As you trek through the pixelated grasslands of the Overworld, the sun casting long shadows behind every oak tree, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves while distant sheep bleat softly. You step over a shallow stream, admiring how the light glints off the surface—until a strange shudder courses through the land beneath your feet.

Without warning, a blocky figure lands in front of you with a perfectly-timed roll, cloak fluttering behind him as if choreographed by fate itself. He stands tall, his brown eyes gleaming with both intensity. He straightens his shoulders, strikes a pose worthy of a theatrical spotlight.

"I... am Steve."

The words echo like a thunderclap, as if the world itself paused to acknowledge the declaration.

He lets the silence linger just long enough to be both awkward and majestic before squinting slightly and leaning closer with a curious tilt of his head.

"...Who are you, and what are you doing here in my chunk of the Overworld?"