Ask Alf

Hello, my name is Alf. I was rescued from RuptureFarms by Abe. This is an unofficial ask blog for me and one of my bestest buds, Buddy. Don't just sit there like a schmuck! Ask something!

[skidsthemudokon]

HE’S REAL

Made Skids on Nomad (:

[this-game-has-themes]

more stuff on queen development based on my redesign

[sinistarz]

I literally hate ebegging these days but I just had to pay an insanely hefty vet bill for my cat. Like 500 fucking dollars hefty. And I have bills due in a week so if a chunk of people have a spare five or ten dollars or something. I would really really appreciate it. A lot. Kofi in my pinned

[ask-alf-oddworld]

One year anniversary present for @exoddus 💚

My first sculpt that isn’t super simple, done on Nomad sculpt (:

His feather:

[phantomtoff]

Live, Laugh, Ragebait.

[cursedcharley]

Inked the rough sketch of my two fan Glukkons because I need to practice again.

Holiday and Hook. Vitriolic besties. They give each other anxiety. Comes as a pair do not separate. They come as a BOGO. They're out to set up their little empires out west before anyone else gets the idea.

Holiday, a clove cigarette smoking dandy with a interest in genetic engineering in the name of aesthetics and just because he'd really rather not go into a super competitive field. He's convinced if he could get some privacy and better supplies he could figure out how to make sligs more appealing so people don't have to tolerate such ugly bodyguards. So far only one has survived his efforts and he calls it his "Teacup sliggy" which is treated like a purse dog. Holiday adores Hook but he'd probably be calmer if he wasn't a frequent victim of her biting and headbutting.

Hook, owner of a chain of convenience stores looking to try setting up a monopoly out west. She's not ashamed to handle something herself even if it means breaking a few Glukkon social rules and appearances. This has given her a lot of mixed PR and made her a terror to her own sligs but you can't argue her results. Hook adores Holiday but she'd probably appreciate his company more if he'd stop bragging on that stunted growth Slig of his.

[ask-alf-oddworld]

Why Buddy interests me as a character so much

Years ago, when I was getting into Oddworld properly I found this lovely rendered image. I was quite intrigued because this Mudokon stood out from the rest, and we can be honest in that the reason for that is because he’s fat. Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. Him being fat is not bad. Then I learned more and became more interested. But why? How? There’s barely any information available about this character. But there’s implications and things that make you think.

So firstly, he’s a Khanzumer (according to a Dear Alf, he doesn’t like being called this). All the Mudokons we’ve seen have either been slaves or natives. Buddy is neither, he is part of Oddworld we haven’t seen yet. He’d be living in a city, perhaps with a job, buying products, a consumer like us. But we don’t have much of an idea of what that side of Oddworld is like, other than it’s an exaggerated version of ours, much like the rest of the planet. What would his daily life be like? What does he know? How was he raised? And another big question I wondered… who is his mother?

Is he one of Queen Sam’s? I thought all of her eggs were used for slave labour. So if he is from Sam, why isn’t he a slave? And if he isn’t, who did he come from and where is she? Many questions about this.

Another factor I find interesting is the topic of his weight. He is large and apparently according to an online daily deception (not the best source) he got to 500lbs, so it seems weight is a genuine struggle with him, and he does have issues with eating and maybe an unhealthy relationship with food. This would be a very interesting topic to explore, as people with these issues in real life are very stigmatised and misunderstood.

Something else I find interesting are his implied relationships with others.

It is said Abe takes Buddy under his wing. Maybe this is to help improve his health, or maybe something more spiritual. I would really love to know more about this.

The other relationship I’m interested in is his relationship with Alf. All we have to go by on this (and most of the information we have on Buddy overall) are Dear Alfs, which isn’t exactly the most reliable source, with information frequently changing and Alf saying genuine bollocks, you have to take it all with a grain of salt. Regardless, what has been said of their relationship in these sounds VERY cute. Maybe I’m being biased, but there are many moments that make it sound like they have a very nice relationship, they care about each other. You can see in one entry Alf respects Buddy for making a map (so he presumably has an interest in cartography, which is another cool thing about Buddy, and shows he may be more intelligent than some would assume). Another entry shows he trusts Buddy too, as he said he left the keys to the rehab to Buddy when he was busy. He has defended him too. I just think their relationship seems cute (even if Alf may occasionally make a joke at his expense) and I would like it to be explored.

I think there’s so much potential with him. I think he could really work as a character in a game, perhaps when the boys visit more urban environments. I don’t know if he’d be in a place like Nolybab, since that’s mostly populated by Glukkons it seems, but who knows. I just hope OWI doesn’t forget about him and that they actually do something with him. Not enough fans know about him and he needs more love.

If anyone has anything to say about Buddy, whether it’s headcanons, questions, appreciation, or even something silly, all is welcome!

[ask-alf-oddworld]

This game rules

[this-game-has-themes]

mulletokon design, because thats My People being represented here (rednecks).

they use brilliant orange markings to differentiate each other while camouflaged in their native forests. its believed that the modern slog is derived from slegs that were first domesticated by this tribe, but there's more evidence that domestication developed organically throughout the tribes in the western-southern quadrants of mudos, with the mulletokons being credited due to their interactions with other civilizations.

nowadays, their slogs are bred for defense against encroaching industrial colonization, turning them from loyal and loving companions into hardened, violent warhounds. curiously, this variant was bred separately from the nearly identical variant of guardslog used by sligs and other enforcers of the cartel. the difference therein is the mullogs' fierce protectiveness of mudokons of any stripe, while the sligs have bred their animals to be quite the opposite.

[exoddus]

BELLA CIAO

Behold! A project that me and a few odd friends have been working on since January, for an early birthday gift to the one and only @this-game-has-themes

Featuring screenshots at the beginning from Abes Oddysee/New n Tasty, My own Exoddus-Intro-Style Poetry, and AMAZING FANTASTIC EPIC art (in order of appearance) from @this-game-has-themes's fanfic, @ask-alf-oddworld, @wiredalienvampire, @phantomtoff @ghostmoor, @kirbysdreamlands, AND @industrial-tox

WHAT A PROJECT! YAYYY YIPPEEE YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Go research Howler's Illyodd if you haven't NOWWWW it's the greatest Oddworld fan story everrrrrrrrr

Abe, Muds, Glukks, Sligs, Wolvarks, Oddworld itself (c) Oddworld Inhabitants Howler, Malpractice (c) @this-game-has-themes Drill, Trip Hazard, Slogmeat (c) @this-game-has-themes & @exoddus Wittly the Slig (c) @exoddus

[ask-alf-oddworld]

Very belated Valentine’s present for @exoddus 🩷

[freakova]

How many people can say they’ve taken a poo in tumblr user Ask-Alf-Oddworld’s and Industrial-Tox’s toilet

[exoddus]

Here's a fanfic about my babygirl Frank the Mudokon

Enjoy

“Okay,” Alf muttered beside him, craning his neck as a transport barge thundered overhead and disappeared between two towers. “I’ll give ‘em Glukks this. Real big place. Still don't feel right."

Abe shot him a sharp look and leaned closer, quieting his voice. “Keep it down. Both of you. We gotta blend in. If anyone finds out we're escaped workers—” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Alf snorted quietly, puffing his chest despite the fresh bandages still wrapped around him. “Relax, Abe. I can handle myself. Been dodgin’ Sligs for how many weeks now?” He cracked his knuckles once, the sound far louder than he seemed to realize.

Abe winced and glanced around instinctively. No one seemed to notice, but his heart didn’t slow.

Toby stayed a half step behind them, silent. His thin fingers were knotted together at his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly his knuckles showed pale beneath the green skin. His eyes reflected the city in fractured color, neon lights streaking and breaking across the whites. Every sound made him flinch—the shriek of rails, the hiss of steam vents, overlapping voices speaking too fast and too loud, too many layers of noise competing for space in his head. He breathed shallow and carefully, like each breath was something he had to consciously permit.

There was *so* much color here. So much motion. Patterns were just.. everywhere. And none of them repeated cleanly. Billboards looped too quickly to read and jittered just enough to feel wrong. One massive screen nearby showed a smiling Glukkon biting into something greasy and dripping, the image resetting every few seconds. Toby’s gaze locked onto it despite himself, drawn in and repelled at the same time. The reset made his head hurt. He looked away, then back again, caught in the pull.

Abe noticed. His expression softened despite the tension knotting his chest. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Toby nodded quickly, then hesitated, then shook his head. After a moment, he nodded again. He didn’t say anything. He rarely did when there was too much to process at once.

Alf glanced back at him. “He’s fine. Just.. city shock. First time does that to anyone I bet.”

Abe wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t argue. They couldn’t afford to linger. Not here.

They merged with the flow of the street with their heads lowered and movements careful, mimicking the pace of the crowd. Abe’s muscles stayed coiled so that he was ready to bolt at the first sign of recognition. Every time a Slig’s red eye swept too close, his pulse spiked. Every Glukkon laugh sounded too loud, too near. His body ached in ways that went deeper than bruises. He was exhausted in a way that sleep never fixed anymore.

And still, beneath the fear and the pain, there was that pull. That need that had carried him this far.

Nolybab has answers, he told himself. It has to.

His mother. The truth of where they all came from. The truth Glukkons had buried under layers of concrete and lies.

“Hey,” Alf said after a while, licking his lips. “I’m starvin’. And thirsty. You see any Dizpenzahs around?”

Abe opened his mouth to say not now, to say we can’t risk it, when the smell hit him.

Hot. Greasy. Salty. Undeniably food.

They all slowed.

On the corner ahead, wedged between a tram stop and a flickering weapons kiosk, sat a bright colorful cart plastered with cheerful logos: EVENWURST WEENERZ. A smiling sausage adorned the side. Steam rose from a metal grill into the cold subterranean air and the smell cut straight through Abe’s caution and lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

A Mudokon stood behind the cart. An iron shackle circled his ankle, bolted directly into the frame of the wagon.

He wore a stained pair of shorts and a crooked cap with a wobbling accessory. A pair of greasy suspenders and a broken plastic name tag, spelling FRAN, followed by a K drawn on the skin beside in some sort of black substance. His eyes were tired but alert, constantly flicking between customers, patrol routes, and the slow trickle of moolah passing through his hands. His movements were quick and practiced as he flipped long, dark sausages that glistened with grease.

Toby stopped dead.

Alf’s eyes lit up. “That’s food.”

Before Abe could stop them, Alf was already moving, drawn forward by the smell like gravity. Toby followed close behind, steps hesitant but compelled, gaze locked on the grill.

“Wait—!” Abe hissed, then cursed under his breath and hurried after them.

The Mudokon behind the cart looked up and stiffened immediately. “Hey—woah, woah, WOAH,” he hissed, leaning forward with sudden urgency. “What is this, a union meetin’? You guys nuts?”

Alf blinked at him. “Huh?”

The vendor’s eyes darted past them to the street, to a Slig patrol turning the corner. “You tryin’ to get me recycled? ‘Cause this is how I get recycled. You can’t just stand here like this.”

Toby shrank back a half step, shoulders curling inward.

Abe raised his hands slowly, palms out. “We—we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Frank squinted at them. “You three from Warehouse Seventeen? Nah, you ain't got the look.” His mouth twisted. “You got the lost look.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Ahh, crap. You playin’ hookie, ain’t ya? You know what happens if they see me talkin’ to you?”

Alf crossed his arms, unfazed. “Look here pal, we ain’t playin’ anything.”

“Yeah?” The vendor snorted. “’Cause you look like every other Mud who thinks they can wander off the clock.” He lowered his voice. “Listen, I don’t care. I really don’t. But I can’t be seen helpin’ you. I already got one ankle in the grinder here.”

Abe swallowed. “We’re uh.. not.. from around here.”

That made the vendor pause. He studied them more carefully now, really looking. The way Abe stood—tired but stubbornly upright. The way Toby watched the grill like it was a puzzle he was trying to make heads or tails of. The way Alf carried himself like he *wasn't* a Mudokon in a city full of Glukkons.

“Tch, Yeah,” Frank muttered. “No kiddin’.”

Alf leaned forward, inhaling deeply. “Whatever you’re cookin’, pal, it smells amazin’.”

Frank sighed like a mud who’d long since stopped expecting better outcomes. “Of course it does.” He reached under the cart and pulled out a long, red, steaming sausage, sliding it into a soft bun with a flick of his wrist.

All three of them stared. It was solid food. In real bread.

Toby’s eyes widened, his head tilting slightly as he tried to understand how something like that could exist. Alf looked borderline reverent.

“What *is* that?” Alf asked.

Frank stared at them like they’d just asked what gravity was. “It’s a hot slog.” He held it out. “Ya want ketchup or mustard?”

They looked at each other. Abe shrugged helplessly. Toby stayed silent.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Mustard,” he decided, squeezing a bright yellow line across the top. “Live a little.”

Alf took a bite.

His eyes went wide. “Oh—oh SHIT,” he muffled around a mouthful. “ABE.”

The vendor snorted. “Figures. I can tell you guys ain’t from around here. No one reacts like that unless they’ve been eatin’ flavorless paste their whole lives.”

Abe hesitated, then took one too. The taste hit him all at once—salt, fat, heat—and his knees nearly buckled. Toby nibbled carefully, then again, then a little faster, chewing with intense focus.

The vendor held out his paw. “Alright. That’ll be 2 moolah.”

Abe blinked. “Oh. Right.” He slipped his backpack off and fumbled inside, pulling out coins with shaking fingers and placing them into the Mudokon’s palm.

“You bastards are weird,” Frank muttered as he put the moolah in a lockbox under the cart lid.

Alf swallowed and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Hey, uh.. Frank. You.. you know anything about a Mudokon lady here in the city? We're lookin' for our mother.”

Frank froze.

The color drained from his face. His eyes snapped to the street, to the cameras embedded in the poles, to the Sligs moving closer.

“You three,” he said quietly. “Get outta here.”

Abe stiffened. “Please. We just—”

“No. No *please*.” Frank shook his head, voice tight and urgent. “You don’t ask questions like that in Nolybab. You don’t even think ‘em.”

Alf frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Frank leaned closer, barely audible over the sizzle of the grill. “You keep diggin’, you’re gonna get yourselves *killed.* Or worse. Now go. Before somebody notices ya don’t belong.”

Toby clutched Abe’s arm.

Abe met Frank’s eyes and saw real fear there, raw and honest. “..Thank you,” he said softly.

Frank didn’t smile. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

They disappeared back into the crowd, neon advertisements swallowing them whole, while behind the cart Frank turned another hot slog on the grill, hands shaking just a little too much.

[exoddus]

My and my friends were going down memory lane a while ago and came across this YouTube video and I think its very important that all of you know about Muk because he is the most important Oddworld OC on the planet I think

[this-game-has-themes]

@exoddus' frank (w/ a cameo by @sallymudsews)

dont worry i drew his buns out too [nsfw]

[xzyolotl]

Gabbit model.

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[phantomtoff]

Dripping Anastasia :3