A Minecrafter's Diaries 5

A Parody of the Minecraft Adventures

Part 1: Introduced to a Creeper

It was daytime in the world of blocks as me and my mentor, Tom, strolled happily through a forest of green hills and rushing rivers.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tom said quietly over the chirping of birds in the trees. "Breathe that fresh air in, Zek. It's the best you'll ever have."

As you will have probably guessed, I'm Zek, a Minecrafter with a crave for electrical contraptions and the world in general. I guess I had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I then met Tom.

We had been partners as soon as we caught each other's eyes, Tom being the more intelligent and more experienced Minecrafter than I but lacking in toughness, and I having a large brain full of adventure and clever contraptions. I had no name at that point. After seeing me around and realising my personality, Tom nicknamed me Zek - and the name stuck.

Anyways, it was midday, so we had already become friends within 3 hours. Now, as we searched for a suitable place to build our first shelter together, we heard a strange sound behind us - almost like hissing.

Tom froze. "Don't move," he whispered.

I felt something damp and smooth brush past my shoulder. It walked into my field of vision. And I gasped in shock.

For there was a four-legged, snake-skinned monster in front of me, with black, lidless eyes and a gaping mouth. Suddenly, it turned. It had heard my intake of breath. We had been discovered.

Tom realised something bad would happen if he didn't do something fast. So he bravely stalked up to the creature, and then said in a hamster-like voice, "Hello little fella..."

And he touched the monster with his wooden sword.

The resulting explosion sent us both reeling into the dust, dead from the blast. After we had respawned, I punched Tom for the wonderful surprise I had experienced.

That was my first meeting with a Creeper. And believe me, I never want to meet another one again.

Part 2: Punching Trees Ruins Your Life

"To start our adventure," Tom explained while we scoured the horizon for a
rest on a nearby hill, "We need to build a shelter. We're looking for a hill because if we find a good cave round the area, three quarters of our home are naturally built. However, we need to harvest some blocks to build our other quarter. That's where trees come in."

I nudged Tom's shoulder and pointed to a tall mountain just round the corner. Tom nodded. "Perfect," he said. "If we just find some trees, we can start harvesting."

"And how would we do that?" I asked Tom.

"We punch them."

I let that sink in. "So... manual labour?" I enquired.

"Of course," Tom said. "We punch the trees and harvest the wood."

"So..." I continued, "We find a tree, punch it, and we get wood?"

"It's not that quick, but yes," Tom confirmed.

With that over, we hurried over to the mountain and almost immediately found a perfect cave.

"Right," Tom said, pointing towards a nearby pine tree. "Go punch the tree's trunk and harvest some wood."

"Can't we use an axe?" I asked weakly.

"We need wood to craft it, and wood to make the thing we craft it with. Now go on, don't be soft."

I meekly turned to the tree and flung a random fist at it. My arm flared with pain as the bark impacted with the force of a fist smashing into a tree.

"ARGH!" I cried out.

"Try tapping it gentler," Tom called from inside the cave. "AND NO RUGBY TACKLING!"

I hastily unwrapped my arms from around the tree and sighed, sending a puff of air out of my mouth. "Darn," I muttered.

"Don't you have a wooden sword?" I shouted. "Can't we harvest that?"

"It was lost in the creeper explosion. Now, NO EXCUSES, AND GET BACK TO WORK!!!"

I sighed melodramatically. "Darn," I said again.

I began to test Tom's theory - and to my unboundless surprise, it worked. By the end of the day, I had collected enough wood to create 8 full stacks of planks.

"Perfect," Tom grinned when I returned to the shelter he had hewn. Then he noticed a crimson liquid seeping slowly down the edge of the materials.

"What's this?" Tom asked, pointing at the thing in question.

I sheepishly pulled my hands out from behind my back to reveal a pair of cut and bruised limbs.

"Clever," Tom remarked hesitantly.

Part 3: Murdering is Baa'd For You

There was a sudden noise from outside our cave. It sounded like something was trying to say 'bad' but couldn't say the 'd'.

"What the hell was that?!" I yelped, thinking it was a monster.

"It was a mob," Tom confirmed. "A.k.a a monster."

I almost fainted.

"It's called a sheep."

"What's a sheep?" I asked, having no idea what a sheep was, whether it would bite me or if it drank radioactive green liquid.

"A white, fluffy mammal which walks on four legs, goes 'baa' randomly every few seconds, and has the brainless incapability to attack people."

"Is that safe?" I asked warily.

"Yes," Tom said. "In fact, I think we should go and see them."

At that moment it was sunset, so the world was bathed in an eerie orange and pink glow. Right outside our cave was the sheep in question.

It was actually a huge flock. One of them looked boredly in our direction, and then continued to munch on some nearby grass.

"These mobs are in fact very useful," Tom said. "I'll show you how in a quick demonstration." He flicked out from his inventory a stone sword he had crafted in the cave and swung it at the nearest sheep, scoring a large gash in the mob's flesh. It bleated in alarm and ran around in circles. The other sheep carried on munching, regardless of what was going on.

Tom dispatched the head of the injured animal as it ran towards him. "See how stupid they can be," Tom said. "But look at this." He bent down to the limp figure and crudely sheared all of its wool off with the stone sword.

"This is the prize," Tom crowed triumphantly, holding the bloodstained item into the air. "We can make a bed with this wool!"

"That doesn't sound very interesting," I cut in, "considering you just murdered an innocent being."

"They were made for our benefit," Tom said, throwing me another stone sword. "Now get killing."

I stared at the sword in my hands. Its dull glint stared back at me.

I carried on staring.

The sword carried on staring.

We both stared at each other.

I stared at Tom to get him involved.

"What?" he said.

I stared back at the sword.

The sword whacked me in the face.

To be precise, a sheep's head accidentally hit the flat part of the sword's blade and smashed the opposite side into my features. Now I was angry.

"DIE!" I yelled, slashing and stabbing at a whirl of white wool as I took revenge on my pain. The rest of the flock ran away as I felled eight sheep in my madness.

"Very good," Tom observed. "But your war cry needs to be more complex. 'DIE!' is too simple."

With that, we took the wool and Tom crafted it into two exquisite beds, with sheets, duvets and anything else essential for a bed. And as the sun fell from sight, we fell asleep.

Little did we know that the escaped part of the flock were returning. With plans.

It was all over in 25 seconds. The sheep smothered and suffocated us with cries of 'baa!' or 'baaaaa!' or 'baaaaaaaaaaaaa cough cough', and we died.

We respawned at the spawn point, miles away from our cave, feeling thoroughly confused.

"If we died," Tom muttered, "we should have returned to our beds..."

I found remnants of sheep wool all over my body. I checked Tom and he was covered in it too. I pointed it out.

"Now what do you think happened to the beds?" I said.

Tom sighed. "They must have come back for the rest of their friends," he replied.

Part 4: Bones Go 'Clack' at Night

So now we were stuck outside. In the dark. With no protection.

Or light.

Because the sun had decided enough was enough and had run off somewhere, persuading the moon to be a substitute. And it was a pretty bad substitute.

The dim glow given off by the useless white ball showed us no way to return to our safe, angry-sheep-infested home. So Tom grabbed some wood, fashioned a crafting table, made a wooden pick, nabbed some stone, crafted a furnace, and charcoaled some more wood. He made a torch and we sat round it.

There was silence apart from a faint 'baa' of an angry sheep that was probably wondering where we went.

"We messed that up," Tom muttered.

Clack.

Tom paused. "Did you say something?" he asked me.

Clack.

"No," I answered.

Clack clack.

"Why?"

Clack, clack clack clack, clack clack.

"I can hear skeletons," Tom said.

"You mean inanimate objects with a personality?"

Clackety clackety clack.

"An evil personality," Tom said.

Cluck cluck cluck.

"I HEARD THEM!!!" I screamed.

"Shut up!" Tom hissed. "That was a chicken. Got a sword handy?"

WHOOOSH!

Tom was answered with an arrow that sailed right over his head.

"Blind and deaf skeleton," Tom deduced.

"I could say that for every skeleton we meet."

"Nah, some of them just don't have their heads screwed on right."

There was a sudden rustle in the bushes, and a skeleton leapt out. It had no face. But as it ran past us, we saw its face - on the opposite side it was meant to go on.

It ran into the trees opposite, giggling manically, ignoring us.

"See what I mean?" Tom said after the troubling laughing had faded away.

"That was a blind, deaf and completely idiotic skeleton," I corrected.

There was another rustle in the bushes.

"Deaf and blind," Tom predicted.

"I HEARD THAT."

Tom suddenly leapt to his feet and scanned the surrounding forest.

"JUST BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE EARS, THAT DOESN'T MEAN WE CAN'T HEAR YOU..."

Tom sat down again with a hopeless look on his face.

"...We're surrounded by around 50 skeletons, all equipped with exploding arrows," Tom sighed. "It's the end... for the third time..."

"STAND, MY BRETHEN."

Tom put his head in his hands. "That voice means we're in even more trouble."

All around them, skeleton heads and their charged bows raised up and out of the shrubbery, showing that we were, in fact, completely surrounded.

Then a human-shaped silhouette rose up in front of us and pointed a shadowy finger at us. "Kill them," it growled.

The sun had just peeked its head over the horizon. Too bad we weren't alive to see it.

A few bangs, and it was over.

Part 5: Warning: Avoid Flying Pyromaniacs

Whilst the skeletons burnt in the sunlight (which was, unfortunately, another thing the useless white ball couldn't do), Tom and I wondered what to do about our angry-sheep-infested home.

"What we need is TNT," Tom suggested. "We blow the whole place to kingdom come, obliterate the sheep and reclaim our cave."

"Which will most likely have become a lot bigger," I pointed out.

"That's an improvement," Tom said.

The sudden loud bang of TNT exploding launched us around 5 feet in the air from surprise.

"Where did that come from?!" I shouted.

Tom pointed to a large amount of TNT flying in our direction.

I quickly dug a deep hole and covered it with the harvested blocks to protect myself from the blasts. Tom forgot.

I had to sit there in the dark, listening to the frantic cries of my friend as he desperately dodged the rain of explosives. Then the bangs stopped.

I carefully removed the blocks above me and climbed up out of the hole, only to see Tom still running around like a demented chicken.

"Stop that!" I shouted to him.

He pointed to the sky and stuttered, "Th-th-th-that p-pyrom-maniac is f-f-flying towards m-me!"

I quickly looked up and indeed saw a flaming person soaring through the air, right in Tom's direction, grinning like setting himself on fire was the best thing he'd done in his life. He held Flint and Steel in one hand and a block of TNT in the other.

"PYROMANIA!" he yelled as he 'accidentally' landed just in front of Tom and 'accidentally' set him on fire.

Tom continued to run around like a demented chicken, but this time with more purpose to find a nearby river or lake.

The fiery young person that had just attacked Tom stood up and dusted the burning ashes off his red jacket. "That was fun," he said to himself, whistling happily.

"FUN?! IS THAT YOUR IDEA OF FUN?!"

Tom stormed up to the person, dripping with water, and punched him in the mouth. The person recoiled surprisingly quickly.

"WATER!" the person screeched, running off in search of fire.

Tom grinned evilly. "Payback time," he laughed menacingly.

He handed me a bucket.

"Where did you get this?" I asked him.

"The guy dropped it," Tom said, pointing to the rapidly receding figure. "I got rid of the lava in it. Now, let's get some water."

Tom and I both scooped up a full bucket and charged after the fleeing pyromaniac. We used the forest's trees and our green clothing as camofluage to sneak up unspotted as he stopped for a quick breather.

His head was smashed in between two walls of thrown water and the person fell down, gurgling as if he was being strangled.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him, walking out from behind a tree.

"Yeah, same," Tom repeated, coming from behind the opposite tree from mine.

The guy looked Tom up and down, and then grinned in excitement. "Give me all your gunpowder, talking creeper!" he demanded, hitting Tom with his Flint and Steel.

"You shouldn't have worn the creeper outfit, Tom," I sighed as Tom slowly burnt to death.

The pyromaniac overheard me. "Wait..." he started. "Was that a... person?"

"And a nice one too," I groaned.

"Damn it!" the strange person exclaimed. "By the way, my name's Ollie - pleased to meet you."

"Zek," I simply replied.

"And who was the dead person?"

"Tom."

"Damn it."

"What?"

"I left my napalm back on the shelf."

"That's a good thing."

"Not for a pyromaniac."

Then we both fell silent as Tom returned. Without a word, he strolled up to Ollie and said, "You have a lot to learn."

And then promptly strangled him.

Part 6: Zombie Farm Got Bigger Overnight - coming soon!