More than 300 million copies of Minecraft have been sold, solidifying its status as one of the world’s best-selling video games. While some sources claim it to be the best-selling game of all time, Tetris still holds that title. Launched in 2011, Minecraft has transcended the gaming community, finding a significant place in educational settings. Scholar Bennett Brazelton notes that the game is often viewed as a creative outlet rather than merely a combat-focused experience. He suggests that Minecraft could be effectively integrated into school curricula to teach subjects such as mathematics, geology, architecture, and digital literacy.
However, beneath its playful surface, Minecraft serves as a lesson in ideology. The game is critiqued for perpetuating the narratives of settler colonialism and celebrating the violence associated with resource extraction. Concepts like ‘mining’ are transformed into enjoyable elements of an in-game economy, masking their colonial roots.
Understanding the Game’s Ideological Framework
Brazelton invites players to reflect on the game’s beginnings. Upon entering the game, players find themselves in an unfamiliar land, often represented by a default character model that is white, either “Steve” or “Alex,” depending on gender selection. This choice evokes a colonial fantasy reminiscent of Robinson Crusoe, as players embody a character who arrives on untouched land, complete with a predetermined identity that reflects Western norms. This scenario fosters an antagonistic relationship with the indigenous inhabitants of the game’s landscape.
Players are tasked with defeating a variety of hostile creatures, including zombies and skeletons, which Brazelton argues echo harmful stereotypes of Indigenous peoples. The game rewards players for vanquishing these so-called “monsters” while mining for diamonds and other resources, ultimately allowing them to construct personal empires, often in the form of grand castles.
This portrayal glosses over the real-world implications of colonial extraction, which has historically devastated regions in the Americas, Africa, and Asia. The game neglects to address the contemporary issues of labor exploitation, environmental degradation, and cultural erasure that accompany modern mining practices.
In contrast, Brazelton highlights the game Motherload, which presents a more critical view of colonial exploitation, set against the backdrop of Mars. In Motherload, mining is depicted not as a source of enjoyment but as a perilous endeavor. Players navigate the challenges of corporate exploitation in a hellish environment, with the villainous tech billionaire’s name—Natas—serving as a clever nod to the darker themes of the game. Despite its thought-provoking narrative, Motherload has not achieved the commercial success of Minecraft.
Brazelton points out that Minecraft is not an isolated case; its problematic assumptions about coloniality and power are deeply rooted in the history of computer and video gaming. One of the earliest computer games, The Oregon Trail, created by educators in 1971, positions players as leaders of a wagon train traversing a fantasy of unclaimed land. This portrayal has faced criticism from Native American communities for its underlying assumptions. While modern iterations of The Oregon Trail have made attempts to address these issues, the challenge of dismantling embedded ideologies remains formidable.
