The Zedaph Zine!

Keralis looks up from the chicken sandwich he was eating, shaking his head and letting crumbs fly everywhere. “Nhht rhhlhh-mm.” He swallows and tries again. “Not really. It’s Zedaph. Trying to think like him, it gives me enough of a headache during the show. Xisuma hums, thoughtfully yanking on a piece of fur. “I mean, making a whole TV show run takes a lot of work, from a lot of people that aren’t up on stage. He’s used armor stands for the audience, so he’s not hiding the crew there - just makes you think, don’t it? Especially since he keeps us in here with the door closed until showtime, and then hurries us on and off the set. Like he’s trying to hide what he’s done.”

From his seat at the mirror, Tango calls back over his shoulder. “Zed could do it all himself. He’s a redstone madman.” “Thought you’d say genius.” “Same thing. Speaking from experience here.” “Point,” Xisuma concedes. His head tilted, the expression on the visor flickers thoughtfully. “Still, he can’t pre-program the entire show. We’re not that predictable, I don’t think. That’s the part I’m interested in.”

Tango spins around on his stool, leaning forward. The lights on his sweater blink like a stage call. “Alright, so, here’s how I think he does it…”

-----

“Alright. Places, everyone!”

Zedaph grins at the empty stage, as if the sound of his words echoing back is as good as laughter. For that level of joke, it probably was as good as he’d ever get, even if anyone could actually hear it. And then he double-taps his foot on the pressure plate hidden underneath his podium, and watches the magic happen.

The cables running under and behind the stage surge. Spotlights flare to full brightness, swiveling down towards the stage in pre-programmed arcs to land squarely on Zedaph’s face.  It’s a fun little square Zedaph has carefully penned himself into; with the simple shift of weight onto any plate, he can trigger right answers, wrong answers, timers, flashing lights, trapdoors, raising platforms, canned laughter–everything a game show host needs! And for the few precision things that can’t be done with the plates, the remote control within his microphone does the trick. It sends a wireless signal down below depending on which direction he presses it, allowing him to control the spotlights with the little joystick dongle.  Zedaph still doesn’t exactly know how the dark blue wiggling thing he found underneath the bedrock works, or why it only listens when there’s a weird purple crystal slapped into the middle of it - but it listens to the little crystal in the remote, and that’s what matters. He flicks one more switch, and a closet door pops open. The sheep-headed figure slides out, and a jittery movement reveals the armor stand underneath the cloak, as well as the small recording device mounted on the front. It clicks into place on a hidden silenced minecraft just under.

The show must go on.

-----

Tango sits back with a triumphant grin, and immediately loses it in a coughing fit. Xisuma holds up a hand, shaking his head.  “Hold on there, Tango. What’s that whole bit at the end there, about crystals and things found under the bedrock? That’s not real. You can’t just make up a thing to make your theory work!” “Of course I can!” Tango blusters, catching his breath. “That’s how theories work!” “It is also,” Keralis points out over the last bite of his sandwich, “how they are shown to be false, because you are making things up.” “Sorry, Tango, but I know auto-animation tricks,” Xisuma replies, shaking his head. “Whoever’s under there is moving way too organically to be armor stands. On top of, you know, making up sub-bedrock sonic conductive material. That minor detail.”

In a huff, Tango stands up, crossing over to lean on the wall next to Xisuma. “Okay then, wise guy. If you know so much, then you tell me. How does Zedaph run this whole show on his own?” “Well,” Xisuma begins, scratching the yeti fur on his helmet like his chin, “I think the problem’s right there, in supposing Zedaph has to be doing it on his own. I don’t think he is alone.” “But the other Hermits are all offline,” Keralis notes. His eyes flick to his communicator, checking, and he nods. “He asked them to be, like he did for us when it was not our show.” Xisuma nods. “That’s true, that’s true, it’s not the other Hermits. But I know that Zedaph’s got a Patreon, and he gets some of his designwork from the folks there. What if they’re doing more than just designing the stage–they’re running it? Find some way to get them through the firewall and past any admin checks, and then hiding a player’s online status is easy enough if you know what you’re doing. Which I know for a fact Zedaph does.”

Tango’s eyebrow lifts, skeptical. “...your theory is that he snuck an entire stage crew’s worth of patrons by you? Xisuma, buddy, you gotta think better of yourself than that! Plus, it’s Zed–he’d have rubbed your nose in it by now!” “You don’t know how many times he’s tried it,” Xisuma counters, shaking his head. “Feels like every other week he’s trying to sneak Dot or Skizz on, and he’s managed it a few times before I catch them online. It’s not impossible that something finally works, and he doesn’t tell me because it’s needed for the show.” “But enough people for a whole production? For each run?” Tango points at each of them in turn, counting, and then gestures at the green room. “Four times?” “If he can pull it off once, I mean, yeah.” A short huff through the helmet. “What, you get to invent sub-bedrock sonic conductors, Tango, but I can’t think Zedaph found any anti-admin trickery? And we all know Zed takes this too seriously to expose it before the finale. He’d gloat after the whole show was over. Just, hear me out…”

-----

“Alright. Places, everyone!”

Zedaph grins at the crowd before him, as if half of them aren’t already in place, and the other half isn’t still rubbing the cramps out of their legs. It’s impressive every time, how they manage fit a dozen people into as many boxes, along with all the things the stage itself needs. The black banners in front of the ‘recording room’ sway as Duke heaves the upright piano into place, grumbling something about the Point of Live Music being lost.

A hand passes Zedaph his microphone, the person coming into view a moment later. “You really couldn’t just ask permission to have us on for a day?” Blaxxun asks, but the smile on their face betrays the lack of any real anger. “You wanted to be on Hermitcraft,” Zedaph tosses back with a smirk, “and I got you onto Hermitcraft. Besides, isn’t it more fun this way? Now you get to play hide-and-seek, and you know how a sticky piston feels! BugmanCX calls down from the spotlight station. “Did you have to label me as a stack of wooden hoes again, though? Just feels wrong.” Zedaph shrugs. “Hey, SOMEONE has to be the wooden hoes, or it won’t match the blockprint! And I thought you didn’t mind it last time! Trade with someone else on the way out, if you like, but not now!!”

BugmanCX huffs and gets back to work, and Zedaph looks over at the Litematica blueprint hung on the wall of the stage left wing. Funny how if you tell someone what’s in a box with enough confidence and paperwork, they won’t bother checking inside. The Patron Packaging Paperwork scheme serves its purpose. There’s a twinge of sympathy for Xisuma–he really should tell him about the trick, just in case someone tries hiding more dangerous than just a few friends– but not right now.

The show must go on.

-----

Tango’s expression fades from skepticism to curiosity as the gears turn, following the logic. “So, you’re saying he gets around the player name checks by–” “–listing the patrons as credited for their designs, yes. Hoping that when I see the names on the back-end log, I’ll assume that’s why and not look close enough to see what the actual tag attached to the name is.” Xisuma sounds almost impressed at the thought alone. “The more I think about it, the more it sounds possible.” “Possible, but not plausible.” “But as long as it’s not IMPOSSIBLE, it could be!”

Keralis tuts, cutting in. “Maybe you might think you could be fooled, Shashwammy, but I don’t think mister Hypno would also be fooled at the same time as you. He would notice it when he gets on and does his checking; he has caught me that way a few times. And if Zeddie is trying to do it when you are asleep, that is when Hypno is the most awake.”  “Could Hypno be in on it?” Tango’s eyes narrow. A vented sigh, and Xisuma shakes his head. “No, he’d’ve told me, if only so if I figured it out I didn’t sound the alarms and freak everyone out. So either he doesn’t know, or that’s not it.” “Alright, then, Keralis,” Tango returns, folding his arms. “If you’ve got it all figured out and we’re both oh-so-wrong, then enlighten us. How does Zedaph pull off the show?”

“Simple!” Keralis grins, standing and doing an exaggerated thinking pose. “If he does not do it alone, and he does not do it with other people, then there is only one answer. What could we hear and see all around the stage and not give a second thinking to?” Xisuma and Tango stare at Keralis. He grins, spreading his hands wide. “It’s the sheepies!”

A long moment of silence. Keralis stands, triumphant in his reveal.

Tango cackles, doubling over and holding his stomach even as Xisuma leans forward, hands pressed together. “I–now I just wanna make sure I heard you right, Keralis. You think Zedaph has trained the sheep to run the show?” “But of course! What else could it be?” Xisuma looks at Tango, still laughing as he rights himself and fixes his hat. “The…other two things we’ve said so far?” Xisuma offers politely. “Or anything else,” Tango adds. “Literally anything other than sheep - you can barely get them to walk in a straight line, what makes you think they can operate a camera?”

“Oh please, this is Zedaph we are talking about!” Keralis waves a hand towards the poster on the wall–an advertisement for the game show, with Zedaph and a sheep arm-wrestling. “He is the master of the sheep. And you said yourself, he is a redstone madman; who said the camera would be designed for humans at all? Think of it like this…”

-----

“Alright. Places, everyone!”

Zedaph grins at the chorus of ‘baas’ he gets in reply from the flock before him. It’s a chaos of colored wool and hooves swarming every station, dashing down aisles and yanking levers with their teeth. Some run about on two legs, some on four, all with more purpose than ever observed in the ovine. 

One of the sheep nudges at his side, and Zedaph bends down. “I know, I know, Harold,” he says with a chuckle, scratching under the sheep’s chin fondly. “Just be a little less obvious with the game-rigging this time, okay? You’re clever enough, but this time you’’ve got partners to signal.” A wave towards a pair of sheep getting their fur dried for easier dyeing. The final round depends on these three. Harold bleats in a way that sounds completely unhelpful as usual, and wanders off. Zedaph shakes his head. Talent. “At least you’re cooperative,” Zedaph says to Mary beside him, already holding her robe and recording device. She totters a bit on her hooves as he dresses her, but holds steady. The reason Zed picked Mary for this - plenty of sheep could run on two legs, but only so many could walk. He whistles, and the sheep-headmask comes flying from the rafters, a perfect shot for him to catch and place delicately over Mary’s head.

It’s a lot of work, training sheep to run switchboards and spotlights. It’s more work keeping anyone else from finding out you can breed sheep for intelligence. There are probably easier ways to do all of this, but Zedaph’s not in this for the easy street.

The show must go on.

-----

Keralis finishes.  The silence stretches.

Xisuma looks at the poster, head tilting. “Wait, if Zedaph already speaks sheep, then why would he bother with English?” A beat, then it hits. “Oh! Unless sheep language has a more limited vocabulary for operations, so it’s quicker to just teach the sheep English than try to invent a sheep word for camera and the like.” “EXACTLY!” Keralis clasps his hands and shakes them towards Xisuma. “You are seeing the vision!” Tango stares at him with mock horror. “Xisuma. Buddy. Please don’t tell me you believe it.” “I mean, technically, it’s as valid as either of our theories,” Xisuma says, and even through the yeti helmet Tango can hear him grinning. “Between trained sheep, secret patrons, or wireless redstone, at least we know sheep already exist on the server.” “Nope!” Tango’s hands go up, waving off the thought. “This is where I draw the line. I studied for this game show, I know sheep, I am not believing Zedaph has made their dumb little faces any less dumb! It’s as unrealistic as- as-” “As blue sound goop in the void?” “Oh, shut up about that-”

“There is a way we could find out,” Keralis cuts in, and the other two stop to listen. “I bet you, if we took off the sheepy head of the figure who comes to bring us to the stage, underneath? It’s another sheepy head.” He grins. “We can test it, yes? Then you will know who is right, and why it is me.”

Before either Tango or Xisuma can respond, the knock on the dressing room door makes all three contestants jump. Keralis slips past them both and opens it.

The sheep-headed figure stands there, arm already lowered back into the ubiquitous cloak. It bows softly, and gestures outside towards the stage. The familiar recording of Zedaph’s voice crackles out from its chest. “All right, you three, you know the drill. We’ll get you in your places, and then it’s showtime!”

Keralis looks at the sheep mask, then back at Tango. Tango looks at Xisuma. Xisuma nods.

Without a word, the three of them jump the cloaked figure, who lets out an oddly familiar yelp of surprise. Tango holds one arm, Xisuma grabs the other, and Keralis goes for the sheep mask, yanking it off and away.

Blinking weakly at the sudden change in light, Zedaph looks at the three of them with open confusion. “Err, hello? It’s just me under here, can I help you?”

Tango drops Zed’s arm and pumps both his fists in the air. His head-flame bursts with sparks of victory. “LET’S GO! ANOTHER ONE FOR TANGO, BABY!” Keralis tosses the sheep mask over his shoulder with a pout, and watches as it bounces and ‘rolls’ to the edge of the hallway. “Aw, boo, I thought for sure you would be a sheepie! And now Tango is going to be so annoying about it.” “You betcha I am!” Tango whoops again. “I told you both–it’s all Zed, all the way down!”

Peering down, Xisuma’s visor squints, as if trying to catch a flash of yellow underneath the dark wool cloak. “Ah, so the robe’s to keep the suit clean, then, innit?” Zedaph nods, and Xisuma hums, more to himself than to any of them. “Makes sense, makes sense - but then why the recording? You could just, you know. Talk to us?” “To, uh, save my voice, of course!” Zedaph chuckles, pulling his robe back out of their hands and straightening the collar. “There’s a whole show to happen, I can’t be yappin’ to you three the whole way there! I shouldn’t even be talking now, we’re almost on the air!” A moment, and Keralis’ eyes narrow. “But what about–”

CONTESTANTS TO THE STAGE, PLEASE. CAMERAS UP IN T-MINUS FIVE MINUTES.

Zedaph’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. In front of them, Zedaph shrugs. “Sorry, questions later, stage now, please! The timer is not in the mood to be flexible today.” He grabs Xisuma’s hand and pulls him quickly towards the stage; the others follow, Tango smirking the whole way to the wings. They take their spots as the theme music swells. 

A quick bow, a quick wave, and Zedaph leaves them, rushing back down the backstage hall– And around the corner, into a storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. He presses back against the wall, undoing the cloak clasp and letting it fall from his shoulders. Underneath is the trousers of the suit, and the same brown sweater he wears every day. The small recording box on his chest rises and falls with every breath. “Too close,” he confides to the broom by his face. “Too darn close.”

After about a minute, the closet door opens. Zedaph looks up sharply, and sighs in relief at the figure before him. “Oh, good grief–I thought you were one of them, and I’d cooked it all!”

Standing in the doorway, holding the sheep mask, another Zedaph reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Eighteen, I saw what happened and hopped on speaker. You acted as well as you could, and I think it being so close to showtime covered the bit of panic you had goin’ on.” Zedaph Clone Number Eighteen sags, coming back out of the closet. “That was you? Thanks, Two, you saved my butt there.” He shakes out the robe and takes the mask back from Zedaph Clone Number Two, brushing dirt off the corners. “Helps that Tango was just close enough to celebrate and pull himself way off track.” “That’s Tango for you.” Chuckling, Two closes the closet door behind them as the lights dim in the hallway. From here, they can just barely see the outlines of Zedaph Clones Number Six and Fourteen manning the spotlights, sweeping them across the stage. Under them, behind the tinted glass of the comms booth, Number Three gives a nod, and the curtain begins to move.

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Hermitcraft SMP

Relationships:

Kris | ZedaphPlays & TangoTek

impulseSV & Kris | ZedaphPlays & Skizzleman & TangoTek

Characters:

Kris | ZedaphPlays

TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF)

impulseSV (Video Blogging RPF)

Skizzleman (Video Blogging RPF)

Additional Tags:

Cooking

Baking

Banter