Minecraft has become such a ubiquitous part of modern-day culture that the main “quest” of the game (start from nothing, gather materials, eventually defeat the Ender Dragon) has become almost as recognizable as the game itself. With Minecraft's rise to popularity coinciding with the rise of social media platforms like YouTube that popularized watching people play through the game as much as actually playing the game, some people’s playthroughs of Minecraft are better documented than some major historical events. However, there’s an aspect of Minecraft that’s often left forgotten in comparison to the main mode, and it’s this mode that is the very reason I was able to make my first friend and made me the person I am today. Of course, there’s nothing I could be referring to except Minecraft Bedrock Edition Hunger Games. As a shy, isolated nine-year-old, my life was mostly a mixture of reading and playing video games. It’s not like I WANTED to be by myself most of the time; it’s just that the idea of actually approaching a new person to initiate a friendship of some sort that could lead to spending time together felt as impossible as finding a full stack of 64 diamonds on a mining trip. Much like many other somewhat “nerdy” young boys, a hefty majority of my time playing video games consisted of Minecraft gameplay. The game had everything: its scope felt endless, it gave me an infinitely lasting creative output, and it was the first form of entertainment that was somehow able to make me feel both relaxed and productive. In my solitude, it was my escape. Nevertheless, no matter how incredible of a game it was, not even Minecraft could fill the hole of social interaction in my life. Or at least that’s what I convinced myself. My mom, on the other hand, was smart enough to realize its true potential. After a long school week of learning cursive and reading Harry Potter books, Saturday had finally come. The weekend acted as my solace at this time in my life. It was a time where I didn’t have to worry about bullying or what people would think of me or the high-intensity pressure of 4th grade multiplication tests. At last, I sat down in my comfortable, air-conditioned basement and turned on my Playstation 3 to return to my survival mode world where I’d refurbish my wheat farm. Everything was right in the world. “Joey, I signed you up for a Minecraft event at the local library, and it’s in 30 minutes. Go get ready.” My heart sank. How could she do this? My mom was taking away the one time where I truly felt secure to put me in an environment where I would surely feel nothing but insecure. There would be people there, new people, people that don’t know me. What if they don’t like me? What if they laugh at me? What if they- “Hey, my name’s Max. Do you like Minecraft too?” The time from sitting in my basement to sitting in the library activity area in front of a projector to play Minecraft hunger games flashed by in an instant. With a Dualshock 3 controller in my hand, playing the Hunger Games mode gave me the euphoric sense of community for the first time in my life. I would return to this library to play Minecraft with those very same people for years. That mode represents everything Minecraft is about: accessibility, creativity, and pure, raw freedom, and I can’t thank it enough for what it’s meant to me.

My favorite compliment I’ve gotten is that I’m like the “glue” of my friend groups; I try my best to connect the different personalities and perspectives in a group of people to make one big happy community. As satisfying as this role is, it can be stressful. That’s why one of the most exciting, heartwarming, purely enjoyable, and important experiences of my life has come from a time when I didn’t have to be the “glue”. Instead, that role was taken by a classic Gamecube game from 2004: Mario Party 6. I’ve always had two main friend groups growing up. One of them consists of the friends I met from camps in elementary school. The other originally was just me and my cousin, and over time, we each added miscellaneous people to the group. I love all the people in these groups to death, and they mean the world to me; unfortunately, they never meshed all too well. Despite my efforts, I could never fulfill my duty as the “glue” and successfully get the two groups to hang out. That is, I couldn’t without the help of some Nintendo magic. During the summer of my freshman year, my cousin and I wanted to throw a get-together for friends. I spent days planning it, and with everything about the party looking perfect, I saw the perfect opportunity to try and make my two friend groups combine one more time. After convincing my cousin, all of my friends were invited to what was looking to be the best day of my life. After weeks of anticipation, the only thing to do was wait to see if history would repeat itself and my friend groups were destined to stay apart. And in the beginning, it was just like every time before. The room was quiet, people were sticking to their usual close friends, and interactions between the two groups seemed forced. I was devastated. As I was beginning to accept the fact that my dream of a conjoined, 20-person friend group would forever be a fantasy, my cousin asked me the question that would make that dream a reality: “Hey Joey, you wanna bring out the Gamecube?” Despite being somewhat skeptical that everyone would even want to play, I set up the 20-year-old console and put in the first multiplayer game I could think of, Mario Party 6. As the beloved Mario cast of characters jumped on the screen, the room elicited a wave of excitement. Everyone started talking about their favorite character and sharing their favorite memories of playing the game. As nice as it was to see them be more animated, I wasn’t getting my hopes up. After all, the game was only 4-player, and there were over 20 people here. I couldn’t have been more wrong. We played the game for a five-hour period that felt like 30 minutes. The excitement of competition engaged everyone, the thrill of the random events kept everyone guessing what would happen next, and the collaboration of teamwork and mini-games brought the room together. Memories were captured, relationships were made, and Mario Party had successfully brought my dream of my 20 friends coming together as one group to life. We all still hang out together. That is the essence of Nintendo magic: the people in that room had different backgrounds, interests, and experience with video games, and yet, the game acted as a common ground that made people who were unfamiliar with each other feel like they’d been friends for years. Nintendo is the “glue” that can bring together any people on the planet.

Ever since I was amazed at the technical marvels of the science museum in the third grade, I’ve had the same dream in life: to be a top-ranked university professor and researcher in Computer Engineering, and I’ve been following the same path to get there since I was 8 years old: I’m going to graduate from my undergraduate university with a double major, earn a masters degree, work in the industry for a significant amount of time, return to school to get a Ph.D., then finally pursue the world of academia. My friends and family have always been supportive of my goals; however, they all share one concern: my plan is likely too expensive because I have to fund it all by myself. Worried that money would one day get in the way of my dreams, I’ve chased any chance to save up money that has come my way: I’ve been employed and consistently working since I was 13, in my limited free time I offer to complete my neighbor’s chores for a salary, and I have taken any chance to build my résumé to receive as many scholarships as possible my senior year of high school. Along with that, I’ve taken 12 AP classes to earn enough credits to ensure that earning two degrees in four years is possible. When I do start my college career, the work will be far from over. I’ll pursue a double major in Data Science and Computer Engineering to master the foundational skills of both software and hardware development as well as Statistics and Mathematics. While I do this, I’ll be working equally as hard in my extracurriculars to make connections and harness the skills of my field that aren’t taught in the classroom. On top of this, I’ll continue to save money at jobs to make my dream possible. As soon as I graduate, I’ll decide which degree of mine will better help me reach my goals and apply to several top-name graduate programs within that field. After working just as hard for my masters as my bachelors, I’ll find a job within my industry to work in. To gain experience, master my craft, and to save up for the rest of my plan, I’ll work in that job for anywhere from six to eight years. Then, I’ll return to school to get a Ph.D. in my field as well as a teaching degree, and I’ll finally, after over 20 years of work and anticipation, be able to find a job in Academia and fulfill my dream of becoming a professor. I’ll be able to fulfill my passion for teaching, as I hone the skills of ambitious students eager to explore the worlds of science and technology to jumpstart their dreams just as I was. Furthermore, I’ll finally be given the resources and environment to work on the industry-changing research I’ve always dreamed of. I’ll pour a mix of my ambition, work ethic, and love for the craft into research that will change the way the worlds of industry and manufacturing interact with each other. Working late hours after finishing my calculus and physics homework has been grueling, devoting the next decade of my life to the preparation of a job I won’t be able to see until the 2030s is scary, and spending every earned dollar to my name towards the same goal is risky, but if it helps make my dream a reality, it’ll all be worth it.