̍ţ̵̌ ̵̽͜ï̶̢ž̵̹ ̶̙̍t̵̼͐ả̴͉b̸̧̛l̷̟̒ė̵̪ ̶̛̼o̵̗͠f̴͔̄ ̴͍̾g̴̱͂l̵̼͂a̸͚̿ȓ̴͍e̴͖̅ ̸͙̀a̴̰̓n̷͖̔d̸̗̈́ ̵̧̃ŵ̵̹h̴̞͠ï̶̳s̸̳͛p̴͍̿ȩ̶͠ȓ̷̩.̸͖̄
̵̖͝T̶̨́ô̷͕u̴̜̾c̴̘̽h̶̬̑ ̸̓͜s̸̩̋ć̸̤r̷̥͆e̷̞̔ë̸̱́n̶͍͌ ̷̈́͜b̵̞̑ỉ̸͜g̸͕̐.̴̳͘ ̸̹̈́T̶͉͠ó̶͔o̴͍̕ ̸̯͗b̴̭̽i̷̹͌g̷̠̏.̷̥̃ ̷̭̇W̸̞̽ä̶̺́ṅ̶̬t̷͇̊ ̵̧̉b̵͇́ũ̸̪t̴̤͗ť̶͇o̷͜͝n̷̜͑?̷̼̉ ̶͚͛N̶̖̆ö̴̻́.̶̠͝ ̸̖̈́Ỳ̴̠o̸̗͒ǘ̶̼ ̷̭̒g̷̨̛e̴̯͂t̴͓̑ ̵̻̀i̷̱͝c̵̡͂o̵̝͊n̷͈̈́.̶̲̍ ̶̩̓Y̵̢̾o̸̫̓ǘ̴͕ ̶̢̀g̶̻̈e̶͔̕t̵͚̕ ̷͕̉s̸̢̆w̵̩̑i̸̩̋p̵̫̏è̵͇.̸̭͛ ̵͓͌Y̸̹͗ỏ̵̱u̴̫̽ ̶̻̊ģ̵̂ȅ̶̫t̷͔̅ ̸̖͝m̶̨̾é̷͉n̷͙̚û̸̜-̷͖́i̴͉͐ń̴̟s̶̜̓ì̶̝d̵̠͝e̶̙̊-̴͓̄m̶͈̀e̸̛̥n̴͚͌u̵̙͘-̵̨̒ḯ̶̲n̵̙͒s̶̯̚i̸̭̓d̶̖̅ę̷̊-̵̩̈́l̸̢̀i̸̩͛e̴̹̾.̸̙͂
̷̜̄Ẁ̴̻h̴̲̓e̶̛̥ŗ̷̾ ̷̞́ḓ̷̚ḯ̸̫s̶̹̈́ ̷̨̑f̷̧̽u̸̩̍r̶̡͑?̵̧͂ ̴̣͑F̷̞̓ȕ̸͇r̶̟̾ ̸̩͌ḿ̸̰ê̷̘a̷̖͠t̸̩̀ ̵͖̃w̶̠͆ḯ̴̫t̴̘͛ ̶͈̽c̸͔͋r̶͍̎ý̸̜p̷͚̔t̶̲͑o̷̠͛ ̴̺͊ẘ̶̝ạ̴̅l̸͍̀l̶̞̑ḙ̵͑t̵̛̬
SLATE
The obvious cyberpunk truck pick
Pictured above is our custom configuration, done via a wrap at their configuration page.
The anti-bloat truck. No screens. No shine. No strange claims.
The lowest cost vehicle on the list, which in fact, is its major marketing strategy.
While other EVs chase clout with light shows and luxury trim, the Slate Truck shows up like a cinder block on wheels. This is a compliment.
It’s made of unpainted gray polymer, much like your wheelie bins. There’s no badge polish, no techno mysticism, no self driving to blame when you aren’t paying attention. Just a steering wheel, a seat, and the expectation that you’re going to get something done.
It’s performative minimalism, and it works for us. Mount your phone, your speaker, toss your gear in the back.
It’s modular. It’s repairable (I’m not naming names here.) It doesn’t care if you like it because it is emotionally mature. It’s what happens when a work van and a municipal recycling bin have a child and raise it to be anti-authoritarian.
Specs?
Like previous entries, we’re going with best case scenario.
Power? 201 hp. It’s plenty. EV rocketships have set strange expectations.
The battery can be as large as 84.3 kWh, which isn’t bad at all.
I couldn’t find a 0-60 time, it might still be working on it.
What is there to say about the interior? It’s a perfect thematic match for the outside. A refreshing lack of screens greet us on a spartan dash.
Who is this for? This isn’t a truck for influencers. It’s a truck for people who have a job. The working class civilian.
Hyundai N Vision 74
This is why you clicked the article in the first place. The one true cyberpunk car. Just look at this damn thing.
It’s ripped straight from the 1980s and brutally forced into this century. Anything I say can’t do it justice except: Hyundai, please, please build this car.
Specs?
It is a concept car, and a hydrogen powered one at that.
A rumored 670 horsepower pushes it from 0-60 in 3.5 seconds.
It runs on electricity (62.4 kWh) and hydrogen. Nova.
Who is this for? Not you. Not yet.
One response to “Cyberpunk-Chic cars for Today’s Dystopia”
Stand by. We’re not sure what happened with the entry about the T̵̫͉͍̽̎͋É̸̗Ŗ̸̼̜̊̓̋͝͝Ş̶̢̜̟̯̌͐͠L̵͍̗̘̳͠Ī̵͕̍̂̍N̶̹͑̽ ̶͖͈̰̙̠̌̆̀͝C̶̟̺͖̃̑ΙŲ̴͈͉̦̽͌̏͂̀B̵̨̟̹̤͑Ẻ̴̺̼̱͓͆̍̂͠ΙR̴͕̗̖͂͆T̵̛͙R̸̭̻̦͙͗̀̀͛̎A̴͉̠͚̾̈́N̵̗̖͂̇͗́͘Ḱ̶̖̬͒̅̚͠. I mean the T̵̫͉͍̽̎͋É̸̗Ŗ̸̼̜̊̓̋͝͝Ş̶̢̜̟̯̌͐͠L̵͍̗̘̳͠Ī̵͕̍̂̍N̶̹͑̽ ̶͖͈̰̙̠̌̆̀͝C̶̟̺͖̃̑ΙŲ̴͈͉̦̽͌̏͂̀B̵̨̟̹̤͑Ẻ̴̺̼̱͓͆̍̂͠ΙR̴͕̗̖͂͆T̵̛͙R̸̭̻̦͙͗̀̀͛̎A̴͉̠͚̾̈́N̵̗̖͂̇͗́͘Ḱ̶̖̬͒̅̚͠.
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