Hotel hero

A close inspection reveals that the villagers' homes (you might describe them as hovels, but I'm much too polite to) are built of cobblestone and spruce logs. And much like the work of pioneering brutalist architects such as Le Corbusier and Marcel Breuer, these building materials have been left in their raw form rather than being covered up with some kind of shiny – or attractive – veneer. 

You can see, for instance, where patches of moss have grown on the cobblestones. A house-proud or hygienic person might have been tempted to wipe that away, but not the villagers. It seems that they loooove lichen and they hate well-meaning entrepreneurs who have only ever wanted their respect and friendship. That's fine. It's totally fine.

So, how am I going to make use of these humble components in my luxury hotel? The answer is to take the villager house design and make it incredibly big, of course! Now, unfortunately that means I'm going to have to cut down yet another patch of old-growth forest, but I'm sure the villagers will be thanking me once they're ordering massages and lobster from a reasonably priced menu of room service options.

Once those pesky, good-for-nothing, oxygen-producing trees are all out of the way, work can begin in earnest. I start with the cobblestone walls before recreating that iconic pitched roof, taking care to align the blocks so that the bare spruce is visible at the end of each plank. And while the villager house I'm using as my model boasts a window size of just one block, I decide to carve out a 25 block square for my own glazing. After all, nothing says luxury like a huge slab of expensive, highly breakable glass. The finishing touch is to add similarly massive window shutters in the form of trapdoors, just like the villagers do.

There's no use sitting on my laurels and waiting for the architectural awards to start pouring in – I need to start designing some rooms. After all, a hotel is only as good as its bedrooms, and if I want to charge top dollar for a stay, I'm going to need some spectacular interiors to justify the price tag. 

I decide that each room will be themed in such a way to appeal to villagers. Soon, my sketchpad is overflowing with ideas: a woolly little hideaway for the shepherd, a book-filled haven for the librarian, and a terrifying room made of 100% meat for the butcher. Sure, these spaces may be a little niche, but I have an ace up my sleeve – an idea so certain to appeal to every type of villager that I'd be willing to bet my entire business empire on it. 

I call it the moss room. 

Soon, my crowd-pleasing creation is beginning to take shape. Guests enter through grand spruce double doors and step onto a carpet of pure moss. The floor-to-ceiling window offers a stunning view of the village – or it would if I hadn't replaced all the glass with slime blocks (after all, if you like moss you're bound to like slime). I even replace a chunk of the roof with pure slime in the hope that it'll cast the room in a sickly green hue. 

Once my guests are tired of stroking the clump-ridden decor, they can rest for the night on a putrescent-green bed. By the following morning, they'll be ready for another packed day of touching gross furry plants

Ultimately, however, I am a victim of my own success. At a certain point, the moss room becomes so green and slippery and weird that I'm no longer willing to step foot in it. I try to send a nearby villager in to complete the design on my behalf, but once they step inside they never return. I can only assume they're so enraptured by my creation that they intend to live there forever. 

With no means of billing this trespasser, I'm forced to chalk this venture up as another notable failure. On the plus side, though, I have at least learned some lessons. The first is that luxury can mean different things to different people. The second is that eating can after can of condensed milk can make you really sick. But the greatest lesson of all is that all my ideas are fantastic and I don't need to reevaluate my approach at all. See you next time!