Edit: Tense changed to past. I didn't even realize I was doing it in present tense before. Lifetime really got to me, writing-style wise. If you see a typo in this chapter or the next 16 chapters let me know. I will fix it. All of that is edited into the right tense, so I might have missed something.

Chapter 1: A very average day

Some claim they can remember a time before the game. Can they really remember the heat of the real sun? The song of real birds? Do they really remember a mother's smile, or the touch of a real human hand?

Because I can't.

I am nothing but an avatar now, floating in an exact world of 1s and 0s made to mimic something that I have never known.

I'm a player. This is the game, and there is nothing else that matters.

Player woke up in his room, lying flat on his back in his bed. The sun, shining through the window, fell directly in his eyes. He didn't shut them. He didn't need to. The sun was not blinding.

He sat up, groaning. One hand ran through his hair as the other rubbed his eyes. The wake-up bell sounded again; a loud clanging noise of metal on metal.

Player threw the covers off and stood with a sigh. He walked with a slight limp to the chest on the other side of the room. It was stood on its side so that it was as tall as he is and opened like a door. It saved space that way.

There were plenty more chests in the room stacked on top of each other in corners and spilling their contents out onto the floor. Player threw a stray chunk of coal back into its chest. It left a black smudge on his hand, and he rubbed the mark off using a spare block of wool in another chest. The wool turned a delicate light-gray.

Player scowled and set the block on his bed. He turned to the upright chest and pulled out his cloths. Brushing dark-brown hair out of his eyes, he pulled on his mandatory blue T-shirt and blue jeans.

Some of the others had suits and ties, or lots of jewelry, or jackets with hoods that could hide their faces, but Player had this. It was his lot in life.

He gathered up a few resources from various chests and shoved them into his bag. It was an ugly leather thing, sewn with string. He had made it by hand. Everything without a crafting recipe had to be made by hand, and even though everything was supposed to be exactly as reality was it didn't always work quite right.

Player slung his pickaxe off of its hook on the wall and onto his back. The blue of the diamonds gleamed in the pale sunlight. There was barely a sign of wear on it.

He let one hand touch the smooth wood of the handle, like touching a talisman. He recited under his breath, "Unbreaking five, Efficiency four, fortune 3." The best pickaxe in the whole building. The only ones better were in the creative areas, where anyone with half a brain could make a pick worthy of a god.

A sigh escaped Player as he stepped out into the hallway. A long line of boys was already shuffling down it, yawning and groaning. In their hands were rough leather bags like his, on their backs were the tools of their trade. Hoes and swords, axes and bows. A few picks, but not many.

Player joined the slow parade. He noted, for the millionth time, the lack of diamond. As always, he felt conspicuous with the gleaming blue pickaxe on his back, and he reached up and touched the handle, just to make sure it's still there. He sped up so he'd be one of the first to the cafeteria. A few people grumbled as he went by, but they moved out of the way readily.

Player palmed the small black pad on his way into the dining room. A green light blinked and the turnstile allowed him to enter.

It was only here, in the very heart of the complex, that it was revealed there were Mods at work. The basic Vanilla security just wasn't enough for this place.

The tables were mostly empty. A few early-risers were already eating or polishing their tools, or counting out currency and items for trades. The NPCs behind the counter were ready, big smiles on their faces.

Player walked to the counter. He keyed in his number on the pad; 4979. The keypad flashed green, a small sum of money was deducted from his account, and a tray was dispensed onto the counter.

Player walked down the line. Rabbit stew for breakfast. He didn't mind; he took what he could get, and Player was extremely hungry. He accepted the loaf of bread offered by the last NPC in line and crossed to his table.

He took the pick off his back and lays is across the table in front of him. The bag joined it a moment later. Player sat with his back to the wall at the end of the table and started eating.

The rest of the players came in, girls from the left, boys from the right. The line for food was soon as long as the room, but it shrank again just as quickly.

Player caught sight of Sky, number 0001, surrounded by his friends. There was a rumor that Sky was matched up with his name and skin based on psychology and personality tests. The system, the gossip mongers said, could tell in advance who your friends would be, and match your skins accordingly. Player didn't believe it for a second.

A hulking shape approached his table and Player looked away from the cue of people.

"Pro," He said, not smiling. Player rarely smiled.

Pro scowled at him. He still had his tray of food, and it looked ridiculous in his huge, muscled hands.

"I need iron," Pro said, in his deep, gruff voice.

"I'm not trading today," Player said. He ripped a chunk out of his loaf of bread with his teeth.

Pro sighed and walked away without even looking back.

It was the same reaction Player got in the mines. Someone would shout his name, and all he had to do was say, "I'm not helping today." And they just stopped talking. It was too easy.

Someone sat down at the same table as him, but far enough away that Player wasn't bothered. The girl was soon joined by several others, and they put their heads together, whispering. Long hair fell around their faces in waterfalls of brown and gold. They giggled a little, glancing Player's way. He ignored them.

The screen across the room flickered into life and all chat fell silent. People stood on tables to get a clear view.

Player holded his breath and crossed his fingers. Not Survival Games, not survival games, He thought to himself.

The screen began to scroll through a weather report. A few impatient mutters started up, but Player only crossed his other fingers and gritted his teeth. The screen stopped scrolling, and the word "Herobrine," flashed in big red letters.

Player felt a slow smile spread across his face.