Another one bites the dust.
Today, I died in my hardcore game of minecraft. Today’s death was an important death as it marked the end of a two week run at trying to reach The End. In order to reach The End, I had to find a stronghold, place 12 Eyes of Ender in the end portal and then beat an enderdragon. In my two weeks of playing, I didn’t get to do any of those things because I never managed to find a stronghold. I built an entire suit of diamond armor, multiple enchanted diamond swords, built pillars of gold, found multiple records, cocoa beans, pig saddles, and all the rest but never a stronghold. I searched through huge underworld caverns, I followed the paths of a dozen Eyes of Ender but never did I find a stronghold. I traveled to the Nether world, killing blazes for their blaze rods but never did I find a stronghold.
The experience of hardcore minecraft is much like many experiences in hardcore mode games – that of a hard life followed by a sudden, meaningless and final death. But looking back on that run, I don’t consider it a defeat. My lil’ guy died with a diamond helmet of underwater breathing on his head that let him swim down to the bottom of the ocean where he happened to accidentally fall into a lava filled chasm that, combined with fall damage, burnt his health down to one little half heart. If it wasn’t for my quick thinking and preparedness with that bucket of water, he would have died right there but he put out the fire and lay standing on the hard rock floor of that chasm for a good full second before that creeper showed up and blew his little half heart body apart. He was an adventurous lil’ guy with much to show for. He lived a long and prosperous life in search of an elusive stronghold that he never did find. He died like he lived, uselessly searching for something seemingly impossible to find. R.I.P. lil’ minecraft dude.