The video brilliantly reframes narrative inconsistencies as a deliberate meta-commentary on the medium's inherent instability. It proves that in *Gumball*, a plot hole is not a failure of logic but a sophisticated tool for character and world-building.
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Fall Asleep To Every MAJOR Plothole In GumbalAdded:
There is a moment in the void, an episode from the fourth season of The Amazing World of Gumball, where Gumball and Darwin walk into a place the show simply calls a void. It is where forgotten characters go. Failed pitches, rejected designs, early season characters the writers never brought back. The show points its camera at its own scrap pile and asks the audience to look at it. And in the corner of that pile, sitting on something between a folding chair and a piece of office furniture, is a small purple shape that used to be a janitor. He is melting. He has no eyes. He has been forgotten, which in this show is the same thing as no longer existing. That character is Rob. He is going to become the main antagonist of the amazing world of Gumball. The show is going to give him a war against the Wats. It is going to give him a redemption. It is going to give him an ending. And the show is going to do all of this with a character who exists in canon only because he was a plot hole. That is not a metaphor. The show wrote a forgotten character back into existence and then made his entire arc about being forgotten. It built a villain out of its own continuity error.
Most viewers remember Gumball as a fast, loud, mixed media kids cartoon about a blue cat and a goldfish. What they forget is that the show was almost from the beginning openly built on plot holes. characters with three different origin stories. Species that changed midseries. A central family whose ages, voices, finances, and history shifted without warning. A school that could not decide on its grade level. A universe whose physics changed by the episode.
Almost nobody talks about this. What they remember is the jokes. What they forget is the structure under the jokes.
The deliberate, recurring, almost obsessive use of contradiction as a storytelling tool. Tonight, slowly, quietly, every major plot hole in The Amazing World of Gumball, picked apart one by one. The contradictions the show wrote on purpose. The contradictions the show wrote by accident. The contradictions the show eventually made canon. And the one final plot hole 6 years in the making that the show ran out of time to fix. Welcome to Cartoon.
Let us get started. The Wats have three different origin stories. The show built its central family on a contradiction and then pretended the contradiction was a feature. You can find this most clearly in the way Darwin's existence is explained. Darwin Wat is a goldfish. He has legs. He is Gumball's adopted brother. He used to live in a bowl in Gumball's bedroom, and now he lives in the same room as a fully functional 12-year-old child. Across the show's six season run, the audience is given at least three separate explanations for how this happened, and each explanation contradicts the others. The most formal version is delivered in a two-part episode called The Origins: Verify late season 5/ 6 in, in which the show finally sits down and tells the audience the canonical story of how Darwin grew legs. In that version, Darwin had been Gumball's pet for years. Gumball loved Darwin so completely, so intensely that the love itself caused Darwin to want to leave the bowl. Wanting was the trigger.
Wanting was what made the legs. The episode treats this with surprising sincerity. There is no joke at the end where the show takes it back. The show simply commits. If you watch the rest of the series with that explanation in mind, the rest of the series falls apart. Because earlier episodes give different versions. In casual dialogue across seasons 1 and two, the family refers to Darwin's transformation in passing without the romance, without the wanting, without the slow emotional buildup. In some throwaway gags, Darwin's transformation is treated as recent. In others, it is treated as something that happened years ago. In a handful of moments, Darwin himself seems unsure of when exactly he stopped being only a fish. The show is doing something here that you can either read as sloppy or read as deliberate and the longer you watch the harder it gets to call it sloppy because the show keeps doing it.
Anaas Wat is the second case. Aneas is the wat's youngest child, a small pink rabbit voiced by Kylo Ray Kowalki for most of the series. The show repeatedly tells us Anais is 4 years old. She is 4 years old in season 1. She is 4 years old in season 3. She is 4 years old in season 6. She is voiced, written, and animated as a precocious genius who reads books her parents cannot read, runs the household when her parents are absent, and outthinks Gumball almost every time the camera turns to her. She is also four. The amazing world of Gumball makes occasional jokes about this, about how Anaeas is the smartest member of her family despite being barely out of toddlerhood, but the jokes never resolve into a coherent story.
Other episodes treat her age as functional. There is no version of an Aisa's life where she is starting kindergarten or learning to read or doing any of the things a four-year-old would actually be doing. Her age is fixed at four because in the show's logic, that is the joke. She is the smart one because she is the youngest.
But it is also a plot hole. You can see this most clearly in episodes where the show flashes back to Nicole and Richard meeting or to Gumball's birth or to Darwin first joining the family. Those flashbacks place events at specific times. Gumball's birth has a season.
Darwin's transformation has a moment.
Anise's birth, if you do the math, sits inside the run of the show itself. She would have to be born during the time frame the show takes place in, but she is also four for every episode. The Wats exist in a frozen present. None of them age. None of them get older. That is not strange in a cartoon. Most cartoons freeze their characters. What is strange in Gumball is that the show keeps drawing attention to its own freeze. It keeps showing flashbacks. It keeps showing futures. It keeps making the audience aware that time is happening to other people in Elmore. That the school changes. That adult characters get fired and rehired. That buildings are built and destroyed. And yet the Watsons in their living room never grow up. Then there is the family's history itself.
Nicole has a backstory that the show fills in over five seasons. We meet her parents. We meet her childhood. We see her first encounter with Richard. We see her career. We see her decisions. And in episode after episode, the show contradicts itself about when exactly any of these things happened. Nicole was a martial artist. Nicole was a corporate worker. Nicole was a runaway. Nicole was a daughter of strict traditional parents who disowned her for marrying Richard.
Nicole was in the episode that finally gives her a serious flashback. A woman who saw alternate versions of her own life laid out in front of her and chose this one. That episode is called The Choices and it is in the sixth season verify season 6 episode 22. It is one of the quieter, more emotionally weighted episodes the show ever made. It shows Nicole on a single ordinary day glimpsing the lives she could have had if she had taken different turns. The corporate Nicole, the athlete Nicole, the Nicole who left Richard, the Nicole who never had children. And in each of those alternate Nicoles, the show implies a backstory that contradicts most of what the earlier episodes told you about her. The show does not call attention to the contradiction. It does not have Nicole say, "Wait, this is different from what I told you in season two. It simply offers another version, asks you to feel something about it and moves on." This is in some ways the cleanest version of how The Amazing World of Gumball treats its own continuity. It is not that the show forgets what it told you. It is that the show genuinely does not believe its own continuity is the point. The point is the moment. The point is the joke or the feeling or the image in front of you right now. The point is what is on screen. What is left over when you stack all the moments together is a family with three or four or five different origin stories, none of which fully agree. All of which the show insists are true. You could call this lazy. You could call this six different writers in six different rooms not bothering to read each other's scripts. But the show in its own metaphictional moments suggests something else. It suggests that the contradictions are the family.
That the Wats are not characters with a fixed history. They are characters who happen to be five different sets of attributes animated together every week.
Production-wise, this fits the way Gumball was actually made. The show was created by Ben Bucklet, a French animator working in the UK and developed at Cartoon Network Studios Europe in London. The series was animated across multiple studios. Studio SOI in Germany, Boulder Media in Ireland, Dandelion Studios, each with slightly different rendering, slightly different timing, slightly different feel. Gumball was from the first frame a show assembled out of pieces that were not perfectly aligned. The continuity errors are not glitches in a unified vision. They are the natural output of a fragmented, fast, surreal, mixed media production.
And yet the show treats this fragmentation like a feature. In one of his documented public appearances, Verify at the Anacey Festival or a Cartoon Network panel, Baklet has spoken about wanting Gumball to feel like the inside of a child's imagination, where things change, where rules don't last, where the same character can be five different things in five different scenes. That is more or less what the show became. A family with three origins, a daughter forever four, a wife with five biographies. And the next contradiction we are going to look at is bigger than the family. It is the species itself. Darwin has no consistent backstory. The show told you repeatedly in different ways and then made the contradiction itself into the canon. Of all the plot holes in The Amazing World of Gumball, Darwin's existence is the most foundational. Darwin is in almost every episode. Darwin is the heart of the show. Darwin is the character whose innocence anchors all the chaos around him. And Darwin structurally is a goldfish who has no clear story about how he became a person. The first thing to understand is that Darwin's status changes. In some episodes, he is treated as Gumball's pet who became a brother.
In other episodes, he is treated as having always been a brother. In some episodes, he is functionally a child of the Wats. In others, he is a guest who never quite belongs. The show holds all these versions at once and never resolves them. The most overt explanation again is the origins. The two-part episode walks through Darwin's transformation in detail. Darwin is shown as a fish in a bowl. He is shown loving Gumball. He is shown wanting to leave the bowl. The legs grow. The audience is supposed to read this as a reveal, the long-awaited canonical answer. But the origins only works if you ignore everything before it. Because earlier episodes have already given Darwin a backstory. They have shown him as a creature with awareness, with friends, with a sense of self that predates the legs. They have referred in passing to events from Darwin's life that should not have happened if his entire existence began with growing legs to follow Gumball. The show sometimes treats Darwin as having had a life before the Wats. It sometimes treats him as having only existed inside the bowl.
It does both, sometimes within the same season. The plot hole is not that Darwin's origin is unclear. The plot hole is that the show gave the audience clarity repeatedly in mutually exclusive ways. Then there is Darwin's species. He is a goldfish. He has legs. He has arms.
He has expressions. He breathes air. He never returns to water. He occasionally goes back into water for jokes. But the show treats his land-based existence as the default. By any reasonable biological standard, Darwin is no longer a goldfish. The show in some episodes agrees. There is a recurring gag where Darwin's nature as a fish is treated as functionally irrelevant. He eats fish food in some episodes and human food in others. He sleeps in a fishbowl in early episodes and a regular bed in later ones. His body changes shape in different episodes. Sometimes drawn with legs and sometimes drawn with the original fish silhouette. The animation studios responsible for different episodes. And remember, this is a show animated across multiple studios over six seasons. Sometimes drew Darwin slightly differently from each other.
The variations are not large, but they exist and they accumulate. What this produces over six seasons is a character whose biology is undefined. Darwin can do whatever the episode requires. He can be a fish when the episode needs a fish.
He can be a brother when the episode needs a brother. He can be a moral compass when the episode needs a moral compass. The show never settles. The audience tends to read this as charm.
The forums and comment sections when they discuss Darwin's biology generally resolve the contradictions by appealing to the show's surreal logic. Gumball is a cartoon. Darwin is a goldfish with legs. Of course, it does not all add up.
That is the joke. But that reading misses what the show is actually doing.
In the episode, The Origins, the show takes the contradiction seriously. It does not say this is a cartoon. Do not think about it. It says Darwin grew legs because Gumball loved him. That is a specific causal claim. It is also a claim that contradicts almost every previous episode that depicted Darwin's transformation as gradual or accidental or as something that happened to Darwin rather than because of Gumball. You can read this as the show retconing. You can read it as the show finally landing on a canonical version. You can read it as the show issuing one explanation among many. The most accurate reading, I think, is that the show does not have a canonical version. The show has a moving cannon. Each episode that addresses Darwin's origin is treated internally as canonical for that episode. The next episode is free to contradict it. The contradictions are not glitches. They are how the show works. This is the sort of thing that is easy to dismiss when you only watch a few episodes. It becomes harder to dismiss when you watch the show in order. By the fourth season, the show has accumulated enough conflicting backstory for Darwin that the writers seem to start playing with it. Episodes begin referencing the contradictions. Characters begin commenting indirectly on Darwin's strange status. The show starts to acknowledge that even it does not know what Darwin is. There is a moment somewhere in the middle of the show's run where Darwin is asked about his life before the Wats and he gives an answer that does not match anything else in the show. The answer is brief. It is funny.
It is not corrected. It is simply added to the pile. The pile grows. By the end of the series, Darwin has had a life as a pet. A life as an aquatic creature with friends. A life as a child of strangers before being adopted by the Wats. A life that began the moment he saw Gumball. A life that began the moment he grew legs. And a life that began the moment Gumball wanted him to grow legs. None of these can be true at the same time. All of them are presented at one point or another as what really happened. The audience does not seem to mind. The audience seems to enjoy it.
There is something in the way Darwin is animated, voiced, and written that makes the contradictions feel like part of his charm rather than a flaw in his character. Darwin is sweet, pure, loyal, and slightly confused. So is his backstory. The plot hole becomes character. This is a narrative trick that older animation rarely pulls off.
Most cartoons that have unstable continuities do so by accident, and the audience either does not notice or does not care. The amazing world of Gumball makes the audience notice. It points at the instability. It makes jokes about it. It eventually builds an entire episode arc around the existence of forgotten and contradictory characters.
That arc is the next thing we're going to talk about. But before we leave Darwin, there is one more thing. In the documented production interviews where Ben Boak has discussed the development of the amazing world of Gumball, Darwin is consistently presented as the late edition. Bucket has spoken in real public appearances about how the show originally focused on Gumball more than Darwin. Darwin grew as a character from a sidekick into a co-lead. The show's emotional center shifted toward him because the audience responded to him and because the writers found more to do with him than they had originally planned. That production fact is in itself a kind of explanation for the contradictions. Darwin's backstory is unstable because Darwin himself was unstable as a character. He was rewritten episode by episode by writers who were figuring out who he was as they went. The contradictions in his origin are not fictional contradictions. They are the fingerprints of a character being built in real time in front of an audience by a team of people in different countries. And then the show, instead of cleaning up those fingerprints, kept them, kept all of them, made them canon, a character with three or four or five origin stories, none of which fully agree. All of which the show calls true. That is Darwin.
That is also, as we are about to see, Penny. But before we leave the family entirely, there is one more figure worth lingering on. Richard. Richard Wat is the father. He is a large pink rabbit voiced across the run of the show by an adult actor, and he is on the surface the simplest character in the family. He is unemployed. He is loving. He is foolish. He is reliable in his unreliability. The audience knows what to expect from Richard episode to episode. And the show generally delivers it. But Richard's history, when the show pulls on it, contradicts itself just as readily as Darwin's. Richard's parents have appeared in the show in different forms across different episodes.
Richard's childhood has been depicted in different ways. Richard's life before the Wats has been described in mutually exclusive sketches. In some episodes, Richard had a strict father. In other episodes, Richard had no father at all and was raised by a single mother who held him to standards he was incapable of meeting. In some episodes, Richard had ambitions. In other episodes, Richard never wanted anything beyond the life he has now. The show treats each version as the version that explains who Richard is. this episode in this particular emotional context. The version of Richard that exists season to season is not a stable accumulation of his backstory. It is a Richard built for the episode's purpose. The backstory is whatever the show currently needs it to be. This is in some ways the most extreme version of the family's continuity problem. Richard is the comic engine of the show. The show needs Richard to be a particular kind of failure. A failure who is also lovable.
a failure who is also a husband and a father. A failure whose failure does not actually destroy his family. To produce that combination, the show keeps reaching for new explanations of why Richard is the way he is. None of the explanations agree. And again, the show does not flag this. The show simply offers the new explanation and moves on, trusting that the audience will absorb the contradiction the way the audience has absorbed every other contradiction.
The audience does. Richard is one of the show's most beloved characters. Most viewers do not when they think of Richard list out the contradictions in his backstory. They list out the moments, the scenes, the voice, the particular slow comic timing that the actor brings to a character who is ostensibly a cartoon rabbit, but who has become across six seasons one of the most recognizable comic creations in modern animation. The contradictions are background to the recognition. The recognition is the point. Penny was one species for four seasons. Then the show changed everything on screen on purpose and asked the audience to come along.
Penny Fitzgerald is Gumball's love interest almost from the very first episode of the series. She is a peanut.
Specifically, she is a small peanut-shaped creature with antlers, a face, and a slightly nervous way of speaking. For the first four seasons of The Amazing World of Gumball, that is what she looks like every single time she appears on screen. The audience is told by the visual logic of the show that this is her body. This is her species. This is what Penny is. Then in an episode commonly referred to as the shell verify late season 4 or early season 5, the show takes that visual logic and breaks it. The shell is structured around a moment of confession. Penny in the episode has been holding something back from Gumball. The audience does not initially know what. The episode escalates slowly toward a reveal. And the reveal is that the peanut with antlers shape that Penny has worn for the entire run of the show is not her body. It is a shell, a protective layer. Her actual species is something else entirely. What Penny is in the show's revealed cannon is a shape- shifter. She can take on any form. The peanut shape was a form she was given as a small child by her parents. A controlled, conservative, restrictive form designed to keep her from changing into anything more expressive. Her family, in the show's framing, did not want her to be free, so they gave her a shell. In the shell, Penny breaks out, literally. She cracks open the peanut form, and what emerges is a creature of light and color that can take any shape it wants. The episode is, by most measures, one of the most beautifully animated half hours, the amazing world of Gumball, ever produced.
The shell-breaking sequence is rendered with a kind of reverent care that the show does not usually bring to its physical comedy. There is music. There is silence. There is a slow, deliberate pull on a single image. Penny exposed for the first time surrounded by the broken pieces of who she used to be. It is a serious moment. It is also a plot hole because for four seasons, the show has shown Penny as a peanut. Every interaction between Penny and Gumball, every emotional beat, every romantic scene has involved a peanut-shaped creature with antlers. The show's writers, animators, and voice actors all built their work around that visual identity. And then in a single episode, the show says that none of it was her real form. The contradiction is not just visual. It is emotional. If Penny was wearing a shell for four seasons, then every scene she had with Gumball took place under a kind of pretense. She was hiding. She was constrained. The show implies in the shell that she has been uncomfortable in this form for years.
That her parents pressured her into it, that she has been waiting for years in Showtime for a moment to reveal her true self. If you go back and rewatch the early seasons with that knowledge, the early seasons play differently. Every scene of Penny laughing, flirting, being herself with Gumball, those scenes are now scenes of a person performing a self that is not theirs. The show has retroactively recontextualized four years of its own cannon. This is a remarkable thing for a children's cartoon to do. It is also mechanically a plot hole because the show in those early seasons did not write Penny as a person hiding. It wrote her as a person being herself. There are scenes where Penny is unapologetic, where Penny is direct, where Penny is in command of her own personality. Those scenes are not consistent with a person who has been forced into a constraining shell since childhood. The show's later canonical claim about Penny does not match the show's earlier characterization of Penny. The fan response to this is largely positive. The episode The Shell is widely cited in YouTube essays and in fan discussions as one of the show's finest moments. The reveal is treated as a triumph. The reveal is treated as a metaphor for puberty, for self-acceptance, for the way young people are pressured by their families to be smaller than they are. All of those readings are valid. The episode supports all of them. But underneath the metaphor is a continuity break. The show changed what Penny was. The show changed it on screen. The show changed it without warning. And then after the change, the show kept changing. In the seasons that follow The Shell, Penny appears in different forms. Sometimes she is a butterfly. Sometimes she is a small horned creature. Sometimes she is a more humanoid shape. The show treats her shifting body as a feature of who she is. Now she is no longer a peanut.
She is a shape- shifter and the audience is asked to follow. This works in the show's mixed media logic. The amazing world of Gumball is already a show where animation styles change between scenes, where characters are drawn differently from episode to episode, where the visual language of the show is constantly being remade. A character whose body changes shape fits naturally into that environment. Penny as a shape shifter is the show explaining its own visual instability through one of its main cast members, but the explanation is retroactive. It does not undo the four seasons of the show that depicted Penny as a peanut. Full stop. No shell, no metaphor. Those four seasons exist.
Those four seasons are still canon. And the show after the shell does not go back and edit them. It simply piles the new cannon on top of the old cannon and asks the audience to live with both.
There is a production angle here that is worth pulling on. The amazing world of Gumball was not initially planned with this kind of long-term character arc. By the show's third or fourth season, the writers had room to think about longer storylines. They had built up enough recurring characters and enough audience trust to attempt narrative shifts that the early seasons could not have supported. The shell is one of those narrative shifts. So is the entire Rob arc, which we will get to. So is the increasing emotional weight given to Nicole. The show, in other words, evolved. Its early seasons were episodic, fast, joke dense. Its later seasons were still fast and joke dense, but they began to carry weight that the earlier seasons could not. The Shell is the show using its later weight to retroactively change the meaning of its earlier episodes. That is a powerful storytelling move. It is also a structural plot hole. The show is asking the audience to accept that something was true the entire time. Even though the audience was never shown it being true, the audience is being asked to update its memory of the show. Most viewers do. The cultural reception of The Shell across animation criticism, across fan communities, across the documented response from Cartoon Network's own marketing has been almost uniformly positive. The reveal is treated as one of the show's high points. It is treated as proof that Gumball was always more than a kid's show. It is treated as the moment Gumball announced its capacity for emotional storytelling. All of that is true. It is also true that the reveal is built on a contradiction. Penny was a peanut, then she was not. The two claims cannot both be true at the same time.
Unless in the world of the amazing world of Gumball, contradictions are not problems. They are how the show breathes. We are going to see that breath again in the next chapter in the form of a character. The show built specifically out of its own continuity errors. Rob is a plot hole that became a villain. The show wrote a contradiction into canon and then gave it a war. There are very few characters in animation history whose entire existence is defined by a continuity error. Rob is one of them. Rob in the amazing world of Gumball is a character whose entire reason for being is that the show forgot about him. Rob first appears in the early seasons of the show as a one-off character. He is introduced briefly then dropped. He is not given an arc. He is not given a relationship to the main cast. He is by every visible measure a minor character in a show that has hundreds of minor characters, most of whom appear once and then are not seen again. In the fourth season, the show airs the episode called the void. This is the episode the user prompt itself confirms. Season 4, episode 36. The premise of the void is simple. Gumball and Darwin discover that there is a place where forgotten characters go. A literal void. A garbage shoot for the show's own discarded material. They go there. They look around. What they find, among other things, is Rob. Rob has been in the void since the show stopped using him. He has in the void's logic been forgotten. And forgetting in the show's framework is a kind of eraser. Rob has lost most of his features. He has lost his eyes. He has lost his color. He is barely a character anymore. He is what is left over when the show stops drawing you. Gumball and Darwin remember him.
The act of remembering him pulls him out of the void. He returns to existence. He returns to the show. This is on its surface a sweet meta joke. The show acknowledging its own forgotten characters. The show literalizing the experience of being a side character who never gets to come back. There are precedents for this kind of joke in animation. Older surreal cartoons have played with the idea of metaphictional characters becoming aware of their fictional status. What the amazing world of Gumball does that those older cartoons do not is commit. The show does not use the joke and then return to normal. The show takes the joke seriously. Rob having been pulled out of the void becomes a permanent character and then the show goes further because Rob having been forgotten is angry. He is angry at Gumball. He is angry at Darwin. He is angry in the show's framing at the entire structure that allowed him to be forgotten in the first place. The show gives him motivation.
The show gives him a reason to want revenge. The show makes him a villain.
This happens fully in the episode called the disaster, which the user prompt confirms as season 4, episode 38. In the disaster, Rob has obtained a remote control that lets him manipulate the show itself. He can rewind episodes. He can fast forward. He can pause. He can cut and paste sequences. He can break reality. The show in this episode is no longer a passive recording of events in Elmore. It is something Rob can edit.
The audience watches Rob break the show.
The audience watches the camera glitch.
The audience watches Gumball and Darwin try to chase Rob through what is no longer a coherent narrative. The episode is one of the most ambitious things the show ever attempted. It is also one of the most explicit acknowledgments in any animated television series that the show is aware of its own status as a constructed thing and the engine of this ambition is a plot hole. It is a forgotten character. It is a continuity error. After the disaster, Rob becomes a recurring presence. He returns. He plots. He fights Gumball. He gets defeated. He comes back. The show treats him as a fully developed antagonist.
Even though everything we know about him traces back to the moment he was rescued from the void, Rob's entire character in the show's later seasons is structured around the experience of having been forgotten. His grievances are continuity grievances. His motivation is rooted in the audience's failure to remember him.
This is structurally unprecedented.
There are villains in animation who break the fourth wall. There are villains who comment on the structure of their own shows. There are very few villains whose entire psychology is built around the show's own production failures. Rob's existence forces the audience to carry the show's continuity in their head as a moral weight. If you do not remember Rob, you have in some sense hurt him. The show has built an emotional logic where forgetting a character is an act of harm. The plot hole is no longer a plot hole. The plot hole is a wound that the show then in later episodes tries to heal. The Rob arc culminates. Verify. In the late fifth season or in the sixth season, in a kind of redemption, Rob, having been forgotten and then weaponized, is offered a path back into the world of the show. The exact mechanics vary depending on which episode you watch, but the through line is consistent. Rob becomes a character with an interior life. Rob becomes someone the show treats with sympathy. Rob becomes more in the end than a continuity error. This is the move that elevates the entire bit. The show does not just turn a plot hole into a villain. The show turns a plot hole into a person. There is a craft argument to be made here, and it is an important one. The show's writers are not the only people who notice forgotten characters. Audiences notice them. Fans notice them. There are entire fan communities online dedicated to tracking minor characters in longrunning animated series. These communities pre-existed Gumball. They will outlast Gumball. They are part of the natural ecosystem of any show with a deep cast and a long run. The amazing world of Gumball is one of the few shows that responded to this audience behavior with a story. Most shows ignore their forgotten characters. Most shows hope the audience will not notice. Gumball noticed first and it noticed publicly and it built an entire arc out of the noticing. This is in its own quiet way a thesis statement for the entire show.
The amazing world of Gumball is not a show that pretends its plot holes are not there. It is a show that builds plot holes into its narrative architecture.
The continuity errors are not flaws.
They are raw material. The show takes its own mistakes and writes stories about them. The show takes its own forgotten characters and gives them voices. If you read the show this way, almost every other plot hole in the series starts to look intentional. There is a deeper question hidden inside the Rob arc and it is a question the show seems aware of. The question is what it means to remember a fictional character.
The show in its metaphictional moments takes seriously the idea that being remembered is a kind of existence. The void is real in the show's logic because forgetting is real. Rob suffers in the show's logic because the audience stopped paying attention to him. This is a strange thing for a children's cartoon to suggest. It is asking the audience to consider their own role in keeping fictional characters alive. It is asking the audience to feel in some small way complicit in the disappearance of minor characters from earlier seasons. The show is in its quiet way suggesting that the act of watching is also an act of moral participation. Most cartoons do not put this weight on their audiences.
Gumball does. The Rob arc is the show insisting that the audience is part of the show's reality and that the audience's choices about who to pay attention to have consequences inside the fiction. This is a generous reading.
It is also a defensible reading given how consistently the show returns to questions about memory, attention, and the value of being noticed. The fan response over the years has tracked this. There are online discussions of the amazing world of Gumball that catalog every minor character who appeared in the show, often with the explicit goal of not letting them fall into the void. The audience took the show's lesson seriously. The audience tried to remember whether or not the show's writers intended this kind of audience response. The response happened. The Rob arc produced a community of viewers who treat memory as a moral obligation toward their cartoons. That is an unusual achievement. And that brings us to the next layer. Because Rob is not the only contradiction the show turned into a story. The setting of Elmore itself, its rules, its physics, its grade levels, its very geography is a moving target.
The town the show takes place in cannot decide what it is. That instability, like Rob, is on purpose. Elmore has rules that change every episode. The setting itself is a contradiction the show refused to fix. The town of Elmore is the entire world of the amazing world of Gumball. The show takes place in Elmore. The Wats live in Elmore. The school is in Elmore. The shops are in Elmore. The countryside around the town is more or less Elmore. With rare exceptions, every event in the show happens within the same fictional town, and that town does not have stable rules. The most obvious instability is in the town's residents. Elmore is populated by characters of every imaginable type. There are humans. There are animals that walk on two legs. There are inanimate objects that walk on two legs. There are food items. There are abstract concepts. There are ghosts.
There are characters who appear to be made of paper. Characters who appear to be made of clay. Characters who appear to be made of CG. I rendered in the wrong style. The show makes no effort to organize these characters into a coherent ecology. They simply coexist.
This is the first plot hole, and it is so foundational that it is rarely treated as a plot hole at all. In a town where some characters are sentient food, and other characters are normal humans, the question of how anyone eats is not a question the show wants to answer. The Wats go to a grocery store. The grocery store has products. Some of those products are visually identical to other characters in the town. The show does not address this. Most viewers do not address this either. It is treated as a feature of the show's surreal logic.
Elmore is weird. Move on. But the deeper instability is in the rules themselves.
In some episodes, Elmore obeys recognizable physical laws. Cars drive on roads. Buildings have floors. Gravity works. Distances are stable. Characters get hurt when they fall. The town in these episodes is functionally a normal small American town. In other episodes, none of this is true. Cars become alive and have personalities. Buildings have additional floors that did not exist last episode. Gravity flips, distances shift, characters are unharmed by impacts that should kill them. The town in these episodes is functionally a dream. The show does not announce when it is shifting between these modes. It does not flag this is a serious episode where physics matter or this is a wild episode where physics do not matter. The shift happens in the writing and the animation and the audience is expected to keep up. This works in practice because the show is so visually distinctive that the audience reads the shift instinctively. A more grounded episode looks more grounded. A more chaotic episode looks more chaotic. The animation team across multiple studios including Studio SOI and Boulder Media calibrates the visual language to the tonal needs of each episode. But behind the calibration is a continuity issue.
The Elmore that exists in episode A is not the Elmore that exists in episode B.
The rules of the world depend on the script. You can see this most clearly with the school. The school in the amazing world of Gumball is named Elmore Junior High in some references and treated as an elementary school in others. Gumball is 12 verify. He is referred to as 12 in early episodes.
Some later episodes adjust which would put him in middle school by American standards which is consistent with the junior high name. Ana is four which would place her in preschool but Anaeas sometimes appears in classrooms at the same school. Some episodes treat Elmore Junior High as having a specific grade range. Other episodes treat it as a school for all ages where students of wildly different ages share classrooms.
This is the kind of inconsistency you can find in many cartoons. Cartoons do not always care about the realworld organization of educational institutions. What is unusual in Gumball is that the show keeps drawing attention to the inconsistency. There are episodes that hinge on grade levels. There are episodes that hinge on the differences between younger and older students.
There are episodes that treat the school as a strict institutional environment.
There are episodes that treat it as a loose, permissive, almost lawless space.
The show, in its most meta moments, comments on this. In a few scenes, characters acknowledge that they are not sure what grade they are in. In other scenes, characters comment on how the school's structure does not seem to follow any rules. The show, in other words, knows that the school is a plot hole. The show has decided that this is fine. The same instability shows up in the geography of the town. Elmore is, in some episodes, a small town with a few main streets, a school, a forest, and a downtown. In other episodes, Elmore has hidden infrastructure. There are underground levels. There are alternate dimensions accessible from inside the town. There is a void, as we have already discussed, that exists somewhere adjacent to the town's normal geography.
There are buildings that appear in some episodes and not in others. There are characters who live in places that geographically should not exist. The show makes no attempt to reconcile these spaces into a single map. There are no establishing shots that show, for example, here is the void, here is the school, here is the Wat's house, here is the way they all connect. The geography is whatever the episode requires. If an episode needs the Watsons to walk to school, the school is walking distance.
If an episode needs them to take a long road trip, the school is far away. The town stretches and contracts. There is an animation history precedent for this kind of geography. Older cartoons, particularly the surreal Looney Tunes shorts and the Hannah Barbara adventures, played freely with their settings. The setting was a stage. The audience was not expected to map it.
What is unusual in Gumball is that the show is also simultaneously a sitcom. It has the structures of a domestic comedy.
The Wats live in a house. They go to school. They go to the store. They have neighbors. The setting is supposed to be stable. The show holds these two impulses at once. It is a sitcom in the foreground and a surreal stage in the background. The setting is stable when the sitcom needs it to be stable. The setting is fluid when the surreal stage needs it to be fluid. The audience adjusts. What this produces structurally is a town that cannot be drawn on a map.
Elmore exists. The Wats exist in Elmore.
But Elmore's actual geography is whatever the episode in front of you requires. That is a plot hole. It is also in the show's logic, a feature. And the feature reveals something about the show's deeper philosophy. The Amazing World of Gumball is a show about a particular kind of childhood imagination. The kind where the rules of the world change depending on what game you're playing. If you're playing house, the world has the rules of house. If you are playing soldiers, the world has the rules of soldiers. If you are playing makebelieve in the backyard, the backyard becomes whatever the makebelieve requires. The show's setting is built on that logic. Elmore is whatever the episode requires it to be because Elmore is a child's playground animated. When you read the show this way, the plot holes in the setting stop being plot holes. They become the setting. The instability is the world.
The contradictions are the geography.
But there is one more layer to this and it is the most uncomfortable one because the show in its later seasons starts to suggest that the instability of Elmore is not just a stylistic choice. It is a metaphysical fact. The town is unstable because the show is unstable. The town is unstable because the show is animated. The town is unstable because reality in the amazing world of Gumball is something the show itself can edit.
The villain who edits reality is of course Rob. The arc that begins with Rob breaking reality in the disaster is on this reading an arc about the audience being asked to confront the metaphysics of the show. Rob is what happens when the show's instability becomes self-aware. Rob is what happens when a character realizes that the rules of the show are not real rules. Rob is what happens when the plot hole talks back.
We are going to leave Elmore for the next chapter and return to a different kind of plot hole, a plot hole in time itself. But before we do, there is one more layer of Elmore's instability worth naming. The question of which objects in Elmore are alive. In a show whose town is populated by sentient food, sentient furniture, sentient body parts, and sentient abstract concepts, the question of what is alive and what is not should be one of the show's central concerns.
Most cartoons that include living objects make rules about which objects are alive. There are usually classes of object that are always alive and classes of object that are never alive. The audience can learn the rules. Gumball does not have these rules. In Gumball, any object can become a character at any moment. A car that was a car for an entire season can suddenly speak. A piece of furniture that has been background for years can suddenly be revealed to have a name and a personality. A character who was a character for years can be revealed to be in fact an object that has been pretending to be a character. The show treats this fluidity as comic material.
The jokes often turn on the moment of revelation. When an object the audience assumed was inert turns out to have been alive the whole time. The reverse also happens. Characters the audience assumed were alive turn out to have been objects or to have always been objects or to have become objects through some process the show does not bother to explain.
This produces a metaphysical instability that runs underneath every scene of the show. In any given moment, the audience cannot be sure whether the objects in the frame are alive or not. The audience has to wait for the show to tell them.
The show does not always tell them.
Sometimes the question is left open.
Sometimes the question is answered in one episode and contradicted in another.
There is a particular gumball running gag that uses this instability to comic effect. A background object will appear in many episodes as background. Then in a single later episode, the object will speak. The object will reveal that it has been observing the Watsons for years. The object will have opinions.
The object will have grievances. The object will, having spoken, return to being background in subsequent episodes as if nothing had happened. This is funny. It is also structurally a continuity break. The show is asserting that the object was a character all along. The earlier episodes did not show the object as a character. The earlier episodes showed the object as an object.
The retroactive assertion that the object was always alive is a kind of plot hole, a recategorization of the show's own past. You can find versions of this gag scattered across the show's run. The WAT's couch, the WAT's television, various pieces of school equipment, various items in the WAT's kitchen. Each of these has been at one point or another revealed to be alive.
Most of them have after their reveal returned to being inert. The show does not maintain their character status.
This is in some ways the most extreme version of Elmore's instability. The town does not just have unstable rules.
It has unstable beings. The very category of who counts as a person is something the show can revise at will.
You could call this incoherent. You could call it sloppy. You could call it the natural product of a show whose visual style allows any object to be a character if drawn that way. But you could also call it consistent with the show's deeper thesis. If reality is something the show is making, then who counts as a character is also something the show can make. The categorical instability is not a bug. It is the show treating its own fiction as something that can be edited from inside. This will become important when we get to the show's finale. The figure in shadow at the end of the Inquisition is in this reading the show pointing at one more category that has not yet been settled.
Is the figure a character? Is the figure an object? Is the figure something else?
The show goes quiet before answering. We are going to leave Elmore now and look at a different kind of plot hole. A plot hole in time itself. Time travel breaks Gumball's continuity. The future episodes contradict each other and the show does not try to reconcile them.
There is a small set of episodes in the amazing world of Gumball that involve time in some way as a plot device. There are flashbacks. There are flash forwards. There are alternate timelines.
There are characters from the future.
There are characters from the past. In a show that is otherwise structured around episodic comedy, these timerelated episodes carry an unusual narrative weight because they are the show's only sustained engagements with continuity as a serious problem, and they all contradict each other. The most explicit time related plot hole is the future of the Wat family. Several episodes show at various points what the Wats will become. Some of these episodes treat the future as a kind of warning. Gumball seeing what he will become if he makes certain choices. Some treat the future as inevitable. This is who Gumball is going to be regardless of what he does.
Some treat the future as fluid. There are many possible futures and which one comes true depends on choices not yet made. These three framings are not compatible. If the future is a warning, then the future can be changed. And Gumball's actions in the present have weight. If the future is inevitable, then the future cannot be changed. and Gumball's actions in the present do not change anything. If the future is fluid, then there is no single future and the show's depictions of the future are not consistent with each other. The show uses all three. Different episodes adopt different framings and the show does not flag the shift. The audience is expected to accept that the future is whatever this particular episode needs it to be.
Then there are the alternate timelines.
We have already touched on Nicole's flashbacks in The Choices, the sixth season episode where Nicole sees the alternate lives she could have led. That episode treats alternate timelines as visions, as glimpses of possibility, not as actual existing realities. Nicole sees the corporate version of herself.
She sees the athletic version. She sees the unmarried version. The episode treats these as images in her head, but other episodes treat alternate timelines as real. There are episodes where alternate universe versions of the Wats appear physically in Elmore. There are episodes where the family interacts with their other selves. There are episodes where the structure of reality itself is shown to be branching. In these episodes, the alternate timelines are not just images. They are places. They have their own physics, their own characters, their own stakes. The show does not reconcile these two framings.
Alternate timelines are sometimes mental, sometimes physical, sometimes metaphorical, sometimes literal. The show uses whichever framing the episode needs. Then there are the time travelers. There are episodes verify scattered across multiple seasons in which characters from the future appear in the present. There are episodes in which characters from the present go to the future. There are episodes in which the past is visited, sometimes as a flashback, sometimes as a journey. The mechanics of time travel in The Amazing World of Gumball are not stable. In some episodes, time travel works on a closed loop logic. The future is what it is because of what happens in the past, and the past is what it is because of what will happen in the future. The two are locked together. In other episodes, time travel works on a branching logic. Going to the past creates a new timeline.
Changing the past does not change the present because the present is now a different timeline. In other episodes, time travel works on a malleable logic.
Going to the past changes the present directly. The future is constantly being rewritten by present actions. Three different sets of time travel rules in the same show with no acknowledgement of the contradiction. This kind of inconsistency is common in animation.
Most cartoons that engage with time travel do so episodically without a coherent metaphysics. What is unusual in Gumball is that the show keeps coming back to time as a theme. The show is not casually playing with time. The show is repeatedly, deliberately returning to the question of how time works in Elmore. And every time it returns, the answer is different. You can read this as the show not having a coherent vision. You can read it as the writers not coordinating. You can read it as the natural product of a longunning animated series with multiple writers. But you can also read it as the show again treating contradiction as material. Time in the amazing world of Gumball is not a fixed dimension. Time is a tool. Each episode that uses time uses it for that episode's emotional needs. If the episode needs the future to be a warning, the future is a warning. If the episode needs the future to be inevitable, the future is inevitable. If the episode needs alternate timelines to be real places, they are. If the episode needs them to be mental images, they are. This is again a plot hole that works because the show commits to it.
And there is a particular emotional charge that comes out of this approach.
Because the audience in a show with stable time mechanics is allowed to develop a single sense of how the world works. In a show with unstable time mechanics, the audience is constantly being asked to readjust. Each episode is a new piece of metaphysics. The audience does not get to settle. The Amazing World of Gumball uses this unsettlement.
Episodes that involve time travel often carry more weight than the show's typical episodes. They feel different.
They feel slower. They feel like the show is reaching for something larger than its usual jokes. The choices with Nicole's flashbacks is an example of this weight. The episode is, by most accounts, one of the show's emotional high points. It treats time as a serious thing. It asks the audience to feel the weight of choices that were made and choices that were not. It does this without resolving its own metaphysics.
The episode does not tell the audience whether the alternate Nicoles are real or whether they are imagined or whether they are something in between. The episode lets the question stay open.
That openness is again a kind of plot hole. The show is asking the audience to feel something without giving the audience the metaphysical foundation to ground that feeling. The audience feels the weight without knowing exactly what is being weighed. Most viewers do not notice this. The episode works. The emotional beats land. The audience leaves with a sense of having watched something meaningful without being able to fully articulate what. This is a sophisticated narrative trick and it is one the amazing world of Gumball uses repeatedly. The show makes you feel things by giving you partial information and letting your brain fill in the rest.
The show's plot holes in these moments are the holes through which feeling flows. There is a craft principle here that animation criticism does not often discuss. Some shows work by giving the audience a complete world and letting the audience explore it. Other shows work by giving the audience an incomplete world and letting the audience complete it themselves. The amazing world of Gumball is mostly the second kind. The plot holes are not failures of completeness. They are invitations to the audience to do the completing. When time is the thing being incomplete, the audience completes time.
The audience decides which version of the future is the real one. The audience decides which version of the past is canon. The audience decides which Nicole is the Nicole that matters. The show, having handed those decisions to the audience, then refuses to take them back. There is no episode where the show says, "Here is the canonical timeline.
Here is what really happened." The show does not commit to a version. The show keeps the questions open. This is a brave choice for a children's cartoon.
Children's cartoons usually settle their continuity because they assume the audience needs settlement. The amazing world of Gumball assumes the opposite.
It assumes the audience can hold contradictions in its head. It assumes the audience can decide for itself what to remember. The audience usually delivers. Most fans of Gumball, when asked about the show's time travel mechanics, do not talk about the contradictions. They talk about the moments. They talk about Nicole's alternate selves. They talk about the future Gumball. They talk about the visions and the warnings. They have all already done the work of choosing which version of time they consider canon and they have done it without realizing they were doing it. That is a remarkable kind of audience participation. And it is a remarkable kind of plot hole. One where the audience does not see the hole because the audience has already filled it. We are going to leave time and return to something more concrete.
Money. Because the wats across the show are simultaneously broke and not broke and the show could never decide which.
The Wats are broke and also not broke.
The show could not commit to either and the contradiction generates entire plot lines. Money is one of the running concerns of the amazing world of Gumball. The Wat's financial situation comes up in some form across the entire run of the show. There are episodes where money is the central plot. There are episodes where money is a passing complication. There are episodes where money is a setup for a joke. And across all of these episodes, the show cannot decide whether the Wats are poor. In some episodes, they are clearly poor.
The family struggles to pay rent. They struggle to afford basic things. They take on jobs they do not want because they need the money. They are visited by debt collectors. The show treats their financial procarity as a real ongoing concern. Episodes built around money pressure feel weighted by it. The Wats in these episodes are a workingclass American family living closer to the edge than they would like. In other episodes, money is not a problem. The family takes vacations. The family buys luxury items. The family acts in ways that would be impossible for a family that was actually struggling. The show in these episodes treats money as functionally unlimited. The Wats are middle class, comfortable, secure. The show does not flag the shift. There is no episode where the family explicitly comes into money. There is no episode where the family explicitly loses everything. The financial situation is whatever the episode requires it to be.
This is again a plot hole and it is one of the more interesting plot holes the show carries because money is not a fantastical element. Money is something the audience knows. The audience knows what it means for a family to have money. The audience knows what it means for a family to not have money. The audience can feel the difference between an episode where the wats are scraping by and an episode where they are spending freely. When the show contradicts itself about something fantastical like Penny's species or Darwin's origin, the audience can absorb the contradiction inside the show's surreal logic. When the show contradicts itself about money, the audience cannot use the surreal logic to absorb it.
Money is too grounded. Money is too real. So, the contradiction sits there unresolved. There is an episode verify titled the finale or similar late in the show's run, possibly season five, in which the wats are pursued by debt collectors who threaten to take everything they own. The episode treats this threat as real. The collectors are not joking. The WATs could lose their house. The episode is structured around a desperate effort to escape the consequences of the family's accumulated debt. That episode watched in isolation would suggest that the Wats are deeply structurally in debt. Their financial situation is not just precarious, it is dangerous. But that episode airs in a season where in other episodes the family is buying expensive things, going on trips, and acting like a family that does not have to worry about money. the same season, the same writers, sometimes the same characters in the same shots, behaving in ways that contradict the financial reality the show has just established. The show does not address this. There is a critical theory you can apply here, and it is a theory that has been used to read other long-running American family sitcoms. The Wats are on this reading a working-class family who are sometimes written as a middle-class family because the writers want them to do middle-class things. The contradiction between the family's actual economic position and the family's behavior is a contradiction that exists in the writing, not in the family. The writers want the family to be poor when poor is funny, and they want the family to be middle class when middle class is convenient. That reading is consistent with how the show actually behaves. But there is a deeper reading, which is that the show is again treating contradiction as material. The Wat's financial instability is not just a writing choice. It is a depiction of how money actually feels for many real families. Money is not a stable fact.
Money is a moving target. There are weeks when money is fine and weeks when money is a crisis. There are months when the family can afford things and months when they cannot. The financial reality of a working family is volatile. The show on this reading depicts that volatility. The Wats are sometimes broke and sometimes not broke because their money is real and their money is unstable. This reading does not fully resolve the contradiction. There are still episodes where the show's depiction of money is internally inconsistent, where the family acts in ways that no real family in their situation would act, but the reading at least gestures toward what the show might be doing in its more careful moments when it depicts financial procarity. Richard Wat is the show's most consistent comic engine in these episodes. Richard is across the entire show unemployed. He occasionally takes jobs. He occasionally tries to start businesses. He occasionally is suddenly successful in episodes that treat his success as a temporary fluke. But in the show's default state, Richard is at home watching television, eating, and avoiding work. He is the reason the family is broke. When the family is broke, he is also, the show suggests, a beloved member of the family whose unemployment is treated with affection rather than judgment. This is a tonal contradiction more than a continuity contradiction, but it is worth naming.
The show treats Richard's lack of employment as both a problem and not a problem. It is a problem when the family needs money. It is not a problem when the family is having a normal day.
Nicole, the show's primary working parent, oscillates between resentment and acceptance of Richard's situation, depending on what the episode requires.
If you watch the show carefully, Nicole's resentment is tracked. There are episodes where Nicole is openly angry about Richard's failure to contribute. There are episodes where Nicole is clearly the only adult in the family. There are episodes where Nicole's exhaustion is a serious thing.
The show treats Nicole's exhaustion with respect, but that respect does not translate into a coherent treatment of money. Nicole is exhausted, but the family is sometimes thriving. Nicole works hard, but the family is sometimes broke. The show does not connect the dots in a way that produces a stable economic narrative. Money, like time, is whatever the episode requires. There is one more layer to this. The Wat's house.
The house is in some episodes treated as something the family owns. In other episodes, it is treated as something the family rents. In a few episodes, it is treated as something the family is in danger of losing. The show does not commit to a specific status for the house. It is whichever the episode requires. This is unusual because a family's housing status is usually a relatively stable fact in a sitcom. Most sitcom families either own their home or rent it, and the show does not flip between the two. Gumball flips. The flipping does not seem to be tracked.
The show does not, for example, have an episode where the Wats stop renting and start owning. The status simply changes when the script needs it to. You can take this as evidence of careless writing. You can also take it as evidence that the show's animators and writers working across multiple studios in multiple countries were not coordinating on background details that did not affect the comedy. A studio in Germany animating one episode might assume the Wats own their home. A studio in Ireland animating the next episode might assume they rent. Without a unified continuity bible, the assumption gets baked into the episode. This is a real production possibility. The amazing world of Gumball was made by a fragmented studio system. Each episode passed through multiple hands.
Continuity was not centralized. Some discrepancies, particularly background discrepancies, are best explained by the production reality of the show. But the discrepancies persist even in the foreground. Even in episodes where money is the plot, the show shifts. Even when the writers know they are writing about money, they do not always agree episode to episode about what the family's financial situation is. You could call this a flaw. You could call this incoherence. You could also call it with some generosity a depiction of the way money actually behaves in working families, which is not as a stable status, but as a fluctuating reality where the family's financial position depends on the weak, the bills, the latest crisis. Either reading is defensible, the plot hole is real either way. And the next plot hole we are going to look at is even more visible than this one because it is in the show's voice itself. Gumball, the character, has had at least five different voice actors across the run of the show. The show acknowledged this. The show kept going. Gumball has five different voices. The show acknowledged this and kept going. This is the most visible plot hole in the amazing world of Gumball. And the most visible because it is audible. The audience does not need to track episode numbers or check guides or look at fan wiks to notice it. The audience can hear it. Gumball Wat across the show's six season run has been voiced by multiple different actors and his voice changes are not subtle. The reason for this is at one level simple the voice actors aged. Gumball is 12.
12year-olds change voices. The show wanted to keep using actual children to voice Gumball which meant that over a 6-year production cycle the original actor's voice grew up while Gumball did not. The show solved this by replacing the actor and then again and then again.
The exact list of Gumball's voice actors is documented in the show's credits and in various publications about its production. Verify the specific names and dates. What matters here is that there were several. Gumball is voiced by one boy in the early seasons. He is voiced by a different boy in the middle seasons. He is voiced by a third boy after that. By the end of the show's run, the actor playing Gumball is not the actor who started. This kind of recasting is normal in long-running animated television. Series that involve child characters voiced by actual children almost always recast over time.
The Simpsons handles this differently by using adult women to voice child characters indefinitely. Gumball did not make that choice. Gumball used boys. The boys aged. The voices changed. What is unusual is how the show handled the change. In most animated series, voice changes are not acknowledged in the
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