I guess it's just me then. I mean, I'm comfortable with the idea of having to survive on my own, against nature and the wilderness. Minecraft isn't like that though, you aren't fighting things that feel pain or fear, you're fighting the idea of evil itself. An omnipresent force that seems benign enough, but exists only to see your destruction, and each individual one hellbent on killing you themself. You can repel it, but never conquer it, and the threat of any one lurking into my well-lit cavern abode is quite frankly, completely mortifying. Hence my feeling that it's a horror movie-turn-videogame, and I'm a coward since it's just a game get over it.
And I'll be damned if I play any difficulty other than normal.
Y'know, you've actually put into words a feeling I've had since the Classic Sandbox days that I've never been able to shake. That deep and heavy feeling of being both totally and utterly alone in the world, and yet...
There's
something else out there, hiding from me over the infinite horizon. And it's coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday, I'm going to have to fight for my life against a foe I can't even imagine, because there's nothing more terrifying than... nothing. A nothing you fill in yourself.
It's effected my building strategies ever since I first started playing, focusing on defense and preparation long before there was even anything to defend against. I start by leaving as little footprint as possible, trying to hide myself in the terrain, until I have enough supplies to build a serious fortification. I don't even move in until I know it's secure. I build high, high walls and overlapping fields of fire (even though I'm alone), and entrances I can seal, and emergency supply stocks. All sorts of defenses that are pointless when the engine allows for coming through the walls, but there's no foe who does that intentionally.
Except Endermen I guess. Which might be the creepiest thing about them. The ability to effect the world the same way as the player, however slowly, with that sense of alien purpose.
Then eventually, after spending so much time trying to build a fort surreptitiously, once I know it's solid I cap the whole thing with giant lighthouses. I'm not even sure why. It's like I'm trying to get the attention of anyone else out there in the world in case I'm not totally alone (which since I never play multiplayer, I know I am, but that's not the point), as if to say, come here and join me, and we'll be safer together.
And maybe, just maybe, to draw the attention of my nameless, faceless enemy. I'm tired of waiting, I'm ready for you. Let's settle this.
In a sense, I've always played Minecraft like it's a horror game, well before there were even mobs. I always remember when mobs were first introduced and they would spawn in huge piles all over the damn place, I loaded a sandbox map with a big castle I was proud of. As advertised, they spawned everywhere, and my castle was useless. It was logical of course, and pretty fun, but just a little unsettling. May be why I like to build bolt-holes so much.
Boy, I get the feeling I really ought to be playing multiplayer. Except multiplayer servers are full of dicks, so maybe I'll just stick to being neurotic in singleplayer.