There’s something altogether Lovecraftian about Minecraft.
It’s not the story — Minecraft doesn’t have a story, per se. It’s the world. A limitless expanse, filled with strange creatures hidden in dark chasms and deep, forgotten mine shafts.
Sure, there are your usual zombies and spiders and creepers. But the long-limbed, slender Enderman, and the weeping, tentacled Ghast, seem to hail from somewhere deep within the recesses of Lovecraftian lore.
You’re alone in Minecraft. Even if you’re playing with someone else, more often than not you’ll find yourself in a unique world of your own creation. And yet you’ll discover old, abandoned mine shafts and stone fortresses, dilapidated structures that lead you to wonder why they were built and who left them behind.
Then there’s the Nether. A literal Hell beneath the pleasant-looking surface, a virtual Hollow Earth where deformed, zombie pigmen and giant magma cubes lurk on the shores of magma oceans.
I guess the real madness is how much time I’ve spent in Minecraft over the years. It’s a simple game, but it’s ultimately what you make of it. And, sometimes, that can be the stuff of nightmares.
