#red evbo

[carnivorousarcher]

red evbo design ….. auhhhhhhhhh my boy. i hate him a normal amount

headcanons and longer explainations for the stuff i wrote:

“is colorblind (doesn’t know)” i think it would be SO funny if he thought he was green too. like if he has protanopia. he either spawned in red like this and started making the clones wrong (green) or saw that the clones have clothing matching their eye color and just got that “shade of green” that his own eyes are. mf your eyes are Red.

“the clones have their number on the tag inside the hoodie” self explanatory. parkciv evbo could be #360 LMAO

“injured his hand and tried to fix it (now there’s no skin texture)” i imagine he burnt or cut his hand or some physical scar that you can see but he didn’t want to look different so he tried fixing it in his code or something. and lost the texture. (i mean texture as in like an unfolded minecraft skin. you get it ik you get what im saying.) Also he’s still an evbo so maybe he can be a little bit dumb too

i used the png checkerboard cause it looks better for character design but the minecraft “missing texture” texture is lowkey funnier and more fitting…… but its just so bright (and less ppl would get it probably)

(needed to add some vague unexplained thing that makes him a little non-human. for tumblr sexyman appeal…… and lets be honest for me i cannot have normal human blorbos)

[stellarzidal]

evilfies 🤝 evilbo

their niche of evilness is very similar even if evilbo's motivations are admittedly more emotionally driven than evilfies'. had to draw them.

also was seawatt the worker telling sim evbo to break the command block? i think it was but uhm here.... here here here..... it's probably against the rules to kiss your 'scientific' subjects mr. seawattgaming but you have fun.....

[noeiilyn]

triple baka!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[queencasanuva]

I call this one, ‘A Friend!’

Yay I made a drawing after forever again!

Idk if I conveyed the idea right but it’s Simulation Evbo watching Parkour and PVP Evbo just being happy.

Parkour Evbo is gifting Emf his champion boots, while PVP Evbo is having a heart to heart with Tabi.

But simulation Evbo doesn’t realize he’s making himself miserable due to having no connections with anyone else. With Simulation Seawatt watching the outburst. 🎉

[trenchesdweller]

Trying to compensate for lack of screen time to satisfy my brainrot

[m4rb1le]

gift for my friend n1 redbo fan

[tigerissilly]

my simulation designs :D

[nearingthefarfields]

Twilight Evbo turned Red Evbo and his thoughts on Parkour Civilization Evbo, snippet underneath the cut.

A saint must go through tribulations. I know it, you know it, and so does He. A perfect Evbo cannot be created without strife.

The darkened twilight, that forest, that dimension He had me travel to, I had thought it was enough, and I was—

An Evbo can be wrong. He is more often wrong than he is right. I know; I’ve tested out and evaluated the statistics myself. And I was wrong. It wasn’t enough. That failure was expected of me.

Subpar products go through evaluation to be discarded. A cell goes through the cell cycle and goes through apoptosis if it is cancerous, if it is broken beyond repair. If an Evbo fails my tests, he doesn’t perform well, then he will be deleted. There is no second chance. There is no moment of realization. There is no unfairness, because He was not unfair when it came to me.

I subjected myself to His tests. I was not rebellious, I did not gash nor bite nor squirm. When He used my voice to speak, I did not tear my vocal cords out. When He used my eyes to look upon the dangers He would subject me to, I did not dare cry. Why would I? A perfect Evbo is not unemotional, but he is not weak. I had emotion, too much I found.

I hated the other Evbos. The air was frigid and cold, the clouds dampening my shoes, I hated the other Evbos and the castle they lived in. Hungry, freezing, and in too much pain to remember, I wanted to go home; but there was nothing else to go to, was there?

He counted the days for me; I was too desolate and was too insentient at the time to do so myself. I didn’t bother counting any, not until day 36, day 37, day 38, or day 39. He left me. I thought he left me for good. Was I happy? It remains hard for me to say. I only gained sentience beyond those days alone. I was happy in the way a creator finishes a video that He has agonized over for months. I was delighted in the way a saint is when they are allowed to die and go to Heaven. I was pained in the way an animal suffers after refusing a human’s treatment.

[line break]

A flaw of his is to be tunnel vision. It is a staple of Evbos, and I intend to use it to my advantage; even have it written squarely in the margins of the script page, right next to his name in the character list, sprawled in red ink from a pen that always disobeys me. I’ve yet to wash out all the ink that came from its untimely explosion a few days ago. It’s unfortunate, for it gets everywhere, but I hardly have much time to worry myself about it. My work gloves are enough to fix the problem anyway.

Parkour Civilization as a simulation, as a series, as an Evbo’s test is not majorly unique. It’s major selling point is that it is not a one-off. I’d intended it to be different from, I wanted it to be special, for it to be good. I needed something different, to stave off the burn-out, sick and tired of posting videos that bored me and my audiences; a Skyblock world that is unable to ever grow, a world with a rulebook that contradicts itself. I ask you, would you want to go through that horrid script-writing loop? Would you want to be editing a video and midway through realize that it won’t be the thing that pushes you to perfection? Please, forgive me of growing tired of it. I ask for sympathy, not empathy.

But, I will admit, Parkour Civilization is hardly an improvement. This Evbo is frustrating to me, and do I not hate but loathe him. He knows not even his favorite friend’s name.

And it is my fault and my hand that wrote him this way, that is true, but indulge me in this personification. Yes, you can argue that it’s his fault for never asking, as much as it is their fault for never telling, but there’s not much he can do now, can he? There does still lie the issue, the conflict, on whether or not he is able to find them once again. He must prove his fidelity to them and to me. Find a player without a name, without a user, without anything but the color of their shoes and the melody of their voice.

He is loyal from how he follows. But it is not enough. It will never be enough if I have my way. His friend, mine when the transfer goes through, is nothing more than a cardboard cut out of a player. A stock character, a macguffin, a motivation, a stepping stool that he grew attached to like you would an inanimate object. They have no name for him to know.

You can sympathize him for this fate. I know you will, I hate you for it, but there is nothing I can do about it. It serves me best for you to anyway. If he is the best Evbo, if he is perfect, then I will hate him enough to become him. At least now I will repossess his friend.

I admit. I regret the addition of that friend, of that NPC. That shadow of his, I do not value it as he does, like another shiny totem or his sparkling diamond boots. I will hate this Evbo’s memories the most.

It’s been already written that they will live. I need them to, for this Evbo’s sake, for the plot, for the audience satisfaction, and for me. I don’t care especially about the mechanics behind their departure, the logistics behind their survival; I care for none of it except how they will look in diamond boots. They will be Champion of that simulation while that Evbo is God.

The finale is already written. There is no setting the train off course, there is no draft where Evbo dies at Clown’s feet, there is no concept where Seawatt wins and he is defeated. No matter how I long for that impossibility. I wish so dearly, so immaturely, so jealously, that I let myself scrap the idea of Parkour Civilization when I first thought of it.

But my ego is not worth more than my Creator’s approval.