 I'm an avid Minecraft player, and a big fan of creepypastas. So when I heard that there existed a creepypasta about Minecraft, I was excited. I had big hopes for pastas about the game. I mean, it's Minecraft. Endless possibilities, right? You can be original with it, right? Right? Wrong. Looking through the various pastas, I came to realize that nearly all of them, followed in the identical formula. Spawnin', Something Weird, Hero Brine, End. It's an outdated cliche formula, that also traps almost all other gaming pastas that I'd read, and it's sickening. Why these authors cannot simply do something original, I have no idea. Let me tell you this outright. These writers have no idea what Minecraft is about. None at all. They think that Endermanian Lod you don't see is what's creepy about it. Because it has just run on so many levels, that it hurts. Well, allow me to tell you why Minecraft is creepy. And multiplayer doesn't count, okay? This counts as survival. The game is not about Hero Brine trying to take your soul. It is not about hidden files in the outdated folder. It's about isolation and solitude in its most ironic form, and it is powerful if you notice it. Minecraft is a story about you, the lonely human in an endless world. A wanderer, a farmer, a builder and warrior, capable of creating anything he desires, but must first try to survive on his own. But no matter what he builds, no matter what his crops yield, and no matter where he wanders, he will always be alone. He cannot become attached to the wildlife, because he must slaughter it for its meat. He cannot become attached to a tangle for us a lot, because they will eventually die by his hands, or at the hands of a horrible monster. The world itself taunts him. It gives him all the materials he could wish for, but not one true companion. He may come across a village, but the people are alien to him, unable to speak his language or aid him in any way, besides trading away basic goods for priceless gems. Most do not even acknowledge his presence among them. And lot becomes of him. Nothing. He will venture into the village itself, slay horrible abominations, and stop the in from destroying the world he became attached to. And no one will be there to notice. No one will be there to care. No one. Only him. He will even, once, see a message, apparently sent by his gods. And he lives his never-ending life. He will wander, and wander, and wander, until something kills him, may it be the undead wolves, or molten magma. He will wander forevermore, bidding and walking, because he can't fatigue. He can only hunger and feel pain. He can be blinded, poisoned, and lit with flames, but will not allow himself to die. Why is this? Because he thinks there's more. Because he desperately hopes that there's something else, something new to this world that he can find, although there is none. And when it's all mined, all dead, all harvested, all gone, he'll die and be reborn, and have to do it again. This is the truth of minecraft. This is the truth of the world that not created. Why this is, I don't know, but it just horrifies me when I think about it, because I am him. I'm the player, forcing the character to do all of this, just to fall till my own selfish boredom. Steve will live, Steve will die, and Steve will mine. That's all he will ever know. And you're forcing it on him.