Minecraft: Aloneness

“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

There are feelings, I think, that one can get from playing certain video games that replicate feelings that one can normally only get by having experiences in the real world. And even if said game can't replicate that feeling, one is sure to receive echoes of it. Minecraft is one of those video games that does this, that manages to bring you feelings that you could typically get only by being alone in the wilderness. By being surrounded by nothing but dense foliage as the sun is cresting down the horizon, light slowly diminishing and darkness soon to follow. By placing you in a situation where losing your way can lead to disastrous consequences for you and your belongings. By making sure that you are utterly, oppressively alone.

Mind you, this feeling is best applied while playing singleplayer Minecraft which, I believe, is still the standard intended way of playing the game. It wasn't originally a game with multiplayer in mind; in fact, getting multiplayer set up is a lot more complicated than it would be in any other game. You need to purchase and run and your own server, then invite others and give them certain permissions, or maybe join a popular one but those often need you to meet specific requirements, etc. The long and short of it is that it's complicated, maybe needlessly so, but it encourages more play by yourself in the game's extensive Survival Mode. Which leads to these so-called "moments" of aloneness that one gets wrapped up in.

To begin, the player wakes up by themselves in a wild world. As far as the eye can see, there's little but farm animals, wolves, and cats out in these green expanses. While beautiful, these vistas can also be haunting. The player is confused and left with little instruction on how to conduct themselves, on what to do now that they've entered a world larger than they can comprehend. It's scary and alarming to be alone in such a vast world. But you get set on building a house or, more likely, a shelter of some kind in the side of a mountain (or underground), and you spend the night huddled up against the corner as terrifying moans and horrific sounds assault your ears from the outside.

For you see, you are not alone in this world. Oh, sure, you're the only human being. But there are giant spiders, skeletons with bow-and-arrows, zombies, giant explosive monstrosities, and - most curiously - these shifty, enigmatic purple beings that are almost as tall as trees. These are the creatures of the night... and they're the only things in the world with you. Taking that information in is enough to make some more casual players of the game quit right on the spot, but most will persevere regardless of these haunting circumstances. Those that do so will find more resources, learn how these creatures operate (and how to countermand them), and eventually find some safety and security among the lonely surroundings.

It's all quite depressing as you mine deeper and deeper for minerals, but eventually you'll decided to build something. Maybe something tall so that the monsters can't get to you. And you spend a dark night up on that tower, watching the darkness envelope the land. Maybe it starts raining and you move close to your torches, observing the creatures down below - high above enough that their cries sound far away, but their forms remain visible under the tree leaves. You're there for a whole night, maybe ten minutes. Just watching and waiting, enraptured by the distant cacophony of zombie moans and spider mollusks. When the sun comes up - and it will - you see that the sun kills these creatures, burns up the zombies and skeletons. And soon the other creatures disappear, too, nowhere to be seen. You start to see something in all this. You start to see the beauty.

There's a visceral satisfaction to it, to conquering the darkness. To seeing its weakness. You start to pay more attention to the animals, to the way that the world works. You start to see that you can beat it. Maybe you adopt a pet cat or a pet wolf, either is welcome company. Suddenly, you're not so alone. Suddenly, nature has become your friend, come to your beck and call - as you begin sheering sheep, riding horses, and tilling your farmland. Suddenly, the aloneness isn't so bad - maybe even a bit freeing, a bit more like comfortable security. A bit more serene.

Maybe being alone is a good thing, after all.