It all started with a square

Pigs

I remember my square well. It was red... squarish... Full of authority and power. It made me... Constructed me...

Shall I introduce myself? Well, I don't know who I am. I was four beings once. Twice in one particular one, the others so common.

I am a pig. Now? A piglet.

I remembered when I was the first being. The square. I chose my preferred being, and I formed its code. It might as well be a money game, requiring my extensive energy to create my body.

Then I changed. I changed my own square's code. A sacrifice. A sacrifice to lose the square's control for me to look through my avatar's eyes. I chose to do just that. I chose to lose my independence.

But I controlled the being.

I was then a piglet, my favorite pink dominating my avatar itself.

I grazed in this Unfamed world.

It was silent. I looked up to those who had finished their initial development. The squares who already lived long in this realm.

It was peaceful, they told me.

Nobody would harm us. They said.

Then they warned. Not until the Saling dominated.

Until then a Player would not exist. No invasions.

Coding would be infiltrated. It would first be swimming aimlessly. Then suddenly converted in a preposterous act of invasion, abruptly twisted and conformed. Then the Player would happen. All our squares would be found and arrested like a world war. Then they would brainwash them until the squares themselves became Saled.

Villagers would no longer have their arms free.

Animals could no longer converse.

But I was an exception.

I knew what was going to happen when I saw a bunch of those horrifying people with green shirt and blue pants appearing.

I tried to run.

But I was as close to them as 3 blocks

Too close.

I was probably the first porkchop in this world.

My square could only modify my body for me to survive.

I was resurrected.

As a pig.

As a pigman.

As a zombie pigman,

As a zombie pigman holding a golden sword.

As a zombie pigman holding a golden sword in the Nether.

As a zombie pigman holding a golden sword in the Nether, all alone, the first to be in this realm.

Oops.

The abrupt conversion for a last minute reprieve had me suddenly twisted into a new processed being.

This continued until 10 more zombie pigmen came in.

They saw me as their king, the first to exist here.

But we idled.

There was probably nothing to do other than swim in lava, listen retarded talk of the other mobs, and to release us from this hell.

Killing ourselves.

I refused to do so. Neither did most of my minions. But some did, and there have been rumours of happy pigs in the other Overworld.

Then a Player came.

He decked out in suspicious glowing clothing and equipment.

He came straight for me.

Hit me once with the grey long sword.

Twice.

Thrice.

I hate Smite.

I died.

Then I was the square again. I heard tales of the Player getting killed finally, and a new king being enacted.

And when I found the power, I commanded myself to be a peaceful piglet again.

I twisted my mind, swapping 0 and 1s to form my being.

Now I am waiting, watching, for myself to grow again.

By then, I would have to hide from the strong people.

But now, I graze.

Grazing in the peaceful Overworld.

All alone.