A few weeks ago, I was introduced to you, Minecraft. At first, you seemed simplistically amazing; a game where you can build anything? A game where you can use cubes of differentiated values and materials to create an entire world complete with mechanisms and a canvas with as much potential as the mind can provide? It sounded too good to be true.
My boyfriend first brought Minecraft to my attention when he started playing it. In the beginning, it seemed like a hobby with as much bite to it as Tetris. I was not at all concerned when I watched as doe-eyed sheep became fodder to make bedding, and pigs became nothing more than a small blip of a heart from pork chops (which would spoil pretty damn quick, might I add) and so on and so forth.
That was weeks ago. Now, my boyfriend is hardly the man I used to know and love. His eyes sag with the heavy weight of building elevators and chopping up creepers. His bare hands are chafed from clicking on his computer mouse to mine coal and silver for axes and hoes.
I’d also like to mention that never before did I ever think Minecraft would provide the “hoes” for which I’d be jealous over.
In short, Minecraft, I want my boyfriend back. I refuse anything less than a formal apology and a jar of Nutella as compensation. (Or a copy of Mass Effect 3 with a better ending, if that be in your mighty power.)
With hopes of a favorable reply,