Minecrafting: Tabula Rasa

If I'm going to build a world, there's no better place to start than at the beginning.

Anything I do with this Minecraft world will be documented in some form on this blog, so I'll try to keep it as interesting as possible (or at least edit the boring parts). I haven't set any self-imposed special conditions for my world (for example, I'm not limiting myself to one death), but if you have any fun ideas, let me know and I'll try to incorporate a few.
That said, I randomly generated several worlds, and picked the most strange-looking of the bunch in the hopes that it'll have some dark secrets to uncover.

Without further ado, here goes . . .



I materialize on a beach, a nameless, blocky fellow in a blue pants/shirt combo that leaves something to be desired. A new Minecraft world does give you a feeling of insignificance when you first arrive in the untamed wilderness - you begin the game with absolutely nothing but the clothes on your back. You might think that the randomly generated world, composed entirely of 1-meter cubes, would be dull to look at, but it's not. In fact, it's almost scary in its unpredictability.

Still, in your average RPG you can at least start with a knife, or something. At least there aren't any giant rats, either . . .

On the flip side, the aforementioned wilderness looks pretty darned interesting, if I do say so myself.

I'm startled from my pondering by what is unmistakeably a plaintive 'oink'. And that's how I meet my first local:

Cute, ain't he?

Turning around, on the other hand, gives me a bit more of an adrenaline rush, until I realize what that thing is.

Pre-carved pumpkins, and it's not even Halloween! Truly, 'tis a bountiful land I have found.

Once again, I find myself losing track of time, and the sun is rapidly making its way through the sky. I'd rather not be caught outside without shelter, especially considering what comes out at night in these parts.
First things first - I really need some tools, and with only my hands to work with I can't be picky. Mustering my not-inconsiderable strength, and flexing my low-res arms, I proceed to level a tree with my fists.
No, really, I do.

I accidentally punch a passing sheep, too, and apparently knock his hair off in the process. He looks rather ashamed.

After demolishing several trees, I'm starting to build a foundation of resources from which to make something at least mildly useful. Putting the blocks of wood into the 2x2 crafting grid in my inventory allows me to instantly convert them into stacks of planks, some of which I then convert into sticks in by
arranging them in a 1x2 space in the same grid. I'm also starting to wonder if I've got some beaver genes in me, judging by how fast I can plow through all this wood.

 
I also build this:

This is my handy crafting table, which allows me to access a 3x3 crafting grid from which a vast number of items can be produced, including anything I can already make in the grid in my pack. Seeking any security I can find, I decide that arming myself is the first order of business. 

Appropriately, the one weapon I've got the resources to make is a wooden sword. Legend of Zelda, anyone?

I also make a wooden pickaxe. Hey, they're better than nothing. Sort of.

Confident in my dominance over all I survey, I hoist my plank sword and smite some nearby cows. My sketchy-looking sword does the trick, and now I've got the leather for a new pair of boots. Note to self: Avoid PETA members.

The sun is starting to set, so I head for a tiny vein of coal I spotted in a nearby cliff. I build myself a small tower of dirt blocks to stand on, then proceed to carve the coal out of the cliff face with my splintery pickaxe.

By the time I'm done, though, it's pretty dark, and I still don't have anywhere to hide . . . or do I? On second thought, the hole I just made looks big enough for a person to stand in, and there won't be anywhere for enemies to reach me, so why not?

I carefully hop inside the hole and craft my coal and sticks into torches, one of which I place on the wall. In Minecraft, enemies will spawn anywhere that is dark. This not only includes caves (natural and man-made), but also the surface at nighttime. Torches, by increasing the level of light, give you a safe area where enemies won't spawn, and overlapping their areas of light allows you to gradually make an area spawn-free. Of course, there's nothing to stop wandering critters from entering the light, but that's why I'm sitting in the side of a cliff.

I've got a long night ahead of me, so I hollow out a small room in the rocks behind me. I'm sitting on the corner of the cliff, so I'm able to punch holes through the dirt to make a couple of low-budget windows. Finally, I add a new workbench to the corner.

Unfortunately, my wooden pick soon disintegrates from wear and tear, so I need new tools. Now that I have cobblestone (from expanding my hole), I have the resources to make stone tools, which are a much better all-around choice than wood. In addition to several picks and a shovel, I also make those leather boots. Comfy!

In the interest of having a better way to get out of my new home than base jumping, I start carving a staircase to the surface, but I can hear inhuman moans and shrieks just above my head. Apparently my new neighbors aren't the friendly type. I dig upward until I can see the roots of the grass, but it sounds like whatever is making that noise is right on top of me, and I'd rather not find out what it is at this point in time . . .

Fortunately, the sun is about to rise. I poke my head out of my cave just in time to see a zombie below me (waiting for me to emerge, presumably) start to burn in the sun. On the other hand, I can see other sinister forms lurking in the shade of the overhangs behind him, so I decide to proceed with caution.

Instead, of descending back into the valley, I finish my staircase, only to be greeted by this:

Now we know who was making all that noise last night!

Having foiled the spider's ambush, I proceed downstairs once again to better equip myself. I make a shiny new stone sword, and stow the wooden one in my vast pockets (in case of emergencies, or something). Feeling smug for outsmarting the single-minded arachnid, I trudge back up the stairs and am surprised to see that the aforementioned creature has apparently moved on, but I won't complain. Instead, I finish digging to the surface, and take a look at the awesome view around me.

"SHRIEAAKKK!!!"

It's the last thing I hear before I'm hurled off the cliff and into the void.

Next: "Look, ma, no parachute!"