hey-hey hey everybody, it's me, spamton g. spamton,
post-canon and post-(mostly)un-puppeting.
i'm a fictive, just formed a couple months ago and by pure goddamn coincidence i've already met my tenna. as in, my [[Cannonball!]]mate.
i'd really like to hash shit out with swatch, and i guess anybody else who cares to chat? but don't expect a lot of energy from me, a 10-year mental health crisis can really wear a guy out. outline of what we've [[Hash Map]]ed out so far, and some personal shit, beneath the [SMASH CUT!].
at some point after tenna got to castle town (and i gave him a serious verbal beatdown, as i would), he decided to try and help with the [[You just gestured to... all, of me?]] somehow, and came up with an idea with ralsei, queen, and the addisons to try some intense defragging with a normal addison as a baseline code reference- and when that wasn't enough, ralsei did something involving the grand fountain to really [Seal the deal]. i spent a decent amount of time in some kind of hospital room with tenna playing [guard dog] and the weather duo dropping in occasionally to check on him. they brought me a gift basket at one point, just tryna do something nice for me after i woke back up. it had some puzzles i could sit in bed and solve, which i'm pretty sure i struggled with.
i don't remember pretty much any of those ten years, and frankly, that's fine. i don't think anybody in their right mind would want to remember [LIVING IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN???] as a deranged [Long-nosed Doll]. though a few things have come back to me, i don't really think they're relevant enough to [[Jot that down! Jot that down!!]].
mike... was that png of a microphone, shaking in the [[DARKER, YET DARKER]]. he could pick up the sounds from the void, like dess, like my phone-friend, and it scared him- we kinda bonded over how fucked it all was. he lived above the stage, above everything, and most of the crew didn't even know if he was real. but i did. we'd chill in the sound booth sometimes.
*not* happy with the addisons, still, even if they cared enough to help once it wouldn't disrupt their lives and might leave them a little less guilty. i know [[We Are Family]], but i'd hardly call us friendly, for my part.
[[Easels]] has a lot to answer for.
i don't expect any [Q5U4EX7YY2E9N]s to care enough about my freak ass to reach out, but i don't get any real anger toward her, so, you know, whatever. she's pretty impersonal toward most.
the kids are welcome, though i don't imagine they'd be too happy to hear from me either. happens when some random puppet tries to kill you and your new friends during the biggest crashout you had yet to witness from someone.
mike impersonators, it's up to you- though host is kinsidering pluey/cat mike, if that makes you feel better. i sure as hell didn't know you.
anybody else i can't think of, do whatever you want with this information, [[JUST DON'T CALL ME LATE FOR DINNER!]]
(sinner here!! arts of spam by our dear tenna's host, then my few doodles below them!! a few tidbits of info in the image descriptions c: )
i still have no idea where spam is in his timeline by the way. we've known about him maybe a week?? two?? and this short depressed (i hesitate to call him a puppet but,) king has been adamant about not being canon spam, not that 'insane fuckin puppet'.
of course, even after the fall he considered himself in canon to be successful with what he had... (he just needed a little genorisity at the time)
but like... my spam dresses himself for success when he fronts and is going out. he bought a watch, he prefers dress pants and shirts (in neutral or dark colors), and while he's more reserved, he's gruff! he's straightforward! he's not happy, but he's not hostile, not even a little. he considers himself a big shot, or did. now there are too many existential questions he's gotta sit with, and no job to distract his mind from the horrors. he feels worn out, and he looks exhausted all the time.
i can't help but wonder what the hell happened there.
here we go! the religious trauma and mental illness! here's the face my headmate chose to take!
"D-DO YOU BELIEVE IN [God]? ... BECAUSE I DO. BECAUSE I ReALLY, REaLLY DO."
ranting about my headmate under the cut, jesus this got long and depressing
my spam is so disappointed in what should have been [Heaven]. it's just another mortal world, another set of strings. maybe a different color, but certainly, he's not free. he's stuck here with me, he's stuck in his appearance in my headspace (as far as we know???), and he doesn't even have the benefit of the phone. of the prophecy. of a narrative to follow. he's up here with the angels, but we're not angels... we're not gods like darkners think. we're just people. flawed. beholden to higher powers, controlled by currency and social structure.
people without magic, who can't even make dark worlds. we can be gods to people in our media- we can tell stories, we can make whole worlds and games and people out of nothing- but in our world? we can't do much at all beyond that.
does the ability to create make you a god in the eyes of your creations? what if they see what you do when you're not creating, that you're flawed, that in your world, you're just as powerless as the things you created? are you still worth aspiring to?
when you've made it beyond the bounds of what you were created to be and get to be a creator, but still have to have a life and make ends meet, what are you supposed to be? what are you supposed to strive for, to believe in, that you weren't striving for in the first place?
what was the point of getting here?
even if he wanted to play with his former associates' lives... even if he wanted to raise some of them up with him... he can't affect his old life so personally. he's not in the Heaven that would allow him any control over that game at a level that matters. he could play, as kris, sure! that would be so fucked up, though. that would be perverted. it's not what he wants or wanted to do. he'd just be holding their strings, and contributing to their suffering at the hand of heaven. he could write a different world, a different ending, but that's fiction! that's not tangible, that's not something he would personally experience and live and get to watch unfold organically. it's fantasy.
maybe that's why he gets so anxious, so sick, when i read my fanfics and look at my fanart. i don't know.
isn't all that pretty fucked up?
no wonder he's so... jaded. angry, all the time, irate at nothing and wanting to drink or smoke to cope. he'd probably do worse, if i let him. an entirely different metaphysical...
cage.
at least, we all think, he's not insane, or glitching, or actually being controlled by someone else. he has full control of himself as far as any of us are aware. he's slipped into these invisible strings as easy as breathing.
anyway hi this is sinner my main here is twotiime2 but i needed a fuckin deltarune sideblog because i'm too mentally ill
in fact i'm a system and i have a bunch of deltarune guys
my posts where i wax philosophical about deltarune and its characters (mostly spamtenna, mostly mostly spamton) are tagged /deltarune+philosophizing
rambles about my own personal fucked up little guys are tagged /personal+philosophizing
videos are #video //
original images SHOULD come with alt text! if i miss any, tell me!
fanart is usually tagged with every deltarune character it contains, tho if they're a tiny doodle off to the side i may not put them in their tag bc they're not featured ENOUGH. it's up to my whimsy
we've been reading nietzsche in my philosophy class, and he wrote a passage on friends in one of his books, thus spoke zarathustra. (that link is an old translation, but you can get the idea. also, ignore the bit about women, that's for another discussion.)
that whole passage hit me really hard. it boils down to two main points: you shouldn't use other people for your personal gain or satisfaction, and you can't have a true friend until you know yourself, because only by knowing yourself can you truly know someone else. usually i don't bother with most of what he said, because he was from the 1800s and hated pretty much everything, but that whole passage made me kinda sad.
am i a bad person, or a bad friend, because i lean on other people when i'm confused about myself? does anyone truly know who they are, or are identity and personality ever-evolving facets of the self we will never fully be able to pin down? am i normal in this confusion, or am i the exception?
i think, therefore i am. but i don't know about the rest of you.
So I haven’t thought much about this blog in a while. It’s been about a month since I’ve been back from Europe, and all I can think to say is how much I miss it. Every little bit. Even the things I found annoying sometimes. I miss going to the grocery…
