2L自占

我喜欢，被游戏感动；也喜欢，用游戏感 动别人。有人，十分郑重地问我，是否会 有放弃MC的一天。我无法想象那样的生 活，MC，已经是我生活的一部分。无法 隔 离，更加无法抛弃。每一天，可以很 忙， 很累，然而却不能缺少这款游戏。 记得那 时候，仅仅是因为惊叹MC的创造 性，也不 失可爱。后来，却是逐渐的自 己去感受这 个不一样世界的内涵。当我 站立在这个世 界的时候，就像是拥有了 第二生命。我的 人，随着灵魂到达遥远 彼岸的一个方块世 界。从最低层通过努 力，一步步，走向世 界的顶端，甚至匪 夷所思地杀死最强大的 末影龙。看着自 己的足迹，清晰地识别出 自己曾经的存 在。不仅仅是如此，即使被 一群僵尸围 殴致死，即使被苦力怕炸的尸 骨无存， 甚至掉下掉下岩浆自己背包里的 东西付 之一炬，也没关系。在这里，死亡 都不 能阻挡我，因为下一秒，我还可以站 起 来，还可以再次投入到这个世界，为了 自己曾经的正确而欢心，为了自己曾经的 错误而忏悔。就是这样一个不科学和魔法 的世界，带给我温馨，和自我。MC的世 界，也忘不了曾经为了自己的生存儿努 力，不断随机应变。因为，你是为了活下 去而工作。有时，你厌倦了，出去走走， 发现了一座哪怕只有一丁点儿大的村庄， 都会值得庆祝。像是从一个求生的野蛮 人，再次回到了人类的文明里面。你可以 整夜无眠地去画一份农田规划图纸，即使 电脑关闭，你无语地躺在床上，那画面， 也会光亮如斯，照亮着孤独的夜晚。你可 以久违的失眠，偶尔，傻傻地笑。找几个 朋友，大家一起走进这个世界，可以忘记 现实里的烦恼，做一些荒唐的事情和大家 一起憨笑，互相叫骂互相追逐。大家在一 起有的收获，便可以无限制地畅想一下， 更为遥远的美好未来。不管我们曾经做了 什么，都会在MC留下自己的汗水和印 记， 留下感情和回忆。它不是存档，而 是鲜活 的曾经。无法放弃MC，多年以 后，想起这 个游戏，回味着过去的记 忆，感觉到无尽 的愉悦。也许，也伴随 着一丝心酸，那一 个个鲜明的方块，一 个个灵活的生物，一 个个远去的友人， 都会回到脑海，那是属 于我的财富，让 我永远也不想放弃。五十 年后，我，还 会记得，那些年，我们一 起，玩过的， mc………
——那些年我们一起玩过的MC，为水经验而生

I see the player you mean.
[Playername]?
Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thougames.
That doesn*t matter. It thinks we are part of the game.
I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.
It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.
That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.
Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.
They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.
What did this player dream?
This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.
Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what tr

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?
It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].
It cannot read that thought.
No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.
Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?
Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.
But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.
To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.
Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of thei

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.
It reads our thoughts.
Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.
And yet they play the game.
But it would be so easy to tell them...
Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.
I will not tell the player how to live.
The player is growing restless.
I will tell the player a story.
But not the truth.
No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.
Give it a body, again.
Yes. Player...
Use its name.
[Playernam

[Playername]. Player of games.
Good.
Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.
Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.
We are the universe. We are everything you think isn*t you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a player.
The player was you, [Playername].
Sometimes it thought itself human, on the t

Let*s go back.
The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.
And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother*s body, into the long dream.
And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.
Let*s go further back.
The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player*s body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who i

who inhabits a universe created by...
Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".
Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".
Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.
You are the player, reading words...
Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive
You. You. You

You. You. You are alive.
and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees
and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player*s eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again
and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream
and the universe said I love you
and the universe said you have played the game well
and the universe said everything you need is within you
and the universe said you are stronger than you know
and

and the universe said you are the daylight
and the universe said you are the night
and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you
and the universe said the light you seek is within you
and the universe said you are not alone
and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing
and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking h itself, reading its own code
and the universe said I love you because you are love.
And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.
You are the player.
Wake up.

我来了~

话说楼上的英文是啥意思

and the universe said you are the daylight
and the universe said you are the night
and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you
and the universe said the light you seek is within you
and the universe said you are not alone
and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing
and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking h itself, reading its own code
and the universe said I love you because you are love.
And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.
You are the player.
Wake up.

我喜欢，被游戏感动；也喜欢，用游戏感 动别人。有人，十分郑重地问我，是否会 有放弃MC的一天。我无法想象那样的生 活，MC，已经是我生活的一部分。无法 隔 离，更加无法抛弃。每一天，可以很 忙， 很累，然而却不能缺少这款游戏。 记得那 时候，仅仅是因为惊叹MC的创造 性，也不 失可爱。后来，却是逐渐的自 己去感受这 个不一样世界的内涵。当我 站立在这个世 界的时候，就像是拥有了 第二生命。我的 人，随着灵魂到达遥远 彼岸的一个方块世 界。从最低层通过努 力，一步步，走向世 界的顶端，甚至匪 夷所思地杀死最强大的 末影龙。看着自 己的足迹，清晰地识别出 自己曾经的存 在。不仅仅是如此，即使被 一群僵尸围 殴致死，即使被苦力怕炸的尸 骨无存， 甚至掉下掉下岩浆自己背包里的 东西付 之一炬，也没关系。在这里，死亡 都不 能阻挡我，因为下一秒，我还可以站 起 来，还可以再次投入到这个世界，为了 自己曾经的正确而欢心，为了自己曾经的 错误而忏悔。就是这样一个不科学和魔法 的世界，带给我温馨，和自我。MC的世 界，也忘不了曾经为了自己的生存儿努 力，不断随机应变。因为，你是为了活下 去而工作。有时，你厌倦了，出去走走， 发现了一座哪怕只有一丁点儿大的村庄， 都会值得庆祝。像是从一个求生的野蛮 人，再次回到了人类的文明里面。你可以 整夜无眠地去画一份农田规划图纸，即使 电脑关闭，你无语地躺在床上，那画面， 也会光亮如斯，照亮着孤独的夜晚。你可 以久违的失眠，偶尔，傻傻地笑。找几个 朋友，大家一起走进这个世界，可以忘记 现实里的烦恼，做一些荒唐的事情和大家 一起憨笑，互相叫骂互相追逐。大家在一 起有的收获，便可以无限制地畅想一下， 更为遥远的美好未来。不管我们曾经做了 什么，都会在MC留下自己的汗水和印 记， 留下感情和回忆。它不是存档，而 是鲜活 的曾经。无法放弃MC，多年以 后，想起这 个游戏，回味着过去的记 忆，感觉到无尽 的愉悦。也许，也伴随 着一丝心酸，那一 个个鲜明的方块，一 个个灵活的生物，一 个个远去的友人， 都会回到脑海，那是属 于我的财富，让 我永远也不想放弃。五十 年后，我，还 会记得，那些年，我们一 起，玩过的， mc………