How much more suffering are they gonna have to withstand? How much more of it can they *actually* survive?
In a time that has long since passed, in a time before there were speaker boxes and Battles for Dream Island and all that assorted nonsense and whatnot, the living objects came into being. In all other moments leading up to that fateful second, everything was right in the universe; the Earth rotated about its axis, went around the sun in its orbit, the wind blew, the grass grew, the clouds drifted, and all that fun stuff. Everything worked exactly as the rules and laws of reality deemed it, and everything was just *fine*. Everything was cool and good. But then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, completely by surprise, the gift (or curse, or some other third thing, or whatever) of life was suddenly given to a bunch of inanimate objects, making them... not so inanimate. Un-inanimate? Not inanimate? *Animate*, perhaps? It sounded ridiculous. Still does sound ridiculous. Anyone that thought about it for more than 2.763 seconds could very easily realize that this whole 'sentience' thing was rather silly, if they actually gave it some serious consideration. They looked all throughout the world, and they saw their many, *many* inanimate relatives and cousins. Plenty of not alive leaves, rocks, flowers, and whatnot scattered throughout all the world. And yet, by some fluke, through some exceptionally rare circumstances, they and they alone were given the privilege of realizing that they were alive. That there was a world out there to enjoy, and, more importantly, to suffer through.
Match and Pencil were on the run. From what? Their responsibilities, presumably. They founded FreeSmart *specifically* to get away from Golf Ball and her bozo-brain bossy-bot tendencies, and yet they ended up becoming the very thing that they feared. Talking about gossip and rumors all the time, they knew of the potential that could be wielded if those words fell on the wrong hands. Or the wrong ears, in this instance. All that talk was a double-edged sword; knowing so much gave them tremendous bargaining powers over everyone that looked at them funny, but they also ran the risk of talking *too* much, which can become fatal if done at the wrong place, the wrong time. As such, if everyone else wanted to be their friends, if they wanted in on their special little group, they had to ensure that they could be trusted with this all-important information, that they weren't just gonna run around spilling secrets to anyone and everyone that was willing to listen. Rules were drafted, rules were enforced, and sooner or later they became the authoritarian despots that they had fled from.
All that awareness would come with awareness of the self, of course. The matchstick and the writing utensil would be in the middle of something or other one day, when an unsavory thought would cross their neurons, or whatever part of their heads served as their counterpart. Maybe they've taken things too far, they'd reckon. FreeSmart was supposed to be... well, *free*; free to do whatever they wished, whenever they wanted, without anybody telling them what to do. And yet it didn't seem like a single one of them was getting to enjoy that privilege; everyone else always seemed to be worried about angering them, while they fretted over ensuring that that would *never* happen. Perhaps they'd gone a bit too far in a few places. Perhaps they could become more lax, take things less seriously, have a bit more fun in their lives. Wasn't that what they wanted, after all?
No. No. *No*. All this was a necessary sacrifice. A necessary evil. After everything they've seen? They couldn't *possibly* lower their guard.
A long time ago, a weird robotic talker fell out of the sky and declared that they were to Battle for Dream Island. And everyone, *everyone*, just decided to go along with it. They were so naive back then, so *gullible*. How foolish! Looking back at it, they were quite sure that they didn't even know what any of those words meant. What does it mean for a hotel to have five stars? Stars? Like those twinkling things up in the sky? What do they have to do with living accommodations? A casino? It sounded like a ton of fun, but was it *really*? And they were supposed to just take the Announcer's word for it; they'd get not a single glimpse of the island during the competition, and even once someone won it, it'd disappear without a trace before any of them got to enjoy it. They were battling for some prize they hadn't ever seen before, something they weren't sure about the existence of. And they just didn't *question* it? *Why*? It doesn't take someone as smart and senseless as Golf Ball to figure out that that just doesn't add up. That's just one of the things you know you should *never* do. You shouldn't try to get Teardrop to talk, you shouldn't speak poorly about Flower when she's nearby, you don't ever acknowledge Needle's existence *ever*, and you don't just jump into things recklessly without knowing the first thing about it. That's just common sense. Right?
