Wake Up in a Plain Biome

A softbreeze brushed against his skin, and the gentle warmth of sunlight bathed his face. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar sight—an endless expanse of green fields stretching as far as he could see. Blades of grass danced in the wind, and a few scattered flowers added small pops of color to the otherwise serene landscape.

He sat up quickly, eyes wide with confusion. "Where am I?" he muttered, scanning his surroundings. He tried to recall how he got here, but his mind was blank. His name? Ethan. He remembered that, at least. But everything else—his home, his life before this moment—was fuzzy, distant.

Standing up, Ethan noticed something odd about the world around him. It looked strange, like everything had a blocky, pixelated texture. The trees had perfect rectangular leaves, the ground beneath him was unnaturally smooth, and the clouds in the sky seemed to float like cubes. It was a bizarre sight, yet oddly familiar.

"Am I... in a game?" he wondered aloud. His heart raced. He had played Minecraft before, but this—this felt *real*. Too real. The grass beneath his feet had a texture, and when he reached down to touch it, it was soft like the real thing. He wasn't dreaming.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Ethan told himself. "If this is real—or feels real—I need to figure out what to do." He thought about what he would normally do in Minecraft, the first step was always the same.

"Punch trees to get wood, right?"

He spotted a tree nearby, its blocky branches swaying ever so slightly. Approaching it, he balled his hand into a fist and swung at the trunk. *Thud!* Pain shot through his knuckles. Ethan winced and clutched his hand. "Ow! What the—?! That hurt!"

Taking a deep breath, he decided maybe there was another way. Looking around, he noticed some scattered stones lying in the grass. He picked one up. It was smooth and surprisingly light. "Maybe I can use this."

Holding the stone tightly, Ethan walked back to the tree and hit one of the lower branches. This time, there was no pain—just a satisfying *crack* as a small chunk of wood fell to the ground. "Yes!" he grinned, picking it up. "It worked."

Then, as if by instinct, a strange holographic grid appeared in front of him. It was like a menu floating in the air. "Crafting?" he muttered, staring at it in disbelief. There were no buttons to press, but somehow, he just *knew* what to do. He placed the wood he had gathered into the grid, and in an instant, a crafting table materialized in front of him.

"I... made a crafting table," Ethan whispered, staring at it in awe. His excitement grew. If this world worked like Minecraft, then maybe—just maybe—he could survive here. He had a tool now. He had a way to make more.

His hand reached out toward the crafting table, and as he touched it, a new menu appeared before him. Rows and rows of crafting options. "Inventory," he realized. It was all here—wooden planks, sticks, tools. He could see everything he needed.

He grabbed more wood, fashioned it into planks, and then into sticks. Slowly but surely, he crafted a wooden pickaxe. It felt solid in his hands. "This is crazy," he breathed, swinging it experimentally. It didn't hurt this time. It felt... right.

With his first tool ready, Ethan felt a small sense of accomplishment. It was time to get to work. He began collecting more branches, stones, and wood, knowing he needed to build some sort of shelter before nightfall.

His heart still raced with confusion and uncertainty, but a part of him couldn't help but feel a thrill. Maybe this was crazy, maybe none of this made sense—but in this strange new world, Ethan had a chance to start over. To survive.