To the inexperienced person, Minecraftia sounded like the ideal, blissful world to live in. When you think about it, it did have its many perks: beautiful landscapes, an endless supply of all necessary resources, and most importantly, the chance to build the fantasy world you always dreamed about. It was a world completely of your own, consisting of the buildings and structures you designed, governed by the laws you made.
But the reality was, life in the never-ending world of Minecraftia was a difficult, lonely one. After all, humans are born social creatures with a natural need for companionship. When one of these social beings is thrust into this world as its first and most likely only occupant, he or she has no choice but to adjust to the company of cows, chickens, pigs, and sheep – an adjustment that still leaves a part of them longing for one of their own kind. Or maybe just someone that, when spoken to, would say something in response besides a grunt or a moo.
The fortunate/unfortunate person (depending on where you stand in this situation) who was forced to confront this internal problem one day was none other than Steve, miner and architect extraordinaire.
He had been mining cobblestone on this particular day, preparing to make an extension to his ever-growing house. With all of the resources that had accumulated from past cave expeditions flooding his storage room, he had decided to build an additional room to hold his many treasures. But while he was diligently chipping away at the stone with his pick, he couldn't help but sense a familiar feeling growing in his chest. This wasn't the first time, of course; in fact, he was beginning to feel it on a daily basis, but he never could quite become accustomed to it. It was an emotionally painful sensation that throbbed somewhere deep down in his soul. At first, he hadn't recognized the feeling and pushed it to the back of his mind, but now he knew, and it was almost impossible to ignore it.
He was lonely. Yes, he had a large home, ingots and gems of all sorts, and a whole world to himself, but the one thing he didn't have was a friend. And that hurt. It hurt more than a hundred arrow wounds from a skeleton or a thousand spider bites.
It was actually quite fitting, he mused. The lone survivor of Minecraftia was lonely. Would he like a friend? Of course he would. The loneliness was maddening at times. It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it, though. He had traveled a great distance across the lands for many months, seeing sights that no one had ever seen before, and yet he had never seen another human. The only thing he could do was bear the feeling until it ebbed away and accept that he was the only human in the world. He concluded this thought with a small sigh and, with a heavy heart, headed for home.
Life wasn't all bad, he thought in an attempt to cheer himself. Minecraftia was a beautiful world with its crystal clear water, lush forests and swamps, and sandy beaches. It certainly had come a long way from being the bare, foreign land he had woken up in so long ago. He smiled as he remembered scrambling to construct a crude shelter on his first night, shivering inside the dark, cramped space as he tried to block out the terrifying hisses and groans of the monsters outside. It had taken some time, but that little wooden hut eventually grew into a sturdy mansion on the shore of a lake which he christened Lighthouse Lake, for the stars shone brightly on its surface at night, making it visible from even the darkest hill.
His house wasn't the only thing that had grown over time. He himself had also come a long way. Once an amateur who knew little to nothing about survival, he now possessed the knowledge and ability to craft anything he desired, from something as simple as a torch to as complex as a fortress. He was skilled in the arts of hunting and fishing and could slay the most hideous of hostiles, whether by sword or bow. Trekking across deserts and scaling high mountaintops had shaped and strengthened his once weak muscles, making him as physically fit as he was mentally.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at the sky and was surprised to see how many storm clouds had gathered; the sun had been shining brightly just a short while ago. So many storms lately... and it wasn't even the wet season. He wondered why Mother Nature was acting up all of a sudden.
But this wasn't the time to be thinking of such things. At this rate, the clouds would cover the entire area with darkness, and he would be stuck in the rain with a bunch of zombies. Realizing this, he quickened his pace to a sprint and hurried for home, just barely making it across the bridge over Lighthouse Lake and into the warm safety of his house before a flash of lightning signaled the beginning of a fierce downpour of rain. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it heavily, catching his breath for a moment; he really did need to pay more attention to the weather - it was always so unpredictable.
The air had already cooled significantly as the storm howled outside. Steve shivered and made his way to the fireplace, sinking into a comfy chair facing it. As he listened to the pattering of the raindrops splashing against the ground, his heavy eyes gradually drooped shut, and he fell into a silent, isolated sleep.
Something thudded against the door, and he awoke with a start. Rubbing the blurriness out of his eyes, he left the comfort of his chair and stretched. How much time had passed since he had fallen asleep? And more importantly, what was that odd sound that had awoken him from his slumber? In a daze, he lazily walked over to the door and tentatively peered out the window. There was no sign of anything that could have caused it; all he could make out in the darkness were the thousands of tiny little raindrops. How strange, he thought. Perhaps he had just been imagining it? Maybe he had been dreaming and somehow woke himself up. But he was sure he had heard something! It was so distinct, like a large object hitting the ground. No, he definitely hadn't been imagining things. Something was out there, and he needed to find out just what that something was.
He wanted to get a better look at what could have caused such a noise, so he opened the door - at least, he tried to, but something on the front porch was blocking it. Something just about his size. Something green. His stomach churned.
It was a creeper.