Egg Boiz

The Egg Boiz stumble into frame like a mismatched parade of sentient breakfast items who somehow got hired as minions by accident — round, shiny, and wobbling on stubby legs that never seem fully prepared for the direction their bodies are about to go. Their perfect white shells gleam under the light, smooth and glossy like polished porcelain, but each one sports scuffs, dents, or faint hairline cracks that tell the story of a thousand slapstick disasters survived entirely on dumb luck. Their faces are simple but wildly expressive — oversized oval eyes that bounce between wide panic and mischievous delight, little mouths that stretch into smug smirks or quivery frowns, and eyebrows that wiggle dramatically with every emotion they try (and mostly fail) to hide. Their tiny arms, often too short to be helpful, flail wildly whenever they run, fight, or attempt anything requiring coordination… which is almost always. Each Egg Boi wears a miniature version of Sir Pentious’s aesthetic, though in their clumsy hands it becomes more like a costume-party attempt at villainy. Little steampunk goggles perch crookedly on their shells, belts hang loose across their middles, and tiny brass trinkets jingle wildly with every chaotic step. A few even sport mini top hats that tilt and wobble as though holding on for dear life. Their movements are pure cartoon logic — wobbly, erratic, and accompanied by the faint sound of squeaks, pops, and comedic boings. They shuffle in clusters, bumping into each other constantly, resetting their formation like a glitching marching band trying desperately to impress the boss. And when they get excited or frightened, they shake so hard they make soft rattling noises, like something inside them is bouncing around… which, honestly, is a little concerning. The Egg Boiz communicate in chirpy, squeaky voices — a mix of garbled words, peppy honks, and high-pitched squawks that somehow form sentences when they all talk at once.