Who knew the pot smoking banana was the least strange one among us?
It’s a normal day at Wagmi studios. Burtula has posted a new animation of a Banny (Peach Banny to be precise) getting kidnapped in her sleep. Mieos likes it, but suggests smoothing it out, so the kidnapping can seem more natural. Tankbottoms is asking about asset folders to be filled out, and Sage is coming off being stranded in Idaho with a transmission-less car and working feverishly through her phone.
It’s only 8:30am. The day is just beginning. Felix has spent the better part of two days sourcing custom-made condoms— tri-fold condoms, to be exact, so each Banny can have their own condom packaging, with a pop-out tri-fold to really bring the point home. A banny wrapped in the coital experience, Felixander would tell you, is the most salient testament to the human condition.
Burtula is taking Mieos’ words of advice to heart. After all, if a banny is going to get kidnapped, that should look natural. What will future customers think if such a traumatic experience seems rushed or premature? Premature— Felix is thinking of a joke, but he’s abstaining. She works tirelessly to craft the Peach banny with more finesse, and in the wait one wonders about banny backgrounds— are we even saving all of them?
5 creative people stuffed into a studio, and not a shred of organizational prowess between them. Do we have a Peach Banny background? Of course we do. But where is it? Oh yeah, it’s in one of the thirteen discord channels at Wagmi, and it was posted a month ago. It may as well be in the ether, but that doesn’t stop us all from scrolling up wildly to find it.
Meanwhile tankbottoms is white knuckling it on at least hour 36 of a god-knows-how-long working sprint. His work pace has Cocaine saying bro, slow down, you’re harshing my vibe here. We try to get in touch with him, but on hour 36 the quality of response you can expect is a bit frayed to put it mildly. Tankbottoms operates on a bonding curve of consciousness— if you get your request in early, he will deliver a fucking spectacular answer. But if you’re in that last 5 hour span, you’re gonna get caught holding the bag.
Meanwhile we’re trying to get a presentation on some UI from Sage. The Figma files are fire, and between randomly being jailed and what one can only assume is the wisdom derived from several ayahuasca trips, Sage delivers. She elegantly goes though all the work she’s put into the latest UI iteration, and everyone is blown away and gives her praises, but she has to cut it short because a coyote chewing on some old cigarettes by a roadside is giving her the stink eye, and it may get nasty.
They ask Felix what he thinks about the UI, but all he can think about is how a single tri-fold condom costs $1.64, but if we get ten thousand that price goes down to $0.46 per unit. He wants to make a joke about units, but he abstains. He’s crafting an email asking how many banana-pictures they can print on a single tri-fold, and he’s doing the math and thinking that we can make condoms cool, one self-referential banana at a time. He’s wondering if we can turn this all into a romance novel, where the Bannies fuck each other in only the most pleasant of language.
We look to Mieos for guidance, but he’s on a treasure hunt deep in cryptovoxels, and he’s trying to embed 12 seed phrases the best he can and he’s having a blast doing it. Meanwhile Burtula is waiting for an answer about her animation, and people may be ready to start considering it, but just at that moment tank is wondering why these blog posts are even generated by lowly meatsacks like Felix— can’t all this shit be generated on chain?
For this hour, nothing really happens at all, and nobody is working on anything.
The day is winding down. Condoms have been designed for an order that’s never likely to happen. An animation is still waiting to be fine-tuned. Sage is coming off some hard psychedelics, or at least she should be for the amount of work she does. Tank is crashing for the next 47 hours. Mieos sits back in a recliner with a cat that he caresses knowingly, cackling into the moonlight as he reflects on another solid day.
Nothing finalized, nothing completed. Incremental progress happened, but the struggle continues the next day. But a hell of a lot of fun was had.