- You are the only one capable of building complex, planned structures. You are alone. You don’t remember building the temples or houses you come across.
- You are alone. You are the only one like you in the entire world.
- Villagers keep their hands clasped beneath long robes. You’ve never seen a villager’s hand. Sometimes you wonder if they have them at all.
- The villagers all have the same empty green eyes. They have completely different anatomy from you. They’re humanoid, but not human. Are you?
- The undead, however, have your face and your clothes. They seem closer to you than the villagers.
- You’re alone. You are the only one like you in the world.
- All caves are the same. You’ve been in a ravine like this one. Maybe you’ve been in this ravine. You’ve visited it countless times. No matter which way you turn, you stumble into it.
- No matter which way you turn, there’s more caves. Sometimes there’s torches. You’ve been here. You still can’t get out. Sometimes there’s not torches. Sometimes you give up escape and decide to explore ever deeper.
- You wonder if you’ve ever seen the surface, or if you were born in these caves with a vibrant imagination.
- You are the only living thing in this world.
- You come across dusty, abandoned mineshafts and rusty minecarts with loot at the bottom. You don’t remember building these or leaving anything behind. You wouldn’t shore up the walls with wooden posts. You know this world better than that.
- Then why does shoring up the walls seem logical? You don’t remember a world before this one. Why does this one feel so strange, sometimes even irrational?
- You’re alone. You are the only one like you in the world. You’re being watched.
- The caves aren’t yours. You’re the only one in them, but they’re not yours. They belong to something else - someone else, and you both know it.
- You’re alone in the world. You’re not alone in the caves. Their breathing and occasional humming echo in the stony corridors.
- Maybe the caves themselves are breathing. Singing.
- You are the only living thing in this world. The world itself, however, is alive.
- You make up stories for everything you build. You forget they’re just stories.
- The world sings to you. You clutch its music close and hope it never stops. In the silence after each song, you’re alone.
- You’re alone. You are the only one like you in the world, for this world is honest. You are being watched, for you are not.
- You’re the only living thing in this world. The world is alive. You are not alive the same way.
- The world exists to for you to live in it, and you think it resents that.
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