#but not the wilbur monologue

[free-my-boy-grumbot]

absolutely love how the multiverse works in mcyt. like, most servers all have their own character regardless of where the cc has been before. for example, dsmp!wilbur and qsmp!wilbur are different people that come from different universes. they’re even different charcaters between seasons, for example empires season 1 and season 2 jimmy are different people. Generally, even the most powerful mcyts like Phil can’t travel between universes.

hermits on the other hand can and frequently do multiverse travel with ease. for example, hermitcraft season 6 grian and season 9 grian and even evo smp grian are all the same person. hell, most seasons end because the mere presence of the hermits caused a portal to open up or the world to end or something else strange. hermits are inherently harbingers of chaos and all the other mcyt charcaters are a little terrified of them.

also it’s worth mentioning that they can’t really “die” like the other mcyts. every other mcyt (unless they have some other reason to be immortal) can permanently die. sure, they can be revived or come back as a ghost, but they will never be the same person they were when they were alive. Hermits don’t experience this even in the slightest. A hermit can literally watch the universe collapse around them, they can be hit by the moon, they can be canonically killed like in trafficlife, and every single time they just dust themselves off and get back up like nothing happened.

anyways tldr most mcyts are confined to their universe but hermitcraft members have something more Sinister going on.

[julia-writes-things]

ngl a part of me is wanting to write some real toxic wiggly and wiley stuff *ahem* but i'm beating the demons today... right?

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

My brain, every time my broke and depressed ass wants to buy something not strictly necessary for survival:

[dovedrangeas]

yes i'm still thinking deeply about a very particular november 16th. i have something wrong with my brain

[wetchickenbreast]

i think that the thing holding back lovejoy from being great is that as a band they seem soooo scared to take risks with their music. they have a cool sound and i think they have the potential to make really good music but they just feel too safe

[tang0w0tek]

idk who to watch for mcc pride can y’all give me some recommendations

(it’s in THREE HOURS AAAAA)

[swedisheek]

finally getting around to watching the sorry video and it’s so fucking good. nightmare blunt rotation.

[painless-innit-colourful]

bottling that c!q monologue for later. how do you manage to sound like wilbur and schlatt in one. how do you build yourself up so highly you can't see that your kingdom is made (literally) of sand. how do you poison every relationship you have until no one has to switch the liquid in your cup. how do you self-destruct so poetically with so much awareness. you truly did learn from the best

[fadedkat]

HATCHETFIELD FANS PLEASE READ THIS PLEASE PLEASE

Alright @fadedkat , sending out... All the right vibes for the one thing I was secretly hoping to be asked about??? Freedom with Wilbur Cross? Hell yeah, let's go!

Just behind Lakeside Mall was a building— some disused old factory or produce line that had escaped the memory of everyone in the town— that everyone assumed was part of the mall itself. It looked like it was, from the outside, at least. The two were close enough that they almost looked like twin parts of the same building from the right angle. But, there was one particular difference that set these two buildings apart, one that anyone would notice if there was anyone around to notice it.

Lakeside Mall was on fire.

And sitting on the roof of the abandoned production line was a singular entity crawled straight from the shadows, watching the whole thing happen.

Once, they had been someone. Once, they didn't have to rely on the shadows for a little cover. They had a name, and a job, and affiliations, aspirations, and dreams of their own.

But they preferred it this way. Freedom— true freedom, not just that given to a person able to make their own decisions— felt exhilarating, and doing exactly what they pleased, exactly as their mind desired it, was one sensation they weren't sure they'd ever get over.

They were known to randomly frequent timelines when the mood struck. Most of the time, it was just out of professional curiosity, something that hadn't quite left them behind since the days when a sense of identity mattered to them, and they actually had a less flexible sense of purpose. That curiosity had posed a question, whether different choices had been made in these timelines that cause them to run parallel to each other, but in such a way that they could never converge. There had to be things consistent with every single timeline— because, at the end of the day, something had to have caused the split, and they were starting to become convinced that the fault belonged to them and the people they used to consider themselves aligned with— but with all of the wandering between the delicate threads of existence, they had never been able to figure out more than a few things that happened in every single timeline without exception.

All they really knew for sure was that this one town— this nothing backwater town occupying a tiny island in the middle of Lake Michigan— had taken the interest of the Lords, and it wasn't very hard to see why. It was an epicentre for bad luck, even without the intervention that They often interjected at random to make things a little more interesting. There was something about that town, though, even just on it's own. The citizens were known for being prone to turning on each other, seemingly very divided into a small number of extreme ideals, and that was just the start. That generalisation failed to mention the cosmic stores of bad luck, or the fact that everyone was that used to people going missing at random that they had started to make light of it, shrugging off the general concern with a simple note that "this is Hatchetfield, people go missing every day".

What a town slogan that would be. Hatchetfield. Population: unspecified. Someone goes missing every day!

That was almost more laughable than the time they saw the label of "good enough" adorning a small town in the Californian forest. Though, at least that one had said things exactly as it was. There was nothing special about that town. They'd barely stayed longer than a single drink at the bar, but they found they could very easily spend any amount of time wandering around Hatchetfield, even just idling for the sake of being idle. It was... Interesting. Satiating a kind of curiosity they didn't even know they had. And they didn't even have to do anything particularly interesting to fill the time, either. The stories that played out around them did enough of that on their own.

The people of this town didn't even know what the original settlers had unleashed all those years ago, but that was so often the case, wasn't it? One small town in the middle of nowhere couldn't have predicted what the actions of their ancestors had permanently done to their home, and in the same vein some decades ago, two young people situated in the insignificance of the world couldn't have predicted that their son would be the only one left at the end of it all.

And yet, there they were. On the roof of a factory, watching a small group of people burning a mall to the ground. This wasn't an unusual situation, by any means. They were the only one left in more than enough timelines, no matter the tragedy that had befallen. After all, it was their job to turn the lights off, to stack the chairs and close the door behind them on their way out. That was the purpose they'd found for themself, and it worked.

They'd never been so lucky as to be the implicit instigator of an entire apocalypse before. Generally their purpose was to serve, to watch as the chaos grew and grew to a point where people stopped being able to do something about it. To have this opportunity even presented to them was a chance smaller than they cared to admit, but to actually be allowed to set the pieces in motion by their own hand? It was practically unheard of, and yet, it had happened all the same. A chance they were likely never going to get again was set into their hands, and they had done the absolute utmost with it. Sparking nationwide fear and distress, setting off the collapse of the American media line, watching the world burn at their feet...

This one had been fun; seeing the hope sparking in the eyes of the man who had taken the first box of deliveries, standing at the back as the fire of rage and consumerism took over the minds of the people, and watching all of the pride and confidence drain from the eyes of the president himself.

Yeah, this had been exciting.

Who knew so much could happen in one day?

Apparently, that wasn't the end of it. Things— as they were known to do— just kept on happening. Below them, something stirred. They switched positions, leaning forwards against their knees and watching four people try and make their escape from the burning husk of the mall. Clever. They'd had the sense enough to get away from the travesty that was happening around them, but, not clever enough. None of them were aware. They didn't realise that trying to leave the slowly crumbling remains of the mall they'd been trapped in all day wasn't actually going to get them anywhere, because there was something they had entirely missed out on by being in that one space for so long.

They weren't prepared. America wasn't prepared

Nobody knew what the president had done. Nobody, but those two self righteous soldiers who had been in the room when he made the decision, and

the ghost of a third, who had seen the entire thing unfold from the Black.

It didn't matter how much they tried to run, how far they thought they could go... Everything would be over in a very short matter of time.

The catalyst checked their watch. Lot of good that did them, of course. That thing hadn't worked properly in years, and if it weren't for the fact that it was never theirs to lose, and the fact that they had enough of a memory to recall who it had belonged to, they'd have been done with it a long time ago.

Sentimentality was such a remarkable thing, wasn't it? Not that they were particularly inclined towards such a notion, but there was some part of their brain that refused to let this one thing go, because there had to be at least one good reason to keep it, and they were still looking for it. There was only one thing greater than sentimentality, and that was sheer, powered stubbornness. The need for answers had always ignited some unknown passion in their chest, and that, perhaps, was the other reason why they tended towards traversing the timelines and just... seeing the vague differences that could be noted as they passed from end to end.

This timeline wasn't going to last much longer.

The four survivors were gathered just out of reach of the mall, just in case the whole place ended up blown to shreds. That was the least of their problems. The first horseman was running a little late, but there was no apocalypse without war.

And the war was coming to them.

[firesnap]

I'm sorry I saw this tweet and didn't have enough room to scream on my priv.

Dream literally did nothing other than suggest blowing up L'Manberg during the Revolution until Tommy's exile. And look at how that went. After Tommy's disc finale he sat and rotted in a prison, not answering people, and existed ENTIRELY as a plot device people had to drag him to do every few months.

LITERALLY THAT'S ONE OF THE WORST PARTS OF THE SERVER. He took up being the big bad, then didn't answer people and locked himself in a prison and stalled lore and delayed things and just fucking sucked. And his important role in most people's lore could have easily been replaced by a cardboard cutout after exile ended.

BBH paid for the server. People were already getting bored as fuck when Wilbur joined. Do people seriously forget how quickly vanilla Minecraft servers died back then? Literally the introduction of L'Manberg gave people something to do other than walking up the same wooden path over and over.

Bait used to be believable. I'm sorry if you think that guy was a good actor you literally never watched Wilbur or Charlie or Quackity. I never cared for Techno's 4th wall breaks, but you can't compare a single monologue Drm made to ANY of Techno's. The amount of crazy good and memorable lines everyone else had in comparison is hilarious. He wasn't even the best actor on the Dteam and one of those dude's slept through the whole story.

THE PRISON WAS THE WORST ARC THE SERVER HAD AND WAS AN EYESORE TO LOOK UPON

Fuck that guy. He wanted to be the villain and then would fucking retcon and change shit to make sure his guy never lost. Even when the story would try to frame something as a loss for him his ass would come back months later and go UM ACTUALLY like he's the fucking JK Rowling of Minecraft Roleplay.

[free-my-boy-grumbot]

[omegawolverine]

i miss you jackbox streams i miss you mcc liveblogging i miss you lore mixed into an otherwise normal stream i miss you tales from the smp i miss you beeduo meet up i miss you karl jacobs total drama viewing party i miss you wilbur soot drunk christmas streams i miss you wilbur soot mcc monologues i miss you technoblade i miss you origins smp i miss you rust server i miss you ylyl i miss you tommy vlogs i miss you ranboo late night mining i miss you among us streams i miss you i miss you i miss you

[cao-tick]

Phil entering: mate why are listening to a song now?

Pogbur: *explodes*

Oh Ana by Mother Mother as an Pogbur song and the first minutes of it being him breathing heavily in the final control room, hands clenching and unclenching as he can feel them itching to press the button. Sweat falling into his eyes and rolling down his cheek like tears. I don't even know if it fits him but i don't care he's mine.

[boygirlctommy]

posting dsmp animatics in 2024 is an interesting experience bcus half the comments are always either "ZOMG DSMP IN 2024?? CUH-RAZY!!!" or people monologuing about what the server meant to them and how they miss it with a thousand disclaimers about how they no longer support dteam or wilbur

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

Obsessed with the set up and payoff in every hatchetverse show:

TGWDLM hides it in its comedy pretty effectively: "take out the head, and the whole thing goes down!" The key to the main conflict buried in a nonsense monologue by the one note jerk character

Black Friday takes full advantage of their magical psychic child to be cryptic and ominous: "two doors not one" probably being the most obvious example, but a notable one is "Cross" as I think it's not just about Wilbur but also about Lex, who reaches across the threshold into the black and white

(Admittedly, that last bit is probably a strecth)

And NPMD drops all pretenses and leans into the horror of a doomed narrative by telling you exactly what it's about: "it's true! Human sacrifices! Demonic rituals! Sex magic!" All promises fulfilled by the summoning and the subsequent bargain made between Grace and The Lords In Black.

Then there's like, chronologically reversed foreshadowing? Okay so like what I mean by that is like, so you know the Hatchetmen?

Yeah, the angry mob that killed the Waylons and their starry children cultists?

You ever notice how they're never praised? Never honored or spoken of fondly?

Oh sure the town is named after them, but that's probably because they were the only ones around left to name it, and they named it after that time they did that murder together.

But they keep being referred to as hatchet wielding maniacs, even as they are recalled as the ones who put a stop to an evil cult it doesn't change the fact they weren't good people either.

There are no good guys in that story, not really.

And uh, how did Ted put it again, exactly?

"There are no creeps. There are no heroes. There are only people who are alive, and people who are fucking dead!"

Hatchetverse is really fucking good at fulfilling narrative promises, is what I'm saying, I guess.

[q-nihachu]

Date: September 23, 2020

Niki: I don't know who to trust anymore. Wilbur and Tommy and Techno are gone, and I understand that they can't take me in right now. That is fine. I will stay strong for them.

But I trusted Fundy so much. I trusted Fundy so much. Fundy and I—he was my running mate! I was his running mate! I would have been his vice president, if we would've been picked. I thought he would bring peace to this nation and make everyone happy. I thought we had the same intentions, but apparently we don't!

(Quietly) Apparently we don't.

(Tearfully) He burned my flag. He burned my flag, just to build it up in a disgusting color, for Schlatt, and for power. All of that for power? He betrayed his own son* for power?

And then there's Schlatt, and Quackity. Quackity—he saved me from jail. He helped me escape. But then he helped tearing down the walls of L'manberg. Our walls. The walls that we built!

And Tubbo. I don't know if I can trust Tubbo. I thought I could trust him. I thought he wants to be a spy on the inside. But he's wearing his suit! He's wearing Schlatt's suit! His suit!

I want to help him. I want to help him with the archives. Because even if I'm not their side, we need archives. We need to show the people in the future what is going on here! (Crying) But I don't know who to trust anymore.

TTS: You should help Tommy or someone burn the flag.

Niki: I can't go back right now. I can't go back to L'manberg right now. I don't know how it's looking down there, and I don't want to! I am not strong enough! I've seen—I have seen our entire nation burned to the ground. I've seen our walls get destroyed, and our names get changed! Our names! They took names, our identities! (Quietly) They took our identities.

*Note: She means "father," referring to Wilbur, here.

---

It's INSANE to me that this isn't one of the most famous monologues from the DSMP. The way she gets so deeply into character, reacting to the TTS messages as if they're her own conflicting thoughts! The way she looks desperately and longingly at what used to be her country! She's alone, after the destruction of L'manberg. Isn't she crying out with the feelings of every one of us? And in her third language!