Here, you'll raise, role play as, upgrade, and shape a mochi-like blobling into any creature your heart desires!
Do you want to play a talking flower with a mischievous side? We support you.
Do you want to play a wolf with a lion's mane? Cool. We can help you.
Do you want to play a base blobling, but with a tuft of hair
and stars all over its skin? Hell yeah. Once you're happy with your blobling, you can
start breeding it with other people's creatures to form strange and
Play through the rise of a new world after an apocalyptic-level event has forced a reset. Build the world from the ground up and engage in a rules-light role play that encourages creativity over crunch. Help decide what sorts of plants and animals will populate the planet. Worship the God of Death!
If this sounds interesting to you, we'd love to have you! We accept role players, artists and writers of all skill levels.
Please start by going to the Information Station and getting your read on, and hopefully
we'll see more of you around here. ^__^
Bloblings have noticed mysterious, gooey bloblings popping up in the world. Many bloblings are weary of them because of their resemblance to the tar from the tar pits, which have been known to eat bloblings for something called 'breakfast'.
01/10/23 Hey there!
It's October now!
We've updated the Art Prompts and Writing Prompts with some new stuff for October, as ever. It's spoooooOOOOoopy season now, and our prompts have been updated appropriately! Go take a look.
It's going to be a Bleeding Season this month! New droplets will be being born at the end of next month. Get thinking about what kinds of bloblings you want to stick into some bleeds, because the Season will be releasing within the first week of the month!
We have some fun things planned for this month, but we'll be sort of sprinkling them throughout. We hope you'll like them!
Our Discord server is invite only. Please DM Ichor or Saerfall after you've submitted your blobling claim form, and we'll send you an invite link. We spend most of our time on our Discord, so if it seems quiet here, we're probably all sequestered away in our server.
He was free. Free and ready to kick some ass. The asses, including but not limited to Vulliona, The First Kill, and Vermin himself, were obviously very strong, so he would have to get beefy. He would stay in the mountains for a while with his meowler, content to have finally left the horrible grains in uncomfortable places behind. A journey of self-discovery and righteous anger awaited.
Strength 1 Gember was ready to do some Ruffin Up, but if his performance in the cave was anything to go by, there was a long way to go. Something was wrong, and it would be for as long as the Unbroken were still standing. Now, this wasn't something new to him, but he could feel that this time it would be more meaningful. There was a profound lack of ferals, which was always an improvement. Briefly, he thought back to the second time he had punched a Brave. He didn't mean to, he was aiming for the wall, but it had felt strangely good. He remembered becoming dull to the struggles, how he had pounded his fists in continuous rhythm until nothing was left. Well. There was no flesh, but there were plenty of clusters of vines. Cracking open his poff, he took a bit of the thick, bloodlike liquid and drew a little face on the widest area, then pretended the rest of the "blood" was pooling on the floor. Readying his classic fists, his weapons of mass destruction, he aimed his rapid-fire projectiles right at those cartoonish angry eyes… and fired. Punching as fast as he possibly could, he tried to tear through the greenery and at least brush the surface of the rock below. As the vines slowly started to lose shape, he flashed back to that accidental pulping. He could almost see the blue splotches of more blood hitting the wall, more blood spreading through the cave, around him, around the victim. He felt a shadow of the twisted euphoria it brought. This would be easy.
Strength 2 It was freezing, but not uncomfortable, up here in this weird new paradise. It didn't look like there were too many blobs around to rough up with some friendly hijinks. The classic strategy of "punch wall" to train was always an option, but Gember had done it so many times, and was starting to get stale. "Ain't nobody," he whispered. "Whole big new world and ain't nobody around." An idea hit him like a mound of sand. He could go down and try to lift up the mountain itself! Blobs naturally lived in caves, so there must be some burrowed up underneath the surface. Sprinting down the edge of the mountain, he almost instantly tumbled head over heels, crashing to the frigid ground unceremoniously. Carefully getting to his feet, he glared at the formation. Well, here goes nothing. Squatting down as much as he could, he clapped his hands into the sides, and let out a furious yell as he lifted with all his strength. pop pop! The sound shocked him, but what was even more alarming was the Both Arms that happened to be lying in the snow. If anyone was in the vicinity, they would hear a high-pitched screech with enough force to strike the stars. Absolutely startled with the new lack of extremities, He ran in tight circles, screaming his head off, until a second idea came into his brain. He could lift it, With his legs. Lying his torso on the snow, he slapped his opposable toes on the rock, just like he did with his now very cold arms. He could still feel them, but there they sat. Focusing on keeping his legs on his body, but taking the cavern from the ground, again, he lifted. Pop pop!
Strength 3 His arms being slid comfortably back into position after picking them up and brushing them off, he was ready to go. He was absolutely not going to try to lift the whole mountain again, but there had to be something here to flex on. He could try to suplex it? No, that was fundamentally the same thing. He could go searching one more time for blobs out here, or animals, and prepare to yeet. Peekin in each cave, he quickly popped off a hand and felt around inside. He repeated the process eight times, before he finally got a bite. Who would be the lucky contender for wrestlemania? He sent his other arm to go help salvage his appendage, and waited patiently outside the mouth. Operation "just rush it" was a go. A large strider was on the other end, and as he launched to collect his arm, a shriek sounded in the air that made him stop instantly. He had never seen one of these before, but if it could do that, then he probably didn't want to see it again. He had to do what he set out to. Gathering his thoughts against the horrible din, he popped his limb back into place and hit a left hook. The creature reared back, breaking the sound with a gentle "ouch." Gember heard nothing, and continued the assult with a flurry of punches to the gut, dead set on reaching the big finish. When he was in the Combat Zone, he was blocked off to the rest of the world. The yowls and words of the stridor fell on deaf ears to a determined mind. He grabbed each claw. Began to lift it in the air. And jumped, landing it hard on the ground, falling on top of it like a large air cushion. He had won, probably. Eyes unfocused, he kicked it a few more times, and then sat down on top of it. His last thought as a fighting machine was "hah, cool chair."
Strength 4 Oh, fucker. There was finally a blob on the horizon, but Gember could tell by the way it moved that it wasn't quite… correct. He knew in his heart that there was no way that all ferals were because of his influence, but that STUPID COWARD- He had to calm down. He HAD to calm down. Just do it a favor. Put it out of its misery quickly and decisively. He didn't actually know if that worked, if it would immediately reset on it's own, but it might. And that had to be enough. He ran as fast as he could down towards the shape. A little red clawed creature. He could feel the anger and fear seeping off of it in almost visible waves, and it made him want to gag. That bitch. That army. Forcing his emotions down, just like old times, he took a deep breath. Target practice for the rest of them. He thought about the walls of flesh, closing in on the deep pit just for him, thought of the pain of Vermin's shifting claws digging deep into his flesh, of falling so fast, so far, that the dull thud of the ground had left a slight humming in his ears, even as he heard the three-toned voice and was suddenly free. Whatever death entailed was a better fate, and he'd get to experience what it meant for them firsthand. Popping off a hand, just to gage a reaction, he slapped it lightly in the face. It flew at him, teeth gnashing, aiming straight toward his face. "Not the moneymaker, bro. Try again." With his grasper still separated, he lightly knocked it out of the air, and prepared to step on it. "This is for Vermin." Tiny teeth collided with the bottom of his foot, latching on tight. Stifling a yell, he shook as hard as he could, launching it backwards and into the snow. While this was fun, it needed to be put down. Picking it up gently, staying away from all the attacky bits, and without really thinking, he dropped it gently into his mouth. Bit down as hard as he could. He had learned that blood had flavor, and had to admit that there was a taste for it. Letting the limp elastic body fall out of his mouth, he let the lemon-and-hot sauce blood just kind of sit there for a while before spitting it out. One down.
Health 1 It was only when Gember realized he hadn't been working on his health that he also realized… He hadn't really worked through his issues. Much. At all. After getting into a shouting match with that one that FINALLY DECIDED TO JUMP SHIP AFTER ABANDONING HIM TO HIS FATE IN THE GROUND- and unceremoniously passing out in a single hit, which did more harm than good, he hadn't sat down for a single moment. Everything was happening so fast that he hadn't really even been able to process being out on the surface, on top of a cold ass mountain no less. The last place he ever thought he'd be. And Eris, whatever weird morally gray scheme he was concocting, he was deeply indebted to, and wanted to find a way to thank. But first he had to take just a little while to sit and let it go. He was free, truly, actually free, in a wonderful environment he had never even imagined could be real. He had seen blobs in the distance, few and far between but actual, non-feral blobs, trekking up the frigid surfaces and disappearing deep within them. Maybe he'd find someone to talk to, and even if he didn't, a little soak in a hot pool would be exactly what he needed. Carefully peeking inside the cavern to make sure he wouldn't almost get his face bitten off (again), once he got the all-clear he leapt into the burning waters and immediately sunk like a stone to the bottom. The warmth eased the tension, and after deep, stinging breaths where water mixed with blood, he let out a muffled, gargled scream. The road to recovery would be long and painful, but it felt good to let it out, just for a while. Emerging to the surface, He cracked open his poff and gently drew a crude rendition of his own face, mirroring his wanted poster on the wall of the sandy tunnels he thought would be an eternity. Now he shifted it to a positive connotation: "Gember was here", it said. "and he's no longer afraid."
Health 2 Now that Gember was with Tili, he had tasted almost all the goods the city had to offer. There was so much more than the mountains, something for every flavor palette, some even being slightly dangerous. That was the fun of it, apparently. When you're out in the world, anything could plausibly kill you. And that's what he was after. He either wanted to go on a long quest for a lambfruit, a rare plant of legend he'd never even seen before and would probably skip right over it if he did find one, or to best a blob eating bulb to try those very succulent looking leaves. He had seen them on the rare occasions he had been let outside the cove, and he knew what they could do- he'd watched many a new, round blobling come across one without realizing and be immediately ensnared and dissolved. He had a couple tricks up his sleeve, though. Carefully ambling his way out of the city, he found the target nestled not too far into the swamps. He had exactly two tries to get this right, and if he couldn't ace it, he'd pick up a burgerbush leaf on his way back. Man, this was stupid. If the blob eating bulb did dissolve his arms, he had no idea what would happen, and even if he aced the throw, he'd have to run and go retrieve his appendage anyway. Too much think. Not enough eat. He popped one off and, trying really, really carefully to correctly gage the distance, chucked as hard as he could. The bulb whipped around, became a terrifying visage full of teeth, and hunted for the whoosh of air that it felt arc high past the top of its stem and had landed no less than 30 feet past. Fuck. He stealth rolled his way in a far arc around the lashing plant. This was not healthy. This was the opposite of healthy. Finally within arm's reach of his arm, he snatched it as fast as he could and sprinted towards the safety of Onyxia. Pulling up an armful of leaves, he sat cross-legged and enjoyed staying alive. It was a good meal after all.