How did Minecraft begin? Well, there was the time when Notch began developing a "Cave Game," which turned into Minecraft Classic, then Indev and Infdev, then Alpha, and update after update it was molded into the massively popular game it is today.

But this this story takes place before Indev, before Cave Game. Who knows, it even could have taken place before Notch. It takes place in the world of Minecraft before Minecraft ever existed, in a place we will never really know.

There was a blocky island, with blocky clouds and blocky trees and blocky animals prancing around.

And a blocky Player woke up on this island. We'll call him a male, since there is no real sex to describe him with, and we'll call him a human too. So this young Player stood up. He did not know who he was, or why he was on this island, but it was no matter. In that way, the Player was carefree. He thought only of blocks, and sought after blocky goals.

The first goal was to gather wood. The Player knew where to find it, in the nearby forest. With a crunch, a block of wood was missing from one of the motionless trees. It was the first block gone from the world. It was the first block that belonged to the Player, so the Player treasured it. He made it into different blocks-- wooden planks, crafting tables. Blocks the world had never seen before. Then he made a crude wooden pickaxe.

Soon the Player sought another goal. He knew he was meant to explore the vastness below the grass and dirt, below the sun's reach. So he dug into the ground and gathered stone, and cobblestone was introduced into the world. He continued to dig and found a few pieces of iron and coal embedded in the rock. Furnaces and ingots came to be. The Player would see more of the underground later. He had time to do everything, and no need to rush.

With an iron pickaxe in hand, the Player explored the island. He trekked across the forest within and ambled around the sandy beaches without. The sun was sinking through the horizon line, the sky turning vibrant shades of citrine and jasper, ruby and amethyst. Then it only grew dark, and the blocky world was cold. The Player felt alone for the first time, but he shook off the tugging feeling inside himself. He was not alone.

There was a moan, and the Player was reminded of himself, though the Player had never made a sound before. Then there was a snarl. The Player turned around. A blocky thing approached him. It wore torn clothing and its skin was discolored, its eyes unconscious though its body moved purposefully towards the Player and struck him forcefully. The Player had never felt pain before, or known what harming was, but he knew what he needed to do. He swung his iron pickaxe at the thing until it fell upon its side and vanished suddenly from the island, leaving only a scrap of rotten flesh. The flesh stank. The Player did not know the meaning of a bad smell, but he knew the meaning of hunger, so he picked it up and ate it quickly. He was only satisfied briefly, because he became a bit sick and was soon hungry again-- but it was enough to allow him to heal. No more creatures came upon him that night, but he crafted a razor-sharp sword of iron. The Player stood facing East, waited for his wound to heal, and waited for the sun to rise, for he knew it would. And it did eventually.

The Player continued his exploration of the surface of the world. This time, a large area of exposed stone blocks appeared in the distance. The Player approached it. As he grew nearer, it became clear that there was something else mixed in with the stone, and a great deal of it. As he was on top of it, he saw what this something was, and excitement raced through the Player's blocky being. Precious ores glittered in the rock, red and green and yellow and blue. Iron was there too, with about half as much glimmer, and coal with less. They were everywhere, all over the surface of the rock. The diamond was the most appealing with its pure aqua glow, so the Player dislodged some of it with its pickaxe. A surge of wild happiness and pride came over him. There was only more diamond. It was a massive cluster of ore in the rock, which led into another cluster of emerald, which uncovered gold and redstone and coal and iron and lapis lazuli. And more diamonds still. The Player spent hours uncovering these treasures, until his pickaxe broke and he needed to make large chests of wooden planks in order to store the wealth. It was easy to make another pickaxe, this time out of diamond.

By the end of the day, the surface was clear of ores-- but there was more still beneath the surface. The ores were endless, but the euphoria of harvesting them and gazing upon their pure glimmer was the same. There was one thing that was certain though: there were more creatures that sought out the Player each night. Many much like the rotting bipedal creature the Player had first seen had tried to harm him, but that was not all. Emaciated skeletons armed with bows and tried to pierce the Player with flying arrows, and engorged spiders with fiery eyes tried to pierce the Player with their fangs. It was no matter. The Player made a suit of armor with his endless supply of diamond, and a deadly blade too.

The Player mined and mined, for weeks, for years, for something like an eternity. He had found odd cages that spawned creatures regularly to harm him; he surrounded them with heavy cobblestone so the creatures could not escape to harm him. The Player had even become intimate with the earth's core. He knew not to touch the painfully bright pools of molten orange lava. There were also areas where the lava had become solidified. The Player tried for hours to break the ancient black rock. It would not break; it simply never would. Why did it frustrate the Player so that he could not possess such a block, when it was devoid of any luster or shine? The Player turned around. He noticed a few diamonds that he had overlooked-- a few lodged in the rock above him. After all these centuries, this was the first time that he decided to ignore a diamond. Instead, the Player decided to look at the world underground.

The earth was no longer solid. It was filled with networks of caverns, large gashes where ores had once been. Shame and pride mingled in the darkness, cancelling out and leaving the Player with nothing but his blocky goals, in a blocky world. But now, the blocky world had holes. And the Player had infinite amounts of shining ores with bittersweet colors. He decided to build tunnels, long storage chambers for his ores, where he could push carts of ores along rails and transport them. These were straight and concise, and lined with metal rails, but the Player felt that something was missing. Without understanding his own motives, the Player placed wood and fences to make arched structures throughout the shaft, and lit the tunnels with torches. He did not know why, but he had a sudden urge to give the blocks, that he the Player created, a place in the blocky world. More shame and pride mixed into nothing, and into blocks.

After a very long time of creating elaborate shafts for his ores, the Player traveled back to the surface. The sunlight was still familiar, after what was close to forever. The surface had no holes, just motionless trees and motionless grassy dirt. This was not the island that the Player had known. The grass was a darker color, and imposing, ancient cliffs stood poised all around him. He had dug himself into another place above the surface. The grass was an olive color in the distance, covered with tall tufts of overgrown wheatgrass. The Player ventured to that place, as it was flatter land.

Why was it appealing that the land was flat? The Player could not guess until he noticed the sun lowering, and saw the sky in its jasper and amethyst mood. The creatures. They would come. Diamond armor and blade could easily defend the Player, but he simply wanted respite. So he took his cobblestone block in hand.

The Player built a square of cobblestone on the ground. He raised it higher with more cobblestone, and with wood. He wanted to be able to see the world so he added windows of glass, and a roof to keep out rain.

Then he made another.

This time he laid a rectangle of cobblestone on the ground. A rectangle, not a square. He raised the walls again, and added windows again, and a pointed roof which suited the building's shape.

This structure was new. It was of cobblestone, it was of wooden planks. And it was a rectangle, not a block. So the player added a chest to the interior, and stored a few of the valuables he had on hand.

Over a short period of time, more buildings came to be. There was a building for furnaces and smelting ores, a tower to see over the other buildings, and many more houses. The Player built a road of gravel too, to mark the entrances and exits. One night, creatures came. These were not the same. They were noisy like the rest, and strange-looking like the rest, but they did not harm the player. These new creatures had prominent noses, and long robes. Their colors were mild; peach skin and lightly dyed clothing. The Player left them be, and the creatures of the night left them be as well.

The Player learned to trade emeralds with the new creatures. They offered food and equipment, things that the Player could easily obtain by himself, but this was a new system, a new thing. The Player did it often, not knowing why.

Then the next night, the creatures of the night did not leave the villagers alone anymore. They tried to harm them just like they harmed the player, and the villagers had no armor or diamond blades, and had no idea how to fight back. On top of that, a new creature had appeared. It was green like summer leaves, sliding around on four small tentacles, and it made a quiet hiss as it moved. It slid and hissed over to the Player, and it burst in an explosion of pride and shame, and it destroyed blocks. It destroyed rectangular buildings too. It had an empty face, and it was the first creature to give the Player fear. So the Player built an automaton out of iron, and taught it to defend the villagers. It was stronger than the player, and could easily destroy the creatures of the night. Unfortunately, the automaton was reluctant to kill the Creeper.

Soon, the Player grew tired of the village, so he explored the blocky continent, and found a large area of dry sand, with dead plants and cacti all about. He tried breaking the sand, which easily gave way, and discovered a layer of compressed, solidified sandstone underneath. The Player gathered much of it with a goal in mind. This goal was not blocky; it took the shape of a temple. The Player constructed a solitary palace of sandstone. In the heart of it he placed several chests of wealth, but it was not enough.

Mischief struck the Player for the first time, with more pride and shame and blocks. He constructed an explosive, a red block that was made from the dust of the creeper, and acted like the creeper. The Player put it beneath the sandstone floor, along with a flat switch to detonate it. Then he departed.

He made similar monuments everywhere, in more deserts and plains, and jungles too. Buildings rose, temples rose, villagers came, explosives were laid, everywhere, far and wide. One night, a new creature came.

This new creature was all long, black sinews, with eyes that glowed a purple color. It was not the amethyst of the sky; it was a purple from another blocky world, not this blocky world. The Player found himself in that other blocky world.

The sky in the End was every biome and block and chunk and item and animal from the Overworld, every scrap of pride and shame, all condensed into a mass of dark, distant noise. The ground was a chalky, porous stone, and there were pillars of obsidian all about, with gyrating crystals on top of them which glowed like the Enderman's eyes. Synchronized with their gyrations was a deep, distant breath which resonated inside of the Player with an ancient terror. Endermen walked the world, and something was flying, breathing, breathing life, and the Player noticed that his own breath too was synchronized.

A voice entered the player's mind from the flying being. The voice was in no language; it was in being and pride and shame.

"You know why you are here, Herobrine," it said to him. Herobrine-- what an interesting name the Player had, for he had never known what a name was until that moment.

Herobrine could only think that he didn't know.

"You do deep inside. You saw it coming the moment you left the diamond in its bed of stone. I will remind you, if need be. You are my creation, Herobrine. You are a part of me, a seed of my being planted in the Overworld."

The Enderdragon flew closer, its shroud of black wings spanning an even greater distance than Herobrine had mined into the rock of the Overworld. The presence was more than he could comprehend.

Herobrine wondered what such a being could be asking of him.

"What do I ask of you? That part, Herobrine, you have already fulfilled. I created you to disrupt the balance of the Overworld. Because before you, the universe was unchanging. There was motion, but aimless motion is the same as no motion at all. I wanted change, just like you wanted to find a new biome, build a new monument. I wanted your goals, your greed, your ingenuity, your bravery, your brutality, your pride, your shame, and the creation and deletion of blocks. You set the universe on its side, and the monsters that attacked you were only a residue from the chaos it took to set the universe straight again. Look."

An image took over Herobrine's vision. It was a world of caverns, of fire and smoke and lava and red, red, red.

"Herobrine, you created this world."

Herobrine grew weak. This scale of creation and destruction, this size and vastness and loneliness chilled him to the bone. He could not even see the individual blocks; they all blended into each other into a sea of the chaos that made unity. Then the image disappeared, and Herobrine was surrounded by obsidian and end stone and silent noise once more.

"A block you destroy in the Overworld is worth a hundred in the Nether. A block you build is worth a hundred as well. Herobrine, now begins the struggle to maintain balance. There is a new dawn, a new eternity, and it begins now. You have fulfilled your part. Now more like you come pouring into the Overworld. But you have grown too much; you cannot stay. You have a day more to live. Do what is right, before this age is over. One more thing to say: I will give you an egg. Then I will have only one other to give. Use it well."

The Enderdragon drew closer. Closer and closer still, until the glow of its eyes penetrated into Herobrine's soul, for Herobrine knew that he had a soul. Closer and closer, and Herobrine realized that it was all made of blocks.

Then it was gone. It was not gone though; it was flying in the distance again. A portal was at Herobrine's feet, a portal of silent noise, with a dragon egg.

Herobrine knew what to do at once. He picked up the dragon egg, and gathered the chalky stone, and half in a trance used the two things to create twelve blocks of ornate, runed end stone. Then he climbed into the portal.

He was home. He was in the Overworld. He was Herobrine now, and could only be for a day.

Herobrine was in one of his caves. He had a blocky goal. He gathered stone bricks and built a different structure inside the earth. In a complex system of rooms and doors and blocks, he came to a final room, and the Stronghold was complete. The walls were beginning to seep with the chaos that made unity. He placed the heavy portal frames, but knew it was not his duty to make the portal appear. That was for the new eternity, the creation of a passage.

He knew his duty was over. He knew he had no more pride or shame.

No more blocks.

Herobrine could feel the day was almost over; he could feel the jasper and ruby and amethyst in the sky, and wished he could be there to see it. He was in a hole in the earth instead, one that he made, to disrupt the balance. He began to cry. The tears were not blocks, they were real tears, because he would leave the world of blocks.

Chaos seeped through the stronghold like an invisible river. It was creeping closer.

It was no matter.

In that way, Herobrine was carefree.

He let the chaos wash over him. He let it seep through him, his blocks sloughing away. He was gone. He had played his part. A mass of code was released, a whole generation of Players was released. A new eternity was now. Chaos to make unity. Pride and shame to make chaos. Pride, and shame, and

blocks.

In 2009, Notch began the development of Cave Game.

END by CreamWafers of Reddit