It was just another, completely peaceful day.
The Battle for Dream Island was *done*. It was over, it was finished, it was wrapped up. Sure, there were plans for yet another season (because they've all gone mad over the past few years), but those ideas looked like they were gonna need a lot more time to cook in the proverbial oven before they got anywhere. For now, right now, at this very moment, in the present, there was *nothing* in their itinerary. There was nothing to do, nothing to convince them to do anything, and nobody to pressure them. Their schedules were finally cleared. Their future finally looked bright. There was a life out there to enjoy, and they could finally, *finally* start enjoying it.
But, like, *how*?
Living beings are funny like that. Everything can be handed to them on a silver platter, everything can be dealt with, all needs and wants satisfied, and they'll *still* find a way to be miserable, to be unhappy. Before BFDI started, they were all just aimlessly wandering around those grassy green fields. There was nothing and nobody but them, their thoughts, their actions, and the endless green grass that served as their canvas. They could do pretty much anything, go pretty much anywhere, talk to pretty much anyone. There weren't any speaker boxes or algebralians or *whatever* falling from the sky, telling them what to do, forcing them to participate in all sorts of humiliating challenges and shenanigans.
But despite that, despite *all* of that, despite all the freedom they were given by the universe, a universe that couldn't care less about whether or not they decided to leave that corner of Goiky behind, they opted to just remain right where they were. Even as arguments gradually became more heated, as grudges were started and fights got violent, as that place became more and more intolerable to live in, as basically everyone and everything was screaming at them to leave, to find some other place on this Earth that was more receptive to their hopes and dreams, they decided that they were gonna stay firm, that they were gonna stay right *there*, regardless of the cost. And for what, exactly? They developed this warped notion in their head, claiming that what they were doing here had some sort of value. They couldn't leave. They *just* couldn't. If they did, then that would be embarrassing. That would mean that *they* won, and they could gloat about it for the rest of time, and *they* would have to wallow in that regret. Did they want that? No! Absolutely not! If there's one thing they all dreaded more than having to suffer the wrath of those fools for a second more, it was having to suffer the pain of *losing*. Nobody wanted that sort of humiliation, that sort of defeat. That'd be the worst thing of all.
And so, despite absolutely nothing telling them to keep going, despite the whole world calling out to them, just *begging* to be explored and uncovered, the contestants of the future Battle for Dream Island remained seated *exactly* where they were, still meeting the same old faces, going to the same old places, and getting into the same old arguments. Instead of deciding that they were above it all, instead of choosing to just go somewhere else and enjoy the silence, they *wanted*, willingly, to continue this old trope until they ran it into the ground. And then six feet under. And then a little bit more. They just didn't know when to quit, when to cut their losses. They just kept insisting that all they were doing *had* to have some sort of value, that there was still some positive change, that all of this stuff just hadn't been in vain. Instead of leaving well enough alone, they just destroyed anything and everything that was good and just.
And that made them the *perfect* victims for an Announcer apparently seeking to make everyone's lives miserable. When he came knocking, announcing that there was an island up for grabs, that only *one* of them could win, that pretty much sealed their fate. Everyone immediately jumped at the chance to prove themselves right once and for all, to show to everyone else that *they* were the best and the greatest, and that the others could do nothing but cry about it. They were willing to endure just about anything in order to get that chance: balance on a beam, build a boat, sail that boat, do an obstacle course, answer a test, and so on, and so forth. They were willing to sit in a metal box for months and *years*, taking time out of their precious, finite life all in the hope that they were given another chance to shine. Not even, actually; a *chance* of a chance was what they were squabbling over.
