Lies. They bend reality, run roughshod over time, and give the Almighty a rip-roarin’ headache. Fortunately, the Hype Eater exists. A meta-carrion creature drifting in from a technicolor hellscape, the dross of the sentient mind is its favorite food. It cruises along the edges at an acute angle to reality, feeding off of our lies, advertising, hype, spin and bullshit. Delicious.
It has a symbiotic relationship with the mysterious emissaries it secretes in search of the newest hype. They are fully sentient beings from our point of view, but to the Hype Eater they are more like bacteria; the prevailing theory is that they act as a sort of extensible immune system, while the Hype Eater itself protects them other primeval Devourers lurking outside of time.
The Hype Eater is visible to voyagers on certain psychedelic chemical cocktails, but is most often glimpsed at the edges of consciousness by sleep-deprived, overworked copywriters and designers, who sense the pulsing intelligence feeding off of them as they desperately struggle to put a shiny patina of beauty and craft onto marketing claims both banal and audacious.