When I was a young lad I loved tunnels.
While other children would play in the water or throw a frisbee around I would dig in the damp-ish sand merely for the thrill of connecting one hole in the ground with another. The aching sense of defeat when the inevitable cave in occurred was nearly too much to bear however.
I dreamed of a subterranean house, a labyrinthe of interconnecting passages spanning miles, even working out how I could plug in the telly and the Sega down there. Perhaps it was some subconcious defense mechanism against my fledgling claustrophobia or maybe I just sat in the cupboard for so long I went a bit funny in the head.
My fascination with all things underground reached fever pitch when I finally got my hands on a little game called Minecraft.

The game I once saw described as “Aspergers: The Game” burst into the world of indie games like a biblical cataclysm. Praise and champagne rained from the heavens, puppies wept with joy and the inventor of the game – the man affectionately known as “Notch”- was tipped for canonization. Minecraft attracted accolades and devotion with apparent ease. This was credited to its ludicrously simple concept. Dig up the materials you require and build whatever the fuck you want. Only the most cynical among us could resist the limitless potential of this game. Been itching to convert your shrubbery patch into some sort of evil lair? Do it in Minecraft. On top of a volcano.
The mere fact that you need to dig up whatever you require is ingenious. If you could plough straight into a 1:1 scale model of the Death Star with all the materials at your disposal upfront it just wouldn’t feel the same, would it? So put on your hat with the light on the front, craft yourself a good pickaxe or three and dig. Several hours later you’ll have a lovely hole in the ground buuuuut you’ll also have stacks and stacks of wonderful building materials to fashion into whatever your imagination can come up with. In my case, a castle that looked suspiciously like Optimus Prime from the front.

Bite his pixellated, stone ass. This isn't mine by the way. I don't make cool things like this.
However, it was beneath my castle that the true wonders resided. In order to accrue the stone needed for my awesome castle I had to dig and dig. It was sometime before I realised that I was now at the bottom of a 10×10 block hole that went down some 60 block-lengths (one block is 1 metre cubed for all the noobs out there). It hit me like a tonne of bricks. This was my chance for my subterranean fortress! The giddy child in me could hardly contain all its coca cola fuelled excitement. I set to work exploring the limits of this new subterranean world when all of a sudden the tragedy! Oh the horror! I broke into a ready made tunnel. An in-game approximation of a cave system lay sprawled before me. I was furious. I wanted to make my own tunnels, not explore some arbitrary maze rendered by some mindless, unimaginative algorithm.
I know that, for a lot of players, exploring these caves provides endless enjoyment but in my humble opinion I say “Fuck that for a laugh!”. I want my own tunnels, damn it. I want spiral staircases and an endless horizontal shaft (not what you think you filthy minded Luddite) stretching as far as the draw distance afforded by my graphics card will allow.
For now, however, I will dig my mines and build my castles for this game is now the replacement for the giant box of Lego under the stairs. The Lego that I am still too proud to admit that I am dying to take out again.
I’m already odd enough without being a grown man who plays with Lego.