My Craft

A lone player dashes through a snow covered forest, the sounds of it crunching beneath their little square shaped feet with every step. They glance either direction, the moon high over head, darkness robbing them of their senses as they run haphazardly deeper into the biome.

[OmegaK]: guys

[OmegaK]: guys i cant log out???

[OmegaK]: where is everyone?

The text appears on the bottom right of the screen, a shout into the abyss that will never meet with another living being's eyes. They stop in the center of the forest, head moving left to right in a futile attempt at scanning their surroundings. The silence that follows is suffocating. An unnatural occurrence for this world.

[OmegaK]: my pc wont shut down

[OmegaK]: wtf?

[OmegaK]: guys???

More text fills the corner of the screen, a final call that would never see a response. The player backs up, back hitting a tree.

The sound of a footstep on that pixelated snow breaks through the silence like a gunshot. The player looks to his right, coming face to face with a character model he'd never seen before. One less blocky, one that looked almost... Human. In its hand, a crowbar made of material that didn't look quite right.

A yellow painted smile gracing his face.

[OmegaK]: who are you??

[OmegaK]: this is a private server?

[SmiLee]: ...

[SmiLee]: :)

The crowbar slammed across the player's face with a swiftness that took him off of his poor blocky feet. They hit the ground like a heap of diamond blocks, blood dripping from their big square face.

[OmegaK]: that hurt

[OmegaK]: wtf that actually hurt

Smiley's crowbar came down with another sickening thud against the back of their skull, blood splattering onto the snow. The player tries their best to crawl away, the hearts above their head slowly ticking away as Smiley's relentless assault turns every bit of pristinely white snow into a disgustingly crimson hue.

[OmegaK]: stop

[OmegaK]: pls!!!!

[OmegaK]: pls

[OmegaK]: kosdafj;d

[OmegaK]: fe[fwefasdf

One last blow leaves the poor player with a single half of a heart hanging above their head, the body of their character left unmoving, unmanned as Smiley hooks his crowbar into their leg. He drags them through the snow, a trail of red left in his wake.

Smiley drags the player into a clearing. The bodies of his victim's fellow players sit in a circle, each one impaled into a tree with swords, pickaxes, and spears. Smiley giggles as he picks up his victim, flinging them into a fire built in the middle of his creation.

Their model twitching and spasming as their last heart slowly burned to ash.