A/N: I felt like writing something about Minecraft, but did not know where to start. So, I decided to play hardcore mode and just write everything down that's happened so far- with a little twist of course! I suck at tenses btw, I will try better next chapter.
PS: If I die in hardcore mode, this story is gonna end.
Disclaimer: I do not own Minecraft.
Steve blinked. Did he spawn somewhere new? The small island he stood upon suggested that yes, he had spawned somewhere new. But… where was he before? Steve groaned as a splitting headache overwhelmed him out of nowhere. Right, no more thinking about that subject then. Steve decided quickly and looked up at the sun. Bright, clear. As good a day as any. For now. He can't remember why he feels a rising dread from the pit of his stomach at the thought of nightfall, but there must be a reason. His gut feeling had never failed him before. At least, he thinks. Who was he anyway? The headache came back, this time even stronger. Steve clutched his head and hissed. "The fuck." Right, no questioning his identity then.
First thing first, he needed to be ready for nightfall and the disaster that awaited him. Steve nodded. "It's decided." He checked the position of the sun, his eyes narrowing at the rays hit his eyes. "It's morning then." Steve sighed in relief. "I still have some time." For some reason, he knew he only had 10 minutes left of the day. It rattles him, to only have so little time left. But...it's just a little past daybreak. Something in him said.
Steve looked around him. The island he stood on consisted solely out of sand and a few cactuses. "Hmm might be useful." Steve walked towards one of the cactuses and raised his fist. "Wait." Steve lowered his fist. "Am I really going to punch a cactus with my bare hands?" His gut told him yes, his mind told him no. What was he to make of that?
"Argh whatever." Steve sighs and raises his fist again. "Here goes nothing." And he punches, his eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the pain to flare and warn his mind that yes, he just fucking punched a cactus like an idiot. But it never came. Steve opened his eyes and saw a tiny crack appear on the block. It stayed there for a moment before it disappeared right before his very eyes. "The fuck." Steve whispers to himself. "Did that cactus just heal itself?"
He stared intensely at the square cactus. It was made out of 3 individual cubes. Made out of cubes, just like everything around him. It felt like common knowledge, but somehow it also feels so impossible. "Why is everything made out of cubes anyways?" A headache was his only answer. "Right, thanks for that." Steve muttered. "Very informative."
The headaches were definitely just hints that tell him not to think too much about things. Probably. "Well, I'll just follow that advice for now. No use thinking too hard about it." Steve told himself. "I'm wasting daylight." And wasn't that right, the sun was almost a quarter of the way up and he was still wasting time on this stupid island. He steeled himself and punched the cactus again. A small crack appeared and Steve kept punching until the crack reached the outer edges and just… shrunk and fell on the floor. All three pieces. "What." Steve frowned and reached for the cubes and they… disappear. But he knows he has it somewhere. He knows that they are stackable and that he has thirty-six slots left to fill. Thirty-seven if you count holding something in his left hand. Part of him just knows, but another part- the more hysterical part of him- is saying it's impossible, that this is nowhere near reality. Steve shudders. It was almost like there were two people in his mind, fighting each other about whose reality it is.
For now, he'll follow his gut- for it has not betrayed him yet. And the other part hasn't really helped yet, except for saying how impossible everything is even though it happened. Afterwards, he'll think about who he is supposed to be.
With three pieces of cactus in his little pocket space, he spots another island. Or maybe it was land? Either way, he needed to get there. The reason? Trees. He needs wood to properly function in this world. How he knew that? No idea. But he knows in his very being that wood would be key in his survival. So, without another moment of hesitation, Steve jumps into the water and swam. "Urgh." Cold, it was cold. It's not supposed to be cold. His gut told him there was no way- but he was. Cold, to the very bones and colder still- the more he stayed in the water. "Fuck." Steve cursed. "Shit." Shivers wracked his body. This was not happening. He was not going to die of hypothermia. He was almost there, swimming past a row of ice blocks towards the island. The island was surrounded by ice and covered in snow. "Damn it all." Steve just couldn't catch a break. But he had known there was snow. He had seen it from the island he just left. It just never registered in his mind that it could possibly be cold. But the other part- the hysterical part- told him that of course ice would be cold. That of course ocean water would be cold and that swimming in it would cause his potential death. Steve swears to listen to both sides from now on as he climbs on a piece of ice, quickly running towards the dirt. He punches the snow in front of him, breaking the snow and creating a path for him to walk on. He feels that stepping on snow with his thin, leather shoes would be a bad idea.
He felt better underneath the trees, no snow to curse him with the bitter cold. He was still wet, but it was quickly drying. "Thank whatever god is up there that water seems to dry in seconds." Steve muttered as his clothes rapidly dry, leaving him slightly warmer than before. "Now, as for wood…" He walks to the nearest tree he can find and punches it. This time, not all the blocks break the moment he punches them. Disappointing. Dingdingding. A bell rings in his mind and suddenly his head is filled with recipes. Things he could make out of wood. Steve grinned. "Awesome." As he continues with his quest to gather wood, he notices that his hands were starting to hurt more and more and he decides to stop for a moment.
He creates wooden planks with the wood he had gathered. "Thirty-two planks, not too bad." Steve says and creates a crafting table with four of the planks in his possession. He was about to put it on the ground, but stops and takes notice of a bright red mushroom and a brown mushroom not too far from him. "Sweet." Food was a good thing. For some reason though, he feels like he wouldn't have bothered to pick them up if there were only red mushrooms and vice versa.
The moment he puts down the crafting table, he makes a wooden sword, axe and a pickaxe. Steve checks the sun and frowns. "Already halfway through…" Steve knew he needed shelter and some light before everything went to hell. He quickly places a few wooden planks around his crafting table. He was going for a little 3x3 hut, but he didn't have enough planks. Steve palms his axe and swings it at the nearest tree. It's a lot quicker than punching, that's for sure. A lot less painful as well.
The finished hut… was honestly quite miserable. But it'll have to do for now. "Now for some light." Steve looks around himself, looking for stone. He could burn wood in the furnace and get some coals. Enough to create a few torches and he'd be set. He decides to dig down for the stone. Quickly he gathered some and ran back to his house. He could hear some ominous clanking sounds in the distance and it made him shiver. It wasn't dark yet though, he still had time. And the moment he made the furnace, he placed the wood in it and some planks as fuel. He made torches after that and placed them carefully around his little hut. Seven were scattered outside and one inside his hut. That should be okay for now.
He still had some time before sundown and replaced all his wooden equipment with stone ones. Steve sighed at the wasted wood. "Should've just made a wooden pickaxe." No use crying over spilt milk though.
"Oh, food." Steve perks up. He wasn't hungry yet, but he'll make some food just in case. Both the entities in him agree with that. He should probably name them. He couldn't just keep calling the hysterical one hysterical. That would be quite rude of him. And it was less hysterical now than it was before. Hm. Well, he never was good with names. He'll name the one who thought it was okay to jump into ice cold water Gut and the hysterical one will be Brain. Simple, easy. There was no one here to laugh at him for his naming sense anyways. That thought send a pang of loneliness through Steve.
There was no one he had. No one to share his frustrations with, no one to tell of his confusion and no one to help him through the night. Steve sighed and sat down in his hut, close to the still slightly warm furnace and the little torch he placed above it. It was getting dark and Gut was getting anxious. Why? Steve wasn't sure. He opened the door to his hut and looked outside. Twilight, it was getting dark. The thought sends fear racing down his spine. All he had to defend himself was a stone sword. No armour, no shield. Why would he need that though? "What's going to happen, why don't I know." Steve groans as his headache started to act up. "Shit." He wanted, needed to know.
"Maybe just for little." Steve walks outside, his hand around the hilt were white and shaking. From the cold or from nerves, or maybe just both. Steve wasn't sure. His breath came out in small puffs, white damp drifted in front of his face, obscuring his vision just for a bit. But despite the fear and Gut's protests, he walks forward and patrols the perimeter around his hut. As time passed, the grip on his sword became less tight.
"It's actually quite peaceful," Steve says as he looked at the stars. However, Gut is still churning and groaning with nerves and fear and- Twang! An arrow buried itself deep into the snow before him. The clanking sounds from earlier came back, louder than before. Chilling moans came from somewhere around him, but for the life of him- he did not know where. Twang! Another arrow, right next to his feet and too close for Steve's liking. That was as good a sign as any. He needed to go back to his hut. Now.
Steve didn't wait to see what shot those arrows and bolts for his little hut. Moans and clanking and hissing and rot attacked his senses. As if it all appeared out of nowhere the moment the sun went down. Twang! Some of Steve's hair was cut off by the arrow that flew right past his face. And Steve realises he could have died right there and then. His heart thundered in his chest as he tried his best to run and not encounter any more arrows on his way. But as his luck would have it, something jumped in front of him as he was about to reach his hut.
The first thing Steve noticed was the stench of rotten flesh. Then, the actual creature in front of him registered in his mind. "Zombie." Steve's eyes widened. The thing in front of him was decaying and gross and very much after his life- he did the only thing that made sense. He raised his sword in one smooth motion and slammed it down on the thing in front of him. The zombie groaned and was pushed back a bit, but it took another step forward the moment it got its bearings. Steve swung his sword again and again and again- until it was finally dead. Pling. The zombie fell over and shattered into little lights on the ground. Steve probably would have admired the beauty of the little lights if he wasn't in such a hurry to not die a horrible death.
And so, he ran through the pretty lights, not noticing that he absorbed the lights. He saw something on the ground, though it was too dark to see what it was. He quickly picks it up and runs towards his door, pulls it open and slams it shut. Steve leaned against the door, his chest heaving and his mind in total disarray. One thing constantly ringing through his mind. "There are fucking monsters that roam at night." He pants. "Fucking man-eating zombies after my life." Steve's trembling hands reached for his hair, clutching at it as if somehow, he could make everything disappear. "What the fuck is this." And he slides down on the floor, his back still leaning on the door.
"The fuck…" Steve mumbles as he buries his face in his knees. He desperately wanted to sleep, but with all the noise outside his hut, the thought seemed like a distant wish.