Bullets Boats
Boats you can keep bolting more boat onto, plus one that sails on lava.
One silly idea each, taken completely seriously. Released ones link to CurseForge; everything has a wiki page so you know what you are getting into.
Boats you can keep bolting more boat onto, plus one that sails on lava.
You can be quite convincing with a sharp sword.
Get your sticks back. Send everything else flying.
Beds that fit in one block, stack to 64, bunk up, and can hold a villager's job.
Stamp your name on a tool and it is yours forever, wherever it ends up.
Signs can only say things; this lets them show things.
The crafting grid learns to cook: slice with an axe, grind with a pickaxe.
Fishing is the sit-still loot loop. Metal detecting is the walk-around one.
Your villagers traded at fair prices with zero fees. We identified this as an inefficiency.
Throw a cast net at fish you can actually see, and whatever it touches is yours.
One block that crafts like all of your workstations at once.
The workstations you placed follow you home whenever you are not looking at them.
Everything you killed that never tried to hurt you is still following you.
An order every 45 seconds, and sometimes the name at the front is not Bullet.
Push a cart. Watch it build the railway for you.
Every species has a finite wild population, and it only goes down.
You do not teleport. You built a robot over there, and you can be it for a while.
Enchant the bottle, not the potion, and the bottle comes back to you every time you drink.
Hold a piece of the world in your hands.
A dentist offers you a protection plan. You do not have to buy it.
A copper bell on a chain; the water line inside is your clock.
Ruins remember what they were, and if you wake one it comes back with its garrison.
A treasure map that marks unopened chests. Some of what is inside is not quite right.
Deals between players that the game itself enforces.
Every crafting recipe works once per world, and nobody tells you.
Enchant food at the enchanting table you already built, sixty-four loaves at a time.
The server keeps a ledger of the hours you played while nobody was watching.
Light a candle. Hold it. See.
The wandering trader has noticed how many of him you have killed.
Kill a wandering trader and the next one arrives with more llamas.
Mark your gear as yours, and quietly tax anyone who borrows it.
Borders you can see, not walls that stop you.
Buried treasure does not exist until a detector finds it.
Print your own money, paint the face on it, and make it worth something.
Strap a harness on your wolf and it starts shooting back.
Something scores how frightened you are and paces the night against you.
Vote for a mob at dawn. Learn what the question was at dusk. It is permanent.
The first thing a tool breaks is the only thing it will ever be good at.
Storage tiers are boring, have three animals instead.
Your base is lit, walled, safe. Look up.
A merchant lives on the ocean. He finds you, ties up for a day, and rows away for good.
You are the villager. The customer is a player, and he arrives at dawn.
Sleeping stops being a skip button; some nights the dream wants something from you.
Thirteen foods and a stone oven, built mainly to test an AI texture pipeline.
Feed the Reckoner a billion blocks and get nothing you can use.
A film crew has been documenting you for a while now. You were not supposed to notice.
A livestream chat that does not exist watches you play and knows more than you do.
The game scores itself live on note blocks, and every monster brings its own theme.
Ten enchantments that pay you for doing the same thing over and over.
A village that founds itself, chops its own logs, and grows up next door to you.
A compass finds a shipwreck; a lens makes the ship whole again for twenty-six seconds.
Every seed generates a real piece of the Earth, and the cliffs show it.
A tech mod where the power grid is a machine you can overload.
The game keeps playing your character while you are logged off.