A frosty December 2025 tale inside ROBLOX’s record-breaking month—fishing rods, frozen lakes, brainrot snowmen & one bass that refused to be caught.
1. The fog rolled in at 9:17 p.m.
I was standing on the western dock of Fish It!, hoodie pulled over frozen ears, when the sky cracked. Not an explosion—more like a sheet of glass snapping under weight. Winter Update 2025 had arrived without warning. Snowflakes the size of marshmallows drifted past my rod, each one leaving a tiny plink on the water. Somewhere behind me, Kevin—the pet bass I’d bragged about in six group chats—leapt clean out of the lake, did a 360, and landed with a ker-sploosh that felt suspiciously like laughter.
2. A record worth freezing for
The night before, the home-screen ticker had blinked: “251 million monthly active.” More people than Brazil plus Germany. Most logged off after the usual tycoon grind, but a stubborn handful—me included—stayed to see the first official snow in Fish It! history. Rumour said the lake would ice over at minute 30 of the hour; if you cast through the fresh hole before it refroze, you had a 1-in-1000 shot at the Glacier Bass. No one knew what it looked like. No one cared. We all wanted it anyway.
3. The rod, the flake, the heartbeat
Minute 29 hit. My breath clouded the screen. I clicked Cast—the lure sailed, punched the water, and vanished into black. A second passed. Two. Then the bobber ducked—not the usual nibble, but a full submarine pull. Line screamed out. My phone vibrated in sync, heartbeat mode. I yanked up.
Splash.
A bass burst through the ice, shimmering pale blue, frost streaming off its fins like comet dust. Chat exploded:
“GLACIER??”
“Bruh that’s an NFT fish”
“Screenshot or fake”
I tried to screenshot. My thumb slipped. The fish arced, smacked back into the hole, and shattered the ice sheet. Cracks webbed outward. Kevin—the original Kevin—watched from the edge, tail twitching, as if to say, “You replacing me, human?”
4. Brainrot on ice
The lake refroze in 4 seconds—game-engine magic. But something else climbed out: a Brainrot Snowman devs had sneaked into the winter patch. Carrot nose, meme face, floating text that read “skibidi frost”. It rolled toward me, snowballing bigger, absorbing every flake. I did what any sane person would do—I cast again. Line wrapped around its twig arm. The snowman yoinked me off the dock.
Fade to white.
5. The under-ice obby (yes, that’s a thing)
I woke up inside an ice cathedral. Stalactites glowed aurora-green; schools of Glacier Bass swam overhead like slow comets. A sign floated:
“Finish the obby, earn the rod. Fail, and become the next snowman’s nose.”
Obstacles? Slippery ice slides, color-match puzzles (water-color-sort vibes), and the occasional brainrot emoji that tried to steal my boots. I slid, jumped, failed, respawned. Kevin appeared midway—apparently pets can phase through pixels—and acted as living checkpoint. Each time I slipped off an edge, he’d tail-whip me back onto the platform. Good fish.
6. Boss fight at minute 59
Final room: a giant brainrot snowman on a frozen lake, throwing meme snowballs (crying-laugh emojis the size of cars). Weak spot? The carrot nose—obviously. I cast. Lure sailed, hooked the carrot, tugged. Snowman wobbled. Kevin leapt, tail-slapped the carrot, shattering the boss into a thousand snowflakes that spelled:
“GG, angler.”
Loot chest spawned. Inside: Glacier Rod (mythic), +25 % frost catch rate, glows baby-blue in dark mode.
7. Sunrise, stats, bragging rights
I surfaced at 6 a.m. The lake was calm, snow had stopped, and the ticker quietly glowed:
“Players online: 58 743 112”
I checked inventory—rod secured, Kevin doing victory flips. I screenshotted, sent to every group chat, then noticed a new quest tab:
The bass winked. I swear on my frozen trackpad.