Instead of melting away the unrefined iron debris, refitting the scales of the Iron Golem has made for a desirable chest guard.

After tinkering with the standard furnace model, you've come to realize how archaic its designs were. Innovation!

The Villager regarded you as a hero and has offered you his greatest secret. It arouses thoughts of shelter...

A maldeveloped Creeper gland seems to be constantly excreting gunpowder residue. Naturally, you put it in a rocket!

A mutated Enderman must have gotten into the system, because a shiny, indestructible pearl has been procured from it. It's resonating with energy.

Patiently deconstructing canes for their resources has brought you in tune with your surroundings. You forged a talisman to reflect your new potential.

Negotiating for their safety, a Witch handed over a peculiar artifact to you. Your potions begin to feel heavier in your hands.

Working above the boundaries of a dimension has its perks. A deity has taken note of your slaughter and rewarded you with a fraction of their power.

Deconstructing the ocean's temples lead you to a mysterious crown. It shimmers and resonates around the tides.

Some creature got caught up in the systems of your harvester, but despite your best efforts you can't seem to get rid of the corpse... Make the best out of it, I suppose.

Blasphemous battling of buoyant boyos bestowed blessed booties to the big bad behemoth!!! (you)

You got the dye from every flower all over your clothes. This is a massive fashionable mess... or is it?

You grew to understand the anatomy of Blazes with your handiwork and have forged a mechanized weapon built in their image.

One of the Drowned was unlike the others. It spoke tall tales of its past and knew great secrets of fishing. You let him roam free in exchange for his trustiest fishing rod.

Those skeletons are craftier than you might think. One of them constructed a bow that could inherit any arrow type! Too bad he didn't have any special arrows to use it with...

One of the raid parties that fell victim to your trap was considerably further advanced than the others. This could put a dent in those Ravagers...

One of the Chorus plants seems to have been fermenting over generations. You can hardly sink your teeth in before you're launched far into your own past.

The sleepiest sheep of them all left behind a strand of its wool. Holding it has helped you keep composure without sleeping for weeks.

Some would call you a prisoner of your own psyche. Others call you a prisoner of your work. Generally you're considered a prisoner, though.

The throne of the skies was once held by those Ghasts. Who will take their place?