Shade 🇨🇦 | they/he/she | 21 | Hermitcraft, Minecraft, and occasional adjacent content | currently being super normal about Limited Life SMP | Watching: Cleo, Pearl, Joel, Grian, Scott, Martyn, Tango
Not just in the he-has-sharp-teeth-and-wants-to-tear-people-up way, though he has that, and sometimes he wonders if he always had that, always had the pounding red mist in his head or if it had wormed its way in somewhere inside a wizard’s mountain and never gotten out until he couldn’t remember what it felt like not to have it chewing away at him and. He thinks he borrowed the sharp teeth from dogs, and sometimes he looks in the mirror and thinks, huh, he hadn’t always been like this, but frankly it’s sick as hell to be so visibly a monster so like, who cares, he’s badass—
Anyway.
The point is. He doesn’t have to be some kind of animal to get dogs, or like, that’s not the angle he gets dogs from. Or, he gets them like that? He doesn’t know, he’s bad at metaphors, god, why does he do this to himself? The point. The point is that he could get wolves but not really get dogs, if he wanted to, but he gets dogs too.
He didn’t always, really. Like, all he really needed was blood beneath his nails and between his teeth. Not really doggish, that. A wild animal. Dogs are all domestic. But…
So. Never tell Jimmy this. Joel will never hear the end of it. But he patted Joel on the head and Joel—maybe it’s silly. It’s a little bit silly. Jimmy is all… weak and floppy or whatever. Except he’d patted Joel on the head and really kept sticking around and Joel went:
Ah. Yes. I’ll die for you now.
And so like—he gets dogs, is the thing, because he’s a wild animal and he wants to kill and bite and he’s a monster and he’s proud of it and he’s not not a monster anymore it’s just… Jimmy put his arm around Joel last night and Joel almost cried, is the thing. Not sure how to explain that other than…
There are benefits to being a domestic monster?
No, that sounds weird. He’ll workshop it. He’ll workshop it.
SHADE. Shade I need your minecraft worldbuilding brain.
They introduced a bunch of new shards to 1.20. The one depicting the Warden is called "mourner."
THE POSSIBILITIES?? It's not just guarding these ancient cities, it's mourning what they once were? Maybe it's similar to an iron golem, a construct built to protect and then abandoned? Maybe it caused the ruination and it mourns what it destroyed? Maybe it's just cranky we disturbed it????
I really like all of those ideas! But, as is my duty as Shade, I am going to introduce you to an extra and more horrifying possibility!
So. Sculk. It's a fungus-like corruption that spreads when it's fed by XP, which is essentially souls or life energy in-universe released at the death or breaking of something. No mobs other than the Warden can spawn in the Deep Dark, which to me suggests sculk has a level of toxicity that even the undead can't handle. Except some people - players - seem to be able to withstand it, at least for a short period of time.
There sure is a lot of sculk in ancient cities, isn't there. A whooole lotta sculk. Whole lot of that stuff that duplicates through death of other living things.
Maybe the cities were full, when the first sculk was discovered. Maybe the toxicity claimed the first person to find it and spread as a result of that, the danger growing the more it took, until it was a wave few could escape. Maybe some got away through those odd portals, the ones with higher natural resistances lasting long enough to flee. ...Or, maybe some of them, left alive long enough to watch everyone else die, couldn't bring themselves to leave. Maybe they stayed to mourn the loss, exposing themselves for longer than even they could withstand. Maybe instead of dying, they changed.
The Warden has the same size hitbox as a player. In spite of visually far exceeding that size, it can fit through the same size gaps. Almost as if it outgrew the volume the Universe had calculated for it. And its ribcage, open and filled with sculk-like texture inside, has always read as human-like to me. The sculk controls it, so the body tries to kill living things to fuel the spread. It's only natural.
But maybe, like the cordyceps fungus, the sculk leaves the brain intact while bending the muscles of the body to its own purposes. Perhaps the Warden's eyes are closed because the mourner is still mourning - the loss of their city, still, or what they lost of themselves by not turning away.
Skeleton variant for mangrove swamps. Spawns with vines and moss hanging off of its arms and ribs, and a more mottled/damp colour to its bones
I'm recovering from a heinous day-long cold, so here's a fun reblog game:
If you had to give a mob a biome-based/dimensional variant (e.g Husks, Drowned, Strays, Wither Skeletons), which one would you pick, what biome would it spawn in, and what would its gimmick be?
SHADE. Shade I need your minecraft worldbuilding brain.
They introduced a bunch of new shards to 1.20. The one depicting the Warden is called "mourner."
THE POSSIBILITIES?? It's not just guarding these ancient cities, it's mourning what they once were? Maybe it's similar to an iron golem, a construct built to protect and then abandoned? Maybe it caused the ruination and it mourns what it destroyed? Maybe it's just cranky we disturbed it????
I really like all of those ideas! But, as is my duty as Shade, I am going to introduce you to an extra and more horrifying possibility!
So. Sculk. It's a fungus-like corruption that spreads when it's fed by XP, which is essentially souls or life energy in-universe released at the death or breaking of something. No mobs other than the Warden can spawn in the Deep Dark, which to me suggests sculk has a level of toxicity that even the undead can't handle. Except some people - players - seem to be able to withstand it, at least for a short period of time.
There sure is a lot of sculk in ancient cities, isn't there. A whooole lotta sculk. Whole lot of that stuff that duplicates through death of other living things.
Maybe the cities were full, when the first sculk was discovered. Maybe the toxicity claimed the first person to find it and spread as a result of that, the danger growing the more it took, until it was a wave few could escape. Maybe some got away through those odd portals, the ones with higher natural resistances lasting long enough to flee. ...Or, maybe some of them, left alive long enough to watch everyone else die, couldn't bring themselves to leave. Maybe they stayed to mourn the loss, exposing themselves for longer than even they could withstand. Maybe instead of dying, they changed.
The Warden has the same size hitbox as a player. In spite of visually far exceeding that size, it can fit through the same size gaps. Almost as if it outgrew the volume the Universe had calculated for it. And its ribcage, open and filled with sculk-like texture inside, has always read as human-like to me. The sculk controls it, so the body tries to kill living things to fuel the spread. It's only natural.
But maybe, like the cordyceps fungus, the sculk leaves the brain intact while bending the muscles of the body to its own purposes. Perhaps the Warden's eyes are closed because the mourner is still mourning - the loss of their city, still, or what they lost of themselves by not turning away.
having now watched trafficseries, deceit, AND secret rivals, i can safely say that one of the most brilliant things SR does is it's the only one of the three where there's a possibility that nobody wins the game. like that alone makes play so very different when you have to keep in mind a second condition that nobody might win if you're too reckless
hermitbr i am curious. what was the first episode u watched, if u can remember it? for me it was the grian one where he fought mumbo over cheapslate in s8 and i have to say as far as starting points go it was a confusing one.
Scott felt it settle into his veins, the unwanted feeling of bloodlust and survival instinct making itself at home without invitation. It’d been so long since he last felt it that he almost had forgotten what it felt like…and he hated it.
The whispers and commands came next, the voices in his head baying for him to kill. He hated them too, the owners had caused him and everyone else so much anguish and pain.
Had he not won one of these death games, he probably would have been able to control the urges better, resist the orders he was being given. But not this time, The Watcher’s grasp on him was too strong and all he could do is grit his teeth in frustration and anger.
He knew why they picked him as the first bearer of this bloodlust curse, it was poetic of his defiance against them when it came down to loosing a life or killing his allies.
Scott looked at the sky and growled, that same fire of defiance in his eyes as he imagined meeting those of his malevolent overseers.
“IS THIS A JOKE TO YOU!” he snapped, clenching his fists.
“Yes.” came a malicious and condescending voice in reply.