My first experience playing Minecraft showed me why the game is so special. Once I learned its basic rules, the world began to feel like a canvas I could enter and reshape. But through McLuhan’s idea that “the medium is the message” and the video’s critique of sandbox games and colonialism, I also realized that Minecraft’s creative freedom is not neutral. The same mechanics that make building feel freeing and expressive also train the player to see the land around them as material available at their disposal, transformation as improvement, and expansion as progress.
When I first opened Minecraft, I expected to understand the appeal quickly. It is one of those games that feels so culturally familiar that I assumed I knew what it was before actually playing it. However, the first twenty minutes were much less smooth than I expected. I spent most of that time learning how to move, figuring out what I could break, what I could collect, what I could build, and what I wanted out of my experience playing Minecraft. At first, the game felt less like a game with a clear objective and more like a confusing space I had been dropped into. I was not yet thinking critically about colonialism, extraction, or even the idea of progress. I was mostly trying to understand the rules of the world.
Once I started to understand those rules, however, the experience shifted. I began breaking down blocks not just because I needed resources, but because the game had taught me that the world was something I could reshape and play around with. Throughout my gameplay, I would break something, place something else, look around, and then try again. To me, that loop started to feel oddly creative. The medium gave me the same feeling as a canvas and paintbrush, except the canvas was not flat or passive, but instead, a world I could enter, rearrange, and keep changing. This is where McLuhan’s idea that “the medium is the message” felt especially relevant. For McLuhan, the message of a medium is not simply its content, but “the change of scale or pace or pattern that it introduces into human affairs.” In Minecraft, the message is not only what I choose to build. It is the way the game makes building and transforming feel natural.
I also do think this is what made the experience so absorbing. The more I played, the more the world became legible through action. A tree was no longer just a tree. It was wood, tools, shelter, possibility. Similarly, a patch of land was not just landscape. It was space that could become a path, a house, or something more creative and bigger than it currently was. I did not experience this as destructive in the moment; rather, I experienced it as learning. As I played more and more, the game became special because it made creativity feel immediate. I did not have to plan a perfect structure before beginning. I could start with a few blocks, make mistakes, destroy them, and build again. The fun came from the feeling that the world was open to me.
Watching “Minecraft, Sandboxes, and Colonialism” complicated that feeling. The video argues that sandbox games often place the player in a world that seems empty or available, encouraging them to “improve” the land through “clearing jungles, draining marshes, building infrastructure and mining minerals.” I did not personally reach the part of Minecraft where villagers, natives, or conquering land became central to my gameplay. Because of that, I initially did not read my experience from a colonial perspective at all. But after watching the video, I realized that my mental model had still been shaped around buildings, urbanization, and development. I saw growth as progress almost automatically. When I created something more structured out of the landscape, it felt like I was making the world better.
That realization does not make my enjoyment of Minecraft feel fake or wrong, but it does make it feel less innocent. The video’s point that a culture can look at the New York skyline, the Hoover Dam, and the trans-Canada highway and see “progress” helped me understand why Minecraft’s pleasures felt so intuitive to me. While I was not consciously thinking about conquest, I was participating in a system where improvement meant alteration. The game’s mechanics made certain actions feel obvious through gathering, clearing, building, and expanding.
Taking a step back, Minecraft is engaging to me because it holds both of these truths at once. It can feel like a canvas, giving the player a strong sense of creative freedom and experimentation. At the same time, that freedom is shaped by a medium that teaches the player to see the world as material. Looking back, my first experience playing Minecraft was not just about learning the game. It also showed me how quickly a medium can shape what feels creative and productive.
