Minecraft...
Some of us daydream about it. Some of us play it excessively, while others fantasize about being inside of it. Others don't fantasize. Others don't daydream. Others don't have to play.
Only a few are like this. They are part of it. They never played, and this is life to them. Life in a universe more simple than ours. One with physics less complex, and horrible monsters that creep from underground at night. One with coal and shining diamond all available together, broiling pools of lava and other terrifying dimensions, where the landscape was very clearly constructed of some sort of three meter by three meter cubes. Cubes that could be turned into other things, or simply put somewhere else by the will of these humans. They would be stored in their mind, until ready for use.
This universe would pull in and nearly brainwash a random person, as long as they met the conditions:
1) They had to be no younger than twenty, and no older than twenty five.
2) They needed survival instincts
3) Most importantly, they needed the soul of an artist, and creativity of one too.
They would continue life in the normal world, while existing also in this "Minecraft" world. On the occasion of three deaths, they would continue existence in the normal world, but cease to exist in Minecraft.
Once they were in,they kept their creativity and instincts, and remembered their language, but their past was gone forever.
And ever.