Respawn 404

JoeHills

Joe was scared. He'd seen the respawn mechanism glitches, and he'd seen how Bdubs had died overnight. How it was clearly a murder by the message in the chat. How it had to be a hermit, but nobody knew who exactly. Xisuma had told them all that respawn was just buffering and delayed, and that seemed intentional.

The weapon that showed up as having killed Bdubs reminded him of one of the weapons Grian had once shown them, one he'd brought over from his old server that had glitched in the version updates. To release stress, he grabbed his book and quill to start writing a poem of sorts, a messy and really silly one, but he found that sort of thing relaxing.

The Child
A Poem by Joe Hills

Whose Baby Yoda is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch him frown. I cry hello.
He gives his Baby Yoda a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.
The Baby Yoda is Green, Cute and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He lies in bed with ducts that weep.
He rises from his bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in his head,
He idolises being dead.
Facing the day with never-ending dread.

He sniggered at the ridiculousness of it all, noticing how dark it now was, the nervousness from earlier coming back. He jumped when he heard a sound, glancing around nervously.

"H-Hello? Anyone there?" Joe said nervously, tensing up.

"Gees Joe, so paranoid. I'm just checking in on everyone with everything that's been happening, y'know?"

"Can you blame me?" Joe asked, laughing nervously.

"Not really. Is that a poem you wrote?"

"Yeah, it's one about Scar's Baby Yoda head, you know the one?" Joe told him, making Xisuma laugh.

"Yeah, I know the one. Can I see?"

"Um, sure I guess?" Joe said, handing over the piece of paper, his eyes flickering to a knife in Xisuma's pocket. "Why've you got that?"

"Oh, just protection. I'm quite skilled with it. Wanna see?"

Joe backed away, crashing into the wall as Xisuma crumpled up the poem and threw it on the floor. Xisuma grabbed the knife and started carving a multitude of symbols into Joe's arms, legs, head, everywhere that his clothes left exposed. The blood oozing out from it made him feel sick, catching glimpses from the exposed parts of it, not being able to make out what it said.

ᒷ
ᔑᔑᔑᔑᔑᔑ
ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ⨅ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ
!¡𝙹⊣
ʖꖎ𝙹𝙹↸ ⎓𝙹∷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ʖꖎ𝙹𝙹↸ ⊣𝙹↸
⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ꖌ╎ꖎꖎᒷ↸ ᔑ ᓵ𝙹⚍リℸ ̣ ∷||, ⎓ᒷᒷꖎ╎リ' ⊣𝙹𝙹↸
ꖎ'ᒲᔑリ⊣𝙹リᒷ
ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ⚍リ⎓╎リ╎リ╎ᓭ⍑ᒷ↸ ᓭ||ᒲ!¡⍑𝙹リ||
∴∷╎ℸ ̣ ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣  ↸𝙹∴リ, ᓭᔑ↸╎ᓭℸ ̣
╎ℸ ̣ 'ᓭ ᔑꖎꖎ ⊣𝙹リᒷ
ᒷ
╎ℸ ̣  ᔑꖎꖎ ⎓ᒷꖎꖎ ↸𝙹∴リリリリ
|| ᒷ ᓭ
ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹-ᓭℸ ̣ ||ꖎᒷ-ᓵ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ -⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷ
ꖎ'ᒲᔑリʖ⚍∷⊣, ꖎ'ᒲᔑリ⊣𝙹リᒷ
​ᔑリᔑ∷ᓵ⍑||
⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣  ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓵᔑℸ ̣ ᓭ
ᒷ
∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᓭ ⎓⚍リ↸|| ᔑリ↸ リ╎ꖌ╎ ↸𝙹╎リ⊣
ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ᓭ ⊣𝙹𝙹𝙹𝙹𝙹𝙹
ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷ ╎ᓭ ↸𝙹⚍ʖꖎᒷ ᒷ↸⊣ᒷ↸
↸ᒷᓭℸ ̣ ∷𝙹|| ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷリ ᔑꖎꖎ
ᔑリᔑ∷ᓵ⍑||
↸∷ᒷᔑᒲ ᓵ⍑ᒷᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ↸
ꖎᒲᔑ𝙹𝙹𝙹

Joe felt the blood draining onto the floor, the sticky liquid seeping onto the carpet. Xisuma dropped the knife next to him, walking away, leaving him to die. His eyes shut and his head lulled to the side, crashing against the carpeted floor. His paranoia was right. And now he had to pay the price for his misplaced trust.

JoeHills died

Thank you to the people on Discord who helped and to all the people in Techno's chat who I basically copy-pasted into this.