Diary of an 8-Bit Warrior (Book 1 8-Bit Warrior series): An Unofficial Minecraft Adventure

by Cube Kid

  As for Mike, he’d better not come back. That’s all I have to say. Stump tricked an iron golem into thinking that Mike is a new kind of zombie. It was the same iron golem that wanted coffee yesterday. So he told the golem that Mike is a coffee zombie.

  If the golem smashes Mike, it will find coffee instead of a zombie’s usual rotten flesh.

  That set the golem off. It’s been walking around the village all day, in search mode, its eyes glowing brightly.

  Stump is pretty cool. That’s why he’s my best friend and building partner. I can always count on him to come up with cool stuff, too.

  We’re still not sure why that golem wants coffee, though. Maybe because all those villagers wanted it? Maybe if the golem ever found some coffee, it’d start handing it out to the adults, the same way they give flowers to kids? Mhm . . .

  * * *

  After the village settled down, Stump and I spent the rest of the day at our old hangout spot. The old field next to the wall. He brought a cake from his house (his parents are bakers, remember—that’s why his family is good at crafting). And yes, while we powered through slice after slice of the best cake in Minecraftia, we came up with a pretty good building idea.

  I’m not going to write about it in here, though. Not yet. It’s top secret, you know? If Max stole my diary again and read this section, he’d know all about Project X.

  I’m warning you now, though. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not the most interesting house. But hey, it’s sure to win the teachers’ hearts. That’s what matters right now. I’m thinking my building score will reach 10% after this.

  Hurrrrr. I’m getting all excited about a building score of 10%.

  How pathetic am I?

  * * *

  Some time later, as we sat in the grass and gazed at the clouds, we found a book:

  The Adventures of Cow the Cow—Volume 115

  Someone had stashed it in the tall grass. Max must come to this spot to read. I flipped through a few pages, and had to put it down. Grammar, spelling . . . Cow the Cow didn’t need such things. Nor did he need an actual story. The book was pretty much just him walking around randomly, talking to mobs.

  I won’t even comment on the artwork.

  So the president of Minecraftia is a huge fan of the cow, eh?

  Yeah. I highly doubt it.

  In fact, I don’t think Minecraftia even has a president. I think that’s only a fake review for that silly book.

  What a scam.

  I really don’t get it. Max wants to be a librarian, so why is he reading this stuff? It really makes no sense, you know? At least now I know where he got “hejjo” from . . .

  Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Max much recently. That’s the final good news of today! No, there’s even more good news: we have school tomorrow. It’s really weird, but I’m actually happy about it. Well, the building test isn’t until Friday. I recently found that out, but that’s okay. It gives Stump and me even more time to work on Project X. That’s what we’re calling our house idea. It makes it sound cool and mysterious, you know? I mean, let’s say you’re out getting ice cream with a friend, and there are all these kids around. You could mention your “school project,” and get totally beat up. Or, you could say something about “Project X.” Just slip it into your conversation, real casual:

  “Project X is coming along pretty good.”

  “Yeah, we’ll be in the final stages soon.”

  “Just a few more experiments.”

  “Yes. Just a few more.”

  By the way, the ice cream in our village rocks. I think I’ll go get some Friday after the building test. We’ve got all the flavors.

  Creeper crunch.

  Ghast tear swirl.

  Magma cream ripple.

  My favorite is diamond ore chunk.

  YUMM

  Something super lame happened this morning.

  It all started a few weeks ago, when my mom’s best friend said she saw a creeper in the village. During the day. She didn’t see much of it, she said. Only its face. It was hiding in some tall grass near a wheat crop. The past few days, more and more of my mom’s friends keep saying they’ve seen this creeper. By all accounts, you’ll only see it out of the corner of your eye. Or, maybe you’ll see it pop up out of some hiding spot. But only for a split second, and always just its sad little face. Then poof—it’s gone.

  Pretty hard to believe, honestly. Last week, when I told Steve about it, he said it reminded him of UFO or Bigfoot sightings. Whatever those are. He said it could be the result of people’s imaginations. After all, why would a creeper sneak around a village?

  It makes no sense

  I had to agree. Sadly, my mom’s not as skeptical. So after I woke up this morning, she handed me a leash . . . and pointed at Fluffles.

  Yeah. Fluffles is our cat. I had to bring him with me to school today. As you probably know, creepers are terrified of cats. My mom just wanted me to be safe. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Fluffles had been a fully-grown ocelot, but he’s just a baby. No one else had to bring a cat to school during this “creeper scare,” of course. As you can imagine, Max took full advantage of this. He made kitten noises whenever he passed me in the hall. Later, he pretended to be afraid of Fluffles; started calling him “Danger Kitty.”

  There was nothing I could say, really. (Hey, I didn’t need to say anything. I’ll get my revenge. After Stump and I unveil Project X, Max is going to cry like a baby ghast.)

  Fluffles kept meowing during class, too. More than a few teachers glared at me. I’ll admit, at one point, I even thought about shoving Fluffles into my school chest (Steve says they’re called “lockers” in his world). Knowing me, though, I’d forget all about him and leave him at school, then I’d get grounded for months. Probably my mom would

  come to school and tell my teachers (in front of every student) to please make sure I took Fluffles home.

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Max already knows the kitten’s name. He made sure to rub it in whenever he could with stuff like:

  “Hey there, Warrior Runt! How’s Fluffles?”

  And later: “Warrior Runt! Sir! I hate to interrupt you, my lord! Please forgive me! I just want to know. How many creepers did Grandmaster Fluffles slay today?”

  This is the part where I’d write “hurrrrg” a bunch. I won’t, though. After today, I don’t have the energy to be angry. I’m just going to go back to our hangout spot and work on the house.

  Tomorrow is the test. Finally

  If I fail tomorrow, my chances of becoming a warrior are pretty much done with.

  And I’m having doubts about my house idea. Maybe it’s not good at all. Maybe the teachers will hate it, just like they hated my furnace house.

  What would a warrior do?

  Better yet, what would Steve do? I’ve been wanting to get his opinion on my house idea, but he hasn’t been around lately.

  It’s just me, now.

  Tomorrow, all I can do is try.

  The mobs creeper bombed us again last night. I woke up to the sound of baby slimes raining down upon the roof of our house.

  All the slimes were gone by sunrise, though. How they managed to leave the city, with the wall being there, I don’t know. And I don’t care. I’m not complaining at all. It meant me being able to walk to school without “incident.”

  “Incident.” Thinking about slimes and that word at the same time makes me remember the “slime incident.” That’s something I’ve been trying to forget. Once, when I was ten years old, I was attacked by a baby slime. The thing had been waiting in a dark alley all night. Waiting for a kid like me to just come strolling by. When it jumped out at me, I panicked, and ended up drop kicking the thing as hard as I could. It went flying through a window into some woman’s house. Somehow, it landed in the furnace—she�
��d left coal in the fuel tray, and the slime started cooking. Baking, rather.

  She thought I’d done it intentionally, and again, the elders were involved, and my parents. It took hours of explaining just to clear my name. By then, the woman’s house reeked of what could only be described as slime casserole.

  After I arrived at school, though, I forgot all about slimes.

  Every student was nervous today. Except Max and Razberry. All 150 students were just standing around at the edge of the village. In a flat field perfect for building tons of houses.

  Each student had a building partner, which meant there were seventy-five teams. Sara teamed up with Ariel again. I guessed they were probably going to make another mushroom house. Maybe some improved variant. Each team was given a section of the field to build in. Wooden signs were placed in each team’s designated area. Stump and I make up the team known as . . . “Danger Kitty.” I chose that name to spite Max. My thoughts were, after we beat him, the teachers would call out our team name and he’d be furious. Of course, Max is a good builder. I can’t deny that. Even if we do beat him, it’ll only be by a few points. Urrrrg, the test will begin shortly. I’ll update soon . . .

  * * *

  Well.

  We finished our house.

  Here it is. Don’t laugh, please. We think efficiency is what the teachers want, remember?

  And now, it’s time to unveil . . .

  LIKE A BOSS.

  The overall idea is a bit similar to the old furnace house—except with fewer furnaces and less space, and with additional things such as a crafting table, an enchanting table, and even farms.

  To save space, the bed is built into the roof.

  To cut down on block usage, part of the roof is made of stone slabs. You can craft two stone slabs with one block of cobblestone.

  The inside is pretty compact.

  We turned two squares of dirt floor into a wheat farm.

  There’s an enchanting table, and one wall is a bookcase to power up the table slightly. A crafting table and multiple furnaces are all accessible. Due to lack of space, a torch had to be set onto one furnace.

  (By the way, the enchanting table was given to us. We obviously can’t craft such a thing. Its inclusion also won’t raise our score. It’s just to show what’s possible.)

  Oh, about the chest on the left. The lid wouldn’t open with a wall above it. We used some upside-down stairs there.

  Note the two patches of farmland on the corners. One area is for melons. The other, for pumpkins. They’re both accessible from the inside. You just have to reach your arms across some blocks.

  Our whole idea was to make a house that offered as much as possible, while taking as little as possible to construct.

  E f f i c i e n c y,

  in other words.

  To come up with this idea, Stump and I imagined ourselves as warriors. If we were far away from the village, we wouldn’t have tons of materials to build with. We’d have to be efficient.

  So we thought and thought,

  and ended up with this.

  It’s the ultimate survival house.

  I mean, let’s say creepers blew up the whole world—every block in Minecraftia, gone, except for this house. No problem. We could still survive forever in this house. It’d be boring, though. It’d be a life of

  standing in a tiny little house, eating nothing but bread. Sometimes a pumpkin. Drinking water. That’s all.

  That was another reason why we included a bookcase. During such an end-of-the-world scenario, at least you’d have something to read. But while we were building the house today, Stump and I ran into a problem. One of the books in the bookcase was . . . super lame. Lamer than any of Max’s favorite books. Diary of a Grass Block.

  I honestly don’t know how it got there. And I was really hoping the teachers wouldn’t spot it.

  I mean, the book’s description is something like:

  Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a grass block? What problems does a grass block face during grass block school? What does a grass block eat? What does a grass block do for fun? Come find out in this diary of a grass block written by an eleven-year-old grass block!

  Number of pages: 7

  Wow.

  Just wow.

  The teachers would fail us for sure if they saw that. Whenever a teacher got close to the bookshelf, I made sure to stand in front of it, particularly that book.

  Anyway, I don’t know if the teachers will like Project X . . . After all, Max’s house is kind of cool as well:

  He and Razberry took the girl’s mushroom house idea from that last building test, and dumped lava all over it. That’s how they discovered that lava doesn’t burn giant mushrooms.

  Not only does the lava:

  1) prevent mobs from attacking,

  2) it lights up the area.

  You could find such a house pretty easily at night.

  I hate to admit it,

  but it’s not a bad idea.

  However, many others didn’t have such great houses.

  Such as the kids next to us. They built a dirt house.

  By the way, “Team Noobmuffin” isn’t their real team name. Max replaced their sign with one of his own.

  * * *

  After our building time was up, everyone just waited for the outcome.

  The teachers were “hurgg”ing a lot.

  Students’ faces were grim.

  Not too many were talking.

  I was kind of afraid.

  No, not “kind of.” The fear I felt was heavy as a furnace in my stomach. No, worse than that. It was the same as when I ate a slice of that cake Sara crafted a couple months ago.

  That cake was so hard, I remember. It probably could have been used as a weapon of some kind. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I ate it. To accomplish this, I had to dunk my cake slice into a bucket of milk just to get it soft enough to chew.

  Sorry, I’m rambling.

  I do that when I’m nervous.

  * * *

  Update: Now, the teachers are gathering . . . They’re going to announce the top three house designs. Stump’s sitting next to me, eyes wide and filled with fear. He wants to be a warrior, too.

  This is it

  It’s all or nothing.

  We’re just waiting.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  And then . . .

  * * *

  Update:

  HURGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

  HURGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

  Hurgggggg.

  Hurgurrgurgurgurgrugrgrurgurgggggggggggg.

  . . .

  . . .

  . . .

  Hurgg.

  (Sorry.)

  I just had to get that out.

  I’m . . . going crazy.

  Let me explain. Standing before 150 silent students, the head teacher said: “In first place for best house design is . . .

  Team Danger Kitty.”

  I honestly couldn’t believe it.

  The teachers praised our house even more than the girls’ mushroom house from before. It was a miracle.

  The most efficient house they’ve ever seen.

  Their words.

  Not a daydream. Not my imagination.

  I couldn’t help but smile when Max freaked out. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him, until I remembered all the harassment he had given me the other day.

  Even now, I’m so stunned, I can barely even write. So forgive me if I don’t write much right now . . . I’ll update later when my heart stops pounding and my hands stop shaking.

  * * *

  Okay, so the teachers said our house still has some
flaws. Like, a few things could have been done better. Still, they used the word “impressive.”

  Impressive.

  Actually, another word came before that one—“very.”

  Very impressive.

  (I’m not going to “hurgg” again. I promise. I’ll keep it under control.)

  I gave Stump a huge high five. He was responsible for half of the design. A lot of students came up and congratulated us afterward. Not Max, though.

  “Too bad warriors aren’t all about building,” was all he said.

  His buddy Razberry chimed in: “Yeah. You can’t build mobs to death. Nooblords.”

  I don’t care about what he said, though.

  It’s the first real accomplishment I’ve ever had in my life.

  I’m too happy right now.

  At one point, Stump nudged me with his elbow.

  “Runt,” he said. “Our. Scores. Look.”

  He was so excited, he couldn’t even speak in sentences, just single words. I was still out of it myself. The shock of such a huge success was still flooding my mind. I eventually realized my friend was staring at his record book. When I saw his building score, I couldn’t even breathe. It was insanely high.

  And now, he was level 16.

  He was level 3 yesterday. He went from 3 to 16. BOOM

  Just like that.

  I whipped out my own record book and stared at it in total disbelief. Farming, crafting, and building all went up from our efforts. Obviously, the biggest gain was in building.

  A jump of 60% .