SILLY CENTRAL

This is a redraw of my very first mo4 fanart... Happy 2 years, you wretched gunslinger!!

5/10/26 vs 5/13/24!

The world is not alive in the same way it used to be. A part of it has been parasitized and changed, stretched thin, and the whole of it has been twisted around the finger of something else, twisting something else around its finger in turn. Warped and curved upwards in a spiral, not recognizable. Condemnable. An earthly cannibal. It's horrible and evil and terrible now, and there's nothing anyone else can do to fix it or save it, and the poor, poor little people who live in this terrible world don't even know it! Nobody except..... 𝖍𝖊𝖍…........ Debacleworld is a magical post-post-apocalypse where nobody can even remember their great gaping chest wound dealt a billion bajillion years ago, and where nobody even knows they're already dead. At one point it looked like earth, and now it looks like earth but wrong... What a big freaking bummer, dude!!! At least we can shoot colors from our fingers and our children are born with two heads. Let's chop one of those off [but pick correctly or you'll be tonight's biggest loser!] We exposed ourselves and our skies to something that should never have touched us and we'll be feeling its effects forever. But ignore all my bellyaching. It's quite nice here. The weather's nice today. It smells like a mildew-riddled church basement if you stand a little bit over here, come- come on. No, over Here. There you go. Right? Doesn't that bring back a memory? No? Sorry, just me then. Anyways, a long time ago, a man, in a great fit of anger, broke the world, and let in Chaos, like a great big portal to hell, and out came demons. These 'demons', little more than the most abstract twinges of 'something' rather than 'nothing', flew through the skies as great big dragons of screaming pink and purple, and they flew into the earth and poisoned our crops. The land rose with impudence and began to revolt against man, charred by the rage of the demons. Beast turned on beast, and the squirrels are huge this year, and the next year too. [don't take my word for it please.] We have magic in our world, but it's an invasive species, and more like a volatile parasite. But our bodies and minds have grown around it, out of necessity, and survival. It's not romantic, it is tragic, and many, many people died to allow life to coexist with magic. We'll never understand what we did to deserve this. Magic is beautiful. It is more like a symbiote. It's just a thing that exists, can we not moralize it? I'm pretty sure Chaos would outright reject any kind of moral basis we try to ascribe it to, anyways. It's not something that can be tamed because it does not want to be. It's lucky enough we managed to get it to stop blowing us up with consistency, through a process of being blown up until the only ones left to breed were the ones that didn't get blown up.

In Debacleworld, "Magic Pollution" has long beaten humanity back into the furthest stretches of Special Fantasy Pangaea, far and away from the massive writhing tumoric womb in the center of the landmass, from which Magic was born rather traumatically. [Magic, Chaos, whatever you want to call it...] But don't worry! We're reaching a new day and age of safety and knowledge and medicine, where we can step freely outside of our tall castle walls, and only SOMETIMES be picked off by an owlsquito that strayed a little far from its migration path. The world is a volatile place, and chaos has stained the grass tall and pink and prickly. Everything is sent into evolutionary hyperdrive in the presence of a new, suffocating and all-encompassing "rule of cool", that dictates that sometimes, you do not have to abide by the laws of space, time, or physics. Sometimes you can just exist and do whatever the hell you want. You can be born without bones, and you'll just need a little help from your neighbor about it, because the rest of you is doing pretty alright all things considered, since your body caught on pretty quick and liquified your muscles into something that can slip and slide easier, which led way to mutating into something a little snail-like. (You think those genes'll get passed on, or...?) Sometimes the ocean saturates a frightening pink and breaks off into the sky, in great gorgeous micro-planets of water and life that catch the sunrise, and cascade that light all up-and-down the seaside human settlements of the Qhhraaquu Zone. Birds have adapted to rip fish from these massive bubbles, but fish have evolved to be bait. Old war machines dot the landscape near the center of the world. They are quiet, and they're leaned upon by the people that died there a long time ago. The earth is greatly haunted, but there's nothing we can do but try to keep living on, without a lick of understanding or the energy to try. A lot of people have tails now, which is pretty cool.

Debacleworld-associated characters can be described as especially prettied-up posthumans, then... And they live here, very ordinarily. Some of them have made terrible and no-good, very bad connections with things that have connections to the damnation of the whole world, but we can't all have good, luck, you know? We can't all have perfect lives!! Perfect coping mechanisms!!!! [Don't you know who that is? He'll destroy us all!][Maybe we deserve it.][speak for yourself, bozo, I've got a date tonight and her name is Click(2006): The Game on the debaclePS3]. They love each other lots and lots. Flick keeps getting in trouble but they all still love him. They mean the world to him... He'd do anything for them! If the world was against them, he'd, blow it all away, he would! Flick's parents are both Qhhraaquun, specifically from the Bay area, where the noxious magical mist-fog that rises from the earth and chokes out all living beings was adapted against by most things developing large and specialized nasal cavities with which to filter out the poison air with. They moved into Paradise, which is far further north, shortly before Flick was born, so if he tried moving back to his homeland he'd mouthbreath instead of using his schweet adaptation and immediately keel over.