I will be 53 years old, January 2021. I still enjoy games. I am particularly fond of Minecraft. I have been fond of it since I discovered it about a year after it first came out. It has evolved since then. It is still evolving. I have evolved; not as fast. I have a six year old, Eston, and he has evolved. We love Minecraft. We even have an ideal, future version of the game we call “Minecraft 2121,” where we assign our wish list to it. “Wouldn’t it be cool if dogs could fetch?” 2121 MC, cool dogs. “I want to be able to cure zombies, and tame creepers,” I said. “2121 MC, here we come.”
I must say, Minecraft has revealed some things in me. Possibly human flaws. Some deep fears. Minecraft is so real at times that I can have vertigo. I am seriously as afraid of falling in Minecraft as I am of jumping off a high dive. When I fall in Minecraft, I get vertigo and my stomach grips. Creepers annoy the crap out of me- they can still surprise me. The monsters seriously bother my son. He has gotten better, but I have also been frustrated at him when he has run away leaving me to contend with monsters. Once, overlooking an underground cliff, he hit me with a sword and knocked me into the abyss while stating very clearly: “it’s not safe!” I died. I was so irritated I was snapping at him. I failed to realize he really didn’t feel safe. Once he was walking with boots that turned the water to ice and I was trapped under water and every which way I tried to go to escape, he turned to go that way, and I died. I was pretty sure he did it on purpose. He probably didn’t. I don’t…
