(sometimes there are no ideas)
Life just *sucks*, doesn't it?
One day, some time in the distant past, everything was fine and dandy. Not a single living being, not a single soul, had come into being. Goiky, the world, the universe as a whole, all of it could just... exist. There was no issue, there was no worry. There wasn't anyone screaming, objecting, complaining about anything and everything, because there was not a single thing in all of creation that had evolved enough to even come up with these feelings, let alone make use of them. Things just happened as they were, and all was well. The sky was blue, grass was green, things fell down, and there wasn't anybody poking their noses into things they didn't belong, constantly asking questions about this and that, always wishing things were ever so slightly better. What was there was all there was, and all there ever could be. Life was great; well, rather, the complete and total lack of it.
But then, one day, all of a sudden, the world decided to pull a funny little prank.
Despite the best efforts of all the smartest minds of history (ie. Golf Ball), nobody can still quite figure out just how exactly life came to be, let alone how it ended up in a whole bunch of household items. Things were perfectly fine, perfectly ordinary, and then... *this*. Them and everyone else just appeared into existence in a single moment, and everyone's been reeling from it ever since. There they all stood, there they all wandered about, there they saw the world, stretching far, *far* beyond what they could see, what they could perceive. Anything they could do, they could do so without a single worry. A whole life out there for them to enjoy, and all they had to do was *enjoy* it.
And yet they still found a way to complain.
Despite having an effectively unlimited supply of anything and everything one could possibly want in life, despite being able to live comfortably for the rest of their days, well into eternity... they just *had* to ruin everything. All this was presented to them, and yet they somehow still invented the concept of being unhappy, of being miserable. And when one is sad, regardless of whether or not they perceive it, they get pretty sad upon seeing others *not* being sad. How could they, after all? How can they suffer while *they* get all the good things in life? That's outrageous. That's unfair. And so they do something about it, they ruin life for someone else. Then the target gets sad as well, also wants to lash out against the world, and the cycle continues. Rinse and repeat until the world, as vast and exciting as it is, becomes a horrific and agonizing experience for everyone and everything. Didn't matter whatsoever that they had free will, that they had the choice to just leave everything behind and start somewhere new, a fresh sandbox all to themselves. No, they just *had* to get back at someone. They just had to get their revenge.
Already, this would be bad enough. Anyone could take even the slightest inconvenience and use it to ruin everyone's day. All they had to do was say a few words, spread a few rumors, hit a few people, and the cycle of chaos continued on its own. But life arises and appears in all sorts of mysterious and unique ways. It wasn't enough that people just... *existed*. When life was granted to the many competitors of the Battle for Dream Island, they were given to a vast and expansive assortment of characters, a large color palette haphazardly thrown onto the easel of the universe. While most were able to crawl out of whatever ditch they came from *somewhat* unscathed, some would find that they had no arms. Or legs. Or *both*. Some had a crippling fear of ordinary things, some died at the slightest contact with one of the most ubiquitous things on the planet. For every person that was... *relatively* normal, there was another that had some... *unique* trait that caused them to not quite fit in with society, that gave them a reason to be mad at the world.
Bomby was one of those that were unfortunately cursed with this burden. And it was a particularly nasty kind, too. For a lot of people, they had traits that just universally sucked: Black Hole couldn't get close to *anything* without risking their demise, Lightning shocked people at the slightest touch, Woody was always afraid of everything, Needle was... Needle. But the living explosive was... well, a living explosive. A thing that went boom, but not *immediately*. Someone had to cause it, someone had to light the fuse. And he very well knew that. He knew that it was just a matter of time. It was an inevitability that some mischievous fellow would use him for something or other, and his life would be cut short for some bizarre, inane reason. It was bound to happen *eventually*.
