Twenty One Pilots fans are a different breed. If you’ve ever sat in a darkened room listening to the glitchy, raw synthesizers of a 2011 demo, you know exactly what I mean. There is a specific, almost physical ache associated with the song Forest, a track that technically doesn't even exist on major streaming platforms. For a long time, if you wanted to hear Tyler Joseph belt out the bridge about singing to "no one," you had to hunt down a sketchy YouTube re-upload or own a physical copy of Regional at Best—a record that Fueled By Ramen essentially scrubbed from the internet after signing the band.
It's weird, right? Most bands want their old stuff everywhere. Not these guys. Or at least, not their label.
The obsession with Twenty One Pilots Forest isn't just about the music. It’s about the lore. It’s about that "Forest Fic" that scarred an entire generation of Twitter (now X) users. It’s about the realization that some of the duo’s most profound work is buried under a decade of licensing red tape and "vessel" era re-recordings. If you're looking for a shiny, over-produced pop hit, this isn't it. This is Tyler and Josh in a basement in Columbus, Ohio, trying to figure out how to stay alive.
The Regional at Best Purge and Why We’re Still Talking About It
Let's get the facts straight. Regional at Best (RaB) was released on July 8, 2011. It was the bridge between the self-titled debut and the explosion of Vessel. When the band signed to Fueled By Ramen, the label took five of the best songs—Holding on to You, Car Radio, Guns for Hands, Ode to Sleep, and Trees—and gave them a massive studio glow-up for the next album.
But they left Forest behind.
Why? It’s arguably one of the catchiest songs Tyler Joseph ever wrote. It has that signature blend of upbeat indie-pop production and lyrics that are, frankly, a cry for help. "I don't wanna be here, I don't wanna be here / my down is a up but away is a here." It’s nonsensical and perfectly clear all at once. Fans have spent years trying to decipher the "down in the forest" refrain. Is it a literal place? A mental state? Most likely, it’s a callback to the "Kitchen Sink" philosophy—a place where only the creator knows the true meaning, which in turn gives the creator a reason to keep existing.
Honestly, the "down in the forest" line feels like a secret handshake. If you know it, you’re part of the Clique. If you don’t, you’re probably just a casual listener who knows Stressed Out from the radio. There's nothing wrong with that, but the depth is in the dirt.
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The Infamous "Forest Fic" and Its Impact on the Fandom
We have to talk about it. We can't avoid it. If you search for Twenty One Pilots Forest, you are going to run into references to a fanfiction that changed the trajectory of the fandom.
Written in the early 2010s, this story (which I won't link, because if you know, you know) became a viral phenomenon. It was tragic. It was beautifully written. It was also incredibly distressing. It centered on a fictionalized version of Tyler and Josh, involving themes of mental illness and a devastating twist ending that relied heavily on the imagery of the song.
- It created a "collective trauma" for the early Clique.
- It blurred the lines between the actual song lyrics and the fan-made narrative.
- The band became aware of it.
There's a famous clip of Josh Dun being asked about it during a Q&A. The look on his face? Pure, unadulterated confusion mixed with a hint of "I wish I hadn't seen that." This is the nuance of being an expert on this band: you have to understand that the art doesn't belong to the artist once it's released. It becomes a vessel for the fans' own stories, for better or worse. In the case of Forest, the song is forever tied to a specific era of internet culture that was messy, emotional, and intensely dedicated.
Music Theory and the Breakdown of the Bridge
Musically, Forest is a fascinating artifact. Most modern T0P songs are meticulously structured for radio or stadium play. This track is different. It’s lo-fi. The drums (mostly programmed or early Josh recordings) have a thin, snappy quality that feels like 2011.
The bridge is where the magic happens. "Hands held higher, we'll be survivors." It’s a chant. It’s a literal instruction for the live show. When they used to play this in small clubs in Ohio, the entire room would become a "forest." It represents the transition from Tyler’s solo-project feel to a communal experience.
If you analyze the chords, it’s not reinventing the wheel. But the vocal delivery? It’s desperate. It’s that raw, unpolished Tyler Joseph scream that we don't get as much in the Scaled and Icy or even Clancy eras. It’s the sound of a kid who isn't sure if anyone is listening.
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Why Can’t You Find It on Spotify?
This is the number one question people ask. "Why isn't Forest on Spotify?"
The answer is boring and corporate: Licensing. When the band signed their deal, Regional at Best was essentially treated as a demo reel. The label wanted to push the "new" versions of the songs on Vessel. By keeping RaB off streaming services, they funnel all the listeners toward the versions that have higher production value and more commercial potential.
However, there is a loophole. In some territories, like the UK, a "web store" version of Vessel included Forest as a bonus track. This is why you’ll see it pop up on some people's playlists while it remains "greyed out" for others. It’s a regional mess.
The Actual Meaning of Being "Down in the Forest"
Let’s look at the lyrics with a bit more scrutiny.
"I scream to God, he's the only one who's listening / No one else is around, only a forest of trees."
This is a classic theological struggle often found in Tyler’s early writing. He’s heavily influenced by his faith, but even more so by the doubt that comes with it. The forest is a place of solitude. It’s the biblical "wilderness." It’s where you go to be tested. When he says they are "down in the forest," he’s talking about a regression to a simpler, perhaps more painful time—childhood.
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The song mentions "decorated logs" and "singing a chorus." It’s an attempt to reclaim innocence in a world that feels increasingly heavy. You've probably felt that too—that desire to go back to a place where the problems were small, even if the forest itself was dark.
How to Experience the Song Today
Since you can't just pull it up on a standard US Spotify account, how do you actually engage with this piece of Twenty One Pilots history?
- YouTube Archives: There are high-quality rips of the original Regional at Best CD. Look for the ones with millions of views; the comments section is a time capsule of fans from 2013-2015.
- Physical Media: If you have a few hundred dollars to spare, you can try to find an original RaB CD on Discogs. Be careful of bootlegs—they are everywhere.
- Local Files: This is the pro move. Download the track (legally, if you can find a way) and upload it to your Spotify "Local Files" folder. It’s the only way to get it into your daily rotation.
The reality is that Twenty One Pilots Forest might never get an official, worldwide re-release. And honestly? Maybe that’s okay. There’s something special about a song that you have to work to find. It makes the discovery feel earned. It makes the "down in the forest" refrain feel like a secret shared between you and the band.
What This Means for the Future of the Band
As the band moves further into the "Clancy" era and the end of the Dema storyline, they’ve been looking back more. We saw them bring back old logos. We saw them acknowledge the self-titled era in music videos. While Forest might not be part of the "lore" of Dema, it is the foundation of the emotional honesty that made the lore possible.
Without the raw vulnerability of the Regional at Best era, we wouldn't have the complex world-building of Trench. You have to learn to scream in the forest before you can learn to escape the city.
Your Next Steps to Deepen Your Clique Knowledge
If you’ve just discovered the mystery of the forest, don’t stop there.
- Listen to the rest of Regional at Best: Tracks like Kitchen Sink and Glowing Eyes carry the same DNA as Forest and offer a complete picture of where the band was mentally in 2011.
- Research the Columbus music scene circa 2010: Understanding the DIY roots of the band helps explain why their early songs feel so intimate.
- Check the "Bonus Tracks" on international editions: Sometimes, labels slip these songs onto Japanese or UK deluxe versions of newer albums. It's worth a look if you're a collector.
Stay alive. It's worth it, even when you're feeling a bit lost in the trees.