A quiet Minecraft server, a weekly Tezos stream, and why we play

One of the first builds on the Tezos community server. Not for show. Just part of the world.

Most crypto projects show up fast and burn out faster. We built something that stays.

Every Tuesday, AJ and I go live. We don’t plan what’s going to happen. Some nights, a bunch of people hop in. On other nights, it’s just us.

Lately, we’ve been starting in Pikes Arena. It’s a scrappy little Tezos game. You spawn in, and within seconds, you’re in a fight.

It looks simple. It hits hard.

A typical start to Tezos Gaming Night. Blangs vs Cryptonio in Pikes Arena.

Then, the mood shifts.

After that, we move over to Minecraft. Everything slows down.

It’s a survival world we’ve opened to the Tezos community. There are a few aesthetic changes and furniture add-ons but no scoreboards. You build what you want when you feel like it, including destroy. Wander around. Leave something strange behind.

And if you step away for a while, that little shack by the river, or whatever you started carving into a cliff, will still be there when you return.

Most weeks, we’re not planning anything significant. AJ and I load up the stream and see what’s worth playing. Sometimes, a few folks are waiting. Sometimes it’s quiet.

Most nights, it’s just us. Two friends, a game, and whatever’s worth exploring.

Every so often, something clicks mid-stream. Someone new jumps in. The game’s just chaotic enough. AJ’s laughing. I’m losing. The chat’s moving a little.

And in that moment, it feels like gaming used to. Before content. Before structure. Back when we played games because it was fun.

You’re not performing. You’re just in it.

It started as something I wanted to share.

It’s a survival server built for wandering. For sketching out something small and letting it sit. For building stories into mountains or leaving notes in caves. You don’t need to show up with a plan. Bring a sense that maybe this time, you’ll leave something behind worth finding.

That’s what we brought to Tezos. But the rhythm started long before. Summer servers. Slow builds. The same world waiting when we came back.

About ten years ago, I was woken up by my wife in a full-on panic. She’d just caught our daughter making purchases on the PlayStation store. Minecraft, Grand Theft Auto V, and another month of PlayStation Plus. All in less than five minutes.

Didn’t look like much at the time. Just blocks, menus, and a kid with too much curiosity.

I had no idea what any of it meant at the moment. I just knew I was suddenly the proud owner of a game that looked like a bunch of blocks and another title that kids shouldn’t be playing.

But we tried out Minecraft anyway.

That summer, we set up a server just for the family. No plan, no goals. We built weird houses, got lost underground, left signs for each other near the spawn point.

By the end of July, we had a town. It was nothing fancy, but it did have roads, farms, and a lookout tower someone built just to watch the sunset. And the next summer, we did it again. Not to chase progress, or compete against the last one. Simply a fresh start to see if we still remembered how to build together.

It didn’t feel like something new. It felt like picking up where we left off: the same rhythm, just with different people.

A Tuesday night, ten years later. Same rhythm. Different players.

The Tezos Minecraft server is quiet right now. Not because something’s missing but because that’s what we were aiming for.

It’s a survival world. No shortcuts. You mine what you build with. You walk where you’re going.

A few players have already claimed their corners. One’s building into a cliff. Another set up a cabin in the woods, with crops in neat little rows. Someone else tunneled down and lit their staircase with torches that glow just enough to keep you from getting lost.

Nothing blinks or prompts you to act. You log in and remember what you left behind. A path. A project. Maybe it’s some weird little structure you forgot you started.

One of the early builds on the Tezos survival server. Unfinished, but unmistakably yours.

If you’re curious, catch a stream. We’re usually live on Tuesday afternoons around 4:30 Pacific. Most nights, we kick off with a Tezos game. Lately, we’ve been having a blast with Pikes Arena. Then we drift into Minecraft for the second half.

If you want to join the server, we’ll get you “allowlisted”. Just DM me. No experience needed. You don’t have to be a builder. You don’t even have to stay long. Just show up, walk around, maybe leave a trail of torches or a weird half-built shack. The more the merrier, and once again, EVERYONE is welcome!

That’s how it starts.

It’s Minecraft, sure. Nothing fancy. We haven’t added crazy mods or economies or big plans. It’s just a quiet world that remembers you.

Someone built this. No fanfare. Just a quiet piece of the world, still here when you come back.

Most servers blink out after a few months. This one isn’t trying to grow or impress. It’s just here. Whether two people show up or twenty. And sometimes that’s enough.

That kind of steadiness feels rare now.

The server’s still there if you want to check it out. You can build something. Leave a trail. Add a piece of the world that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s a trail of torches. Maybe it’s just a weird little shack. But you’ll know it’s yours.

And we’ll notice.

The World’s Still Running was originally published in Tezos Commons on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.