If there's one thing that warms my heart a bit, it's how much players have always loved Endermen.
I've been playing minecraft since before wolves were added. I remember Endermen coming out, and just how much me and my siblings loved them. We were hardly alone. They're one of the most popular mobs in the game.
Because here's the thing about Endermen, they were the very first mob added to minecraft that felt ALIVE. They came before villagers, back when piglins were pigmen and only existed in zombie form, back before there was anything even remotely human that you could vibe with. Even after Villagers, even after Piglins, there's still something special to Endermen that captures players' hearts.
I think it comes down to the fact that Endermen are functionally useless to the player if you don't murder them. They can't trade or barter with you. They have no dungeons or fortresses for you to take from. They can even be quite annoying depending on what blocks you make builds out of. Endermen have little regard for the concept of personal property.
But, despite all of that, an Enderman isn't hostile to you by default. You never have to fight them. All they ask is that you look away. As long as you do that, then they're more than content to exist in your presence. Going about their day, doing their own thing, picking up blocks and moving them around.
And people love them. They love these alien creatures who have nothing to offer but their existence. I know so many players who go out of their way to not bother Endermen when they encounter one. Players who find one and keep it in a boat just to have some company. Endermen are adored by players just for being there.
Why? Because we were alone. We were alone in a world, and then we weren't. Endermen are strange and useless and dangerous but they are alive. They made us less alone. They were willing to exist with us peacefully when nothing else was. And that was more than enough to prove their value. They were friends to us, because they were there.
Even after we got villagers, even after we got piglins, maybe even after we found other players and servers and worlds upon worlds of other people, we never forgot our first friends. The ones who we didn't understand, who would attack us for a glance, but who were there when nobody else was. They were there, they existed, and we didn't need anything else to love them.
Since Minecraft changed the way light works, there's been an incredible amount of glitches close to sunrise. In fact, there's been an incredible amount of glitching overall, but it peaks as the sun does.
The glitch is: no matter how deep you are in the mines, no matter if you've holed yourself into bedrock and broken every torch and covered the earth above your head, you will see the sun. Not the whole sun, no, but if you stir, the sunrise will peep in shattered fragments between the edges where the blocks meet until you go still again. If you move you will see the sun. If you are moving, breathing, or living at all, you will see the sun.
It's distracting, sure. It's strange. But it's so wholly Minecraft I hope they never fix it. Creepers, Herobrine, the Farlands-- they all happened on accident. They still exist in-game, in art, or will lurk at the end of bug fixing logs forever. They're symbols of Minecraft itself, proof of the human-ness that lives in every line of code. They're part of the game about being human that so famously states:
"A fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player,
and the universe said I love you because you are love."
Player, you. You. You are the thing the sun shines for, the thing the sun keeps safe, the thing the sun is relentless in its search for, tearing through the earth to shine on, reaching the darkest and deepest spaces of the world to find, and as long as you breathe, you, player, you, will see it. Regardless of whether it's intentional or inadvertent, the universe will always, always find a way to reach you. Why?
Because the Player was the universe, and the Player was love.
Wake up as the sun hits your eyes. Wake up as it streams through the windows or between the atoms and pixels of the earth itself.
these tags that someone left on my nether post. these tags.
Who are we, the player, to say that the nether is unfit for life? Who are we to look into the roiling fire and infinite redness, to name it hell? Who do we think we are? It wasn't meant for us. We got here by passage of magic, to a world we weren't built to live in, weren't created to survive.
We look upon the creatures we see and call them vile. We gaze across the land and call it dangerous. Everything, everywhere, can hurt us, so by nature, the nether must be evil... right?
Before you came, the striders carry their children on their backs. The wither skeleton stand guard of their own fortresses. The ghast waft about their own sky. But they know you are different. They know you are Wrong, and your Wrongness leads you to tear what they know apart, and when they fight it's only fit that you see them as evil.
The nether is hell. But it is only hell for us.
[You may not sleep now, there are monsters nearby.]
I personally like to think Tango has like a netherborne/blazeborne (whichever one he is in your case) equivalent. Like the kind of spawning rooms in nether fortresses are their den or whatever.
Do you want me to go into my overly complicated hellifish lore? no? Too bad.
Medusa: Blazes, Ghasts and Striders are all hellifish, one of two main native classes of animals in the nether, an example of predators, scavengers, and prey, respectively. They have pretty much the same life cycle but not the same behaviours. Blazes form into pyres which reside in hives unless they are swarming, in which many pyres are often present. Ghasts and striders are solitary, only swarming when necessary, though striders are known to form loose pyres with the other striders in the same seas as them while ghasts wander.
Powder/Spore: When a hellyfish wants to reproduce they swarm and die off, the light parts of their body floating to the surface of the nether an become crystallized into glowstone, while the solid parts of their body that collect into lava pools and dissolves into genetic powder which accumulate and mingle into a large masses called hearth beds. For blaze this is a blaze rod, for ghasts this is tears, and for striders this is silk.
Hearth beds: These look different for each species. Blaze will swarm over a designated lava pool used and protected by all nearby pyres. Ghasts, as solitary creatures, go to what are better known as graveyard sites hanging over deep lava seas to pass. Striders don't die off like their counterparts do, instead they swarm together when their silk has grown to a certain length into hearth beds and old silk accumulates on their thickened striding tentacles while new silk falls off the sides of their heads.
Wick/Polyp: Once enough spores have accumulated in a hearth bed they coagulate into wick buds that form 1-5 wicks. Wicks are a long tendrils that build up into segmented lumps which contain the energy needed to form a spark. Blaze wicks look like clusters while Ghasts' are segmented to separate buds for each wick attached to a central stem, while Strider wicks are stubby, singular, and only grow one segment at a time protected within the walls of the bud, looking similar to barnacles.
Spark: Newly formed hellifish. They flit in and out of existence until they're able to retain a flame or the wick segment runs out. Once they do they consume what is left of their segment and possibly the next before they are large enough to survive without being snuffed out and pop off as a wisp.
Wisp/Kindling/larva: Wisps, or sometimes kindlings especially when grouped together or off on their own in the world, are the infant stage which return to the surface of the lava. Once they become large enough they often cluster together in kindling swarms and allow themselves to be carried on the heat currents of the upper nether until they are full grown. Blaze wisps will return to the safety of the nearby hives, collected and protected by adult blazes. They usually stay within the deep centre of the hive, protected by the pyre in small forged iron and netherite cells. Ghasts are on their own from birth and take to the upper currents immediately to keep safe. Strider wisps will remain attached to their nurse strider, migrating to the top of their heads for safety while their striding tentacles grow long enough to hold them above the lava.
For netherborn they go through the same but player code kicks in and they grow into humanoids as their default structure instead, and blazeborn are unable to rejoin normal pyres.
That's it, that's my long biology lesson on hellifish. This had nothing to do with your ask I'm sorry.
Since my other Nether worldbuilding post was received pretty well... I'm back on my bullshit!
This time featuring zoning and biomes of the Neath: Lore below cut
Nether (noun): the formidable hellscape straddling the boundery between the Fragments of the Overworld and Death's Realms.
Derived from Beneath -> Neath -> Neth -> Nether.
The Nether is most easily accessable through outer regions of the nether, regions that are comparatively closed-off, and lacking in biodiversity compared to the Deep Nether where most Neath civilizations are centered.
The Neth is divided into three primary zones, distinguished by altitude and general climates.
The Calfactory Zone: the largest and most iconic of the three, the Calfactory zone is blisteringly hot and bone-dry, it's most prominent features are its abundant seas and lakes of magma, and the massive Supermagmas atriums that are common above the magma. In the largest of these atriums, the ceiling may be so high above as to be completely invisible from the ground, obscured by an ever present smog of toxic vapor and minerals formed in the self-generated micro-climates that are generated from the rising heat of the lava that begins to cool at a higher altitude.
In the Basalt Deltas and other biomes around the edges of these lakes, massive pillars of rock and crystals bulwark the more-visible ceiling.
The most common of this zone’s biomes is the Crimson woods, home to hearty thermal-philic fungi and plants that grow on the minerals and vapors of the lakes. Many are carnivorous in their lack of access to water or sunlight, and these forests contain many sub-biomes and ecosystems of flourishing life.
The Wastes are perhaps the most desolate regions of the Neath, irradiated deserts of red-rock, brimstone, and sharp sand. Even the vast majority of nether-folk avoid these deserts due to the leftover radiation that rots and destroys anything that waits too long. The only forms of life are particularly robust lichens and bacteria that are happy to sit by the boiling pools of sulfur and mud and toxic sludge that dot the landscape. Growing within the rocks themselves are colonies of amorphous fungus, called geocorpus molds, they get their spores into cracks in the soft netherack and slowly feed on it; the ‘rock meat’ is considered a delicacy in nether cuisine.
The Temperate Zone: Cradled in the heights of the Neath’s atriums and sat below the roof is the temperate zones; the rising heat of the zone below begins to cool and by doing so, distinct weather patterns form within this zone, leaving it, while still sweltering, a cooler though much more humid climate.
The main biome are the luminescent warped-fungal rainforests that collect the high-rising minerals and odd moisture from the lakes. Liquid is actually present here, though, if it’s not safely filtered through the innards of the various plants and fungi, this water is usually aggressively corrosive, and it is best to shelter from the acidic precipitation to avoid chemical burns. The nether folk and ender local to these rainforests are suited to deal with these conditions and the ender especially do not have trouble with the extreme pH of the water here like they would in the overworld. The zone is lit almost exclusively by the biolumincense of the organisms there and have often been described as false-stars.
In the Deep Nether, the ceiling may give way, allowing one to pass onto the plateaus of the Nether Roof and the yawning void above. The bedrock of the nether roof is jagged and layered in huge slabs, sometimes broken up my mazes of pillar-like structures and shallow, thermal pools of crystal-clear liquid. The kind you don't want to touch of course. fogs may hang low to the ground, but when its clear, or above the fog, the entire universe seems to spill out into the sky. The nether roof was culturally significant and a source of much knowledge and inspiration in the early days, but I'll get more into that in a later post 0.0
The Rime Zone: Plunge deep enough and one might find themselves bellow the lava beds. Here, where the heat can't quite penetrate, the temperatures will drop rapidly to sub-zero.
Namely, the Rime Zone is made up of the soul valleys, flat steppes of cinder and clotted sand, you can imagine it almost with the blindness effect, a fog that pools by your feet, and a heavier darkness hanging from the sky, it feels massive and endless and claustrophobic all at once. Frost collects as crystals on the irradiated, soul-soaked barrens, and the bones of the massive nether wyrms lie fossilized, breaking up the landscape. The sands are also split with patches of crazing on the ground and vents of blue fire that spills out and sets the sand ablaze.
These same wryms can be found sometimes, ancient things that dig through sand and soft rocks and the magma lakes, far and few between and treated with both fear and reverence.
And in the deepest pits of the Neath are the glowing frozen lakes that are colloquially and rightfully called the Gates to Death, glowing blue from beneath their surfaces. Indeed, any further down and you pass into limbo, the edge of Death's Realms.
Extra Notes??:
Soul sand/soil is tread on carefully or not at all, is one form of remnants from the apocolyspe. Like the general radiated rubble present through the Nether, it's a fault of nuclear fallout. Unlike other areas of radiation, its also been infused with the souls of those who didn't survive the joining of worlds. That said, unlike soul sand, soul soil is used productively to grow certain nether crops. It’s minerally and magically dense.
This infused quality is also precent in Nether Debris, resulting in a material that takes magic particularly well.
Iron cannot be found in dense veins and crystals like gold or quartz in the nether, but it's a pretty rich mineral a lot of netherack, giving it its ruddy coloring.
Sorry for this massive rant that no one asked for. If you have questions please feel free to send an ask, I may not have an answer yet but I'll certainly come up with one if I can.
I'm also hoping to do a pass on my headcanons about history and culture in the Nether and then we might start talking about character headcanons since this is also an actual AU.
If you read this far, here's some notes on striders and ghast
The poetry of the universe echoes endlessly around everything, etched into walls of chapels and doors of dungeons and light-seared into the backs of your eyes when you fall through the void. It's all in a language you can't understand and you aren't meant to learn, because if you did, you'd understand the terror of it. The wretched human soul that resides within your skin would cry out at the injustice of it.
The nether is not meant for you. Your blood boils and the sand you stand on cries out and grabs at your feet. It's just as lawless as the land above, but the evils of this world are as striking as a match. They do not shroud themselves in leaves and sea and earth, hiding from your human eyes. The nether is not meant for you.
But perhaps it wasn't meant for the creatures here, either. Perhaps the land turned them vile and bitter, instilled in them a taste for blood as red as the fire in which they were born.
You hold this creature in your hands now, one you found abandoned within the remains of its kind, and you can see the humanity in its withered white frame. The poetry that echoes around everything, that the universe is kind, and you are the universe itself. Within this creature is the part of yourself that aches to leave.
I will give them the love and care and warmth you wanted to give them, if only you were able to fight a little longer.
I will tell your child of how hard you fought for them, how you gave every part of yourself to ensure your child survived. how you used your bones for their shelter, your meat for their hunger, your tears for their thirst, used your life for theirs. they will know of your sacrifice, and that the sacrifice was of love.
I will give your child what you could not, in your honor. they will know of the warmth of love instead of the scorching heat of despair. they will know of open skies instead of restraints and cages. they will know of happiness and full bellies and gentle rest and of ease.
these should have all been yours to begin with, and yours to give to your child, but my forefathers stripped that of you and your kind. whether I am doing this of my own morality, to atone for the sins of my ancestors, out of guilt that should not be mine, out of kindness from one creature to another... I do not know.
This is my final apology to you.
im sorry I couldn't save you, but I will save your child.
Hey what the FUCK is up with end cities in Minecraft anyway
Where did you get blaze powder for ender chests. Where did you get beetroot seeds. Why do you know what a boat looks like?? Are the shulkers only in cities because they're guarding them or because they moved in ages ago and adapted to the environment? Why is the front door built for someone two blocks tall when the only guys around are enderman??
the concept of a respawn anchor is so funny. in the Overworld, when you're struck and fall, you wake up in your bed, tucked into the covers with a pillow behind your head. "it's okay," the universe says, for it is kind, "you can try again. rest until you're ready."
the respawn anchor drags your dead and burning body through the hellscape you've sent it to and stabs it through with lightning until you're up and feeling considerably worse than how you did at death. the box will spark and hiss and scream at you to feed it again, or you won't be making it back the next time you're pitched into molten lava.
"i am kind," the universe says. "so i provided you with a world that you could've easily chosen to remain in. player, you cannot sleep here. you forfeited your right to a bed by leaving the confines of my great kindness. if all that you seek is within you, you can do without me."
We know of at least two diagetic writing systems used in the world of minecraft— enchanting table language and some form of the Roman alphabet. We know that some form of the Roman alphabet is diagetic, because it exists in the world already before the Player arrives. Whoever built the desert temples assigned significance to the letters "TNT" enough to put it on their explosives. Pictographic writing also seems to exist, based on naturally-generating chiseled blocks, but that's harder to definitively state isn't purely decorative.
Villagers also presumably use some form of writing, given that they have librarians, but whatever that writing is, it doesn't seem to be legible to the Player, since we can't read books until we write in them ourselves.
The villager/illager species definitely creates symbolic art, given the use of banners by the illagers and of creeper face symbols on clerical robes. Piglins also use symbolic art, given the snouts carved into bastions, and it seems reasonable to conclude that they have some form of language.
This gives at least three languages in the world of minecraft— Piglin, Villager, and Desert Temple. Possibly a fourth, with Enchanting, but that could just be the writing system used by villagers, given that the Player doesn't seem to be able to read it.
What would those languages be like? What kinds of poetry are written in the Hnnngs and Hrrs of the villagers, or the grunts and snorts of the piglins? Could a piglin and a villager learn each other's languages, or are they too different not just in terms of vocabulary but in terms of the physical features required to communicate? Do piglins carry information in the flapping of their ears? Do villagers produce complex tones by resonance in their large noses?
And what about etymologies? For villagers, wool comes from sheep, but to a piglin, if wool exists at all, it's woven from strider hair. If the inhabitants of the desert temples had a word for gunpowder, was it related to their word for creeper? If piglins do, is it related to their word for ghast?
minecraft “lore” idea: what if the villagers have last names based on their careers (i.e a librarian’s last name could be “Bookkeeper”). When Steve meets the villagers he decides he ought to have a last name, and following the villager custom of a last name being based on what you do, he calls himself Steve Minecraft.
the nether is terrifying because it is hell and monsters live there who want to hurt you. however, it gets even more terrifying when you think about Intentional Game Design. a world where you'll die if you try to sleep. you could get stuck there, growing wearier and wearier, until your eyes start to blur with the waves of heat rising from the earth. when you cave in and lay your head to rest the ground will explode. the souls trapped in the dirt will scream with you. you will never be heard. this world will rip you apart for the crime of being human. you cannot win. you cannot rest now. there are always monsters nearby.
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