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Sometimes the worst incidents occur due to nothing other than chance and sheer stupidity.
Xisuma was a watchful hermit. He knew all the ins and outs of his charge’s quirks, preferences, and biological needs. He knew exactly how much light had to be lost before Bdubs’ glare instincts got triggered and he knew the precise tone of Mumbo’s voice when he got exhausted from work projects and he knew almost to a science when Grian’s jokes went from funny to just a little too far.
Xisuma regulated all of these things. There were rules set in place, and when he knew rules wouldn’t cut it for his rowdy crew, he installed coding. Every time something glitched or slipped past him he would hyperfixate on that instance until a contingency plan had been made. Every HC server was a web of Xisuma’s own design, specifically crafted for the health and wellbeing of those who lived inside.
But he couldn’t plan for everything; freak accidents still happened. What made it even more startling, on that bright, sunny day, was that the accident happened to him .
Xisuma didn’t plan things for himself other than the basic necessities. He couldn’t function as an admin very well if he was incapacitated, after all. His helmet was his biggest weakness, which was why he had a spare safely stored in his ender chest, one of which he always carried in his inventory and the other that he had situated next to his bed back in his base. If something happened and his current helmet broke, he’d either be able to take out the chest right then or, if he’d died, get it from the chest back home.
Things, however, were a little different that morning. Eager to get busy building on a collaborative project with Keralis and False that morning, Xisuma had had an extremely rare moment of spaciness and had waltzed out the door without that chest. He’d remembered halfway through the sky to the open space they’d picked, but ultimately decided it wasn’t that big of a deal. Somebody would have an ender chest at their build, and even if they didn’t, there was always the chest back at his base.
Not that anything bad would happen. What could possibly cause his helmet, which was reinforced metal, to break so severely that he needed his replacement?
The answer, apparently, was gravity.
It was so quick, and so incredibly meaningless. Xisuma had been up on a pillar, helping connect some corners to where False had been bridging out. Keralis came in and shoved him off the edge with a laugh, which was fine and harmless because X had his elytra, which he unfurled immediately to feel it catch the wind and-
And it broke. He hadn’t been watching it carefully enough to notice how worn it had been getting.
Xisuma plummeted with a startled yelp, hearing False shout something down at him. He hit the ground hard, hard enough to feel something snap immediately in both his legs and for his head to smash into the ground. And while the special coding he’d installed kept the pain in his legs from being overwhelming and his helmet had sheltered his skull from the ground, he had apparently managed to hit the tiniest fault point in the glass. A heartbeat after he landed, the visor shattered.
Glass sprayed back in his face, X’s hybrid reflexes helping him squeeze his eyes and mouth shut to protect himself. A blast of hot air touched his skin as the End atmosphere inside was broken, allowing the sun-heated Overworld air to sink in. Instinctual panic immediately sprang to life in Xisuma’s chest at the sensation, but he clamped it down. He couldn’t afford to panic.
There was shouting from above him, a whoosh of spread elytra wings. Xisuma struggled to sit upright, groaning through clenched teeth as he felt his legs slowly piecing themselves back together, and reached up to remove the remains of his helmet. His lungs were beginning to ache - he’d have to take a breath soon, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Please have an ender chest . Now that he was in a bad situation, it suddenly occurred to Xisuma that maybe he shouldn't have based a contingency plan on an assumption.
“Sheshwam!” Footsteps thudded against the ground just a few feet away, rushing towards him as another thump sounded from his other side. “Your helmet!”
Gentle hands came to brush at his face, moving away the glass, and Xisuma dared to open his eyes. Keralis was crouching next to him, brown eyes huge with worry. Behind him, False was staring at his legs, which twitched and shuddered as they put themselves back together.
“You have a spare, yes?” Keralis demanded. “Where’s your spare, Sheshwam?”
“I-“ X tried not to breathe in but he couldn’t help it, and that first rush of hot, heavy Overworld air into his lungs set him off coughing. He tried to regain his composure quickly, knowing that if he couldn’t get a helmet soon, he wouldn’t be able to communicate at all. He drew in a slow breath, feeling it fill his lungs like thick, viscous honey. “I need an ender chest.”
Keralis’s eyes went dull, fingers twitching in a way that told X he was searching for something in his inventory. When the hermit twisted to look at False, Xisuma could only assume that he didn’t find it.
False’s face was pale when she looked back at the two of them. “I don’t have one either.”
Never make a contingency plan based on an assumption, Xisuma.
“O-okay.” Xisuma tried to stand but his recently-healed legs protested the action and his head swam. Slumping back, he was caught by Keralis who pressed himself against his side. “Sheshwammy, what do you need? What do we do?”
“I’m sending out a request for ender chests in the chat,” False announced, typing away on her communicator.
FalseSymmetry: Very Important: does anyone have an ender chest and can they come to these coordinates? Xisuma’s helmet broke and his spare is in an ender chest and we don’t have one.
Iskall85: WHAT? HOW DID IT BREAK??? I don’t have one on me right now!!
DocM77: I have one but I’m across the world right now. Anyone else close by?
ImpulseSV: im in the nether is anybody else nearby!?
iJevin: I’m mining down in the negative levels right now!!!
Xisuma dropped his arm with a wheeze, vision starting to swim in dizzying circles. It seemed like everybody was either out in a different dimension, far away, or underground. Truly, this was the peak of bad luck; he only had a few minutes before he died and it was looking like that might be his only option.
“Some hermits are on the way, but it’s going to take them a few minutes.” False crouched by Xisuma’s side, blue eyes wide and worried. “You can make it, X.”
“N-no, I-” Xisuma lungs spasmed with a hot flash of pain and he swallowed back a whine, instinctively trying to curl in on himself. Every breath was heavy, like he was breathing through a thin tube and what little air came in sat like cinder bricks in the bottom of his lungs. And it was so hot; he was sweating, each inhale pouring lava into his veins, like he was in the nether except it was supposedly a cool day outside with a nice breeze.
It was torture, plain and simple. Something Xisuma had tried to avoid from the very first day he stepped into the Overworld and realized breathing wasn’t so simple in a different dimension.
“I-I don’t… have… a few… minutes.” Xisuma panted. He could hardly see straight, realizing dazedly that he’d sunk back against Keralis fully. His limbs weren’t cooperating with him anymore, which told him that it was only a matter of seconds before his lungs simply gave out and his body shut down from overexposure to oxygen and other Overworld gasses.
His hand ached, and he glanced over to see that one of his hands had fisted itself in Keralis’s pant leg, tensing and relaxing in shuddering waves as he struggled to breathe. One of Keralis’s arms had come to brace against his shoulder, holding him steady against the other hermit’s chest.
“Breathe, Sheshwam.” Keralis’s voice was soft, albeit a bit shaky. “You can do this. You are so strong, Sheshwammy, I know you’ll make it. Hold on just a little longer.”
False was typing on her communicator again, probably urging whoever was coming to hurry. Xisuma appreciated the effort, but he didn’t think it was going to matter. A horrible, almost animalistic wave of fear swept over him when his chest stuttered and he suddenly couldn’t inhale anymore, like his body didn’t have the strength and had given up. He instinctively struggled against it, legs kicking out and arms jerking at his side. Over the increasingly violent sound of his pounding heart and rushing blood, he heard Keralis whimper something and False curse under her breath. He was being lowered to the ground, Keralis gripping onto his shoulders.
“ Breathe , Xisuma!” His friend demanded. “Don’t give up on us now! Breathe!”
Xisuma wanted to, he really did. A choked, gasping breath was forced between his clenched teeth - a sample of sweet air. But then his chest seized again and no amount of twitching, shaking, and subconscious begging would kick start it again. His whole body screamed at him to breathe , muscles shaking, insides burning, sweat dripping down his forehead, but it wouldn’t come.
But then, mercifully, it all started to fade. Snippets of conversation floated over him (“he has a chest…. base, right?!”) and faded into the aether. Xisuma’s limbs went slack, his heartbeat went quiet, and he let himself sink.
Xisumavoid suffocated
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Xisuma, prompted by the GenerikB before he left the hermit community, had established his own personal death message: Suffocation.
The reason for this particular death message was that there only existed one type of suffocation message within a server’s natural coding, and that was to suffocate within a wall. Usually this meant a player had gotten buried in some kind of rubble, or a material such as sand. Not a very pleasant way to die even with Xisuma’s death-softening coding in place; suffocation messages got peoples’ attention and could be a sign that someone needed help.
But for Xisuma, suffocation could come from the air itself. This wasn’t something the world’s code was familiar with, so when he suffocated without his helmet, it did not register as a death and did not trigger a message. For obvious reasons, GenerikB saw this as an extreme hazard. People needed to know when Xisuma was in trouble.
For once, Xisuma was okay with this and went along with it without much of a fuss. Suffocation was something he had experienced far too much of, and he wasn’t keen to do so again. Crafting his own death message that simply stated suffocation as the cause alerted the hermits that he was in genuine trouble, and allowed them to check in on him or come to his aid as needed.
As such, Xisuma expected to wake up back in his bed with a heavily pinging communicator as people saw he had died from lack of a helmet. He would then reach over into his ender chest at his leisure, because his room was pressurized with an End atmosphere and therefore wouldn’t trouble his fragile, newly-healed lungs, and would be right as rain once he got that spare helmet. He’d then implement a new plan to keep a spare on him at all times because that had been a severe oversight on his part.
But instead of waking up in bed with cold air flowing into his aching lungs, Xisuma woke up to feel heat beating down on him, grass tickling the back of his neck, and a fresh wash of pain as his first instinctual breath sent him coughing and gagging, curling up on his side.
Oh, and his communicator was certainly still pinging.
Through stinging, teary eyes and he fought for breath, Xisuma pulled his communicator close, frantically trying to push back all of his steadily rising fear so he could read the messages.
Xisumavoid suffocated
GoodtimeswithScar: NOOO XISUMA
TangoTek: X are you okay??? Nobody got there in time???
DocM77: I’m still flying over there! False and Keralis is he back at his base?
Stressmonster101: X do you need anything? I can bring potions if that helps?
Xisuma wanted to respond, but another wave of agony had him scrabbling helplessly in the grass, groans of pain rising up in his throat. His chest was positively on fire, every breath coming shallow and rasping. He didn’t have the energy to raise his head, nevermind lift an arm and type on his communicator.
Why hadn’t he spawned back at his base!?!
Another communicator ping drew his attention.
Grian: XISUMA I AM SO SORRY I PULLED A PRANK AD REMVED YOUR BED AND I DIDNT KNOWI T WOULD CAUSE A PROBLEM
Grian: GUYS HES AT WORLD SPAWN
Grian: IM ON MY WAY IM SO SORRY XISUMA
Ah, so that was why. Xisuma slumped fully against the ground again with another trembling exhale, whole body shaking with stress. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel angry because if this were any other time or circumstance, this would have been no big deal. X would have affectionately called Grian a menace in the world chat and walked his way home, shaking his head, plotting a revenge prank all the while.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal. But Xisuma had been stupid , and now everybody was freaking out.
Xisuma was really, really trying hard not to panic.
You’re okay , he told himself, digging his fingers into the ground and closing his eyes as he forced his aching lungs to expand and contract, expand and contract. They hadn’t fully recovered after his death which meant this was even more painful than the first time. You’re okay. Just breathe, in and out. You can do this. You can last until somebody gets here.
But how long? How long would he have to force this? His communicator kept pinging, at one point Xisuma thought maybe it started ringing from a call, but he simply did not have the strength or mental wherewithal to answer it. Every single cell in his body was focused on one that, and that was breathe .
It wasn’t enough. Xisuma could feel himself locking up again, could feel his strength slipping away. Against his will he was crying from sheer stress and desperation, trying desperately not to let himself fade again. If he died, the next respawn would be even worse because he’d have even less strength to start with. It would be a vicious cycle that would result in shorter and shorter stretches of life as he grew weaker.
Xisuma desperately did not want this. He’d gone through this before and he’d done everything in his power to avoid it since then. But there was nothing he could do to prevent it; even as he screamed breathe, damn you! at himself, forcing himself through every inhale and exhale, he knew he wasn’t going to last. He was going to die again and there was nothing he could do about it.
Xisuma had just collapsed fully in on himself with a frustrated sob, lungs closing up, when he heard the distant sound of rockets. By the time feet slammed to the ground just a few yards away, it was already too late for a second time.
Xisumavoid suffocated
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The third time Xisuma woke up, he was not alone.
It was by far the worst respawn. Coherent thoughts weren’t even an option; he was nothing but a ball of raw, terrified instinct, struggling on the ground and fighting for air before he even opened his eyes. Immediately he drew the attention of whoever had come to get him; voices washed over him in waves, but he hardly had the energy to recognize them, nevermind respond.
“Xisuma, I’m so sorry!” Somebody was wailing. His head was lifted slightly and rested against something warm, a welcome respite from his previous position, which had been so much worse for him to try and breathe through. He still struggled, however; his breaths noisy, desperate things that rattled with every inhale and exhale. His insides were burning, maybe they’d melted completely by this point. It certainly felt like it.
“I have the ender chest!” Another voice said. Someone touched his cheek and Xisuma whined at the additional heat of it, trying to squirm away. They muttered a hushed apology but then continued to speak at him, words coming too quick and too loud. “Xisuma, I have the chest, you need to open it, okay? Your helmet is inside. Come on, X!”
“Why did he have to put it in an ender chest , of all places!?” Another player cried. “None of us can get to the blasted thing. X, you need to snap out of it!”
“He’s trying his best!” Someone snapped. A shadow fell on him, blocking some of the heat, and Xisuma let out a long, wheezing sigh as a brilliantly cold cloth of some kind touched his forehead. It would be so easy to just give into the sensation and stop prolonging the agony, to just slip into that space of peace he was granted with every death. He almost did, chest freezing up, but then his chest was squeezed hard enough to snap him back out of it.
“Xisuma.” This voice was deep, serious. “Your hermits need you.”
That, of course, was enough to get Xisuma’s attention. A jolt of panic that had nothing to do with his current predicament shot through him and he struggled to open his eyes, the world searingly bright. A shadowy figure loomed in front of him, features indistinct as his vision continued to blur and spin, but X caught what might have been horns and something glowing red. “We need you, but you cannot help us until you get your helmet.”
That's right… he had a helmet, didn’t he? Xisuma already felt like he was fading again, eyes threatening to drop shut as he gave another aborted, rattling breath. Just as he was about to shut them again, the figure in front of him snapped, “ Xisuma . You can’t abandon your charges. You're an admin, your players need you!”
Yes… Xisuma was an admin. He opened his eyes again, squinting, suddenly aware that his brain was swimming in molasses and he did not like the feeling. He needed… there was something… why couldn’t he think?!
He just wanted everything to stop hurting .
The player… that was a hermit. He had to protect his hermits. They needed him to put on the helmet so he could help them, right?
“The chest is right here, X.” Someone put something dark green right in front of him; the whole box shimmered sickeningly. “Just open it and grab the helmet, that’s all you need to do and then you can rest.” Every word from every person spoken was resonating with a sharp, aggressive kind of tension. Hands moved him forward and others pushed him upright into a sitting position, stabilizing him when his lungs seized and he burst out coughing and gasping. Others pressed the cold cloth to his head when he shuddered and burned afterwards, trying to catch any kind of air.
He needed to open the chest. That’s what they said - he needed to get the helmet.
Helmet, and air. The only two things he could think about.
How Xisuma found the energy to open the chest himself, he wasn’t sure. The minute he did he almost fell forward, but someone came to steady his elbow so the lid stayed open. His whole body shook from the effort of just that, and frustrated, panicked tears were threatening to fall down his cheeks again. Why couldn’t they just let him rest? Why couldn’t they see he was dying?!
“You need to grab your helmet from the chest, Sheshwam.” Came a voice close to his ear. It must have been the person supporting him from behind, the one pressing another cold cloth to the back of his neck. Their voice was shaking. “I can’t see what's inside. You have to be the one to do it.”
“C-can’t.” Xisuma gasped. Even that word was enough to leave him breathless. He tried to speak again but his throat spasmed and everything seized, body starved of nutrients and leaving him clutching at someone’s hand with cold, trembling fingers.
“You need to.” The voice insisted. “Just a little longer, Sheshwammy. I believe in you. Y-you… you can do it. Just reach in and grab the helmet.”
“Come on, X.” Someone whispered, and then there were others, more words of encouragement, some loud and some soft. The person behind him helped push him forward, and Xisuma could see the items inside the chest through blurry, tear-filled eyes. They were little more than shapes and colors at this point, but he could see a grey, rounder shape that struck some kind of chord in him. That was the helmet, he was sure of it.
He reached forward, but had to stop only a heartbeat later to drag in another lungful of searingly hot air. Gods above it was so heavy . He wanted to stop and give up, but the people around him were still encouraging him, still urging him on. His arm was being held up so he could reach in with minimal effort, and so he did, wheezing all the while until his numb fingertips touched the solid metal.
Hooking his hand, shaking as it was, around the edge of the helmet took far too long. Every second felt like he was stepping closer to that dark abyss. Every gasping breath was getting shorter and weaker, until Xisuma wasn’t really sitting up right at all and was more being held in place by those around him. But he got a grip, and managed to nod to show he was ready, and let them pull him backwards, dragging the helmet out of the chest as he went.
The second the helmet was out of the chest, it was over. Xisuma slumped back fully, exhausted, feeling his chest go still as his lungs gave out for a third time. Would he even wake up once he respawned again? Would he be lost in the darkness, back in the void where he belonged?
Darkness was cast over his half-lidded eyes, but it wasn’t from death. Something hissed in his ear, a cool seal pressing underneath his jaw, and then the air around his head grew cold. But Xisuma’s chest was still frozen and even if the air was there, he didn’t have the energy to reach for it.
“Xisuma!” The person behind him yelled, actually yelled , startling him so badly with the tone and the words that he was jolted into taking a sharp, tiny inhale.
But it was enough. The slight, fragile wisp of air that got into his system was brilliantly cold, and dazzlingly light. It eased just enough of the swelling in his throat to allow a little more air in, and then a little more. Xisuma drew in a ragged breath, but this one wasn’t painful, it was bliss .
“That’s it, Sheshwam.” Somebody sobbed. From around him, the others were gasping in relief, or speaking in voices thick with tears. Xisuma let them wash over him, drifting, exhausted but in utter bliss as cold air soothed his insides and swept away his pain. He heard mention of a base, and a bed, and did not struggle when arms scooped him up off of the ground.
This time when darkness came to claim him, it was a healing kind.