by Cube Kid
I tried to sneak a peek at Max’s record book, but he wouldn’t let me. He was being as secretive with his record book as he is with those ridiculous cow books.
Last time I saw, he was level 15. Maybe he’s level 20, now? I’m catching up, then. If I keep doing well, and working this hard, I might overtake him. His team got third place in the competition, though, so I probably didn’t make huge gains on him. The only thing holding his design back was the inherent danger that came from walls of lava.
A different team of girls got second place. They had a similar idea to ours. Their house was basically just a hole in the ground, set up with crafting tables and such.
* * *
Even though it’s Friday, there was no Mob Defense class. They let us off the hook. They said we had to do some reading about mobs on our own this weekend.
At the end of the day, I got ice cream with Stump, Sara, and Ariel.
Their team got eleventh place, which is still respectable. Sara says they’re going to work harder for the next building test.
While we ate our ice cream, the four of us decided to form a partnership. We’ll share our building ideas, and attempt to shut Max out of the next test. Those girls aren’t exactly friends with him, either. However, there’re going to be many more tests, and not all of them are going to deal with building. From farming to mining, we’ll cover everything.
For now, I just need to relax a bit.
I’ve been stressing myself out.
Hurrrmmmmmmmm.
This diamond ore chunk is amazing.
Today, my dad made me go fishing with him.
After yesterday, I must have used up all of my luck, because I only snagged junk. Sticks, sticks, and more sticks. And bowls, and a leather boot. Even another fishing rod.
Probably someone had had just as much luck as I was having, tossed the rod in, and called it a day. That was what I felt like doing after I reeled in a bone.
Beyond that, today was uneventful. I didn’t do anything else. Didn’t practice. Didn’t talk to anyone about any projects or ideas. Didn’t even see Stump, as his parents were making him help out with baking a big cake for the mayor.
My parents didn’t really say much about my building achievement. They’re farmers. They figure I’ll become a farmer just like them.
I’ve never told them about my dreams.
I’m not sure what my dad’s reaction will be if he ever finds out.
But now, I’m exhausted. Worrying about the future is for another day.
* * *
As the square sun sank into the blocky horizon, I curled up on my bed with my favorite history book. It was written by some old villager from a distant land. Sounds boring, right?
Well, this is Minecraftia. In this world, even history can be pretty entertaining. Besides, the guy who wrote it was a warrior villager. The only one in history.
After he took up the sword, his village exiled him forever, and he wandered the land like Steve.
I flipped to the chapter on legendary mobs. Some were downright scary, such as Mungo the Overlord.
According to legend, Mungo is the freakiest zombie pigman that ever lived. He’s as tall as any enderman, and wields two enchanted gold swords. One in each hand.
Long ago, before I was born, he destroyed a village almost as big as ours. I know, it sounds like something Max would make up, right? But it’s all right here in this book. We villagers never go into the Nether, and tonight, I’m super thankful for that.
Once per year, he leaves the Nether and roams through the Overworld, hunting for noobs and warriors alike. He’s so big, he can swallow a creeper whole, and he’s so strong, he’ll survive the explosion—the worst damage being a bad case of gas. The history book literally describes Mungo’s huge farts after he eats a creeper. (No, my friends, don’t ever stand downwind of Mungo after he’s devoured a charged creeper. It won’t be a pleasant experience.)
While reading that history book, I couldn’t help but think about Steve.
It seems like forever since I last saw him.
What happened to him?
I hope he comes back soon.
This morning, we had visitors. They weren’t outsiders, though. They were other villagers. A lot of them, too, at least twenty. It caused a huge buzz in Villagetown. Other villagers have visited us before, but never at a time like this, what with all the mob attacks recently.
The elders told us that they’re just tourists, traveling around.
I’m not so sure.
I mean, if they were just traveling about Minecraftia, they’d look a little happy, right?
Smile.
Wave.
Greet us.
Right?
Not them.
They were obviously sad. They just stared at the ground, their faces gloomy. And the elders ushered them all into the village hall. Hours later, our builders made them a brand new house. A house big enough to hold all twenty of them.
The “tourists” only seemed to get sadder at this. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but Stump and I think they’re not tourists at all. But our mayor assured us that they’re really just travelers. There’s nothing to worry about, he said. Things are totally fine, he said. Everything is absolutely, positively cool and okay. He said that last sentence with a huge grin and two thumbs up—while standing in front of these people:
No, there’s nothing sad about them at all!
See, the father on the left, he’s just stunned at how awesome our village is. His daughter? Well, those are tears of happiness, nothing more. As for the mom, she’s only worried because she forgot to feed the dog before they left.
Totally.
At least, something like that is what the mayor wants us to believe . . .
Noooo, something weird is going on. I tried talking to that crying girl today, but the elders won’t let anyone go near that newly built house. Mmmmh, It’s really quite mysterious.
Of course, I asked the guards at the door why I couldn’t go in and say hello to our new guests. They’re tourists, right? I should welcome them, right?
But the guards said, “They’re exhausted from traveling. They need to rest. Please come back later, Runt.”
Hmmmmm. I will get to the bottom of this. Detective Runt is on the job.
School was fairly standard today. Let me skip past all that and just say . . .
Steve came back.
I ran into him after school. He was walking down the street. Slowly. And the look on his face . . . I’d never seen him like that before.
“Steve!” I shouted, running up to him. “What happened to you?”
He coughed, shook his head. “I . . . need some water,” he said.
His voice was raspy. He looked tired. Beat up. As if he’d fought Mungo the Overlord for days and finally emerged victorious.
“Follow me,” I said, and led him back to my house.
I gave him a bucket of milk and two loaves of bread—fresh out of the furnace. He chugged down the whole bucket, glug, glug, glug, then wolfed down each loaf in a few bites. It seemed like he hadn’t had any food or water in days. After, he rested his back against the wall of the living room, closed his eyes, and slid down against the wall.
“Steve,” I said. “Answer me, hurrr? What’s going on?”
“My base,” he said. “It’s gone.”
What? From what I understood, his “base” was his main house, a really nice one. He had a lot of houses scattered out there, in the wilderness, but his base was the best one.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“Just gone,” he said. “Everything I had is all gone. My base, gone. My houses, gone. My diamond tools, enchanted armor, and rail system. All gone.”
“How? Who did this?”
And
suddenly, I thought I knew the answer. I figured it was Mike. He’s like the evil version of Steve. But what Steve said next really surprised me.
“The mobs,” he said. “They came in the night. Zombies digging through dirt. Creepers exploding. Endermen tearing apart cobblestone. They destroyed everything I had.”
He paused.
“I died again, Runt. I died several times in fact. And every time I died, I kept going back. Kept trying to retrieve my items. Kept trying to save my house . . .”
I said nothing, only waited for him to continue. My thoughts raced, however. How could the mobs get Steve? He said his base was indestructible.
“I’ve never seen the mobs act like that before,” he said. “Finally I ran. Ran as fast as I could.”
Hurggg.
This is bad.
“I’m homeless now,” Steve said. “I can’t believe this. I don’t have anywhere to sleep. I don’t even have any food.”
“No matter what,” I said, “you’ll always have a home here. My parents will let you stay with us. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry, okay?”
“Really? I won’t stay long. Just let me get some items again.” He sighed. “This means I’ll have to punch trees with my bare hands, craft a wooden sword . . . I’m a noob all over again.”
“Here,” I said. “Take my wooden sword. You helped me craft it anyway, remember?”
“All right.” Steve stood back up, grabbed my sword with one hand, and wiped sweat from his face with the other.
“I’ll be back. I’ve got to go speak to your mayor.”
After he took off, I glanced out at the field, at my parents. They were working the soil, as always. What was the best way to tell them about Steve? They might not like the idea of an outsider staying in our house. But it’s Steve. How could they say no?
Moments later, I heard a distant scream.
I ran into the streets to see what was happening. Another outsider was running through the streets. He looked terrified. I’d never seen him before, but I knew who it was—Mike.
“Hey, kid!” he said, approaching. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I did to that farmer guy, but listen! Something crazy is happening!”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The mobs destroyed your house.”
He gave me a strange look. For some reason, he calmed down a bit.
“Well, yeah. Anyway, can I stay here? I don’t want to go back out there.”
I returned his weird look.
“Hurrrn, do I look like the mayor to you?”
“Right. Um, can you take me to him? I’ll go to jail. I’ll do whatever you guys want. Wash dishes. Milk cows. Whatever. Just don’t send me back out there. Last night, I was attacked by about a hundred zombies.”
And here I thought it was going to be an easy week. A week of relaxing, eating ice cream, and taunting Max with my building score.
If the mobs really are becoming as hostile as Steve and Mike claim, our villagers might have to become warriors sooner than the elders think.
I nodded at the outsider in the red shirt. I shouldn’t be nice to him, after what he did to Bub. Whatever.
I’ll let the mayor decide.
Besides, from the looks of it, he’s a warrior just like Steve.
I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.
I’ve been so busy these days. The classes are becoming more difficult. And the homework. Oh, the homework.
I’m only writing this entry because I’m taking a break from my homework. I really needed one. You see, I did something really silly just now.
I set up a crafting table in my bedroom. I had to. My crafting teacher keeps giving us tons of extra assignments that we have to do at home.
Craft, craft, craft. Again, and again. And again.
Well, I did that today, after school. I crafted. Oh, did I craft. I surely crafted more than any twelve-year-old villager kid has ever crafted before. But after two hours of crafting, well, I kinda turned into . . . a zombie.
A crafting zombie. That was totally me.
I just spaced out.
I was on my way to crafting a carpet, right? I had some wool piled up on the floor next to the table, right? Just slap three wools onto that crafting table and I’d have a shiny new carpet. Right?
Then Fluffles came into my room and started sniffing the wool.
Well, I was so tired, I mistakenly picked up Fluffles and set him onto the crafting table. I mean, he was the same color (mostly) and the same general shape . . .
Yeah. I tried crafting a carpet with two pieces of wool . . . and a kitten. Needless to say, that didn’t work so well. I’m pretty sure kittens aren’t part of any crafting recipe.
Still, for a moment there, I just couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to craft that carpet.
I tried moving the “pieces” around to no avail. Then one of the pieces of “wool” started meowing. As I said, I was just too tired.
When you accidentally mistake a kitten for a chunk of wool while trying to craft a carpet, well . . . that’s when you know you need to take a break.
Okay.
Break time’s over.
I’ll write more tomorrow.
You’re probably wondering what’s going on with Steve and Mike.
I’ll start with Steve. He’s homeless. He was out there, in the wilderness, living on his own. He had a couple houses, I guess, and then a huge base.
Well, the mobs destroyed all of them. I still can’t believe it, honestly.
Steve’s base was pretty incredible. It was a small castle. A small castle made of cobblestone. Oh, and it had a moat.
Of lava.
Even so, the mobs got through. You’re probably wondering how exactly mobs crossed a lava moat. I was wondering the exact same thing.
So I asked Steve—and what he told me was pretty hard to believe. Looks like the mobs came up with a new trick. We’re calling it the “witch bridge.”
Here is a detailed diagram of the witch bridge. I figure, after I become a famous warrior, I’ll have a whole book with such drawings. An encyclopedia of mob tactics.
By the way, what I’m about to show you is top secret.
That means, don’t show this to anyone . . .
unless you absolutely trust them.
Here’s a side view of Steve’s base and lava moat.
As you can see, the lava was two blocks deep and six blocks wide.
(Note the witch on the other side, chugging that fire resistance potion.)
Now, no mob should have been able to cross that moat. Send in a million zombies and they’d all just melt away with nothing to show for it. But those mobs, they’re so tricky. They figured out a way.
Take a good look.
This is what they did.
Like most mobs, witches are two blocks tall, which meant—
You’re shocked, right?
So was I.
So was I.
The witches actually made a “bridge” using their own bodies. Their fire resistance potions made them immune to lava. So they could swim around in the stuff as if it were water. I guess their potions were of the upgraded type.
From what little I understand, upgraded fire resistance potions have a duration of eight minutes. I learned that in Brewing Basics (a new class).
In summary, Steve’s base was history.
Steve actually had to run from the mobs.
Him! A warrior!
One of the best!
I told you the mobs in these parts are nuts. For those of you who don’t believe me, well, just come on down. Build a little house. A castle, if you want. Let’s see how long you last . . .
* * *
Steve talked to the elders and told them what happened. Told them the mobs are get
ting feisty. By the way, that was the word he actually used. Feisty.
But then, our village has been dealing with feisty mobs for a while now. It wasn’t anything new. The other day, I had to scrape dried slime off our roof. Anyway, the elders said Steve could stay in our village for as long as he wants.
However, they can’t build him a house. The builders used up a lot of supplies to build that big house for the other villagers.
“The tourists.”
So Steve has to build his own house. Until he does, he’s staying at my house. My father built him a bed. He’s sleeping in my room.
I guess now would be a good time to give you a tour of my house.
Steve says village houses in the “original computer game” aren’t so big, though.
I realize this is probably really boring to you. I told you, villagers are boring.
I hope you weren’t expecting something crazy here.
We keep food in the chests on the right. Cook food in the furnaces. Boring, boring, boring. Please don’t fall asleep.
The top bed is Steve’s. He said two beds stacked vertically like that are called bunk beds. Usually kids sleep in bunk beds. Maybe it’s humiliating for a warrior to be sleeping in such a room, in such a bed, but it’s the best we could do. I hope he’s not too angry.
At first, my parents were going to suggest that he sleep in the living room. But then, that would be similar to making him sleep in the stable, like an animal or something. Wouldn’t it?
We don’t know Earth culture at all, so we didn’t want to take any chances. We just wanted to be nice. After all, he’s the guy who helped us build the wall. Without that huge stone wall protecting our village, we’d be in a lot of trouble.