Now he was ready to go outside.
Breaking down the blocks of dirt that he’d used to seal himself in, Gameknight moved out of his hidey-hole and started to hunt. Running to the top of the nearby hill, he surveyed the area. Sheep were of course nearby, annoying sheep. Why couldn’t he eat sheep? He never did understand that. Ignoring the fluffy creatures, he scanned his surroundings. Rolling hills stretched out in all directions with bright green grass gently swaying in the breeze, colorful flowers sprinkled across its surface. Clusters of trees dotted the landscape, oaks and birches standing tall like sentinels watching over the inhabitants. The snowcapped spruces in the distance extended upward and crowded together in the Taiga biome, their dark green branches sharply contrasting the white frosting on their limbs.
And then Gameknight found what he was looking for: cows. They were meandering about on the grassy planes, their spotted, black and white fur blending in with the shadows, making them difficult to see at first, but once he’d spotted them, they were easy to find. Intermixed with the herd was a cluster of pigs, the little pink animals looking like candy decorations on the landscape. This was exactly what he needed right now.
Running down the hill, Gameknight999 headed toward the cattle, iron sword drawn. Driven by his hunger, he crossed the grassy plains in an instant. As he neared, a curious pig waddled a bit closer.
“Here, piggy piggy,” he said to the animal, approaching slowly.
When he was close enough, Gameknight struck hard and fast, ready for the desperate dash the animal would make.
Slash.
Squeal, squeal.
Run . . . run . . . run.
Slash, slash.
Squeal . . .
Pork chops.
He’d killed the pig and now had pork, but he couldn’t believe how terrible it had sounded. Pigs always squealed when you hit them, but hearing it from the computer was completely different than standing right in front of them. The sound the pig had made was one of terrible anguish and pain, its screams filled with fear and knowing that its life was about to end. It was horrible. What would happen when it was his turn? Would he feel the same terrible anguish as the pig? Would he die here in Minecraft and just reappear in his basement, or would he re-spawn . . . or would he really die? A chill ran down his spine, the uncertainty of death wrapping its cold skeletal hands around his soul. Suddenly, Gameknight was scared as these thoughts floated through his mind. Scanning his surroundings, he quickly looked for threats; the thought of suffering the same fate as that innocent pig driving his caution, and his fear. Then hunger bubbled within him; he had to eat.
Continuing on, Gameknight999 looked for more animals. In the old days, well, yesterday, when he wasn’t trapped within Minecraft, he used to kill pigs just for fun. He hadn’t really cared before if the pigs actually felt anything; it was just a game. But it didn’t feel like just a game anymore. It felt like something more “real.”
His hunger dropped another notch. He had to find more food, no matter how terrible it sounded. Sprinting forward, he found cattle lazily walking across the grassy plains, doing whatever cows do, their mooing filling the air. Striking out at them, first one, then another and another, Gameknight collected beef, their terrified screams filling his soul with guilt. After the third cow, he spun around and headed back to his hidey-hole. On the way, he came across two chickens that looked like they were hiding behind a copse of trees and killed them as well. He couldn’t remember who used to call them spy-chickens, someone on YouTube, maybe Paul-SeerSr? He wasn’t sure but found it momentarily amusing for some reason . . . that was until the chickens started to scream out in pain as his iron sword clove them in two. What a terrible sound.
Reaching his hidey-hole, Gameknight stopped to plant a couple of torches near its opening. It wasn’t a good idea to lose the location of your home when out foraging. He’d need to build a tall tower so that he could see it from a distance, but that would be done later. Right now he needed to eat.
Jumping into his hidey-hole, he sealed himself in with dirt again. Moving to his furnace, he put all the beef in and let it cook. His hunger dropped another notch. He could feel it, the emptiness within growing, threatening to start taking HP. It wasn’t clear how many hunger points he had left; without a screen it was difficult to judge, but he knew he was getting hungrier, the emptiness in his stomach starting to hurt. As soon as the first steak was done, he gobbled it down and then ate the next one just as quickly. The meat filled Gameknight999 with strength, driving the hunger from his body and adding to his HP. It was funny, he could feel the little bars of health refilling even though he couldn’t see them.
Feeling fully healthy, Gameknight crafted another stone pick and started to look for iron ore again. Digging through the dirt that he’d used to seal up his mineshaft, he headed down the stairway and into the cavern below. Once inside, he put a torch over his tunnel, then started to move into the dark recesses of the cavern. Staying to the right side, he placed torches so that he could see the walls, looking for the all-important coal and iron. Moving deeper into the cavern, he searched the walls while also continually scanning the space for monsters, planting torches as he went. Slow and cautious was the way to go when exploring a new cave or cavern. At these depths, it didn’t matter if it was day or not; the monsters would be here, waiting.
Moving further into the passageway, he found a few more blocks of both iron ore and coal, but not in any significant numbers; he had to go deeper. Gripping his sword firmly in his hand, Gameknight moved cautiously forward, trying to stay in the circle of light from the last torch, then chancing a little darkness before planting the next, the new circle of light always making him feel a little safer. The cavern had an uneven floor made mostly of dirt and stone with the occasional patches of gravel intermixed. At times the floor sloped downward, but then quickly rose up again as the tunnel took its meandering path into the flesh of this world. It was clear that this was a naturally occurring cavern, with few flat surfaces, the walls undulating with the floor in a random manner, but as he explored, the ceiling and walls gradually started to close in, slowing changing the large cavern into a tunnel just four blocks tall. This was better. His torch could illuminate both walls. He found two more blocks of iron and dug them up with his stone pick.
Snap!
The stone tool broke, its strength finally used up. Pulling out his second pick, he continued down the tunnel. It started to slope downward even more now, and this worried him. Down was where the monsters lived. Pulling out his sword, he continued, stopping to dig up the occasional iron or coal block. Moving cautiously through the shadowy tunnel, Gameknight could hear creatures in the distance, a moaning that sounded like a sorrowful hatred for all living things: zombies.
Planting the torches closer together, he continued on, his sword held at the ready, fear trickling down his spine. He could still remember what it felt like to get hit by the spider, the pain rocketing throughout his body. Keeping his ears trained for their sounds, he continued on. Finding a huge patch of iron around the next bend, Gameknight excitedly pulled out his pick and started digging. One block came free, then another, and then two more.
Snap!
The pick gave the last measure of its life, then disappeared with a pop.
Pulling out his last pickaxe, he continued mining, hammering at the yellow-speckled blocks with all his might. This vein of iron ore might give him enough metal to craft that which he desperately needed if he were to survive in this world.
Is this even real, he thought. It certainly felt real when that spider slashed at him, the pain still vivid and real in his memory. As he dug, he focused on clearing all the iron, not wanting to miss a single block. Chunks of stone came free with the iron as he looked for the boundary of the vein, many of the blocks falling to the ground and just floating there, bobbing up and down as if suspended on some unseen ocean. As he dug, Gameknight found a cluster of coal adjacent to the iron. Perfect. Digging up the rest of the iron, h
e then focused his attention on the coal, freeing the dark stone quickly, leaving small black piles at his feet.
As he moved to collect the coal, sorrowful wailing filled the air, like the moaning cries of a creature in complete despair. There was no hope or love of life within that terrible voice, just an overwhelming sadness for its own existence, which had turned so sour that the creature now hated all living things; a zombie was near. Spinning around, Gameknight felt the sharp sting of the zombie’s strike. The rotting, decaying monster reached out with its sickly green arms and struck at his shoulder, landing a glancing blow that didn’t do much damage, but still hurt. He looked at the zombie’s outstretched arms, expecting to see the normally blunt, ineffective appendages, but instead he noticed five sharp claws at the end of each hand, their razor-sharp tips gleaming in the torchlight, reaching out to him. Drawing his sword, Gameknight started to hack away at the monster, driving him backward and out of arm’s reach, but as he swung, another zombie came into the battle. This new monster slashed at his exposed flank, causing pain to erupt throughout his body. More angry moans started floating up from deeper within the tunnel, echoing off the walls, making it difficult to tell their number. These two were only the scouts. The sounds of battle were drawing the rest of the mob near. He couldn’t stay here long; it sounded as if there were numerous hungry monsters on their way and Gameknight999 was on their dinner menu.
Focusing on just one of the zombies, Gameknight slashed and slashed away at it, ignoring the pain caused by its companion. In a pop of glowing XP balls, the zombie disappeared, a confused look on its face when it realized it was about to die. Gameknight felt no remorse. Now he focused on the remaining monster, his iron sword driving the monster back.
“So you want some?” Gameknight yelled at the monstrosity. “Come on, LET’S DANCE!”
He hacked at his enemy faster and faster, trying to do more damage, the heat of battle masking the pain from his injuries.
The zombie flashed red.
“Yeah, how’s that feel?”
Slashing at its head . . . there was another flash of red, and then another. The zombie fought back, its sharp claws streaking through the air but just missing Gameknight as he leapt back, careful to stay out of reach; he didn’t want to feel those terrible claws again. Swinging his sword, he drove the creature backwards, not giving it time to strike back, and then pop, more glowing balls of XP littered the ground. He moved quickly to collect his prize, then ran back toward the cavern opening, yearning for the safety of his hidey-hole. This time keeping his torches on his left, he easily followed his trail of breadcrumbs back to the large cavern, the zombies staying in the shadowy depths of the tunnel doing whatever zombies do in the dark. No more monsters came out to challenge him. He was grateful for their cowardice because his left arm throbbed with pain, his health feeling slightly depleted. Clearly he’d taken some damage in the battle, adding urgency to his need for armor.
He could hear the waterfall up ahead as he ascended, the large cavern that was now bathed in shadow except for his torches, their circles of light pushing back the darkness in spots; it was night . . . monster hour. Running to the far wall, he ran up the stairway marked with a single torch. Once at the top, he sealed the tunnel with blocks of stone and then breathed a sigh of relief; he was safe in his hole. Pulling out his last piece of beef, he ate it quickly, the nourishment adding to his HP. The pain from the zombie attacks subsided a bit, but the fear still echoed with every heartbeat.
He needed information, needed to understand what had happened to him; what was this world all about? It couldn’t be a dream. The pain was too vivid, too real, the feeling of terror when facing attacking monsters was too overwhelming, not like a nightmare but like something more. The only place he might learn something was that village he’d seen, but in order to get there, he’d have to cross a lot of open land, and it was far away. He might not make it before sundown, and that meant monsters, lots of them. The last two zombies had been little trouble, but they’d still done some damage. What would it be like if he had to face six of them, and add a few spiders in there as well, and creepers . . . creepers. The thought of facing those mottled green walking bombs made Gameknight shiver with fear, but he knew he’d have to confront them, eventually. There would certainly be more mobs converging on the village, with creepers at the front lines, especially when night fell. He needed to make iron armor or he’d never survive the journey.
Moving to the furnace, he put all of his iron ore inside, thirty-one in total, and one stack of coal underneath. As the iron ore cooked in the furnace, Gameknight made some more torches. He then used his last stone pick and enlarged his hideyhole, removing blocks of stone and dirt, raising the ceiling and extending the walls. He then jumped up and placed a block of dirt directly beneath him, then repeated the process so that he was standing on two blocks. Facing the exterior wall, Gameknight dug horizontally, making a hole that went all the way through the wall but was above head height. This would allow sunlight into his cave but would not let any skeletons shoot arrows at him. This way he’d know if it was light outside without digging up his dirt door. It was still dark, the clicking of spiders, moans of zombies, and boing-boings of slimes trickling their way into his hole, the sounds making his spine tingle a little, maybe a lot, with fear.
Moving back to the furnace, he found nine iron ingots. Taking them all, he moved to the crafting bench. Placing eight pieces in the correct pattern, Gameknight made a chest plate. Putting it on, he went back to the furnace. Four more pieces were ready. Taking those and the one he already had, he was able to make an iron helmet. The armor seemed to drive a little bit of the fear away, making him feel safer and stronger, more like Gameknight999.
“I wish I could see what I look like,” he said aloud to no one. He had no idea what skin he was using or even what the armor might look like in this high-resolution world of Minecraft.
Turning back to the furnace, he found ten more pieces of iron. Not quite enough. Using seven of the ingots, he made a pair of iron leggings and put them on, flexing his legs. The metal pants felt unexpectedly flexible, not weighing him down at all, interesting. Then going back to the furnace, he grabbed four more ingots and crafted iron boots. Now he had a full set of armor; this changed everything. Drawing his sword, he swung it at imaginary attackers, feeling the weight of the armor on his body, the metal skin feeling tough and resilient yet at the same time, lightweight and completely flexible. Now he was ready to show this server who Gameknight999 really was.
Waiting for the remaining pieces to smelt into ingots, Gameknight wondered how this place worked. Was he running on his father’s computer . . . or on a server somewhere? What would happen if their computer lost power or froze up? These thoughts made a shiver run down his spine, goose bumps rippling against the cold iron. Gameknight liked to be in control, and this experience on this server was the opposite of that.
At school he was never in control, always hiding in the shadows from the bullies. He was neither the biggest boy in his grade nor the most athletic, nor the smartest; he was just an average kid who wanted to get by without too much hassle. Try to stay invisible, that was his goal in school, but in Minecraft, that was all different. In Minecraft, he was in control. He ruled the other players, griefing them whenever he felt like it, trolling them just for fun. He knew this game better than anyone—well, maybe except for Notch, Minecraft’s creator. With the latest mods and the most recent hacks, he could do what he wanted, and it didn’t matter how big he was or how fast he was or . . . In Minecraft, Gameknight999 was in control, until now, and this did not make him happy.
Turning back to the furnace, he took out the remaining ingots of iron and crafted an iron pick, iron axe, and iron shovel. Now he had a full set of tools. Putting the rest of the pork and chicken into the furnace, he cooked them quickly and put the food in his inventory; he’d need it when he left his hidey-hole. Pulling out his new shiny pick, he hacked away at his furnace and broke it up,
then did the same with the crafting bench, putting the essential tools into his inventory as well. Now he was ready. Placing a block of dirt next to his stack of two stone blocks, he stepped up and looked through the horizontal hole he’d just dug. He could see that the sun had risen. It was morning, and the sun’s square yellow face was now visible.
It was time.
Stepping down, he moved to the dirt blocks that enclosed his cave and dug them up with his shovel. They fell away easily. Stepping outside, he sealed his hidey-hole back up again. He’d learned long ago to never put a door on your hidey-hole, because griefers could find it and steal everything you had hidden there, as well as destroy your hideout. He knew that because he’d done it many times to those pathetic and unwary players. Looking to the east, he could see that the sun had fully risen; there was still time. Before setting out for the village, Gameknight scaled the small mountain that loomed over his hideout. Leaping quickly up the steep slope, he chose a path were he could ascend one block at a time.
Invasion of the Overworld Page 4
