Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 1a: Yeah, Where?

The green plains were calm and quiet; they were just as calm and quiet as they were yesterday, and things will be the exact same tomorrow.

And the day after. And the next few after that.

This little area, much like most other corners of the world, hadn't seen anything of note happen whatsoever in the last two thousand, seven hundred, and sixty-three years. Why would anyone, or anything, bother, after all? There was just acres and acres of grass, grass, and more grass. Nothing of renown, nothing of note, nothing to write home about. One could cross the whole length of it without anything interesting happen to them, nothing with even a *little* bit of value.

And that's perfectly fine. Not every part of a planet can be interesting, not everything can be part of the history books. Really, it's rather nice for the few hapless people living in the area that absolutely *nothing* happens in this place. The inhabitants of the region are quite used to a rather docile existence, one in which their actions and deeds are dictated by nothing more than whatever they felt like on that day. For those objects that were granted life through means beyond their comprehension (it's best not think *too* much into that), that mostly meant wandering about the endless green sea, talking to their fellow objects, and perhaps getting into some sort of mischief, if they felt like it that morning. It was a calm, peaceful, perhaps even relaxing existence.

Most of the time. Sometimes. Every once in a while.

And that's *fine*. It's perfectly fine. It's all just fine. Once again, there is absolutely *nothing* of interest or note going on in these plains. Not a single thing. Absolutely none. There were no enemies to fight, no problems to deal with, no islands to compete for, though it'd be rather silly to assume that that last one meant *anything* in this day and age. Indeed, nothing ever goes on here. Absolutely nothing. *Definitely*. What would someone even do here? Frolic? There's absolutely nothing to do here *but* frolic, sure, but after around 2.763 hours of frolicking, that's bound to get tiring. Everything was. Things just take up too much effort nowadays. Too much activity, too much energy. Even if something *were* to happen, just as a hypothetical, even if something did radically reform everything about this place, if something turned the whole status quo upside-down, would there be any use in protesting? Would they find any more value in that instead of just curling up and going back to sleep? Objects don't really need to eat. They don't have much reason for motion. After all, before they were given the breath of life through unknown means, they were inanimate. Unmoving. Not alive. It's perfectly natural for them to try and return to that state. To just give in.

It's not like anything's at stake, right?

Resting on one of many unremarkable hilltops in the plains was one of the few living objects that inhabited this little section of the world. They (well, *she*) was a rather unremarkable one, if one were to come across her: a small, diminutive gray sphere, adorned with far too many dimples of a slightly different shade. Really, the only thing of interest is that she had legs to run with, but no arms to carry things. What sort of cruel maker, what... *being* up above would decide to grant such a burden to their creation?

Well, that's assuming that there even *is* someone working things behind the scenes; given how lax everything is around here, signs point to 'probably not'.

The sphere spent most hours of the day doing the exact same thing: collapsed face-first onto the green grass, snoring heavily like her life depended on it. Sometimes she'd roll over, almost accidentally going down the hill in the process. Sometimes she'd mumble a thing or two, but it's in a language nobody ever really speaks. Sometimes she'd *look* like she was finally getting up, only to go right back down again. After all, as has been said many, *many* times over, why would she want to do that? There's nothing here. It's the same nothing that was there yesterday, and it'll still be there tomorrow. She isn't missing anything. She isn't gaining anything by wasting precious energy. She'd be far, *far* better off if she just... laid down.