Respawn Condition: Trash Mob

Traps!

I shout the word as I am reborn into the dark world of the deepest dungeon. I hear no sounds. I see nothing. Oh. Oh boy… Oh boy, oh boy! I am slime. Literally. My personality and body have finally united as one. I wish I knew what color I was. I hope it’s purple. Oh boy, I like being a slime! I wiggle my body and feel the waves of motion run through my gelatinous self, as if a ripple were running down my skin. Haha! I’m squishy. I feel something next to me. Another slime. Sister. My sister slime felt my wiggle and wiggled back. I jiggle. She waggles. I squish. She squashes. Haha! Slimes.

Slimes are a lot of fun, if they aren’t eating you. There are different breeds. I need to just check real quick… I jiggle again. Sister jiggles back. Ah, we’re Hidden-Village slimes. Nice! I don’t know what the Hidden-Village is or was. I’ve heard the name before, but I’ve never seen it, at least as far as I can recall. I think it was a higher level that we can’t go to anymore. I assume we are the remnants of that floor. Maybe we dripped through the ceiling or something. Dunno. There’s a goblin outpost above us though, but I’ll get into that later.

Sister is excited. I wiggle to ask why. She waggles. What is wrong sister? Sister wobbles and tells me there is food. Food? I ask with a ripple. Food she replies with a sploot. Now, you might be wondering, guy, what’s with all these wiggles and waggles and sploots and splats and jiggles and all those other ‘iggles and ‘oots and ‘uggles? Well, let me tell you, friend. This is how slimes communicate. They’re beautiful, ridiculous creatures and I love watching them from a distance. But what I love even more than that, is being one. Not one of the rare-spawn hominid slimes mind you, that’s an awkward topic that we won’t delve into. But the normal kind.

Down here, there are the cubics and the Hidden-Village types left. We’re the only surviving breeds that I know of anymore. They’re squares, the cubics, literally and figuratively. See, cubic slimes are quite literally cube shaped blocks of acidic, slimy goo and they have the personalities to match. Real boring creatures. By the book. Squares. You know? Hidden-Village slimes are a different breed. We are round with a pointy protrusion at the top of our body. Kind of like a squashed teardrop shape an-

- Huh? What are you doing sister? Sister snuggles me. It is awkward, but I allow it. She caught a rat. Sister wants to share it with me. Thanks sister. I love you! Sister wiggles. I wiggle. The rat wiggles. Yay!

Hidden-village slimes have very colorful personalities. Honestly I think they would be great people. They are very family oriented. They love contact and are very kind and energetic and playful. Being a slime is a nice life.

Sister jumps on top of me and squishes me. I am flattened and I slip out to the side and return the favor. Haha! My mass is objectively superior to yours, sister. I am victoriou-

- Oh no! Sister ate a bigger portion of the rat than me. She has grown. You have tricked me sister! Deceit. Deceit! Sister wobbles triumphantly. I am beaten. I allow it. The deceit was my own. I have lied. I am not actually beaten, but I pretend to be so. It is important for sister to grow self-confidence. I am brother. It is my duty to foster.

This is the deluxe life, honestly. Being a Hidden-Village slime is a top-tier respawn these days. We’re on the second to last floor, as far as I know, but way off to the side. You see there’s a goblin outpost on the floor above this one, like I mentioned a moment ago. So that's that on the third floor from the bottom and it’s where the good old goblin-king lives. He’s not actually good, he’s kind of a jerk, like I think I mentioned before. But he is for sure the goblin-king. Crown and everything. Well anyways, the point is, in that goblin outpost is a well and in that well, at the very, very bottom is a brick with a lever behind it, that opens a secret door to this forgotten corner of the dungeon. What that all means in practical terms is that, as a Hidden-Village slime, you are basically never killed by an adventurer, because we’re on the second to last floor, but off to the side; not accessible from the main way. We just chill here and play and eat rats until the slime sub-boss dies and then we fade away. Who is the slime sub-boss? I can’t recall, I don’t think I’ve seen them for a while. But there has to be one, because we do fade out sooner or later, so, yeah.

Vacation time!

I wobble free from sister’s grasp and tell her I am going to hunt for a bigger rat than hers. She wuggles mockingly, telling me that I can not do such a thing. Oh no. I have let sister become overconfident. I hop away to hunt. The ground beneath me is made of stone. Immaculate, dust free, smoothly polished stone. You see, just about all slimes are highly acidic creatures. The goo we’re made of will eat through a leather boot in about ten seconds. Through animal skin and meat in about half that. So in a place like this, with slimes hopping around everywhere all day, every little bit of dust and dirt is absorbed into our bodies and burnt away into energy, even if just a little. The end result is that slimes are fantastic housekeepers. The dungeon floors are never any cleaner than they are where slimes live. You’d think we’d be a messy bunch, but honestly slimes are the cleanest monsters in the whole dungeon.

I can’t really explain how they work though. See, slimes don’t have any eyes or ears or organs or anything like that. They’re just goo. Nothing but goo in various shapes and colors. So if you’re wondering how something like an intelligence or emotions could manifest themselves in such a thing, well then let me know once you find out, okay? As a slime I can feel the world around me. My body is very sensitive, much more so than when I am a goblin or something else alive. I feel every little rat hair and pebble I jump on as they become absorbed into my mass. I can not smell, but I taste. The rat before tasted good. Sister caught it with love, so it tasted better. Thank you, sister.

I wouldn’t eat a rat as a goblin, honestly. I thought about it once, but it’s different, you know? Goblins have a very different sense of taste than slimes. Slimes are mathematical in what they eat. It’s all about the nutrients. Carbohydrates and fats and proteins. And love. That’s all that matters. Goblins however, come closer to humans in an odd way. They’re creatures of the dungeon, but they don’t want to eat rats either. They like nice meat and soups, though those things are fairly hard to come across down here, obviously. I think in theory, some goblins eat humans too, but that has never happened in this dungeon, as far as I know.

I wonder what humans eat? I have never seen the adventurers eat anything. Well, once or twice I saw the wizard drink a blue potion. Those look really nice, I wonder what they taste like? I bet blue things taste delicious. I’ve only ever had a red, but I think I said that before already. I don’t eat a lot in general, but honestly, I never need to, since I am reborn fairly often. I wonder if the priestess might sell me a blue potion next time I get a coin? Ah, who am I kidding. The adventurers hate us and we hate them.

Well, no. Well, yes. But also, no. It’s complicated, okay? I’m different. Because I have the mental context here in scope. I see everything over and over from different angles and vantage points, so I know what the hero is like and the adventurers are like, I think so at least.

But the others? Like when I’m a goblin, the other goblins hate the adventurers. I mean hate. Seriously. They are so angry at them and I guess I can’t blame them, really? I mean as far as they know, they only get one life and the adventurers are there to take it, so, fair game, honestly. Did I hate them at first? The adventurers, not the goblins. I can’t remember. I flatten my mass down low to spread my goo further in a wide circle, touching, sensing. I sense a disturbance. Something skitters beneath my left side. It is small. Hard. Protein. I have caught a roach. I eat. Sorry sister, but I must eat this alone. I will find a rat for us to share soon.

Something else touches my left, now further out. It wibbles. I wobble. Oh no. Brother is angry! I stole his roach. Forgive me, brother, I wuggle as I quickly hop away, before he can catch me. Slimes have genders, as you might have noticed so far from my ranting. Don’t ask me where they come from though, slimes, because I have no idea. Slime genders are independent of color, so boys can be pink and girls can be blue. We’re an open bunch, us slimes. As far as I can tell, a slime’s color is decided at birth, since I have never seen them change it. There was goblin talk I overheard once -

TRAPS -

I shout the word to myself, remembering it for some reason. Why? Did it mean something to me? Anyways, there was goblin talk once that different slime colors meant they could do different things, but honestly, I think that might just be superstition. I have never seen a slime do anything other than wiggling or wobbling or jiggling or gobbling or getting clobbered by the hero.

Something tickles my lower body. A single pin-prick sticks into my goo. A hair. Short. Keratin. Tastes bitter. It is oily, but meticulously groomed. Rat. This is rat hair. I wiggle excitedly and hop onward. There are rocks in front of me. I noticed because I splat into them with my next hop. I slide down the wall, my goo collecting in a puddle at the bottom. Bubbles rise in my body. I am agitated.

Allowing myself a moment to pull myself together, literally, I continue my journey in another direction. I hope sister didn’t see that. It would be embarrassing. Wait, what am I saying? Slimes can’t see. Ah. Being a slime is dangerous for me, because I enjoy it so much.

The promises of community and family and being around others is dangerous bait for my lonely mind. I am sad again. I need to resist the slimy urges, even if I enjoy them a lot. If I cede too much ground to the fog, I won’t get it back. Still, my hunt continues. There is a rat here somewhere and I must find it. I must reestablish dominance over sister, so that she does not eat me.

Oh? Didn’t I mention that? Slimes cannibalize each other, if there’s too large of a size difference between them. It’s nothing personal, it’s just the way of nature, baby. When slimes eat something, their mass grows proportionally to the energy they win from the food. But each time a slime moves, it leaves a tiny, little trace amount of residue behind and a little water is evaporated into the air. So we’re on a constant timer to consume, in order to sustain ourselves and grow. It’s a constant arms race against our brothers and sisters too. We cherish them dearly. But we will eat them too, if it comes to it. Because we cherish them.

You need to have been a slime to really get it, okay? I won’t eat sister though. I make that promise, not as myself, as a slime, but as me, the me inside. She shared her rat with me and that is a sacred bond amongst slimes. I will cherish you for as long as I live, sister. Even if it is only for a few days. I continue my hunt.

I will do it for her.