Life as a Minecraft Mob

Chicken

The word 'chicken' is often associated with cowardice. But I can assure you that isn't the case. I've climbed mountains, traversed jungles, trekked through desolate cold and searing heat. And I'm a chicken.

That wasn't always the case, though. When I was just a little a chick, I was very cowardly and weak. I was afraid of everything: butterflies, balloons, jewels, apples, stars, even rainbows... you name it, I feared it. And as a result, I was often ridiculed and teased at school.

They wouldn't stop making fun of me. I asked (many times) for them to stop, but all they said was that they wouldn't stop until I grew up and stopped being - well, such a chicken.

But then came that day I finally snapped. I stood up in the middle of Flight School, and announced in front of everyone that I would cross the Rage Desert all by myself. The other chicks gasped.

The Rage Desert was so huge, and dangerous, that nobody had ever, never, ventured into it and returned to tell the tale. Yet there I was, just a tiny chick who was afraid of himself, and I was thinking of crossing the desert. I had no experience, no friends, no support.

But the next day, the whole community was waving me off as I took my first steps into the desert. At first, it was very easy. There was only sand. Then the real challenge came.

The wind whipped up the sand into a frenzy. I was buffeted by the sandstorms, prickled by cacti, but I didn't stop, even though I was terrified out of my wits. I was a chicken with a mission, and nothing could stop me.

However, I feared I wouldn't make it. With every step I grew weaker. The sandstorm raged, true to the desert's name, and the cacti were so frequent that I could hardly move in any direction without spikes attacking me from every side.

Then I saw it. An oasis, in the middle of the desert. A place where I could clear my head and get my bearings. A place where I could relax and pass the night.

As I came closer, though, I realised that it wasn't an oasis. It was a river - the Fluke River. This was the river that signified the end of the desert. I had made it. I had tamed the dreaded beast known as the Rage Desert.

Yet the hardest part of my journey still lay ahead of me. I still had to get back home, but night was fast descending, and I needed shelter. I decided to seek out some fellow mobs.

I found another friendly community of brown chickens, who gladly accepted me into their group to stay the night. When morning came, I swiftly continued on my journey. Before I departed, though, one chicken gave me a brown feather as proof of my travels.

The journey back wasn't as bad. The wind had died down, and so it didn't take as long to find my home again. Except when I returned, there was nothing there except an ocelot, standing in the bloody remains of my family and friends. He looked at me with a smirk on his face. Then he gave chase.

I ran back in to the desert. I knew my way around now, but the ocelot didn't. I heard him cry in pain as he ran into cacti and got hit by the sandstorms. Soon I saw him collapse, and he dissolved into code.

I was well and truly on my own now. But I didn't feel scared. It was like I had been living in a dark cave all my life, and I had been afraid of the light streaming in from the entrance. Now I was out, though, I no longer feared the glorious light. In fact, I loved it.

So that brings me to the present day. I travel from place to place, endlessly wandering, with neither home nor family. But it no longer matters. This is who I am.

I have crossed the Rage Desert. I have swum the Fluke River. At the moment, I am nearly at the peak of Mount Hollow, the highest mountain I know.

It's just the beginning, though. There are many places I have yet to explore. I aspire to conquer every mountain, every desert, every ocean.

So next time you call someone a chicken, think about what being a chicken really means. It doesn't mean a coward. It doesn't mean a weakling. Being a true chicken means being like me.