The Sad Sack with a Sultry Side

Heyo. M' name's Lenny. Been haulin' crates for Feeco Depot since I kicked my way outta the eggshell. Been everywhere 'round all the factories this end'a Mudos. Psst.. I can getch'a whatever you need for a pack a' lungbusters. [[Oddworld OC]] [pfp by @ghostmoor]

[ol-stickyfingerz]

Lenny the Freight Mud

Leonard Gandy (self chosen name), better known as Lenny, and even better known as "Stickyfingerz". Lenny's worked along the rails all his life, and all it's given him is a bad back, bad knees, a dirty tattered pair of overalls and a few stories to tell.

He's well known among factory Muds, thanks to his affinity for being able to smuggle just about anything between FeeCo Depot stations to just about anybody at just about any factory the train can reach (in exchange for a handful of Lungbusters, of course).

As a scrub mud pushing 40 years old, his coworkers are betting to see what kills him first; his lungbuster addiction, his age, or a mishap on the rails.

(art by @ghostmoor)

Lovely Lola

Dolores Dancer, or "Lola", is Lenny's best kept secret. A fascination with women (thanks to the deliberate lack of sex education in factory settings) led to an alter ego created out of his desire for more out of life, and now manifested into an identity of her own. She's a nasty, fearless and confident old Mud with an unfiltered vocabulary and a perverse attitude. In Lenny's mind, Lola lives an extravagent life doing all the things Lenny wishes he could do, clubbing at the fanciest nightclubs and kissing the prettiest boys.

Lenny wishes he was as confident as her.

Read More ...

[ask-alf-oddworld]

One year anniversary present for @exoddus 💚

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

His feather:

[exoddus]

THANK YOUUUUUU SO MUCHHHH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH

[ask-alf-oddworld]

Very belated Valentine’s present for @exoddus 🩷

[exoddus]

ITS SO PEEEEEAK

[ghostmoor]

He stood there. His hands were trembling. The clock ticked. Somewhere far away, a shift horn wailed and then cut off. Lenny reached up and began to take off the wig. So, so fucking slowly. Like he knew every second something fragile was breaking like glass. Alf felt it before he understood it. Something inside him was tilting. The story he had been telling himself folding, no, snapping in half. The girl he had been falling in love with was never there. Every word she had said was fake. This whole time, it was just another worker. A worker he knew. Lenny. "Lenny?" The name echoed in Alf's head as he said it like a door had just slammed. Confusion hit first, thick and blinding. Then shock, hot and electric. Shame crawled up his spine. A deep seated rot he had been taught to call virtue. Embarrassment burned his face as if someone were watching and laughing at him. Disgust followed, learned and automatic, a reflex drilled into him by years of whistles and rules and locker room talk. Anger surged, loud and righteous, then hatred, ugly and desperate. Anger again, because anger was easier than anything else. Betrayal. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. Anger. He clung to it because it was solid. Lenny whispered his name. Not to defend himself. Not to explain. Just to anchor the moment.

"Alf.." He reached out. For a split second Alf almost let him touch him. In that instant lived every shared bottle of Brew, every late night laugh, every quiet understanding about the pain and shame and pride and loss and aching that had once kept him sane and working one more day. Then Alf stepped back. “Get the hell away from me,” he said, his voice breaking even as he forced it hard. “I ain’t-I ain't like that. I like girls.” To Lenny, the words sounded like every session with the Shrink. Every slur from the Sligs. Every beating, every zap, every walk of shame out of the bathroom. Lenny froze, his paw suspended in the air, hope flickering and dying all at once. Alf turned and stormed out, feet pounding against the cold ground as he tried to get away from Lenny as fast as possible, breath ragged, anger carrying him like a current. He did not look back. He could not. He didn't want to be seen with that freak behind him. He didn't want to see that freak. That freak. Behind him the silence rushed in. Lenny sank to his knees, the wig now ruined from squeezing and slipping from his fingers to the floor. His shoulders shook as everything around him swallowed him whole. Every sound was drowned out by a ringing in his ears. A train horn sounded, calling them both back to the lives that had taught one of them to hate what loved him, and the other to pay the price for it.

Series of sketch commissions for @exoddus, who wrote this fantastic little vignette to go with it. THANK YOU for trusting me with this moment... Lenny and Alf's relationship has faced some immense challenges, perhaps none so much so as the misinformation and hatred drilled into them by the Cartel.

[exoddus]

THANK Y0U AGAIN FOR THIS RYAN!!! 🥺🥺🥺 SUCH a heartbreaking but important moment in the story between these two I'm so glad that you were able to convey the pain and anger between these two (I knew you could but bleh bleh bleh 💖💖💖)

[exoddus]

Do Lenny and Lola have any serious disagreements or ways in which they're at odds with each other?

Constantly.

Lenny is jealous of Lola. He envies her life. He wishes he had that sort of freedom, but he can't have it. Lola, on the other hand, considers Lenny to be dead weight. As Lenny has become more and more detached from himself whenever he puts on the wig, he's realized the character of Lola can't "truly" exist outside of him. And that upsets both of them. Lenny doesn't want to live in the closet, but "Lola" can't live as free as she truly is in Lennys mind as long as she's an extension of him. Both of their hatred towards each other is actually hatred towards the industrial machine that is keeping Lenny locked up. This causes insane tension.

Not to bring Freud's theories into this because, yknow. But, think of Lenny as the Superego and Lola as the Id. Lenny doesn't really have an "Ego" per-se. Because Lola has become the embodiment of his cravings and urges, he finds himself arguing with himself (or rather, with Lola) very often. Lenny's "morals" are shaped by Factory norms so he tells himself that all of his urges, cravings, and even natural instincts are wrong and humiliating. Lola on the other hand couldn't care less. So much to the point that Lenny feels like he isn't in control of his own actions when he's playing the character of her. He's committed so much to the bit that he can't see her as a character anymore, she's just Her. She's willed herself into existence through his own misery and internalized homophobia.

So when "Lola" screws something up, it's Lennys fault for being dead weight. When Lenny gets in trouble for being too noticed or seen, he resents "Lola" for attempting to give him confidence. Lenny can't find pleasure in himself when he's alone either, he finds it shameful and embarassing. He just reminds himself that Lola will always have what he can't. So she's a form of emotional self harm for him.

[exoddus]

Are Lenny and Lola two serperate people, or is Lenny transgender? If so, does he prefer being perceived as Lola? Sorry if this is a weird question, I'm just very intrigued by their story.

Not weird at all! Honestly Lola is such a complicated entity that I don't blame you. A lot of people perceive her differently.

Lenny perceives himself as a gay man. The aspect he isn't content with however, is the fact he's living a life where being an unattractive gay man is a punishable offense. Mudokon Workers in industrial enslavement are raised to believe that homosexuality is nothing more than a disgusting tactic to distract from the bottom line. Workers are told they are men, and men aren't meant to be close. The factories know that if Mudokons were allowed to form close relationships with one another, they would start standing up for one another. They are kept in the dark about all forms of sex and gender. They are vastly uneducated on homosexuality through no fault of their own. Naturally they grow to view it as a perversion, an offense, and something they should report to the higher ups if they perceive it in any form.

Lenny lives through every day knowing this. He has no outlet for his homosexuality. He isn't allowed to "love" men. He isn't allowed to se sexual with himself or others. He is cranky, pouty, miserable, and unsatisfied. Lola, however, is a confident, sexy, loose woman. Everything Lenny knows about Lola is from pornographic and sexualized magazines, because women in advertisements are depicted that way to grab attention. Everything Lenny understands about women and femininity is via these advertisements. Women are attractive and allowed to get sexual with men. To factory workers, they're unicorns. Rare as can be. Most of them never see women in the flesh. So Lenny doesn't have much of a reference other than what his uneducated eyes perceive in these magazines.

Lolas character is that of parody. Lola does not give Lenny gender euphoria, she gives him sexual euphoria. She is allowed to be kinky and nasty and outward because that is what industrial advertisements have conveyed. The character/persona of Lola that Lenny has created in his head is not a transgender or a cisgender woman, she is just a woman, period. Lenny is a transvestite/crossdresser, while Lola, the character, is a woman with no real label attached. Lenny is stuffing his bra, but Lola has boobs. Lenny is wearing a wig, but Lola has a full head of hair. She is an opposite of him in every way. She isn't shy or miserable or unsatisfied like he is. Lenny wishes he could live her life, but he can't. So instead he has to play pretend to the point where he has deluded himself, and Lola is a permanent part of his mind. He has convinced himself that homosexuality, confidence and lust are all parts of him that is not ever allowed to exist in front of anyone else, and Lola is the only way for his desires to be fulfilled. When Lola is on display, Lenny is convinced he isn't himself anymore, because he isn't allowed to have the fun she has not does he deserve it (in his own eyes).

The long and short of it, is that Lola exists as a product of advertisement misogyny and factory homophobia, as well as a way for Lenny to fulfill his desires while keeping himself tucked into the back of the closet. Lola is a promiscuous woman, and Lenny is a homosexual man. Only one of these are perceived as a predatory pervert who deserves to be mocked and humiliated, and the other is plastered everywhere an ad campaign can afford to buy.

I've had many people tell me that Lenny and Lola remind them of struggles with not only being a closeted queer person, but being an individual with Autism who has invented a version of themselves based on "socially acceptable behaviour" that they can use for masking when talking to people. I've also had people tell me that Lenny and Lola remind them of struggling as a person with Dissociative Identity Disorder, and the difficulties that come with feeling like your body doesn't belong to you. I've also had several transgender folks tell me they resonate with Lenny and Lola to some degree, and thats very flattering to hear

However you wish to perceive them, the takeaway should be that Lola is a product of Lenny's inability to conform. Lola is not a transgender woman and it would feel wrong of me to depict her that way. She exists within Lennys head, but she isn't Lenny. If Lenny transitioned into a woman, he would no longer be a homosexual man. Lenny knows he is a homosexual man, he's just unhappy that he can't live the life Lola has as a homosexual man. He wants to be gay and happy. He just can't be either of those, because of the world he lives in. He doesn't prefer to be perceived as Lola. If anything, he resents that people like her and encourage her promiscuity, while at the same time shunning his own. But at the same time, he is able to fulfill his desires through her. Her existence contributes to his own self hatred.

[sallymudsews]

@ol-stickyfingerz

Almost there…. Almost!

It was a split second decision to make here; either skip out on this chance and deal with whatever shit storm she’d land with the yardmasters and crew scattered around when the bustle of this train departed, or…

Well, they’d been needing to go this way.

Sally gritted her teeth and hissed at the billowing wind and force the train was giving. She leaned her weight down closer against Ruth, who was working double time with her speed. She barked out a noise of encouragement, lunging an arm towards the freight car. They were so close. If they could just….

Ruth barked. The slog tightened its hind-legs before pouncing right into the cart. Sally couldn’t help but yelp at the burst of strength from the slog and the loss of the ground. But they’d made it, if not as gracefully as preferred; abandoning their balance for the sake of speed caused the two to yelp and topple onto the floor of it.

“Ah!” Sally hissed and held the back of her head when she felt it hit the wall of the cart. “Ugh….” She rubbed at it with a groan. Shaking off the dizziness as best she could, the realized that, hey, they made it. She sighed in relief before she crawled over to the slog. “Ruth?” She clicked her tongue in that familiar check in tone they’d formed.

A small whimper, the slog helpless on her back and kicking her back legs in the air. When the Mudokon helped turn her back over, the animal completely shook its body out, where it gave a single energetic bark up at Sally and licked at her extended hand.

Sally sighed of relief, not hesitating to give Ruth a happy scritch on the back of her neck. They both did good. Now maybe they could relax for a second…

Her eyes darted back and forth around their surroundings, a hum soft in her throat.

Hell, maybe they could even get some extra supplies before jumping ship. Er, train.

[ol-stickyfingerz]

Lenny had claimed a sad little corner of the freight car that technically counted as a break spot if no one from management was looking. He hunched there with his back against cold steel, feet stretched out, shoulders sagging like they might finally give up and slide off his body altogether. The Lungbuster trembled between his gloved fingers as he took a long drag, smoke scraping through his chest in a way that hurt just enough to feel deserved. Barrel hauling always left him wrung out. Half-dead, smelling like sweat and oil. Still, the train ride meant sleep was close. Real sleep. The kind that came easier when the rails rattled above, when the walls shook just enough to convince his brain he wasn’t back at the Depot. Felt safer out here, without cameras and Slig patrols every two steps.

He exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded, already fantasizing about curling up between crates and passing out hard when the world slammed. A sharp, hollow thud rang out from the next car over, hard on the metal, loud enough to snap every exhausted Mudokon in the car to attention. Lenny’s heart dropped straight into his legs. That was a bad sound. That was a someone fucked up sound. Could be a barrel. Or a crate. Crates didn’t just fall over on their own, and if one of them cracked open or went missing, Feeco didn’t care who actually did it—they just cared who was closest and most convenient to punish.

A dozen heads turned. Of course they did. Lenny felt the weight of their stares before he even looked up, because that was how it always went. Old, slow, half-broken, perfect fall-Mud candidate. He gave a long, tired sigh that sounded like he was apologizing to the universe, flicked the Lungbuster out, and ground it under his bare heel. Stung nice for a split second.

Getting up was an ordeal; his knees popped, his back cracked, and he muttered a quiet curse under his breath while rubbing at his spine. Odd forbid anything in his body work correctly for once. He shuffled toward the adjoining car, every step heavy, silently pleading that this was just a loose strap or a tipped pallet and not the beginning of another long, miserable incident report..

He hauled himself up and through the gap between cars, then immediately regretted every life choice that had led him here. His brain barely had time to process the scene before instinct kicked in. Small Mud. Kid, by the look of it. And right next to it was pure teeth, muscle, hunch, all wrong in the way only one thing ever was. Slog. Slog. Slog. Slog. Bad. Danger. Danger. DANGER.

Lenny’s stomach flipped. Every medical horror story, every whispered warning, every nightmare image slammed into him at once. He yelped, actually yelped, staggering back a step with his arms flying up like that might stop being mauled. His voice cracked as panic surged through the exhaustion, raw and ugly.

“WOAH—NO—HEY, HEY!! HEY! WOAH!!!!!"

[exoddus]

Oh yeah me and @ask-alf-oddworld started dating. Like in real life fr irl and stuff. Go figure!

[ask-alf-oddworld]

OH THIS IS SUPER CUTE

[exoddus]

OddworldTober day 1: FACTORY

I know a train station isn't really a factory per-se, but the FeeCo rail is crucial to the factories themselves, and of course I'll never pass up an opportunity to draw Lenny.

Sorry this is a day late! I've been gathering myself because I'd been enjoying England the past week. I'm back in my home country now and back to University and my jobs, but most importantly my sketchbook and my cat.

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

The lovely Lola and Lenny for @lair-of-the-white-worm

Lineart only ver.

[exoddus]

I might have just missed it but was there a pivotal moment in Lenny's life when he realised he wanted to "be Lola"? Either when he first started dressing like her/experimenting with drag or when it clicked that Lola was everything he perhaps wanted to be.

" I just didn't know what girls were.

Girls didn't make sense to me.

I'd seen other kinds a' girls. I worked with a few, here and there. They'd come in to help with special cargo. But others told me they "didn't count", because those girls weren't distractions. I didn't really get it.

I was more distracted by trying to understand what a girl was. If someone just told me, I think I'd have understood, ya know? But nobody did.

I never really saw girls that looked like me. Not for a long time. I don't know what it was that made us not girls. We were all boys, and that was that. It made sense to everyone else. It didn't make sense to me. I was still thinkin' about it when I wasn't even a kid no more.

I didn't get why boys couldn't be pretty. I knew some very pretty boys. But apparently boys aren't supposed to find boys pretty. It's wrong, it's distracting. It's a girl thing.

When I finally did see a girl that looked like me, it changed me. Was goin' through one of the mail crates, like the nosey pete I am. And then I saw her.

She was pretty. She looked like me, but she was pretty. She was vibrant. She was wearin' clean clothes. She was confident, and proud and she was smiling. She wasn't pale and sick and dіrty and tired, she wasn't miserable and broken and confused. She was happy. It made her pretty.

She was everythin' I wished I was.

Overtime, I saw more of 'em, more girls that looked like me. Every single one of 'em was beautiful. I saw big girls, small girls, tall girls. They were all their own girl. They were all happy. And it made 'em pretty.

Not like us. We were all the same boy. We weren't happy. An' it made us f—k ugly. 'Specially me.

I know I wasn't supposed to look at girls. So much so that we weren't allowed to be on the platforms when the passenger trains came through, incase there were any girls. I didn't know why. But whenever I glanced at pictures I smuggled of 'em I felt somethin'.

I remember telling Alf about pretty girls. He laughed.

It didn't. I saw girls and I wanted that they had. I never brought it up again. What was I not gettin'?

Pretty girls. City girls. Girls that dance. Girls that sing. Girls that eat real food. Girls that dress how they wanna dress. Girls that were proper. Girls that misbehaved whenever they wanted to. Girls that were loud. Girls that relaxed. Girls that kiss pretty boys. And the boys would kiss 'em back because they were girls. And it made 'em pretty.

Boys like me didn't have that. I didn't get to kiss pretty boys. I didn't get to be loud and proud of myself.

But girls like them did.

I'd think about it. I'd dream about it. Until I couldn't hold it inside anymore.

I wanted to try. I wanted to understand. I wanted to feel it, to see it.

Until one day I looked in the mirror.

An' she was there.

And she was smiling.

Like I always wished I could. "

[exoddus]

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon? Between Alf, Lenny and Lola.

[exoddus]

can i suck lennt toes pleasepleaseplea

[exoddus]

Bit of a sweet moment <3

Collab with @ask-alf-oddworld who did INCREDIBLE linework of a sketch I made!!!!!!! Ohhh my gawd I am OBSESSED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOUUU SM

[exoddus]

Its that guy

[ask-alf-oddworld]

“Lenny, I spoke to her! To Lola! From the radio!”

Alf was so excited he didn’t even seem to notice Lenny’s expression, but he looked like that a lot of the time, anyway. “I think she really likes me Lenny, she was sayin’ all kinds of things to me… to me! A lady likes me! And it’s real.”

[ol-stickyfingerz]

Lenny blinked slowly, his usual deadpan expression twitching ever so slightly at the corners. The name Lola hit him like a Slig baton to the temple. His throat tightened. Oh no. Ohhhh no no no….

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting for a second. Alf was practically bouncing, a goofy grin stretched across his face, hands fluttering like he was conducting a symphony made entirely of his own excitement. Lenny quickly forced a laugh. Too loud. Dial it back, Lenny. He tried again, this time with a more casual tone.

"Heh.. yeah, sure Alf. Sure ya did. From the radio, huh? Yeah right." He chuckled again, a little smoother now, like nothing at all was twitching behind his eyes. "How'd ya even manage that?"

Inside, he was screaming.

[this-game-has-themes]

i wanted to keep practicing rendering wrinkles so i painted the most wrinkled thing i could think of, which is of course @lair-of-the-white-worm's lenny