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Minecraft. A game where several legends, myths, and fables run amok. Herobrine, Null, and Entity 303 were all hoaxes to scare the young child playing on a server over-saturated with players.
I too fell for these stories. In my more formative years, I would have night terrors about them; I feared Herobrine was going to destroy my world. I thought Null would kill me in-game without a single sound. And I was afraid that Entity 303 was going to break into my house and eat me.
But as I aged, I realized the ludicrousness of each of the stories, and dismissed them as fiction.
Until now.
It was a foggy Saturday night. School just got out yesterday, and I was playing Minecraft non-stop. The night before I had stayed up until 3:30 AM to play and pay for my new realm (which is where I would play with my friends).
Me and my friend Jorge (who was one of my online friends from the other side of the state) decided to explore the wilderness of our world, so we could find creepers and harvest their gunpowder. After walking for a few hundred blocks, we found something very out of place.
An old prison made of cracked and mossy stone bricks was in the middle of a field. At first we thought it was some oddball stronghold, but I decided to look inside, just to verify my hypothesis.
The two of us went inside, and from the looks of it, it was not a stronghold at all. Corridors and cells lined the walls, and we there were redstone torches every 40 blocks.
We tried to get out, but the door was somehow blocked with bedrock when we were inspecting the interior. I asked my friend if he had a pick of reasonable durability. Jorge had a wood pick, but it was only one or two blocks from breaking.
I told him to hand it over to me, so I could make a hole in the roof. I turned around after I made the hole, and Jorge was gone.
By then I realized that something strange was going on, so I tried to make a dirt tower out of there. But before I placed the final block, I was transported somewhere.
I was in an isolated cell, with iron bars and an iron door. But that wasn't the horrifying part.
A player was looking down at me from the top bunk of a bunk bed. He had a stereotypical 'cool teen' skin on, only that his hoodie was covered in pixellated blood. His right eye had been gauged out, and it was bleeding profoundly. His left eye was milk white, like Herobrine's.
He was staring straight down at me, without any movement, except for his arms slightly moving, like the normal Steve/Alex animation.
I took a screenshot, and left the game faster than Usian Bolt could run 50 meters.
I decided to consult the PMC forums to see if any other players had seen it. All of them said I staged it, calling me a moron for posting such a bad Creepypasta.
But I wouldn't give up there. I searched the web for any info concerning this anomaly. I tried everything, from the Minecraft Forums to contacting Mojang themselves (nothing came of it). I thought I had hit a dead end, disallowing me from ever finding out who this punk was.
About a week passed, without any progress on "Hoodie" (cringy name, I know, but I got sick of just calling him "the dude with one eyeball"). I then got a picture from Jorge over Snapchat, who I had not heard from since the beginning of this whole ordeal. I had tried texting him, but he just left me on read. The only thing I noticed was that his Bitmoji character had moved slightly west of where he lived.
I opened the photo, and I saw something that made my heart shrivel up and die.
It was Jorge. He was tied to a chair in some dark, dusty place, illuminated only by a florescent lamp above. His face was bruised and cut, and it looked like he had not been fed since we last talked. But that wasn't the most horrifying part.
His right eye was gouged out, leaving only a bloody socket in his head. His other eye had been rolled back in his head, as if he had completely lost his mind. His blood had gotten all over his clothes, which looked torn and dirty.
The only text that was on the Snap was WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.
After replaying it for a few times, I vomited, and called the police about it. They traced the Snap, and confirmed it was indeed real. They then decided to send a few patrol cars and an ambulance to Jorge's location.
A few hours later, I went down to eat dinner with my family. My dad turned on the TV, and there was a special report on CBS. It detailed how a group of police officers were killed or mortally wounded by some traps set in a warehouse. According to the newscaster, the suspect was still unknown, and very possibly on the run.
The warehouse was the exact location where Jorge was.
I gulped down my Mac 'n Cheese and ran upstairs to see my Snapchat. I had not turned off the map feature, so all of my friends could see where I was right now.
I couldn't help but notice that Jorge's Bitmoji had moved closer to mine.
My name is James Boise Plesonn, and I was put in charge of the investigation of the disappearance of Raymond Barnes. According to the few eyewitnesses that we managed to get ahold of, he was kidnapped in the middle of the night by God knows who. Apparently, the finks must’ve climbed up to his second-floor bedroom window and snatched the kid from his room, all before his parents could save him. Ray was only 13 and very scrawny, so it would’ve been hard for him to break free. He lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, so there weren’t many security cameras to capture what had happened. All of the eyewitnesses also claim his kidnapper was dressed in all black, possibly clad in a black Morph suit.
And whoever kidnapped Ray wasn’t any ameuter criminal; he left no blood, no fingerprints, no nothing at the crime scene. Hell, the way he smashed the window was too perfect; our best forensics professionals couldn’t figure out if he shot it open, or hit it with a baseball bat.
We weren’t really getting anywhere with the evidence we had. The best we had was the smashed window glass, and pure eyewitness testimony, neither of which could help us identify Ray’s kidnapper. His family acted in the typical decorum you would see in CSI: frustrated and enraged at the police. His mother in particular was overly volatile to me and my co-workers.
“You damn slackers don’t know how to do your own damn jobs, do you?!” she once yelled at us. “My boy is missing, and for all I know, he might be on the black market or some crazy thing like that! We should’ve never trusted him on the Internet, John!” She subsequently crashed into her husband’s arms, crying the Los Angeles River out of her eyes.
However, we did have a very subtle silver lining: a phone call made from Ray’s phone. He reported to our department that he saw his friend mutilated through a message on Snapchat, and some of my fellow detectives have theorized that whoever killed Ray’s friend was the same man who kidnapped Ray; after all, the app has a map feature which tells you where your friends are, and it’s not entirely impossible that the slick psycho could’ve tracked him using the app.
But that leaves another question: why? Why did the kidnapper steal Ray, and not some other kid? Did they have some vendetta against them? Is he looking to start some kind of screwed up family with friends? Will they turn them into living sex dolls?
Or do they know something that the kidnapper doesn’t want anyone to find out about?
I too fell for these stories. In my more formative years, I would have night terrors about them; I feared Herobrine was going to destroy my world. I thought Null would kill me in-game without a single sound. And I was afraid that Entity 303 was going to break into my house and eat me.
But as I aged, I realized the ludicrousness of each of the stories, and dismissed them as fiction.
Until now.
It was a foggy Saturday night. School just got out yesterday, and I was playing Minecraft non-stop. The night before I had stayed up until 3:30 AM to play and pay for my new realm (which is where I would play with my friends).
Me and my friend Jorge (who was one of my online friends from the other side of the state) decided to explore the wilderness of our world, so we could find creepers and harvest their gunpowder. After walking for a few hundred blocks, we found something very out of place.
An old prison made of cracked and mossy stone bricks was in the middle of a field. At first we thought it was some oddball stronghold, but I decided to look inside, just to verify my hypothesis.
The two of us went inside, and from the looks of it, it was not a stronghold at all. Corridors and cells lined the walls, and we there were redstone torches every 40 blocks.
We tried to get out, but the door was somehow blocked with bedrock when we were inspecting the interior. I asked my friend if he had a pick of reasonable durability. Jorge had a wood pick, but it was only one or two blocks from breaking.
I told him to hand it over to me, so I could make a hole in the roof. I turned around after I made the hole, and Jorge was gone.
By then I realized that something strange was going on, so I tried to make a dirt tower out of there. But before I placed the final block, I was transported somewhere.
I was in an isolated cell, with iron bars and an iron door. But that wasn't the horrifying part.
A player was looking down at me from the top bunk of a bunk bed. He had a stereotypical 'cool teen' skin on, only that his hoodie was covered in pixellated blood. His right eye had been gauged out, and it was bleeding profoundly. His left eye was milk white, like Herobrine's.
He was staring straight down at me, without any movement, except for his arms slightly moving, like the normal Steve/Alex animation.
I took a screenshot, and left the game faster than Usian Bolt could run 50 meters.
I decided to consult the PMC forums to see if any other players had seen it. All of them said I staged it, calling me a moron for posting such a bad Creepypasta.
But I wouldn't give up there. I searched the web for any info concerning this anomaly. I tried everything, from the Minecraft Forums to contacting Mojang themselves (nothing came of it). I thought I had hit a dead end, disallowing me from ever finding out who this punk was.
About a week passed, without any progress on "Hoodie" (cringy name, I know, but I got sick of just calling him "the dude with one eyeball"). I then got a picture from Jorge over Snapchat, who I had not heard from since the beginning of this whole ordeal. I had tried texting him, but he just left me on read. The only thing I noticed was that his Bitmoji character had moved slightly west of where he lived.
I opened the photo, and I saw something that made my heart shrivel up and die.
It was Jorge. He was tied to a chair in some dark, dusty place, illuminated only by a florescent lamp above. His face was bruised and cut, and it looked like he had not been fed since we last talked. But that wasn't the most horrifying part.
His right eye was gouged out, leaving only a bloody socket in his head. His other eye had been rolled back in his head, as if he had completely lost his mind. His blood had gotten all over his clothes, which looked torn and dirty.
The only text that was on the Snap was WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.
After replaying it for a few times, I vomited, and called the police about it. They traced the Snap, and confirmed it was indeed real. They then decided to send a few patrol cars and an ambulance to Jorge's location.
A few hours later, I went down to eat dinner with my family. My dad turned on the TV, and there was a special report on CBS. It detailed how a group of police officers were killed or mortally wounded by some traps set in a warehouse. According to the newscaster, the suspect was still unknown, and very possibly on the run.
The warehouse was the exact location where Jorge was.
I gulped down my Mac 'n Cheese and ran upstairs to see my Snapchat. I had not turned off the map feature, so all of my friends could see where I was right now.
I couldn't help but notice that Jorge's Bitmoji had moved closer to mine.
Part II
My name is James Boise Plesonn, and I was put in charge of the investigation of the disappearance of Raymond Barnes. According to the few eyewitnesses that we managed to get ahold of, he was kidnapped in the middle of the night by God knows who. Apparently, the finks must’ve climbed up to his second-floor bedroom window and snatched the kid from his room, all before his parents could save him. Ray was only 13 and very scrawny, so it would’ve been hard for him to break free. He lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, so there weren’t many security cameras to capture what had happened. All of the eyewitnesses also claim his kidnapper was dressed in all black, possibly clad in a black Morph suit.
And whoever kidnapped Ray wasn’t any ameuter criminal; he left no blood, no fingerprints, no nothing at the crime scene. Hell, the way he smashed the window was too perfect; our best forensics professionals couldn’t figure out if he shot it open, or hit it with a baseball bat.
We weren’t really getting anywhere with the evidence we had. The best we had was the smashed window glass, and pure eyewitness testimony, neither of which could help us identify Ray’s kidnapper. His family acted in the typical decorum you would see in CSI: frustrated and enraged at the police. His mother in particular was overly volatile to me and my co-workers.
“You damn slackers don’t know how to do your own damn jobs, do you?!” she once yelled at us. “My boy is missing, and for all I know, he might be on the black market or some crazy thing like that! We should’ve never trusted him on the Internet, John!” She subsequently crashed into her husband’s arms, crying the Los Angeles River out of her eyes.
However, we did have a very subtle silver lining: a phone call made from Ray’s phone. He reported to our department that he saw his friend mutilated through a message on Snapchat, and some of my fellow detectives have theorized that whoever killed Ray’s friend was the same man who kidnapped Ray; after all, the app has a map feature which tells you where your friends are, and it’s not entirely impossible that the slick psycho could’ve tracked him using the app.
But that leaves another question: why? Why did the kidnapper steal Ray, and not some other kid? Did they have some vendetta against them? Is he looking to start some kind of screwed up family with friends? Will they turn them into living sex dolls?
Or do they know something that the kidnapper doesn’t want anyone to find out about?
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1 Update Logs
Update #1 : by LetsGoTrippin 01/30/2018 5:29:15 pmJan 30th, 2018
Redid story (got rid of Joe and bad ending) replaced ancient screenshot, fixed spelling errors
tools/tracking
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6
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theprophetjade
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Supermugget
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i honestly would like to hear more of it
Ima find him and blow him up witha mah REALLY the last sword your ever need, G-Set, and the king!
I like where you're going with this, but it's not, well, creepy. Creepypastas tell things that cannot be explained. Like, Herobrine knowing everything about you, or Entity 303 showing up in every Minecraft world.
This can be explained easily. It could just be a hacker. There's nothing special, he's just attempting to kill you as any other MC player would.
Sorry if this offended you, but that's just my opinion.
Anyways, call it what you will. This is my first Creepypasta, and admittedly, I think it's a bit sh*t.