When I first started playing Minecraft a few months ago, I played with a rule: if I die, I have to delete the entire world. This is the seventh entry in the diary I kept of that experiment - the first is here .
Day 8 >
Day 8 >
World 3, Deaths 2
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
Fire! I mean lava! But also I'm on fire! My head is completely submerged in a blob of the stuff, but I pull myself out and scramble frantically up the steps away from the flood.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
I'm still on fire! It's miles to the surface. I have seconds to live. But wait! The underground river! It's not far from-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
I'm not going to make it. I'm not remotely going to make it. I'm down to my last couple of hearts. And then I remember:
I'm holding a full bucket of water.
I spasm around trying to put it into a usable inventory slot and slosh it straight onto the floor beneath me.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
It gushes out in a cascade and puts me out, but washes me all the way back down the steps and back into the lava.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!
One half of one heart. I haul myself out of the lava onto the bank of volcanic rock it formed when the water hit, and finally plonk down in the drink the other side.
Hiss.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Okay.
Don't mine directly down.
Don't mine directly up.
Don't mine directly ahead.
Avoid mining as a career.
On Friday: I stick to the surface. The safe, safe, surface.
