The Nether and I
A moving tale about moving
Have you been to the Nether? Before this whole update malarkey happened, I had not! To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really aware of the Nether getting an update until Kelsey wrote about all the scary things you can find there. If something could scare the bravest person I know, I needed to avoid it at all costs. When I announced this to my team our producer Vera reminded me that the cost very much includes my job. Staying true to the reasonable person that I am, I took Vera’s attempt to save me from myself as a challenge. Which is how I ended up starting a new life in the Nether.
Yes dear reader, I moved to the Nether. Some have called this move ”drastic”, ”petty”, and ”the most stubborn act of self-ownage since you cut your own bangs”. Luckily I can’t hear the haters thanks to these awesome extra-long bangs that are totally not a bowl-cut.
Moving to the Nether turned out to be the best decision I ever made. I don’t need to worry about trivial matters of the Overworld, such as making my bed. I don’t even need to worry about owning a bed at all! Who needs fitted, 1800 thread count sheets when you have a respawn anchor that allows you to safely spawn in the Nether? Now I can explore with my regular reckless abandon and know that I will always find my way back home. Is there a limit to the amount of times one can respawn within an hour? I could ask the developers, but I believe that they have blocked my calls somehow.
Not having a bed freed up my first night in the Nether for more crying than usual. Since almost everything around me was lethal, plenty of tears were shed. I was taking a little sobbing stroll when I heard someone else’s soft sniffles. Would I end up finding a kindred spirit on the very first night in my new home? I made my way towards the siren’s literal cry and lo and behold, it was a block of crying obsidian.
We all know about the practical benefits of both crying obsidian and the regular variety, which I like to refer to as stoic obsidian: resilient, strong, purple. Crafts anchors. Gives your Nether a regal flair. The list goes on. But has anyone really taken the time to find out why it cries? No. Because they lack my compassion, dedication, and free time.
Obviously, there was only one thing left for me to do. Resign as a Minecraft.net writer and start a new career as Mojang Studio’s first and foremost Block Psychologist & Mob Life Coach. I penned a very professional letter to Vera informing her of this change, but instead of replying in kind she sent me a very encouraging recording of her laughing. It almost sounds like she’s saying “No”, but it was hard to tell.
Even though the crying obsidian hasn’t stopped weeping, I think it might be crying even harder now, I felt ready to expand my client base. Before I could start passing out flyers, I heard a curious chirping coming from a nearby pool of lava. I scanned the boiling death juice and saw a creature making its way towards me. My heart melted faster than if it were immersed in a hot liquid of some kind when I realized that it was a baby Strider riding and adult Strider!
I invited them to my respawn anchor so we could have a cup of tea and assess their family therapy needs. But after a few steps away from the lava, the Strider turned purple and looked considerably less happy. Yeesh. This might be a case that was too complicated even for me, a seasoned expert. I explained to the Strider family that I was just too swamped with crying obsidian right now, and they would have to solve their lava dependency on their own. Besides, I should really set up my practice properly before I take on new clients.
Sure, I could build an office. It would have been incredible, rivaling great architectural wonders of the world such as the Centre Pompidou in Paris or my sandcastle that washed away on the beach last summer. I chose not to do that before I had properly explored the area. I didn’t want to offend any locals right away by ignoring their buildings. That is Day Two behavior.
After wandering around for several long minutes, I found a quaint little fortress – something the developers call a “bastion remnant”? Perfect! The open ceiling plan and the abundance of blackstone would give my clients the sense of freedom, and the fort-like vibe would be a nice reminder that I was not to be questioned.
I walked up to what I decided was the front door and was just about to make myself at home when a hoard of Piglins started running towards me. A welcome party! How nice. I quickly donned my golden party outfit that I always keep on hand in case someone wants to present me with an award. They stopped in their tracks and looked at me in awe. Luckily, I am used to being admired and know exactly how to act in these situations. These suckers were prime targets for a shady trade.
I dropped an iron ingot in front of the Piglins, but instead of applauding my generosity they turned on me. I tried to reason with them by dropping cobblestone blocks and even some gravel but they were beyond reason. I could see the hostility in their eyes so I threw a fern as a declaration of war and got the heck out of there.
One totally voluntary respawn later, I had to face facts. I needed help. There was no way that I could set up my new practice on my own. There were just too many small details, and I should be focusing on forging my doctorate degree from the Village University. This was a job that could only be solved by someone with an eye for detail, more juggling arms than a double octopus, and the patience of a saint. This was a job for a producer.
I took a deep breath, swallowed my pride, and called Vera. After forty minutes of crying begging reasonable debate, we finally came to a conclusion. I would continue writing for Minecraft.net as long as Vera found me a place to stay in the Nether. She had seen my previous attempts at providing shelter for myself and had already gotten the number of our colleague Cristina’s real estate agent. Now all I have to do is survive a few more days. Ooooh, is that a zoglin? I better go introduce myself! Be right ba–
- Written By
- Sofia Dankis