EmperorMeznik’s Furnace Valley
Welcome to The MeepTimes, the twice-monthly update to keep the community in the loop with what’s new, behind the scenes, and in the works.
Ultra Music Festival
Tune in to UMF this Saturday, featuring music and a drop party! Learn more from michaelwojcik2.
You are now able to join Meepcraft with the newly released 1.13 update!
Recently Accepted Suggestions
Players will be able to purchase cosmetic titles for chat in the future. Find information here.
Look forward to a wider variety of events throughout the year! Find out more here.
Players will be able to join all /jobs with one command.
The Skyblock world will be expanding to encompass a new fast-paced game type. Find the specifics here.
New Plot Type
A new plot type will be introduced! Learn more about the suggestion here.
Warp Shop Update
TNT will be introduced to the server shop.
In this new section, the community will get a chance to participate in a quick contest in each MeepTimes! There will be a 25k prize (from the MeepTimes writers) for one lucky winner, who will be chosen by random number generator. To be entered, just answer the poll correctly! Winner will be paid with the release of the next MeepTimes.
The correct answer to last week’s MeepTimes Contests is Onis_Luck.
The winner is the 29th person* to answer. You will be paid 25k by @smk.
*Currently only the thread poster can see who answered the poll correctly. The winner will be paid as soon as possible.
Story-time with the Crew ft. @qazini
A dark figure, hooded and with no discernible features, waves to you through the dense fog and gestures for you to follow. It speaks, but with no voice that would put an identity on it.
“Watch.” The voice commands, and the scene clears.
The velvety green grass is dancing beneath the dappled light, which is coming down amidst the silky leaves of the birches that grace the town. A child’s laugh is heard off in the distance, barely audible through the morning chirping of song birds and the soft gurgle of the nearby creek.
The music of the forest is joined with the splashing coming off from young townswomen wading in the brook, beginning the laundry early today to get back home before the start of breakfast, which is sure to be exciting this morning.
At the mouth of the waterway, where the river was no longer a child but a grown man with a never-ceasing roar, the villagers are hurrying between the white-washed stone houses of their town, preparing the final arrangements for the big day.
The mayor’s runners seem to be flying above the cobblestone lanes, shouting instructions and grimacing at the slightest imperfections, conveying the expression they knew their boss would wear, should he have seen that. In step with the runners are the masons, the carpenters, the painters, the potters, the glass-welders, and the metalworkers, fixing (or more commonly – and less helpfully – commenting upon) the last-minute flaws.
Clop clop comes the sound of hooves on stone in the distance. Clop clop. The villagers drop their work and look to the one road heading out of town. Clop clop. As one they rush towards their respective workplaces. Clop clop. The sound grows nearer, till it seems it is the only one remaining. Clop clop. With greatest difficulty, the townspeople concentrate on their daily tasks, as if it was any other day. Clop clop.
The hoof beats slow down, and finally come to a halt. In the great square (which is neither great nor in the shape of a square) three well-dressed city dwellers gently hop off their horses. The mayor, along with a small welcoming committee, greets them and invites them on a tour through the manicured village.
The committee winds its way through the streets, watching women hang up the recently washed laundry in their small yards, studying the various artisans practice their craft throughout the streets, and enjoy seeing the impeccably clean(clothed?) children race through the streets, laughing but never too loudly, shouting but never too coarsely.
The small procession found its way to the mayor’s home, a three-story building overlooking the foamy river from a small cliff, where the newcomers are invited for dinner, along with many of the more respected members of the town.
Dinner is served, all the best of the local food – Roast chicken doused in oil and spices, salads of the greatest variety of roots and vegetables, a soup brimming with all the fish the river had to offer. Clearing their dessert plates after many long hours of both eating and talking, the head of the committee stands up and clears his throat.
“It has been our greatest pleasure to be received here in this little hamlet as we have been. We have visited many towns such as yours.” He pauses. The room waits with bated breath for the continuation of his speech.
“Stone houses, cobblestone streets, lush forests, few people. All very pleasant and yet familiar.”
He pauses again, catches his breath. His age is doing him no good, his quiet, raspy voice could not have been heard far, had the room not been stock-still with anticipation.
“However, we have concluded this village really is something special. Such food we have not tasted in many long years, the masonry as you have in all your public buildings would look at home in a palace, and your rafts are the finest I have seen in all my travels. Most significant though, was the attitude of your village. Every single person we have met greeted us with nothing but the most overwhelming kindness and sincerity.”
He lets out a cough, pauses, and coughs again.
“Without a doubt, we all agree that this is the best town that one could dream of, and it shall be known throughout the land.”
The table erupts in cheering and applause, their pent-up anxiety finally spilling out in a symphony of emotions.
To acknowledge the feat, over the following year a stone obelisk was erected on the cliff, a monument that soon became a source of immense pride for the town.
The fog engulfs you again, and you remember your mysterious guide.
“Who are you?” you ask, but no sound escapes your throat.
Instead, the dark hooded figure forcibly exhales, and the plumes from its mouth cover all you can see. In another moment, the fog clears, and the scene was the same as you had left it. And yet, something was off.
The movement of people became a blur, then disappeared. Buildings rose up and others fell within seconds. Then everything seems to have come to a stop, save for the rising ground. It continued to pile up until all was covered but the remains of what was the mayor’s house – though now with a sign that read ‘Library’, and now, just a moment later, no sign at all – and the obelisk, weathered and weary with age.
The river is gone; the forest has vanished. A building of shiny metal, with pipes of spewing smoke, now consumes the space, and the obelisk, now halved in height, is beset by a fence. A new river appears, this one direct in length and monotonous in its width.
The polish is gone, rust sets in, the metal building is now surrounded by a fence as well. The ground keeps rising, engulfing all.
And then it stops. Amidst the debris of the clearing, a large triangular prism sits on a small rise in the clearing, shining under the glaring sun. The surface is smooth through the millennia of wind and rain that it had endured. No mark remains on the glossy faces that would indicate its purpose, now long gone from memory.
Out of nowhere, a shadowy hand reaches out and touches the glistening remains of the obelisk. Instantaneously, it cracks into two. Then the halves shatter into a multitude of fist-sized stones, and as each touches the ground, it crumbles into dust. The wind picks up, and the remains of the long-forgotten achievement are swept away.
The velvety green grass is dancing beneath the dappled light, which is coming down amidst metal rubble that graces the clearing. A child’s laugh is heard off in the distance, barely audible through the morning chirping of sparrows and the gurgling of the nearby old canal.
The scene is obscured from your eyes by fog. You turn to the figure in black and attempt a different question.
“What is this?”
Your voice is hoarse, so quiet that at first you assume your second attempt to speak was as successful as the first.
The dark shape shrugs, as if the experience was insignificant. Then it turns, and this time, it walks away, off into the foggy future.
Humans of MeepCraft ft. @LargeUnit
LargeUnit’s consultant Epixaid getting a flying kiss in after Large’s interview
What is your favorite part of Meepcraft?
Well… i love vshop, but most of all i love the community
Oh id like to add that i love @Epixaid
If you could give 1 million meebles to someone (at no cost to yourself), who would you give it to?
Definitely my friend melialee223, she’d love it
If you could change one thing about Meep, what would you change?
Oof… Definitely remove the chat filters, those make me cry
What is your favorite movie franchise, and why?
It’s an old one called Dirty Harry, btw tell ck that i’m sorry, i love star wars too :3
You have quite the interesting /history … what name can we expect next?
hold on i need my consultant @Epixaid to answer this one
Large: epix whats my next name
Epix: i was always thinking you should try out that enormous unit
Is there anything else you’d like to add?
Hmu epix :3
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Get involved with the MeepTimes
With every release of the MeepTimes, we pick a cover photo, a story, and community events submitted by the community! The owner of each piece of content selected will receive a 5,000 meeble reward. To submit entries for the next release of the MeepTimes, send a private message to @CluelessKlutz.
The next issue of The MeepTimes will be released August 10th, 2018. See you then!
This issue was created by: @smk @qazini