The first thing Steve tasted when he woke up was sand. The next thing he felt was the crushing sense of being alone and hopeless. He slowly rose to his feet, spitting sand out of his mouth and taking in the surroundings of his new home. In the east, he saw a small herd of sheep bouncing through the rolling hills. He climbed up a small hill for a better view, and his eyes rested upon the ocean and the ruined boat that had brought him to this odd continent. He saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped his head around to see it better. It was a pack of wolves. Steve mumbled something about his dog at home as the wolves moved away. Then it struck him. Those wolves looked……blocky. The small hill he was on looked blocky. Even he looked blocky, as he looked into a small pool of water. That was too much for him. He slowly sank to the ground as tunnel vision consumed him.
The beast watched the newcomer sink to the ground. From its treetop perch, the beast had noticed even minute detail of the newcomer’s arrival, how it slowly took in its surroundings, how it had seen the pack of hungry wolves approaching, and how it had dropped soundlessly to the ground. The beast considered moving down from the tree where it crouched, but then decided against it. Much better to wait until it was alive to kill it, thought the beast, as it slowly crawled to the cave where it lived.
Steve woke with a start. His hand instantly sprung to his face, and he felt the blocky, angular features. On a hunch, remembering a game he had a played back in the day, he walked over to a tree near the hill. He slowly brought a fist up, and with a wince, brought it down upon the smooth trunk. There was no pain in his fist as a crack appeared on the bark. He curiously poked his hand to feel for damage. There was none. He continued to strike the tree with his fist, and about five seconds later, it burst open with a spray of wood chips. And, more importantly, a cube of wood fell from the trunk. Steve smiled, and moved to work on the rest of the tree. In a minute or so he had handfuls of wood cubes and a giddy smile. The smile slowly faded as he realized that he had no place to put them. Then a popping sound resonated through his core as the first cube was sucked into the backpack he had on his back. The next cubes followed closely, with the same popping sound. A smile played across Steve’s face. He only thought one thing next: survive. Soon afterwards he had a small bench that was quite useful for making planks out of the cubes he had gathered from the tree, a pointed stick for defense, and a crude pickax made from planks and bound with vegetation. Then, following another hunch, walked into a small cave nearby. An hour and mining later, he stepped out of the cool dark cave into the night. At the sight of the rising moon, he pursed his lips in annoyance and walked back into the cave. Better to wait until morning he thought as he ventured deeper. There could be wild animals out there. His eyes found a delightfully large vein of coal, and, with a huff of exertion, brought his pick down on a particularly large piece. Crack. The sound of his pick breaking jarred him back into reality. As he cursed under his breath, he didn’t hear the hissing emanating from a small side cavern. But as he turned around to head back to the surface, his eyes widened with fear. And all he saw after that was a toothed maw descending towards him.
P.S If you don't know what Minecraft is, 1) I must not be seen in public with you, and 2) http://www.minecraft.net/