Which Minecraft.net writer is the most hardcore?

Here’s each of our brave/inspiring/pathetic stories of trying to survive hardcore, a mode we shouldn’t ever be allowed to play again. Seriously, it’s amazing the three of us don’t perish playing creative mode.

DAY ONE – KELSEY

Before I started my journey, I contemplated what it meant to be “hardcore.” To me, something is hardcore when it’s really intense, a bit scary, and bold. So I decided before I even spawned, that I was going to make bold (read: stupid) decisions and only something really scary was going to take me down. This adventure was going to be a spiritual saga about how only the best mob could beat the best writer (read: me).  

I spawn in the taiga and immediately hit Alt+F4 in an attempt to turn up the brightness. This does not bode well (try it yourself if you want to see why). I load the game back up and start punching trees. I need wool to craft a bed and see a sweet little sheep just on the other side of the river. Lucky for me! Less lucky for the sheep, I guess.

Eventually, I dig a hole into the side of a hill and build a miserable looking hovel. It actually looks freakishly similar to my Swedish apartment (complete with no fixtures – what’s the deal with that, Sweden?). I tuck myself in around sunset of my first day, loaded up with wood, mutton, and a safe place to sleep.

My first day a huge success, I look over at Tom’s screen so I can start laughing at him.

DAY ONE – TOM

I can’t believe I’m dignifying this challenge with my presence. Obviously, I’m more hardcore than Kelsey and Per. I’m more hardcore than the middle of a diamond apple. ‘Tom’ is just a nickname and my real name is actually ‘Hardcore’. That’s right. My name is literally Hardcore Stone, a fact that would make me very cool, if my middle name wasn’t ‘Fluffykins’.

I’m so confident of my inevitable victory, that I plan to spend my long life in hardcore mode building a monument to how brilliant I am. I'm thinking a statue of myself made entirely of diamond blocks.

I spawn next to some pigs. My heart plummets into my already-rumbling stomach. Is it really worth attacking my favourite mob, the cute pink porkers that brighten up my day, just to stave off hunger?

Several pork chops later, I start bashing down birch trees. This would probably go faster if I was using an axe to chop them instead of a pork chop, but who cares? I’ve got plenty of time to waste. If there’s one thing I know about Minecraft, it’s that days pass in real-time. It’s only 1pm, so I’ve got aaaaaaaaages until sundown!

I fall into a lazy, relaxing rhythm of chopping and collecting birch blocks, not a care or concern in the world. The sunlight is starting to dim, but that’s probably just the Minecraft sky trying out a new Instagram filter. I’m so not worried, that I decide to ignore the stupid sky, keep chopping trees, and practise my victory speech for when I win this dumb challenge:

“Webster's dictionary defines ‘victory’ as ‘an act of defeating an enemy or opponent in a battle, game, or other competition’. My point is, the dictionary is an awful, boring book with no good characters and not nearly enough explosions. As my reward for winning this challenge, I want every copy of the dictionary burned and replaced with a copy of this brilliant victory speech instead.”

Hmmm, maybe a little too modest. I’m about to make some revisions when I hear a sound behind me. A spider? Impossible! I glare up at the sky and squeal with fright. The sun! It’s going home early?!

Wait a second… maybe Minecraft days aren’t in real time? Jens lied to me! Or I wasn’t listening to him. Anyway, I sprint up to the tallest cliff I can find, and start panic-placing birch blocks all around me. My magnificent monument to myself isn’t quite as grand as I’d hoped (the dirt roof, for example, reminds me way too much of Mojang’s new office) but beauty can wait – I need to survive!

Safely surrounded by my new birch cocoon, I tremble with fear at all the awful noises I can hear outside. Is that the creaking bones of a skeleton archer coming for me? Or someone taking their pet xylophone for a walk? Is that a zombie groaning? Or is that the sound I make when I’m scared (nah, that involves way more ugly-crying). Is that the sound of Kelsey laughing at me? Or is it… oh, it’s the sound of Per and Kelsey laughing at me.

After a long, sleepless night, I raise a trembling hand and risk mining a lone block away so I can see what’s going on outside. Hoorah! The moon is leaving the sky!

So ends my first day in hardcore mode. Success! I’m cold and frightened!

PER – DAY ONE

I love my dear colleagues more than life itself, but at the end of the day, they lack the passion to truly understand what it means to be hardcore. Hardcore is all about survival, and as my idol, mentor and life guru Bear Grylls probably would have said: “Survival is determination and protein”.

My goal, therefore, is simple: in order to win this challenge, I must become my character, identify with its hunger, and consume all the protein I can find.

My spawn into the Overworld couldn’t have been worse. I’ve barely started chopping wood with my bare fists before I’m suddenly ambushed by a nasty-looking zombie villager, lurking about in search for fresh meat. I panic. I scream. I apologise to my landlord for screaming. I hammer print screen in the hopes of getting photos of this unfair, yet astonishing, encounter. A zombie villager is neither rich in protein, nor someone you want to wrestle with empty-handed in a new hardcore session. To become protein for someone else isn’t part of my plan, so I raise my fists and begin to swing them back and forth.  

Despite my dizzy and defenceless state, I somehow manage to knock out my opponent, but my victory comes at a steep price. Not only am I still hungry – I’ve also lost more than half my life in the first couple of minutes of gameplay. Bruised in body and ego alike, I manage to crawl to a nearby cave with the little wood I’ve collected.  

Using a piece of andesite as a pillow, I try to get a good night’s sleep, but soon realise it’s still early morning in-game. Embarrassed by this terrible start, I spend the entire night carving out a mine to gather the few resources I can – all with a mere wooden pickaxe.  

WILL PER ESCAPE THE MEANACING MINES? WILL TOM LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BUILD A STATUE OF HIMSELF? WILL KELSEY EVER STOP STEALING FROM CHILDREN? CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO!