This isn’t A Minecraft Movie, this is just a tribute

“This is it, buddy.”

“This is the awesome video game in which we’re gonna write our movie?”

“It’s a video game. It says it on the store page, it’s an official video game.”

“This is one of those lame kids games.”

“Ok. You wanna bail? Go ahead. You wanna walk away from your dreams, or do you want to come in here with me – like the hardcore Minecrafter I know – and change video game adaptation history?”

“Ok.”

“See, man, they’ve got redstone and everything.”

“Oh, wow, cool. No, look dude, you’ve gotta watch other people’s Minecraft movies.”

“Well, that’s where a little worldspace engineering comes in handy, my hard-crafting amigo.”

This is the greatest and best Minecraft movie in the world…tribute.

A short time ago, me and this Creeper here. We was hitchhiking through a long and lonesome biome. All of a sudden, there shined a shiny Ender Dragon, in the middle of the biome.

AND HE SAID: “Write the best Minecraft movie in the world, or I’ll eat your soul (soul)”.

Well, me and this creeper, we looked at each other, and we each said: “Okay”. And we wrote the first thing that came to our heads. It just so happened to be the best Minecraft movie in the world. It was the best Minecraft movie in the world!

It began with a hill. One from which me and the Creeper could look out across all of the blocky world. “This’ll do”, we both said. I started punching the ground, and soon atop the hill stood a hollow dirt block foot.

As the sun went down to end the first day of our Minecraft movie, I added a door to this low hangin’ fruit, so that it could act as a shelter from the hostile mobs the darkness would bring. I made the Creeper stand outside. It was a tough decision, he was my best friend, after all, and he hadn’t really done anything wrong. However, if we were going to have a Minecraft movie, I felt his presence in my dirt hovel was just too much of a risk.

It was a tough choice that blindsided me, but I was thinking of the children, what the Minecrafting public might think, and also a bit about my career as a would-be Minecraft movie maker. I didn’t have enough wool to build a bed that first night, so me and the Creeper just stood and stared at each other through the door.

When the sun rose once more, we got back to work. It was tough going, and by day six, we’d gathered enough dirt and cobblestone to build two feet, a pair of legs, and the bottom of a shirt. I looked into the Creeper’s eyes and it was easy to see: one and one makes two, two and one makes three, it was destiny. This was something that only happens once every hundred-thousand years or so, when the sun doth shine, and the moon doth glow, and the grass doth grow-ho.

Our creation had started to tower above the landscape, like the majestic monument to Minecrafting it would become. This meant I was beginning to risk falling to my death every time I ascended its form to place yet more blocks stretching skywards, with only spare dirt blocks, steps, and ladders standing between me and exploding into a pile of stuff. I was under a lot of stress, ok?

Then, it happened. Boom. A blast that could only have come from a Creeper destroyed half of one of the feet. I didn’t even see it happen, I only heard the noise and saw the aftermath. There was no evidence that my buddy was responsible – he was still there by my side – but I couldn’t be sure.

“I don’t feel it’s appropriate for you to continue helping me with my Minecraft movie when you could blow everything up at any time”, I said, trying to screw him over gently.

“Hiss,” he replied.

“Don’t push it,” I responded, in my best Ned Schneebly voice.

So, away he wandered, down the hill. I rebuilt the foot and pressed on. By day eight most of the cobblestone torso was built. While placing more blocks atop it and trying to work out how I would construct the arms, I spotted my buddy near the bottom of the hill. Momentarily distracted, I narrowly avoided falling to my death via some botched ladder parkour. I decided that I needed to be further off the ground, where all the Creepers lived, so by day 10 I’d moved my home into my heartless creation’s chest.

By day 15, I’d felled a bunch of trees and built both arms. The head was also beginning to take shape. We were getting there. This would be the best Minecraft movie in the world, one that could set the world alight like the proverbial flint and steel. That was, until I felt like I’d spoken too soon. On day 17, the feet were obliterated by several Creeper explosions. They couldn’t have been my buddy – he was still keeping his distance. As I rebuilt, and crafted some iron armour because nothing could kill the metal, I felt guilty. “I love that Creeper,” I thought to myself, “We had to take a block from crafting, but I love his explodey green butt. Everybody takes a block sometimes.”

By day 20, I had adorned the head with torch and wool eyeballs, before turning my focus to the hair and bushy beard. Looking out at my buddy from atop the nearly-complete Mineument, I mouthed: “We’ll be back.”

Day 24 was the final day of our Minecraft movie. I put the final touches onto the statue, and retreated to a safe distance so I could drink in what I’d built. A huge statue of Jack Black in Minecraft. My own Minecraft interpretation of Jack Black’s interpretation of Minecraft Steve. Like Lady Liberty, but greeting the hordes of eager new crafters my Minecraft movie would bring to every biome, immigrants seeking a new life among the blocks. In a place where you can do anything, provided you have the grit, determination, and also the ability to deliberately rig the entire situation in your favour whenever things get even slightly too tough.

It brought a tear to my eye. The Creeper joined me, as if we’d nether had any problems. We told everyone we were still roadies, but I could sense that he thought I’d been a bit of a prick of destiny.

Needless to say, the dragon was stunned. Whip-crack went his whippy tail, and the beast was done. He asked us (snort) “Be you angels?”, and we said, “Nay, we are but miners! Rock. Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh-ah-ah, ohhh, whoah, ah-whoah-oh. Goo-guh fli-goo gee-goo.

“Guh fli-goo, ga-goo-buh-dee. Ooh, guh-goo-bee, ooh-guh-guh-bee-guh-guh-bee. Fli-goo gee-goo, a-fliguh woo-wa mama Herobrine!”

And the peculiar thing is this, my friends. The Minecraft movie we wrote in those fateful days. It didn’t actually revolve around building a slightly crap statue of Jack Black.

This is just a tribute, you’ve gotta believe me, and I wish you were there. It’s just a matter of opinion. Alright. Alright!