Oh look I'm posting something This is a fic related to the NPC!Wels AU that @justletmeplayminecraft created! It takes place before this fic here so make sure you read that one too!
Read it on AO3!
A broken NPC has no place in its original server. There only seem to be two options: be deleted, or escape.
"Alright WelsKnight_9357, you must be the infamous singing knight everyone's been talking about on the forums."
"I am?"
The coder in front of the NPC looked up from his panels, eyes wide in surprise as if he hadn't expected the NPC to respond.
"Uhm, yeah." He responded, shaking his head and looking back down at the panels. "Hm, yeah your entire code is jumbled. That's odd, did someone hack you? Why would they bother to hack one random NPC? And make them sing for that matter? How long have you even been like this?"
"I started singing before I was moved to this route." The NPC answered, earning another surprised look from the coder. "I estimate seven months."
"You're… aware of all this? Wait, you can understand passage of time? For that matter, how are you talking outside of your script? Actually, why is that surprising you're literally singing, which I did not program in."
"Is singing bad?"
"Uh, well, I mean, no not really."
"Then what is the problem?"
"The problem is that you're clearly busted beyond any sort of quick fix."
"I am?"
The coder sighed, hitting a button on his panels. The NPC felt something click in the back of its head and travel down to the soles of its feet. "Follow me."
The coder began walking away and the NPC followed after, free from its set path finding. It let its eyes wander across the greenery and the decorations of the area it had been set up at, having only the chance to look at it from a distance. It thought they looked a lot nicer up close. It caught the coder giving it confused and skeptical glances from his place ahead of it as it was led into a tree, the decorative coding facade falling away as the coder opened up a way into a large room with swirling blue and purple walls encased in a dark material.
"What are those?" It asked. It hasn’t seen anything like them in the world.
"Those are world and hub portals. Players can leave the server through them."
The NPC watched as the coder's words were demonstrated, various players standing in the transparent swirls and disappearing without a trace. "Are we going through one?"
"No, we have a maintenance room in this hub. That's why we're here."
"Maintenance?"
"Yeah, you need a hard reset. We can scrap all your old code and replace it. Add a firewall or something, too, to prevent this from happening again."
"Will I still be able to sing?"
The coder sighed, stopping and turning to look at the NPC with a tired expression. "No. You won't be able to sing anymore. Or do this." He gestured at it.
"Do what?"
"Ask all these questions."
A few beats passed, the NPC looking down at the ground as it thought about the coder's words. "I do not want to stop singing. I like singing."
The coder's eyes widened before hardening. "Let me ask you this. What are you?"
"I am the NPC WelsKnight_9357."
"Exactly. You're an NPC. You can't want anything. You can't like anything. You're not sentient. You're just complicated pieces of coding made to execute simple routines, repeat basic dialogue, and complete designed motor tasks to make actual players' experiences on the server more enjoyable."
The NPC's brows furrowed, thinking back to all the players that had gathered around it when it would sing its made up songs. How they would clap for it for some reason, and laugh at the rhymes it made, and return with another player in tow and gesture to it excitedly.
"I thought the players enjoyed my singing."
"That doesn't matter because it isn't a part of the design. It's not a part of your design."
"But you said I am supposed to make players' experiences more enjoyable."
"By doing as you're supposed to and nothing else." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How else can I say this? You are not real. Nothing you do or say matters because you cannot, and should not be able to, make decisions for yourself. You should not be singing. You should not be interacting with players outside of your script. You should not be asking questions. You should not be aware you do anything at all."
"But… I am."
The coder turned around again, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. "Maybe I should just completely scrap you. Your design is out of date anyways; coding is several years old. And you're clearly broken. This isn't worth the headache."
The coder began walking but the NPC didn't follow. It stood there, processing the words the coder just mumbled. Scrap? As in delete? Was he going to delete it? Just because it wanted to sing?
You're an NPC. You can't want anything.
That can't be right. If it really were an NPC then it shouldn't feel this way. It shouldn't feel dread crawling up its spine at the idea of being deleted. It shouldn't feel sorrow at the idea of never singing again. If it were an NPC, it must be really broken if it was acting this way. Maybe it would be better if it were scrapped, if it were completely erased from existence before it could get more confused about who and what it was.
Movement caught its eye and it watched as a player walked into a blue portal, the swirls and particles enveloping them until they completely disappeared.
If it were an NPC… then it shouldn't want to run through that portal and get away as fast as possible.
Maybe it wasn't an NPC.
Maybe they weren’t an NPC.
They heard a call from behind them as they made a dash for the blue swirls, shutting their eyes tight as the feeling of the portal covered them. It tickled their nose and made their eyes itch, and slowly but surely they felt as their coding was sifted through and pulled through the portal.
Almost pulled through, anyways.
The NPC(?) screamed as it felt like their coding was being ripped in two. A searing feeling coursed through them that they had never felt before made them fall to their knees, gripping their arms as they stared at the ground unseeing.
Voices weren't registered around them, but they felt a hand land on their arm and slide up the armor, making contact with the portal.
And just like that, the pain numbed and the broken NPC was gone.
Hi! I know you're probably still busy but, whenever you get the chance, I'd love to see some NPC!Wels hurt/comfort because I absolutely love the headcanon ^_^
some very late npc!wels! minor mentions of injury & blood and a bit of a moral crisis and some unreality aspects (wels questions people's treatment of him as an npc)
the original headcanon is here & the AO3 series of other fics featuring this headcanon is here! the duel scene was also written by @skywillsometimeswrite!
"Come on, Welsie," False taunts, her sword pointed directly out. Wels laughs, brushing his hair back behind his ears. The breeze rustles through the trees around them, evening light drawing patterns across them both. False is smiling, blue eyes sparkling as the sun catches them.
"You want to go another round?" He asks, already taking the stance. False raises an eyebrow, wiggling her blade.
"Would I be pointing my sword at you if I didn't?"
Wels snorts, "Touché." She drops into her own stance, her weight on the balls of her feet. The bruises from their earlier spars ache pleasantly as he twirls his sword. "Same rules as before?"
"Until you call in the towel?" She teases. Wels rolls his eyes.
"You wish," he tells her. "I've got a tie to break."
He's the first to move, surging forward with his sword pointed out. He gets two wide steps closer, False easily stepping to the side, deflecting his sword away from her. She takes her own two steps back, slowly circling Wels, sword still raised.
"One of these times you're not going to blindly charge like that," she quips, eyes scanning as she comes up with a point of attack.
Wels lets her, shifting his footing to keep eye to eye and sword to sword with her, "What can I say? Old habits die hard." He lunges forward again, aiming for her feet with the flat of his blade. She hops over it, not even stumbling.
They never aim to hurt each other, despite the copious healing items they have and the reassurance of a respawn nearby just in case. Sure they can cut and tackle and wrestle, but they don't stab or kill. The last two wins Wels got was from tripping False up and using his weight to his advantage, knocking her to the ground. His shoulder still throbbed from when he rammed into her stomach, throwing them both into the dirt.
Meanwhile, False preferred to use her speed; and her obvious skill. Wels was used to fighting as programmed and still found it hard to break those routines. False, however, had learned how to fight over years and years of practice. He was proud he got the chance to win at all. Players always had the option to improve by their own means. Wels was lucky if he got a software update that maybe increased how hard he could hit.
"One day you're going to get tired of me beating you," False teases, ducking her head, dodging one of his swings and pushing forward off her toes hard enough to leave marks in the grass behind her. She aims to press the flat of her own sword to his stomach, probably hoping to knock him down.
Not this time! Wels has just enough of an opening to bring his sword down perpendicular to hers, turning to the side and causing a screeching of metal against metal to echo against the trees. A few sparks fizzle out on the grass, Wels pushing False back out of his space.
They've managed to switch places, a mirror of how they started only a few minutes ago.
"One day," he panted, feeling sweat bead up on the back of his neck, "you won't be able to beat me."
False was panting too, rolling out her sword shoulder. They both would need a nice rest after this. Wels could already feel how his muscles would be sore tomorrow.
False only gave him a smile before twirling her sword and lunging forward again. They went like that for a few more minutes, trading blow after blow, the metal of their swords hitting and recoiling off each other. They didn't achieve much other than wearing the other out.
Wels swung his sword in a broad sweep as False managed to get behind him. She had already beat him once like this, shoving the pommel of her sword into his spine in what would have been a killing blow ordinarily, and sending him faceplanting into the grass.
But he wouldn't fall for that again, he dug his toe into the dirt, carrying the momentum from the swing to turn himself around. He stumbled, vision swirling briefly, and managed to dodge her attack.
He blinks away the rest of his momentary dizziness and raises his sword to block another blow, the clang ringing out through the forest. He grits his teeth, heel digging into the dirt as he tries to regain ground. He brings his sword up for another strike but False gets there first, surging forward with a triumphant cry. Wels stumbles backwards, toes catching on a root underfoot. He hisses, slashing wide. False jumps clear. He resumes his stance just in time for False to take advantage of the opening.
The root trips him completely. He loses balance, toppling into the tree behind him. He raises his sword blindly as steel surges down towards him. He feels breathless, desperately trying to keep the blade away from him as it crashes down. It's ceaseless, it won't stop, and he doesn't understand why. He was just doing his job, he was at his post, he doesn't understand why they're attacking him, why they're trying to hurt him, what did he do wrong? He can't push any further back but he can't move off course and he can't go forward-
Sharp pain slashes down his arm as he drops his sword, closing his eyes and holding as still as possible. They'll get bored. They'll get bored and stop and they'll leave because they can't kill him, and he's not interesting if he can't be killed-
"Wels?" That's him. He's WelsKnight. 9357. He's- "Wels, you need to snap out of it." He's an NPC. No, he's- Is he? "Wels!" A grip takes his hands, and Wels opens his eyes in shock. There's purple smudged across pale skin, mostly gloved hands holding his fingers with their own. The skin contact is warm.
He's- he's not just an NPC anymore. NPCs don't bleed purple blood. NPCs don't bleed at all. He looks up, following the gloved hands until he meets worried blue eyes.
"False?" Her thumbs rub across his skin; each circle urging himself back into his body. The trees surround the glade he's sitting in, cool bark at his back.
"I'm here," she replies. She attempts to smile at him. Wels has seen better - her eyes are still squinted in concern, cheeks barely moving. "Lost you for a minute there." He sighs, closing his eyes and trying not to think of swinging swords and swirling magic and corners he can't get out of. His legs threaten to buckle on him, so he slumps to the ground before they can. False follows shortly after, placing their swords out of the way.
"I'm- I'm good." He reaches up to push hair from his eyes and ends up smearing blood across his forehead instead. He frowns, turning over his hand to see a clean slice across it.
"I think I've got more bandages in my enderchest," False tells him. She's leaning away before Wels can even tell her it's not necessary. He tenses his muscles, watching the purple bead at the surface. It doesn't look deep, at least. But when he turns over his arm, he finds another cut there too. There's spots of blood on his trousers, droplets hanging off blades of grass.
False lets the enderchest close with a creak, holding her hand out expectantly. Wels places his arm in her hold, hissing as she slathers health potion over the cuts. She's clinical and precise, never using more than necessary. And once she's done, she covers the wounds in clean bandages, only talking to check they're not too tight. Wels bends his arm, feeling the fabric bunch up but not pinch. He nods.
"Good," False tells him, folding the rest of her supplies away. Wels prods the cut through the covering, wincing at the pain. False bats his hand away. "Stop that."
"It's weird," Wels murmurs.
"Doesn't mean you should poke it," she replies. Wels huffs, but begrudgingly lets his hands drop into his lap. False leans back on her palm, and Wels gets the feeling he isn't going to be able to brush this off with another duel. He ruffles through his hair, getting more comfortable against the tree.
"Sorry I ruined our fight."
False gives him a disbelieving look, "Sorry?" Wels shrugs bashfully. "Wels, you don't have to apologise for-" she waves her hand in lieu of words. He wouldn't know what to call it either.
"It's just-" he trails off, head falling back against the tree trunk. False gives him a few seconds before replying.
"I mean, if you want to talk to Stress or X or someone I won't be offended-"
"No. No, that is the opposite of what I want." They're both wonderful people, don't get him wrong, but this isn't a big deal. And he knows they'll make it one. False… she won't. She gets it. "No, I just-" He takes a breath, staring at his pale fingers. "People used to do that to me." His hands are trembling. He clenches them into tight fists.
"What, duel you?" False asks, a crease between her brows. Wels laughs weakly, shaking his head. Even that small movement feels exhausting.
"It's not really a duel if I can't fight back." It's difficult to sort through the memories of his early consciousness. After all, he wasn't supposed to have them to begin with. They all come with an emotional detachment he doesn't think is possible anymore. He didn't think anything of it at the time. How could he when he was barely conscious enough to recognise he was alive?
So why are they coming back now and paralysing him at his very core?
He looks up to find False is still staring at him, her expression frustratingly unreadable. She hasn't said a word as Wels gathers his thoughts. He doesn't know if he's grateful. He's not sure he wants to see this with a new perspective. With emotions and reasoning and all these things an NPC shouldn't have.
"It's what players are like, isn't it?" He asks, genuinely unsure. False tilts her head, urging him on and he sighs, annoyed with his lack of words. "They, like- they test limits. And here's me, an NPC… I don't think. Well, I'm not supposed to think, right? We're not supposed to be aware of anything around us. And, like you know, I was kinda unkillable."
"An absolute tank," False replies. Wels snorts, but he has to agree.
"That's certainly a more interesting way of putting it." He does miss being able to swim in lava or take on far too many enemies at once. But he thinks the hair brushing the back of his neck and the loose clothes and the fatigue of a good fight is worth it. "And players like doing stuff they can't do, right?"
"Mmhm," False agrees. This entire server is testament to that, and given False's expression, she knows it too.
"So sometimes I'd get players like… hitting me around?" He tries to make sure he's using the right words. "Sometimes just because, I guess. They'd run past and just whack me. But some were more persistent. They'd keep attacking me, I guess to see if they could kill me?" At False's fearful expression he waves his hands. "It's okay! They couldn't really hurt me. I was barely thinking for myself back then."
"And us fighting reminded you of that?" False asks. Wels pulls one of his legs up, leaning on his knee.
"Kinda?" False doesn't look pleased with that response. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus in the way Iskall taught him to. "Some of the players would… they'd push me from my post. Back me up against a wall or something so it was easier to hit me just over and over and I-" He squeezes his eyes shut tight enough the images just become patchy light. "All I could focus on was getting back to my post. I didn't even care, I don't know why it's affecting me now."
A soft touch lands on his arm, and Wels looks up, finding False's hand on his. He reaches out, and False lets him slot their fingers together.
"Did they just assume I couldn't feel it?" Wels asks. "Would they have stopped if I could?"
"Most would," False replies. Wels appreciates her honesty. Even if it causes a lump to form in his throat, swallowing hard to push it back down.
"It got close, sometimes," he whispers. "They'd stack up poison effects and I don't… I don't think I'd respawn, and I'm such an old model they wouldn't replace me. Would it even still be me if I was replaced? I don't-" He sighs, slumping onto his knee. He's got a headache and every miniscule movement right now feels like he's climbing a mountain.
"You know we wouldn't let that happen to you?" False says. Wels props his head up enough to see her, though there's not much to glean from her neutral expression. "You're one of us now. We're not going to let anybody hurt you like that."
"But it didn't hurt."
False squeezes his hand, "And it still freaked you out in the middle of a fight." He doesn't have a reply to that. There's a lot about himself he still doesn't understand, it seems. "Come on, let's get you up." She gives his arm a gentle tug. "You look like you need a comfortable bed to lie in." Wels groans, begrudgingly stumbling onto his feet. False corrects his balance, never letting go of his hand.
"Can you make me hot cocoa?" Wels asks. False laughs, walking them through the forest.
"I can do that, yes."
"With marshmallows?"
"Mm, I don't know. That might be pushing it a little." They both laugh, and Wels pushes away those messy emotions to deal with another time.
Ya know, I read at one point that the way they find out about Wels being an NPC is certainly angsty, but you listed different possibilities - is there a canon idea floating around somewhere?
I don't think it'll ever be truly canon until it's written down! We often change bits and pieces depending on our fancy, and it's changed a little from the original post as well.
Wels dies. It's completely by accident – late S5 or early S6 (we're undecided) and he gets caught up in a prank unintended for him. Wels is resourceful, very overpowered, and the hermits are respectful that he avoids death.
So, he dies. It causes a bit of commotion in chat because Wels hasn't died before. There's a few jokes, people asking if Wels is okay, if he needs anything, can they get his stuff for him? But it's no more serious than any normal player's first death.
Not until Iskall urgently asks X to check if Wels has respawned.
npc!wels question! if he gets actual player code later on hermitcraft, but iskall found out beforehand, does that mean they were just kind of. sitting on that information until it become relevant?
Iskall is very good at keeping secrets. He sat on that information until he literally couldn't anymore.
Don't mind me just rolling in the npc wels au like a cat in a patch of flowers-
Wels would probably join you when he's a player hybrid. He loves experiencing new things! There's so much touch and sensation he didn't get to experience before!
For your NPC!Wels headcannon: How does Helsknight factor into that concept? Is he like, remnants of the NPC code? A glitch in said NPC code? I'm very curious about this because I love the headcannon~
You're actually looking in the wrong direction! A hels is created when a player is; aka usually at creation. Given Wels' circumstance, Hels is a special case. When Wels became an NPC-Player hybrid, Hels was born of the player code Wels recieved. Which means, similarly to Wels, there's a lot of things that Hels didn't get to experience that a normal hels would. But, he also doesn't experience the downfalls of being an NPC hybrid like Wels does: the glitchiness and need for maintenance. It's the better end of the deal, in Hels' opinion. Wels wouldn't last one minute in the Hels dimension.
Helsknight is living with Wels for some reason. They're talking with each other, very dramatically, when Wels realize they're both huge theatre nerds.
(I mean, wearing full medieval armor every day, in their first confrontation they sang monologues before they pulled out their swords, etc. It's like they're on Broadway!)
it's not quite a dramatic conversation, but the end result is the same. these two are Nerds. also implied NPC!Wels, but it's not too relevant.
featuring: wels is learning things about hels, hels wants none of it, dialogue heavy, domestic knights ftw, hels actually has a personality other than 'evil' it turns out
Wels hums, swaying his hips as he dries the dishes. The sun is low in the sky, a hint of golden sky emerging over the horizon. Through the open porch door, a gentle breeze brushes through Wels' hair. The air is warm and humid, but quickly cooling as the evening sets in.
On the couch across the room, Hels is lying stretched out as if he owns the place. He insisted on coming back with Wels after finding him zoned out. So far, he's just eaten the food Wels made for him and lounged around. Didn't even offer to do the dishes! So much for being worried about him (not that Hels would ever admit he was, or would Wels want him saying it.)
Wels pauses his humming to put a plate up in the cupboard. Then hesitates when he realises he can still hear it. He turns, narrowing his eyes at the black hair falling across the couch cushions.
"Hels?" He calls, curious.
The humming stops, "Yeah?" Wels rushes across. The dishcloth and plate are still in his hands as he leans over the couch to see Hels. Blond strands of hair fall into his face.
"You were humming," Wels accuses. Red eyes glare up at him.
"Maybe I was," Hels replies. "Your point?"
"You were humming with me."
"Oh no! I was caught! Whatever will I do." Hels places a hand over his forehead, tilting his head back against the sofa's arm. His words are a sarcastic drawl. Wels crosses his arms, regretting not putting the plate down.
"You didn't tell me you could sing!" Wels argues. Hels quirks an eyebrow as he sits up.
"We literally had a battle of words upon meeting," Hels reminds him. He's leaning on his arm, pulling black hair back under control.
"Well, true-"
"And wasn't I created from you?" Wels frowns as he tries to put the pieces together in his head. He thought Hels took his negative traits. The parts of Wels he doesn't like to acknowledge about himself, that he pushes as deeply down as he can. Yet, Hels sat with Wels whilst he was vulnerable. He's making sure Wels is okay, even though he really doesn't need to...
And, apparently, Hels likes to sing.
"Well then," Wels calls over his shoulder as he finally puts the plate away. "What shows have you seen?"
"So you can judge me?" Hels asks. He's moved to lean on the back of the sofa. Wels rolls his eyes. Always drawing the worst conclusions.
"I'm interested! It's called making conversation, Hels." Hels looks thoroughly unimpressed.
"That should be made illegal." Wels stares him down, and Hels finally sighs. "What shows would I have seen? I didn't have a body until recently. And who's going to let an evil version of a hermit into their theatre?" Wels puts the dish cloth down, deciding that can wait until later.
"You could come with me."
"With you."
"Yes!" Wels holds a hand out. "I think it would be fun."
"You would think that, huh?"
"I'm going to ignore that comment," Wels decides. He jumps over the back of the couch, Hels nearly falling off it. "I'm going to book us both tickets."
"You can't just-"
"You can't stop me."
"You still can't make me show up."
"I can't. But I'll get to see a show, whether you come or not. It's a no lose situation for me." Wels picks a pillow up, patting it into his lap as he crosses his legs. "So I'd say it's a no brainer." Hels is glaring at him, chainmail clinking as he slumps down.
"Fine. I'll go and see a show with you." Wels grins, leaning forward to squeeze Hels' knee.
"Perfect! I'll ask Xisuma to book them." Wels is already pulling his communicator out of his pocket before Hels can back out.
"Why- why Xisuma? Are you hermits not allowed to leave world on your own?"
"No! They just don't trust me with my own money yet after I spent too much on coffee." Hels blinks in confusion. Wels is far too busy typing to notice. "This is going to be so much fun! I've not got to see a proper show for so long now."
"I'm going to be babysitting, aren't I?"
"You've agreed now!"
Hels sighs, a hint of a smile behind his hair, "I have, haven't I?"
Did Helsknight get any of the "npc habits" from Wels? I'd imagine being cloned from what's essentially an npc/player hybrid would have some side effects....
See, there's an interesting detail about Wels' player code that hasn't been discussed yet. But there is one way to answer this: Hels came into existence when Wels gained player code.
