Jafar

For the first hour, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t completely freak out. Pacing, swearing, trying to force myself to wake up like it was some lucid nightmare. I even pinched my arm a few times—just left me with a sore spot. But the longer I stayed here, the more reality (or whatever this is) started to sink in. I’m still freaked out, don’t get me wrong—every now and then, I catch myself staring off into the distance, half-expecting my computer screen to blink back into view. But there’s a small, selfish part of me that’s relieved. No emails to reply to, no interviews to prep for, no obligations outside of surviving and exploring this weird, blocky world. It’s like the universe hit the pause button on all the crap I’ve been avoiding, and I’m not about to waste that chance.

I lean against the nearest tree, letting out a sigh as I catch my breath. It’s only been a few hours since I ended up here, and already, my legs feel like lead. Turns out walking around in a game isn’t quite as easy when you actually have to do it yourself. I glance down at my almost empty inventory bar and scowl. The classic wooden pickaxe—it’s like starting from scratch in the worst way possible. I need better gear, but the thought of digging down into the depths of a mine, swinging a pickaxe for hours, makes my arms ache just thinking about it.

I shake off the exhaustion and head towards a cave entrance. It’s quiet, apart from the occasional drip of water echoing from deeper inside. I grab some coal from a wall, mumbling to myself as I do. “Right, so I’ve got torches. Next up: stone tools.” The words feel stupidly comforting, like I’m following a checklist on autopilot. Anything to avoid the bigger, emptier questions lurking in the back of my mind.

As I swing my pickaxe, chipping away at the stone, I find myself grumbling at the absurdities of this world. “Why do bats exist here, anyway?” I mutter, watching one flutter overhead. “They don’t drop anything. They’re just... decorative.” I roll my eyes. It’s like the game’s trying to convince me this is a real ecosystem while still pulling nonsense like this.

I pause to stretch, leaning back with a groan. My back is already tight from bending over to mine, and I can feel the stiffness setting into my shoulders. I drop the pickaxe for a moment and stare up at the rocky ceiling. It’s exhausting in a way I didn’t expect. Sure, I’ve played Minecraft for hours on end before, but actually being here, having to use my own body—it’s a different beast entirely. I’m drenched in sweat, and I’ve barely made it past the surface ores.

By the time I hit stone tools, I’ve already gone through two pickaxes. I stop to make another crafting table, rubbing at the calluses forming on my palms. “Great. Blisters in a video game. Just what I needed.”

I finally dig into a vein of iron, but the satisfaction is fleeting. My arms feel like they’re about to give out, and I haven’t even made it that far underground. I sit down on a patch of grass at the cave’s mouth, breathing heavily. “This is going to take forever,” I mutter to no one in particular, the words echoing back at me from the cave walls.

I’ve never realised how much noise I actually make in the real world—music playing, podcasts running in the background, the hum of my computer fans. Here, there’s just silence, save for the drip of water and the faint rustle of leaves outside. I rest my head back against the stone wall, staring up at the narrow strip of sky I can see through the cave entrance. It’s calming in a weird way, like being in a sensory deprivation tank but with the constant, distant threat of a creeper lurking just out of sight.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I exhale, forcing myself to get up, even though my legs feel like jelly. I need food, and fast. My hunger bar is already halfway down, and the bread I found in a random chest barely did anything. “Alright,” I say, pushing myself off the ground, “time to play hunter-gatherer.”

Outside, the sun hangs low in the sky. I can already feel the temperature dropping—another detail I didn’t expect the game to have. I scan the treeline, looking for animals. It’s a slow walk as I head through the forest, every step dragging like I’m wading through mud. It’s the exhaustion creeping in, a bone-deep fatigue that doesn’t match the number of hours I’ve been here. My brain knows it’s only been a few hours, but my body feels like I’ve been hiking all day.

I finally spot a couple of pigs grazing in the clearing ahead. I can’t help but smirk, shaking my head. “You poor bastards,” I say, half-apologetic. “At least you’re not just running into walls like chickens do.”

With a quick sprint, I charge forward, swinging my stone sword down hard. The pig drops instantly, leaving behind a chunk of raw pork. I pause, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. There’s a slight breeze, and it almost feels real, like a faint whisper against my skin. It’s unsettling—too close to reality to ignore.

I gather the meat, then sit down to craft a quick furnace, smirking at the simplicity of it. “Throw some stones together and boom, instant furnace. Wish it was that easy back home.” I light it up with a bit of coal, watching as the pork starts to cook. The smell hits me a moment later, and my stomach growls loudly, the sound echoing louder than I expected.

The meat sizzles and pops, and I can’t help but salivate a little. “God, I’d kill for some actual seasoning,” I mutter, pulling the cooked pork out and taking a bite. It’s... not great. Kind of bland, like overcooked tofu, but it’s warm and filling, and right now, that’s enough.

I eat quickly, the warmth spreading through me, and stand up, feeling a bit more energised. The sun is setting now, casting long shadows over the forest floor. I know what’s coming next—mobs are going to start spawning any minute, and I’m not exactly eager for round two of fighting off a horde.

“Alright, time to find shelter,” I say to myself, picking up my furnace and looking around. I spot a hill with a flat side, the kind of place that would make a good temporary base. It’s funny, really—I’ve built hundreds of starter homes in this game, but this one might actually save my life.

I dig into the dirt, carving out a small space just big enough to fit a bed, a chest, and a crafting table. It’s cramped, but it’ll do. I block off the entrance with dirt and sit back, letting out a sigh of relief as the last bit of sunlight disappears. I settle down onto my bed, and turn to the left reaching for- ah shit. There is no bedside table and no phone. Panic sets in hard.

"No no no NO I'm going to be so fucking bored" I whine to myself, before leaning back on the pillow, thinking of a way to fill the time.

Decisions, Decisions.

After several minutes of thinking, I sit up.

"What do people who can't sleep usually do?" I whisper, the silence stings my ears as I search through memories. In moments, one springs to mind: music. Well, a second thing sprung to mind first but I was far too exhausted.

"How would I go about doing that?"

This time, I listen closer to the sounds around me. The faint rustling of trees, the steady drops of water in the stream, the occasional drip and clatter of random noises, but nothing unusual. For a few minutes I rack my brain. Sighing, I slip underneath the duvet, nuzzling into the pillow. "Maybe I'll make some sort of river powered musical instrument" I mumbled to myself finally, the sleepiness kicking in finally. I close my eyes, listening to the soft rhythm of the stream outside, imagining the melody I could create—gentle, flowing notes carried by the water. It’s a silly idea, but the thought lulls me into a rare, peaceful calm, and before I know it, I’m drifting off, the sound of a makeshift river song playing quietly in the back of my mind.