Hahahaha....you want to know how they come up with new blocks, lad? Why is it that they're never seen before until a new land is discovered? People say that Notch makes them or it's a conspiracy by the Anti-Griefing Unit. I know better...they kept me in this jail in Adventure Mode for going on a decade. I know too much, but you come to me to learn the Secret, I'll tell you, but you must do me a favor." the man said. he smelled of dust and rotten flesh. After discovering the Redstone Block, I got to thinking How are they made?
In Minecraft School, we are taught three things, Creepers blow up, your bed is your friend, and that the Blocks were created by the Great Notch. But, I came across another block, this one doesn't quite seem to fit in. The person using it was in a scientist uniform and called it an Iron Furnace. Strange, why have I not heard of this block before? I asked how he crafted it and he showed me. Somehow, it didn't work for me.
Noticing I couldn't craft the simple upgrade to the furnace, the guy laughed.
"Of course you can't craft it, you need a Mod."
This interested me. "What's a Mod?" He pulled out a odd round plug out of the back of his head and handed it to me. Turning around, he pointed at the socket where it was inserted.
"It's a surgical implant that costs a stack of diamonds. Fortunately, I had a Fortune V pick to afford it." He told me that the Miners of Notch were the ones who forged the first mods, but after that, nobody knew who was spreading them. Apparently, they were needed in order to use blocks that were created It was then I asked the important question that led me on a journey.
"But...how was the block created?"
Shrugging, the man told me that a friend of his had told him about the implant and handed him the crafting guide with all the recipes, even one that creates a...Nuke it was called? It did the same damage as almost 100 blocks of TNT, but with disastrous consequences. Telling me where his friend lived, I headed off to see if I can't get to the bottom of whoever was creating these Mods. It could be anything from adding a new crafting recipe to re-inventing an entire land. They were more complicated than changing your sight since all that was needed for that were special glasses they sold at Wool shops.
At the time, I didn't know it, but I guess ever since that day the Anti-Grief agents have been following me every step of the way. On nearly every corner, I see them with their dark blue coats, a couple of which were in Creative Mode. They scare everyone. Those that aren't afraid are often tossed into jail or are permanently banished from the world. Some come back, making appeals from Oblivion to once again wreak havoc among the dwellers. But...that's another story, one I might tell another day.
Heading on to the house of the friend, I noticed that the door was missing and a good portion of it was in a crater. Scared, I looked around for him, but only saw a book and quill laying on a crafting table, opened to the last entry. Picking it up, I read the last few sentences, written in a hurry until it ended abruptly. It read:
The AGU have learned that I know the Secret.
Notch, help me as I preserve th--
Looking around, I noticed gunpowder lying on the cobblestone floor. It wasn't an accident, it was a murder. Seeing a chest and feared for my safety, I rummaged and found some broken Iron armor and an enchanted Diamond sword. Stored away along with the junk was another book, this one titled "IndustrialCraft" written by Dr. Enderman. Inside looked like a lot of gibberish. There were blocks I recognized, but a lot I couldn't understand. Placing it in my inventory, I went back outside. Maybe there were neighbors who knew what happened. I had saw several shacks, but wasn't sure if any had residents.
As quick as lightning, I was tied up with string. Turning around, I saw a Sheep man and a slime, both wearing the blue robes and the silver Bedrock patch stitched into the left shoulder indicating that they were from the AGU. Before I could react, the Sheep punched me, knocking me unconscious.
* * *
When I woke up, I found myself in the prison with a torn up hermit. He asked me what I was doing in here and that's when I told him my mission. This brings us up to speed, but now I have to figure out how to get out and to find the Mod creator. However, it seemed like nobody passed by the jail often. A passerby would glance, then dash away as if we were some kind of plague victims. I saw the sun rise, set, the moon pass several phases before help arrived. In an ironical twist of fate was my dear friend ProtoGoliath. Seeing me ravished with hunger, he dashed over and slipped several pieces of bread to me. I handed the hermit a couple, he looked like he needed it.
"Dude, what are you doing in prison? Did you grief someone's house?" ProtoGoliath asked, a smile forming on his face.
Sighing, I told him, "I was trying to find the origins of Mods, but I guess the Anti-Grief Unit didn't want me snooping around." I sat, defeated. I would never learn the secret now. All that awaits me is banishment from the world, off to find a new land that might accept me.
"Well, uh, I don't know how to tell you this, but I got a buddy in the AGU who owes me a favor."
"Really!?" I gripped the iron bars, hoping to get him in a hug when he told me there was a slight problem. My arms dropped as he told me:
"Last I heard of him, he was doing errands for the Admin." The Admin...they oversee everything that goes on in all the worlds. From managing shops to sending people into Oblivion, they were a force to be reckoned with. I've seen first-hand the power they wield, almost like a child with a toy. It made me shudder to even think of crossing one of them. "But, I might still be able to help. The Admin don't quite trust the AGU and are thinking that they're plotting against them. They don't have proof, yet they keep round-the-clock surveillance on them to see if they'll slip. If you're willing to help out, you might get released."
Seeing no other way out, I agreed to do it.
"Fantastic, I'll just get her right now." Putting his hand to his ear, I knew he was calling on the Admin in question. After several minutes, she appeared in an explosion of lightning. She looked somewhat bored as she stared at me.
Without turning, she asked aloud, "What did you call me for this time, ProtoGoliath. It better not be another upside-down tree."
"Well, my friend got locked up here and I was wondering if you might let him out."
She turned to him and stared with a viciousness I have yet to see. "Why would I do that!?"
Smiling, he replied, "He doesn't belong in there, got caught by the AGU for non-griefing, if you can believe it."
"Not griefing, you say? Well, then what was he doing?"
Taking a deep breath, he said in an even tone, "He was searching for the Secret."
I have never seen an Admin look scared before, but she was in fear of her life. She looked at me, stared hard, then I felt myself pulled to her. In an instant, I was outside the prison, free as a chicken!
ProtoGoliath continued, "I heard you were having Trust issues, so I convinced him to help out."
She turned to me with those fearsome eyes, "Are you lying to me?" I shook my head and stated my story. Seeing that I had a clean record, she believed me and said, "As ProtoGoliath has said, me and a couple other Admin don't trust them. If you can help us get the evidence we need to send them to Oblivion, the Master will gladly take you to the Origin of Mods.
Many tales have been told of the Master, all were tall tales or fantasies made up by new people to the world. The only people said to see him or her were the Admins. They were not allowed to say who the Master was. He controlled the entire world, creating entire towns, obliterating thousands of hostile mobs, or even re-fabricating the world to his liking. He exists solely to keep the blocks from falling apart, making everyone fall into the Deadful Void. Those that went in, came out blathering like madmen. It was painful to watch and a nightmare that I wouldn't wish on to my worst enemies.
If you liked Part I, I will be working on Part II shortly. However, writing is an art, and I would appreciate it if you donated. It is my wish to share only the best stories that I can offer to those that love to read or are looking for something to inspire you as you create your own stories or fan art.
In Minecraft School, we are taught three things, Creepers blow up, your bed is your friend, and that the Blocks were created by the Great Notch. But, I came across another block, this one doesn't quite seem to fit in. The person using it was in a scientist uniform and called it an Iron Furnace. Strange, why have I not heard of this block before? I asked how he crafted it and he showed me. Somehow, it didn't work for me.
Noticing I couldn't craft the simple upgrade to the furnace, the guy laughed.
"Of course you can't craft it, you need a Mod."
This interested me. "What's a Mod?" He pulled out a odd round plug out of the back of his head and handed it to me. Turning around, he pointed at the socket where it was inserted.
"It's a surgical implant that costs a stack of diamonds. Fortunately, I had a Fortune V pick to afford it." He told me that the Miners of Notch were the ones who forged the first mods, but after that, nobody knew who was spreading them. Apparently, they were needed in order to use blocks that were created It was then I asked the important question that led me on a journey.
"But...how was the block created?"
Shrugging, the man told me that a friend of his had told him about the implant and handed him the crafting guide with all the recipes, even one that creates a...Nuke it was called? It did the same damage as almost 100 blocks of TNT, but with disastrous consequences. Telling me where his friend lived, I headed off to see if I can't get to the bottom of whoever was creating these Mods. It could be anything from adding a new crafting recipe to re-inventing an entire land. They were more complicated than changing your sight since all that was needed for that were special glasses they sold at Wool shops.
At the time, I didn't know it, but I guess ever since that day the Anti-Grief agents have been following me every step of the way. On nearly every corner, I see them with their dark blue coats, a couple of which were in Creative Mode. They scare everyone. Those that aren't afraid are often tossed into jail or are permanently banished from the world. Some come back, making appeals from Oblivion to once again wreak havoc among the dwellers. But...that's another story, one I might tell another day.
Heading on to the house of the friend, I noticed that the door was missing and a good portion of it was in a crater. Scared, I looked around for him, but only saw a book and quill laying on a crafting table, opened to the last entry. Picking it up, I read the last few sentences, written in a hurry until it ended abruptly. It read:
Looking around, I noticed gunpowder lying on the cobblestone floor. It wasn't an accident, it was a murder. Seeing a chest and feared for my safety, I rummaged and found some broken Iron armor and an enchanted Diamond sword. Stored away along with the junk was another book, this one titled "IndustrialCraft" written by Dr. Enderman. Inside looked like a lot of gibberish. There were blocks I recognized, but a lot I couldn't understand. Placing it in my inventory, I went back outside. Maybe there were neighbors who knew what happened. I had saw several shacks, but wasn't sure if any had residents.
As quick as lightning, I was tied up with string. Turning around, I saw a Sheep man and a slime, both wearing the blue robes and the silver Bedrock patch stitched into the left shoulder indicating that they were from the AGU. Before I could react, the Sheep punched me, knocking me unconscious.
When I woke up, I found myself in the prison with a torn up hermit. He asked me what I was doing in here and that's when I told him my mission. This brings us up to speed, but now I have to figure out how to get out and to find the Mod creator. However, it seemed like nobody passed by the jail often. A passerby would glance, then dash away as if we were some kind of plague victims. I saw the sun rise, set, the moon pass several phases before help arrived. In an ironical twist of fate was my dear friend ProtoGoliath. Seeing me ravished with hunger, he dashed over and slipped several pieces of bread to me. I handed the hermit a couple, he looked like he needed it.
"Dude, what are you doing in prison? Did you grief someone's house?" ProtoGoliath asked, a smile forming on his face.
Sighing, I told him, "I was trying to find the origins of Mods, but I guess the Anti-Grief Unit didn't want me snooping around." I sat, defeated. I would never learn the secret now. All that awaits me is banishment from the world, off to find a new land that might accept me.
"Well, uh, I don't know how to tell you this, but I got a buddy in the AGU who owes me a favor."
"Really!?" I gripped the iron bars, hoping to get him in a hug when he told me there was a slight problem. My arms dropped as he told me:
"Last I heard of him, he was doing errands for the Admin." The Admin...they oversee everything that goes on in all the worlds. From managing shops to sending people into Oblivion, they were a force to be reckoned with. I've seen first-hand the power they wield, almost like a child with a toy. It made me shudder to even think of crossing one of them. "But, I might still be able to help. The Admin don't quite trust the AGU and are thinking that they're plotting against them. They don't have proof, yet they keep round-the-clock surveillance on them to see if they'll slip. If you're willing to help out, you might get released."
Seeing no other way out, I agreed to do it.
"Fantastic, I'll just get her right now." Putting his hand to his ear, I knew he was calling on the Admin in question. After several minutes, she appeared in an explosion of lightning. She looked somewhat bored as she stared at me.
Without turning, she asked aloud, "What did you call me for this time, ProtoGoliath. It better not be another upside-down tree."
"Well, my friend got locked up here and I was wondering if you might let him out."
She turned to him and stared with a viciousness I have yet to see. "Why would I do that!?"
Smiling, he replied, "He doesn't belong in there, got caught by the AGU for non-griefing, if you can believe it."
"Not griefing, you say? Well, then what was he doing?"
Taking a deep breath, he said in an even tone, "He was searching for the Secret."
I have never seen an Admin look scared before, but she was in fear of her life. She looked at me, stared hard, then I felt myself pulled to her. In an instant, I was outside the prison, free as a chicken!
ProtoGoliath continued, "I heard you were having Trust issues, so I convinced him to help out."
She turned to me with those fearsome eyes, "Are you lying to me?" I shook my head and stated my story. Seeing that I had a clean record, she believed me and said, "As ProtoGoliath has said, me and a couple other Admin don't trust them. If you can help us get the evidence we need to send them to Oblivion, the Master will gladly take you to the Origin of Mods.
Many tales have been told of the Master, all were tall tales or fantasies made up by new people to the world. The only people said to see him or her were the Admins. They were not allowed to say who the Master was. He controlled the entire world, creating entire towns, obliterating thousands of hostile mobs, or even re-fabricating the world to his liking. He exists solely to keep the blocks from falling apart, making everyone fall into the Deadful Void. Those that went in, came out blathering like madmen. It was painful to watch and a nightmare that I wouldn't wish on to my worst enemies.
If you liked Part I, I will be working on Part II shortly. However, writing is an art, and I would appreciate it if you donated. It is my wish to share only the best stories that I can offer to those that love to read or are looking for something to inspire you as you create your own stories or fan art.