Blobby

Down in the cold muck of the ocean lives an organism. Let's call him "Blobby". Assume he's a "he", even if so little is known about his kind that taxonomists haven't even bothered to give him an official status.

He's possibly some sort of invertebrate, but he could also be a mutated fungal body, and in neither case does it seem to matter. Blobby is not a sophisticated creature. He's small, bland, and soft– without any truly distinguishing features.

Furthermore, this amorphous bag of goo doesn't live in a bright tropical reef. It's not like he's way out in the deep ocean though. That would be much too scary for him. He prefers to stick close to the coast, even if that's a cold, wet wasteland of industrial sewage runoff.

Not to say Blobby's environment is lifeless. There are other creatures surviving here, they're just weird. Certainly nothing with a simple body plan like two eyes and a mouth. Exoskeletons, antennae, spines, and detachable digestive tracts are the norm here.

You can see why Pixar hasn't sent a sub full of animators down here. Blobby's surroundings don't audience test well.

But don't be fooled–Blobby's life is high drama–if you're paying attention.

He crawls. Not a rapid, smooth ambulation you'd see in something so elegant as a lobster. It's not even clear if Blobby has limbs, he just kinda-sorta projects some pseudopoda out and randomly drags himself along. He blindly gropes. He's searching for a home.

Technically, his life is dangerous: desperate predators might consider him a last-option meal, and an occasional competitor might risk a scuffle. But Blobby is so simple and unappealing that the parasites barely even bother him. Mostly he battles uncaring environment: abrasive rocks and false summits that draw other members of his species away to untimely deaths.

Blobby dreams of an easier way. Sometimes, he wishes he was an albatross, effortlessly zipping over the ocean instead of under, lost in the sublime view of limitless horizons.

But Blobby has no wings, and doesn't even really have eyes– or a centralized nervous system for that matter. He finds his way through the blunt sense of chemotaxis, an unsophisticated means of navigation barely more useful than a Magic-8 Ball™.

Slow, inefficient– and very likely setting him on a course of ultimate extinction, Blobby's one sense does have the virtue of reading "true" most of the time. He trusts it unquestionably, treading forward (or backwards as he "sees" fit) with determination.

Urchin thorns, sharp basalt, and the opportunistic nibbling of eels take their toll. Each forward thrust is a risk, an exposure of vulnerability. Blobby is an organism with no natural defenses. In fact, his purpose is singular: find his niche.

Every once in a while, he finds a place that feels like something—a rough opportunity. A small space in the crags that seem to fit its body shape and provide protection, nourishment, and... occasionally comfort.

Blobby might survive by staying still. But he knows this dark cold environment has richer potential. So it continues to crawl.