Aedificare, Mihi, Creare.

It's in our blood. 5 generations - that's how long our families have been mining these emerald hills. We've all lost brothers to cave-ins, explosions, silicosis, and black lung. We've all dodged the skeleton's arrows and nursed spider bites that would've crippled lesser men, but the Creeper's hiss will forever chill us to the bone. It takes a special breed to wield a diamond pick-axe. The newbies who cross our line laugh the first time the foreman tells them to start punching trees, but nothing in this world comes easy. Every chunk we explore yields such meager rewards: a few dozen blocks of coal, enough iron for an armor upgrade, and if you're lucky, a few precious blocks of diamond ore.

But now they've gone too far. The cursor pushers have us working down at the bottom of the world in bucket brigades of water and lava to create obsidian for their infernal portal gates. Ever since that damned update they've been conjuring plans to expand their empire further and faster by invading the Nether. The Nether! Oceans of lava and those hideously deformed zombie-pigmen. STRIKE! Our demands are simple: no man shall enter the Nether without a minimum of 3 pork chops per miner and a proper dental plan that covers cattle, hogs, and chickens. The land has not broken us and neither will the Pinkertons. Stand together - stand strong!