Chapter Text
If you were to ever sit Technoblade down, give him a cup of tea, and ask him to explain as to how he got teleported within a random forest with exactly 99 other people, he would spill the tea (literally. Onto the ground. He doesn’t like tea.) and tell you he doesn’t have a singular clue.
There are only three things he’s sure of, at the current moment.
Number one; he was vehemently farming potatoes, as any mildly insane person would do for the sake of spite and victory, and now he is not farming potatoes. Now he is in the forest. With people.
Not ideal.
The timeline between the change of these two different environments was that of about one second. Techno does not have an explanation for this other than some vague guess that the gods just kinda hate him. That or he’s been kidnapped. Which is just plain inconvenient.
Number two on the things Techno is sure of; he still has his weapons. Through close observation of the general panic around him, and through checking his own lack of items, it’s clear everyone’s inventory has been wiped clean for reasons unknown.
However, Technoblade is always one step ahead, and ready to kill a man, so he has several knives hidden on his person. For the sake of not losing those weapons and not causing even more mass panic, he chooses to keep them hidden. One must wait for the opportune moment, and all that. Sun Tzu.
Number three on things he is sure of:
Everyone is definitely keeping a distance from him.
And they’re not even subtle about it.
Techno doesn’t take offense at the extreme caution, nor does he really care. If anything, he sorta understands their hesitance. Being half-piglin makes him an intimidating sort, with his height, and his tusks, and his overall ability to crack someone’s head open like a walnut with his bare hands. He’s a Big Guy. One with too many scars and a resting murder face. He’s been told that he’s generally threatening looking, even when just standing still. He’s taken that as a compliment.
As he makes his way through the forest, he goes with nothing more than a bored, almost annoyed look on his face, but judging by the way everyone scurries to get out of his way, you’d think he’d be marching with a thirst for blood burning in his eyes instead. Groups scatter and break up to move out of his range, individual people hide behind the trees when he comes near, and Techno would be slightly upset about the isolation… if it weren’t for the fact that this is a great way to avoid social interaction. (For the entire time he’s been here, he hasn’t said a single word to anyone. That’s a win in his book, because he doesn’t want to say a word to anyone.)
Plus, with everyone running off, no one will get in his way while he tries to figure things out. Which makes the whole process more efficient, he’ll say.
Except… he’s not really figuring anything out. He’s just as clueless as everyone else, and unfortunately, just as helpless. Him and several others have tried at getting some trees down for the comfort of basic tools, but after repeating attempts with literally no effect on the wood, it’s easy to see that they’re not getting anywhere with that. It’s the same with the dirt. And the leaves. And really, anything in the world around them.
They can’t influence anything. They can’t break anything, or build anything, or do anything. Honestly, it pushes at Techno’s paranoia juuust a bit. They’re all locked into some sort of passive mode for some reason, and with every minute they stay within it, Techno feels more tempted to pull his knife for the sake of seeing if player death is still active.
But he keeps walking. More people rush out of his way as he heads on, and they’re all eerily silent. Techno wrongly assumes that they all end their conversations when they hear him coming. He doesn’t yet realize that he hasn’t actually heard anyone exchange any audible words since the moment they were all dumped here.
He glances up over the branches and stands on his toes for a moment to peer at the sky ahead. As he stares up towards the distant clouds, he sees a slight shimmer behind it. An almost glowing sort of wall, stretched across, reaching around the forest.
Oh, good.
A world border.
That’s not ominous at all.
He has no time to be bothered by the sight or what it implies, because there’s then a rustling of leaves behind him, and that catches his attention pretty quick, since no one he’s seen so far has been able to scale a tree.
Technoblade turns around with a searching eye, thinking he’ll see some unyielding person stuck within the branches, but instead, there’s someone with curly, brown hair floating beside them.
…what.
The floating person looks just as upset as Techno about this unpredicted surprise. He’s frowning down at him with a sense of bafflement, like Technoblade has personally turned the sky neon pink and he needs to know the reason why he would do such a thing. He’s dressed up in some sort of weird lab coat get-up, and there’s no symbols, no words, no striking colors on his clothes to really give any hint as to who he might be.
There’s controls hovering at his fingertips, though, transparent blue buttons with words whizzing past on a nearby screen, and with a slow dawning realization, Techno realizes this is the person to blame for his current problems. This has to be the admin of the server they’ve been unexpectedly put in.
(It’s strange, though. People can’t be put in servers without giving permission. Admins don’t usually have that many controls at hand. And those eyes feel a little too daunting, too bright, staring down at him.)
Techno opens his mouth with the intent to yell out at the floating person, but his throat offers nothing, and all that comes out is a silent push of air. He sucks in a breath with surprise, trying again, but with no result. His voice is nowhere to be found. He can’t speak. He can’t make a sound.
He holds his hand to his throat, eyes wide. He can’t speak.
“Hey!” The supposed admin yells out, waving his finger all around at the people curiously peeking out from the trees. There’s an amused laugh bubbling out with his words, with that bafflement still kept vivid in his expression. “What the fuck-?” He laughs again. “Why are you all fucking avoiding him?”
The man then points down directly at Techno, who looks up from his situation of not being able to talk, and gives an unimpressed raise of his eyebrows. Is it not self-explanatory as to why he’s being avoided? Techno is at least a foot taller than everyone here. He’s got a menacing air around him like he’s some sort of final boss. Makes people skittish.
“I can see you all running-” The admin laughs a little more, like he can’t believe the behavior he’s seeing. “-it’s like he has a fucking force field around him. Come on, make friends!”
He claps, and the controls zip away, leaving his hands free. He points out one of the people unfortunately within the danger zone, hiding behind the trees. “You. Come here.”
The player flinches away, hiding further behind the tree. Then they peek out, eyes wide, and the admin nods, calling them again.
“Yes, you. Come here, come here.”
He coaxes the person over until they leave their hiding spot, and then he points at Techno’s side. “Stand next to him, go on. He’s not so bad.”
The person makes a face as if they were just told to go hit a sleeping bear with a bat. The admin scoffs at their frantic shake of the head.
“He’s not going to kill you.” He reassures. The player shakes their head even harder. “I haven’t even turned on PVP.” They shake their head with even more force. Techno wonders if someone can get a concussion from just shaking their head right off their shoulders.
Technoblade turns his head to the side, looking directly at the other player in a moment of curiosity. The movement makes them look away from the admin, and for a split second, they both share a gaze, and there’s a chance at communication.
Then the player’s face pales, and they stumble back and run away, the Admin giving a frustrated scream.
“He only looked at you!”
Someone cackles over his words, high-pitched and loud. Techno snaps his head up to the Admin again, and- oh.
There’s two floating people now. That’s great.
This one is smaller, though. Still wearing a lab coat, still with curly hair, albeit his hair is a bit lighter, more blond. (more golden , some instinct of his whispers. He swats it away with annoyance.) He also seems much more lively, because while Admin #1 is frowning at his failed attempt at getting the people to Socialize, supposed Admin #2 is wheezing over his controls with a near manic grin.
“I like you, I like you-” He’s saying past his laughs, quickly scrolling through his screens before finding something through all the data. “-TECH-NO-BLADE!” He declares, like an announcer at a roaring arena. Out of habit, Techno lifts his chin high.
“Technoblade?!” Admin #1 repeats incredulously. “That’s his name?!”
“You’ve heard weirder fucking names, Wil.” The tinier admin brushes him off, and he moves down in front of Techno so suddenly that Techno has to take a step back. He stares up at the kid with a frown, trying to make sense of the controls at his hands. “I’m going to give you a sword, Tech-no-blade. I think you deserve a sword.”
“Tommy, no.” Wil deadpans.
Tommy’s lips curl into a nasty scowl. He twists back to glare at Wil, his amusement gone within seconds. It kinda puts Techno on edge with how quickly his mood switched off. “Why not?!”
“Because we just fucking started!”
“But it’s Tech-no-blade!” Tommy juts an arm out to Techno, as if needing to direct proper attention to him and his incredible anti-social abilities.
“Technoblade, Technoblade. It’s one word.” Wilbur corrects lightly. He waves a hand, flying up higher, past the branches. “And you can give him a weapon later into the game. Patience.”
Tommy huffs aggressively. He turns back to Techno, his eyes too blue, seeming to crackle like lightning. Technoblade takes a wary step backwards. “Fine.” He taps away at his screen. “You can have a gapple instead.”
Instantly, a shiny golden apple appears just beside Tommy’s head. He holds a hand out, and it falls directly into his palm so that he can then throw it over to Techno. Techno catches it with ease.
“Good luck, Tech-no-blade.” Tommy gives his farewell, and he flies up to join Wilbur high in the sky, his controls and glowing screens still hovering all around him.
Technoblade squeezes the apple in his palm, trying to call out at Tommy’s back. He’s reminded of the fact he cannot talk. His jaw clicks shut, and he takes a second to inspect the apple closely, seeing the shine of gold (gold! his instincts cheer. He swats them off yet again), the shimmer of an enchantment. It’s a good apple. It’s a rare one, too. Techno would consider himself lucky if he were in a fight with this. Thing is, he’s not in a fight.
…or, he thinks so. Now he’s not so sure. Maybe this is going to turn out worse than he hoped.
He looks up again, with everyone else, who’s now stepping out from their hiding spots in the forest. Eyes all stare up into the sky, at the two figures floating high above, who had given no answers, and frankly, produced only more questions. Techno’s made the assumption that they’re admins, but if they’re admins, then what exactly are they doing? Why aren’t they taking proper care of the people within their server? Why is speech of all things turned off?
And why was he just given a golden apple?
Some players nearby begin to eye his item with interest, so Techno quickly tucks away the fruit into his inventory with a baring of his teeth and moves forward to try and get a better view of their admins in the sky. Maybe he’d be able to get their attention again if he tried hard enough, considering they went through the effort to find his name and use it.
Technobalde doesn’t make it much farther than a few steps before the first admin’s voice echoes out, loud and clear across the entire chunk of land. Everyone stops in place, even him, and they all look up and listen as Wil begins his little speech.
“Congratulations to all the lucky players in this forest-- you have been chosen!” Techno cranes his head back, and past the leaves, he can see Wilbur high, high up, looking so tiny from where he’s looking down at all of them. Tommy is near him, seeming distracted with other things. “Through a complicated and thorough process that definitely wasn’t just taking people at random from their worlds, you’ve all been brought together for the sole purpose of an experiment. A social experiment. An experience, I like to call it!”
Wilbur sounds thrilled at telling all of them this. Technoblade wishes he would fly back down so he can put his knife to good use. He didn’t sign up to be a random lab rat.
“I can hear your thoughts already. You did not sign up for an experience. You want to go home. You are calling me several vulgar names and are angry at the fact you’ve been kidnapped- I mean, relocated for the sake of science.” Wilbur hums. “There is a reason I turned off speech before you got here. The screaming always gets so annoying, so this one will be a silent round. You’ll figure out your ways of communication, I’m sure.”
Techno definitely has a form of communication he’d like to share. It involves his middle finger.
“Here is how this is going to go. I am going to give you all a mission, a goal. You are all going to follow it! You will carry out your roles as best to your abilities, and if not, then-” Wil laughs. “Here, we’ll give an example. Tommy, make an example.” He waves to his brother, catching his attention.
Tommy snaps out from his focus on his screens, and Technoblade can’t make out their faces from down on the ground, but he swears the kid lights up like the sun. His hands reach out and do something with his controls, and all of a sudden, there is a player up there with them, high in the sky, almost touching the clouds.
But they don’t have flying enabled.
Silently, everyone watches as the player begins to plummet, limbs flailing, wind pulling at their clothes, and all the while, Tommy waves down at them with a light, amused laugh. They silently fall, fall, fall, and the sound of them landing is heard through the whole forest. The death message pops up right after.
Player has fallen to their death.
Techno doesn’t flinch at it, but he closes his eyes with a sinking feeling of dread. Death always hurts, no matter if respawn is ensured right after. He can’t imagine how the impact would’ve felt. And he can’t handle the fact that such a death can be easily given through the whim of some overpowered admin. How haven’t they been reported for this sort of behavior yet? From their language, it implies this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.
“There. Yeah, that’s the example.” Wilbur nods at Tommy, rather pleased, and Tommy beams with such pride that Wilbur just has to go and noogie him. Tommy screams and teleports a distance away, Wilbur laughing and picking up where he left off. “That’s what’ll happen to you if you don’t participate! Or it’s along the lines of what could happen. I could also put you into a cage of bedrock. Let you sit in the dark for a couple of days. Should we make an example of that?”
Wilbur lifts his hands, his controls coming to life at his fingertips, and below him, all the players frantically shake their heads, holding their hands up high and waving them quickly to get the message across that no, no, the first example was fine, no one wants to be put into a box of bedrock.
“Y’know what? I’ll hold off on it, since you’re all so adamant.” Wilbur smiles down at them. Then he lifts his chin up, moving across the sky. “Another thing! That guy-” He points at the general area of where a player just fell to their death. “-is dead! That is something you should avoid. Because if you die here, you do not respawn. In fact, I think you get stuck?”
A moment of silence passes. No one is capable of screaming, but Techno can feel the wave of dread lift into the air. The tension suddenly grows thick. Suffocating.
“Hey, maybe you go back to your world before, maybe your soul is broken up and lost to the void, who knows, I’ve never actually checked-- but the point is, do not die. Try not to die. We need players to play a game, and if all the players are dead, then the game is already over!” Wilbur huffs. “And we’ve just begun.”
Something shuffles from behind Techno. He tears his eyes away from the admin up above to move away and glare at whoever’s passing. Now, more than ever, he wants people to stay away.
The person who had been trying to sneak through stumbles away with Techno’s gaze, acting as if they’ve been hit with burning fire. Technoblade huffs and leaves them, going further through the forest. Maybe their ability to build will be given back any second now. Maybe PVP will be turned on with it. If so, Techno oughta move off away from the general mass, gather some quick resources while the worst of it passes.
He’s dealt with deathmatches before, too many times to count. He likes to say his odds are good in them.
The sound of Wilbur’s laugh echoes out all around him, sounding muffled, as if he’s holding his hands over his lips. “Ah, I can see you all scrambling around- you’re already grouping up, see! Friends!” He claps his hands together excitedly. “FRIENDS, this is what I’m talking about!”
“Get over your loneliness and get to the rules!” Tommy snaps, and Wilbur glares at him with the force of a thousand suns. Tommy is already looking back at his screens with a face of disinterest.
“Okay, stop moving. Stop doing things. I’m going to give you the prompt now. Do this well, give me good results, and you might all get to go back home.” Wilbur says. The world comes to a halt. Everyone’s heads tilt up, looking to their god, waiting for their orders.
Wilbur’s lips stretch into a wide grin. He loves this little part of the experiment. When the desperation has just sunk in, when the panic is driving everyone around, when people will listen and do anything for the chance of escape. When they will do anything for him.
“You are now a society!” Wilbur declares, loud and high, hands raised to the sky. “You must make a kingdom with these three things. One, a large castle. Two, a throne, sitting within that castle. And three, a king.” He clasps his palms together, bringing his hands closer and pressing his knuckles underneath his chin. “I don’t care who’s the king, and I don’t care how you build, the point is just that you build it-- together. I want this done by tomorrow's sunrise, and if one of you sit out on helping, I’m bringing out that bedrock cage!”
Again, movement breaks out. The players scatter, trying to break trees, trying to explore across their forest. Wil can see someone sprinting across the land, only seconds away from running face-first into the world border. He can see someone kicking earnestly at a tree, waving others over to come help.
“You will now get back your ability to build. Enjoy.” Wilbur looks at Tommy, and Tommy slaps at some button, changing a setting within the world. Instantly, trees begin to fall, leaves are ripped apart, and the dirt ground is undone.
Destruction begins in a state of frantic panic, and Wilbur observes it all with such a joy that he can’t stop giggling. The sun is bright over his head, and he knows that the day is going to get on well.
But then Tommy sighs. He lays back mid-air, his screens shifting and adjusting with him.
“Now it’s the boring part.” The teen complains, Wilbur looking away from his experiment with a slight scoff. “Now we have to wait.”
“This is the best part, what do you mean?” Wil asks. “We get to see them develop. This is where the behavior patterns kick in.” He waves a hand to the side, and instantly, screens pop up, charts and numbers and words whizzing past. Tommy groans loudly.
“Nooo.” He cries, Wilbur ignoring his sounds of woe. “They’re all just going to be mining for a bunch of hours.” He twists around, still laying sideways, but with his body now facing down. “Or they could just make a dirt castle.”
“They better not.” Wilbur mutters.
“You didn’t specify, didn’t you-?”
“No dirt castles!” Wilbur yells out, the words echoing out across the entire forest. The people keep moving, but they jump at his voice, letting him know he’s been heard. That one person who was determinately building away with dirt blocks now quickly mines away the evidence. “There, I specified.”
“Uhg. You’re no fun.”
Wilbur glances over at his little brother, seeing him cradle a screen close to his face, watching the messages zip by. “Aren’t you excited for the results?” Wilbur asks. “You begged me to let you help with this one, and now you’re complaining!”
“Yeah, because it’s always so boring at the start!” Tommy whines, sitting up and letting his screen lay in his lap. “I like the fun bits, when everyone starts to kill each other at the end.”
“Well, we haven’t gotten to that part yet.” Wilbur clicks his tongue. “You have to be patient. And think of the other possibilities! This is going to be a kingdom. There’s going to be a king. And with kings, there’s always an uprising…”
Tommy’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Rebellion.” He whispers. He straightens up, acting as if he’s standing again. “I bet Tech-no-blade would love a good ol’ rebellion.”
“Technoblade.” Wilbur offhandedly corrects. He wonders for a moment over that player, intrigued by their capabilities. He was certainly more dangerous than others, being a piglin hybrid and all. If Wilbur put him into an executor type of role…hm. Could be beneficial. “Did you actually give him anything when I left?”
“I gave him a gapple.” Tommy shrugs, staring at Wilbur as if daring to argue against him on it.
“That’s alright, I suppose. He doesn’t really have much use for it right now.” Wilbur accepts that easily. He turns back to his data at hand. “Keep an eye on him, if you want. I know he’s already your favorite.”
“I don’t pick favorites.” Tommy denies, but he quickly goes to find Techno’s location anyway, his expression filled with glee. “He’s just fucking cool. Did you see how tall he was?”
“He is…bigger than most participants.” Wilbur notes. Do they ever get hybrids into these experiments? He knows he’s seen a few, but they’ve never quite caught his eye. Then again, they’ve never been that big.
Maybe one day, they should do a round with the players consisting of only hybrids. See how that one turns out.
“He’s a fucking giant.” Tommy narrows down Techno’s coords, and with a simple tap of a button, his body goes invisible, no longer visible to a player’s eye. To Wilbur, though, he’s seen just fine. Just a bit more transparent than usual. “I’m gonna go spy.” He announces brightly.
“Observe.” Wilbur rewords.
“Overlook, stare at, spy, it’s the same thing.” Tommy mutters. Wilbur snorts. “We can’t interact yet, right?”
“Not until the castle is built and they have that king.”
“Okay, okay.” Tommy nods, and some of his screens shut off. “I will be back with a report.”
“You do that.” Wilbur smiles, and he watches Tommy teleport off, his heart warm at the fact that Tommy is even making an effort for a report. Granted, the report will be scuffed, and will lack far too many details to be truly useful, but it’s a start, and Wil always appreciates the help and company.
Turning his attention back to the quickly dwindling forest underneath him, Wilbur glances over player names and inventories, watching how they mine, how they build, how they plan. He watches their behavior with a grin, and waits happily for the moment where he gets to see everything turn rotten.
Technoblade doesn’t really feel the word ‘teamwork’ right now.
Honestly, the word feels like it’s gone on vacation. It packed up, left, and didn’t even glance back. Now all Technoblade is stuck with are the words such as ‘social isolation’ and ‘anxiety.’ Not so fun.
He understands there are consequences to not pulling his weight. The admins made that very clear with talk of a bedrock box. Techno’s making his efforts, he’s digging his pathways, he’s collecting his stone. But it’s all just kinda… sitting in his inventory, because he can’t get close enough to anyone to actually give it.
Everyone scuttles away from him like he’s running at them with a knife, and hey, maybe Techno will start doing that, if only to relieve the stress on his shoulders. They’ll take his stone when they’re dead, won’t they? Can’t run off if your body is in the process of despawning.
Technoblade sighs, rubbing at his temples to chase off a coming headache. There’s a reason he’s not a people person. There is a reason he decided to spend the grand majority of his time alone in an outrageously vast potato farm.
(The reason is that he has far too many thoughts of manslaughter when he has to be around several people at once. It’s a kinda worrying habit. He supposes it’s some after effect of the traumas from the Arena.)
He looks over to the main group, keeping his distance, but still watching how they function. Everyone’s started using wooden signs as a form of communication. It seems they’re really depending on that for the main plans of the castle they have to build. Signs are stuck everywhere, in the ground, on the chests, on the trees that are still standing, conversations and writing carved into them. There’s someone going around and cutting down all the unneeded ones, but it’s still an awful lot.
Techno doesn’t bother to read any. He’s not trying to communicate. He moves his attention on the chests generously placed around, watching as people come by to drop in and take items at will. He zeroes in on a specific one that looks as if it hasn’t been touched, and after a while of making sure the coast is clear, he goes for it.
No one gets in his way as he heads over to the chest, but no one begins panicking and evacuating the area either. The lid of the chest opens with a slight squeak, and Techno looks inside to just find a bit of dirt. Perfect. He’s dumping all his hard work here, and with luck, someone can find it and use it later.
He transfers his entire inventory of cobble into the chest, emptying out his pockets, but taking care to not misplace the golden apple he has in his possession. He still hasn’t used it, but it’s a good item, and he’s holding it close until the time presents itself.
As the chest fills up and Techno runs out of cobble, a new item pops up among all the rock. It’s golden and shiny, just like the apple from before, and Technoblade can’t help it-- he just grabs it and puts it into his inventory the second it’s in sight.
Then he pauses. Realizes that there’s no reason for a new item to show up in the chest, because no one is approaching this chest, and certainly no one is putting things in while he is.
He looks over the new item in his inventory. Stares.
It’s a golden carrot.
(Gold.)
Technoblade closes the lid of the chest and takes a sudden look around, but there’s nothing to see, except for the bustling of people trying to put together a castle and the rush of miners coming back with their supply of cobble.
(Silently, Tommy floats in front of Techno with a smile, taking in every inch of his expression, every second of his reaction. He takes a couple of vague notes on his keyboard. Wilbur won’t care for them, but the effort is what counts.)
Technoblade doesn’t dare take out the apple and the carrot, lest he catches attention around him and have it become bad attention, but he does stand still, letting the cogs in his head turn. He glances up to the sky, where Wilbur stands alone, observing them all, and with a few more moments of thought, he decides to turn around and head back to mining.
The castle still needs to be built, anyway.