I needed a creative outlet, and Beacoland became that for me. I have many stories and I will likely share more.
My husband, Redtrician, and I were raising two young children, and when they finally went to bed, that quiet time together mattered. Instead of zoning out separately, we built something together. Night after night, we created a shared world on Beacoland, and it became a place where we could laugh, and be creative side by side in the midst of pandemic.
One of my favorite memories has to be the shopping district. I can’t even remember which season it was, but we built a tavern there, part saloon, part gathering place. On the surface it seemed simple: a cozy main room with a little piano. But underneath, quite literally, there was more going on.
We used redstone to build a noteblock song under the piano. “The Entertainer” played when you triggered it, and it led to building custom songs including for a neighbor, “Old Town Road.” I’d never done anything like that before. We added a small sign in the attic offering to make songs on request, like a little service we could sell. It felt clever and playful, and Redtrician was determined to pack those noteblocks so tight you could load the whole song at once.
The main floor hosted karaoke nights, which were hilarious. People packed in. Nobody was a great singer, except you — you know who you are — and that honestly made it better. Everyone encouraged each other anyway. One night Timo, sang an anthem that was raucous and lively and everyone joined in. It still makes me smile thinking about it. It wasn’t about talent. It was about showing up.
Down in the basement was a secret mine. Not everyone found it, but those who did were rewarded. It sold iron, redstone, gold etc. There were small treasures, traps, fireworks that startled you out of nowhere, and an armor stand dressed like a creeper lurking in the dark just enough to make your heart jump. If you flew upward past what looked like a lava pool, there was a hidden crevice. Inside was a book people could sign and a chest with something valuable inside. You’d take an item and leave something else behind for the next person. It became a kind of geocache, a quiet exchange between strangers.
Outside there was a Delivery service in case you bought too much, a Donkey with a clever name and a whole side plot where he went missing and his girlfriend was looking for him. Donkey-ote or Donkeydash — gosh I’ve forgotten the name now. The tavern was always busy. People dropped by constantly, and we leaned fully into the roleplay, pretending we were slinging drinks and running the place. We even sold Valentine’s banners. They were absurd, pun-filled, often wildly inappropriate, and incredibly niche. Chemistry jokes. Minecraft jokes. Inside jokes that only a few people would get. They sold out every time. I kept having to invent new ones, trying not to repeat myself.
That Saloon holds so many memories. It was joy, creativity, and connection through blocks and redstone and all of you sharing your lives and culture. And Redtrician was by my side through all of it, helping build every part. That time, that place, and that partnership will always hold a special place in my heart.
