~Journals of a Minecraft Exile #1: Exiled~

It was almost three days ago now I was sentenced to rot on this godforsaken planet. I became exiled, punished for crimes I did not commit. The second day, the day I was dropped off, the planet seemed safe enough. When I was dropped off, I saw the sunrise. The planet seemed devoid of life. I knew if I were to survive, I would need to find shelter. I'd heard stories about this dimension. It was said you were able to 'craft', a silly sounding thing. It involved being able to use powers to convert simple items into more useful objects. I decided I'd need some lumber for making my shelter. As I cut the wood, I decided I'd make a small cave in the mountains. I knocked down another tree, and another. I remembered that wood makes planks, so I turned the 15 wood I had into 60 planks. I would be safe for a while, but I'd still need to venture out occasionally. I built a small table with the wood I had by putting them side by side. I watched as they melded together and made a crafting table, the tool needed for any survivor aiming to live. I made a pickax and a door and set on my way. I was going to live.

      Craft; v. (Crafting)- To create or fashion. (You need a crafting table to craft more complex objects)

-See Crafting Table

-MinePedia