9,999 FROGS WENT LOOKING FOR THE FLEECE · AFTER ACK
Sing to me, Muse. Something with a swamp in it.
BASE / CLASSIC
The Argonauts sailed first — 9,999 pixel busts by Alpha Centauri Kid, ancient mariners with vapes and gold teeth. Pepenauts is the same voyage run by frogs, made for the people who were already aboard.
One sprite. Nine materials. The same 24×24 bust turns up plain green, fossilised, cast in silver, tarnished gold, colonised by coral, sprouting flowers, charred to ash, irradiated — and nine times in 9,999, a vivid blue alien.
Every body is missing pieces. The swamp punches straight through the torso in patches, the way anything looks after long enough in the mud.
The grain is baked into the plate. Almost no two adjacent pixels share a colour, and the jitter repeats identically across a trait. Each token carries exactly three translucent specks of dust, unique to it forever.
Not sold. Airdropped to Argonauts holders. No roadmap, no utility, nothing promised for later. Just frogs, in a pond, for the people who get the joke.
Thirteen of them. The other 9,986 are still under the water.
Variety comes from what the swamp did to them, not from new drawings. The same frog, cast, fossilised, charred and overgrown.
The jitter lives in the source art and repeats identically per trait. Same plate, same grain, every impression.
Per-token uniqueness is exactly three translucent dots. Enough to make every print individual; never enough to break the plate.
The background shows straight through the torso. Nothing is ever drawn back in — the rot is the design.
1 OF 1
One Golden Fleece exists. Gold skin on the Void field, under a woollen gold pelt.
Crown and skull fuse into one solid-gold bust. It carries no other traits, and it never will.
One morning somebody is going to open their wallet and find it sitting there.
790 Argonauts have never been minted, and a handful more were sent to the burn address. Their frogs — 810 of them — are not in the drop.
They sit in the reserve. Mint your Argonaut and yours is still there waiting for you; the pond keeps a spot.
Whatever nobody comes back for gets burned. No second airdrop, no quiet sale later — nobody inherits a pond they never swam in.