"Why did you put that there? You're destroying the house! I just built that."
"Fine, if I can't put that there I'll go build my own and you won't be invited!"
“You’ve already taken over this one. Somehow the living room is now a stable with two horses in it. There are twenty dogs in my bedroom. There are twenty beds in my bedroom. And why are all these parrots in cages? I can’t even walk through the place. You stay here and do what you want, and I’ll go build another house.”
|The main area of Logan Land. It's a bit chaotic, but it has|
“But I want to come too!”
“Okay, but this one’s gonna be mine okay? You have to build it like I say.”
Two blocky characters hop and trot through a similarly blocky world, away from the jumble of blocky glass and blocky stone and blocky dirt. In a way the world resembles a 3D, open world version of the original Super Mario Bros. game, minus the giant green pipes. The two characters choose a spot on a hill, and one begins clearing blocks so that the surface is flat. While he’s doing that, the other one begins to build about three feet from him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m building a clubhouse.”
“I don’t want a clubhouse.”
“This is my part of the house.”
“But I said this is my area and you have to build it like I want.”
“This isn’t on your property. This is on my land beside yours. I’m building a clubhouse.”
“Okay well if you’re gonna do that I’m gonna make changes to it when you’re not playing.”
“Why would you do that?! That’s not fair!”
“Well it’s not fair that you’re building on my land either, is it?”
“But I’m on my land!”
“You know what? Fine. Build the clubhouse. But you can’t build in my house.”
A few minutes pass. The foundation of the house is completed, and the character that is building the house begins setting rows of blocks that will become walls. The second character, having completed his clubhouse just a few Minecraft blocks away, wants something else to do. So he climbs down from his elevated clubhouse and hops onto the flat surface of the foundation that character #1 has been clearing for thirty minutes.
He begins digging.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m building a basement.”
“I don’t recall asking for a basement.”
“It needs a basement, and that will be my part of the house.”
“But this is my house!”
“Not all of it! Some of it needs to be mine!”
And the cycle repeats.
|My house in the center, with an unplanned basement |
beneath (unseen) and a wooden clubhouse with random white
sticks littering the base, and apparently a light show going
on behind the house.
Does any other adult ever hear themselves argue with their child and realize that their mental and emotional capacity shrinks to match that of the six-year-old boy with whom they’re arguing? By now it’s probably evident that this exchange is happening between my son and me. We’ve played Minecraft together off and on for at least two years now I’d guess, and we always have fun. We do not, however, always get along. And I’ll be damned if I don’t revert to a whiny little bitch when I can’t build this fictional house on a glorified child’s game to my exact structural and architectural specifications.
The worst part about this, I always realize later, is that my son is wanting to play with me right then. This is potential for some good quality time I'll have with him, time that won't last forever. How many more years will I have of him destroying what I built in that game before he decides he's too cool to play Minecraft anymore? Will I still turn the game on and stroll through our Frankenstein monster of a house after he's given up playing it? I suspect there will be a time in the not too distant future when I'll be begging my boy to build a stupid room to house his towers of caged parrots and stalls of skeleton horses and potion-making tables. I mean, who doesn't want a world with a house built like a giant chicken with a doorway for an ass?
|Logan's "chicken house." The butt's the doorway. I do like this one a lot.|
Moral of the Story: Let the kid build the ridiculous room onto your playhouse, you near forty-year-old squall tit.