Blocky was having a good day.
He'd been through a lot this past decade and a... bit. He was doing... whatever he was doing before joining the Battle for Dream Island, and then he did exactly that. Competed, got eliminated, was able to rejoin, got eliminated *again*. Then he was forced to stay in that cramped metal box for *years* for the dumbest reason of all; just because a bunch of nameless, fameless losers decided that he wasn't cool enough, doesn't mean that he should be stuck in there with a bunch of... nobodies. He laughed, he cried. He was with his pals the whole way through, so it wasn't like it was *all* that bad. Even got to host once or twice, a brief little interlude in-between all the misery and turmoil in the Locker of Losers. One year passed, then two, then a few more. Eventually he'd be let out, but by that point the BFDI was long over, and now they were stuck in this strange city with all sorts of unknown mysteries and mysterious unknowns. Spent a good while trying to get used to it, only for everyone to end up moving on *just* as he finally got his feet back on the ground. Fortunately for him, that pain wouldn't last; some number creature would descend from the sky and bring forth untold pain and misery, but at the very least it also signified a return to form. Competed again, didn't end up winning, but that was the second time by that point, so it really didn't faze him. Got spun around like in a washing machine, was let out, did a few other things, and now he's here.
That summary of events *did* leave out one... particular detail, however. One he'd rather not think about. One he wished would just stay in the past. If there was one other thing in his life that was just as defining as his journey through the Battle for Dream Island, it was his Funny Doings. Pranks were his bread and butter, the one thing he could do better than all the rest, the one that had him stand out amongst the friends he surrounded himself with, and the other contestants in general. The competition allowed him to show his expertise to far larger crowds than ever before, even if they weren't exactly... *appreciative* of his handiwork. And so, even though nothing ended up arising from his battling, even though he wound up not winning a single prize, even though it resulted in years and years of nigh-endless tedium, he was able to withstand it all. He knew that all of these things were fleeting and temporary, that they were just momentary setbacks, little pains that would go away if he held on for just a little bit longer. As soon as he was out of this little rut, as soon as he no longer had anything to worry about, he had something to fall back to, something to keep him going in life.
Then he made one silly mistake, one *dumb* error, and all that was taken away from him.
The Battle for Battle for (Battle for) Dream Island was now over, and while all the others had plans for future and activities to distract themselves with, Blocky had absolutely *nothing*. He was now unable to do what he loved most, forced away from it by some losers claiming themselves to be the law, or whatever. The world, in all its vastness and wonder, laid before him, and yet he was unable to derive any sort of joy or entertainment out of being in it. He was at his lowest low yet. The absolute bottom. Some would say that his stint in the Locker of Losers was worse; Taco in particular would grumble about her own prison sentence whenever they had the time to talk. But they didn't know *anything*. Sure, that metal box restricted his movement, prevented him from being anything other than a thorn on the side of his fellow inmates, but at the very least he had his friends by his side at the time, keeping his spirits up and keeping the conversation going, even as the stretches of time grew longer and harder. Here, he had nobody and nothing. He had more friends than ever before, but they were also busier than ever before. He had 2,763 things to do now that he was no longer fixated on the competition, but he didn't feel like he was any good at it.
The following days would be a mighty struggle. He'd been trying to diversify, see what other career paths he could get up to. He's been doing plenty of things, been to plenty of places. But *none* of them clicked. They just didn't have the same charm as pranking. There didn't seem to be anything that could even come close to the pure joy and satisfaction that comes from seeing an embarrassed look on someone's face, just then realizing that they've fallen victim to a well-planned scheme. Nothing like the life draining from someone's eyes as they come to terms with their imminent demise. *Nothing*.
