How Being Too Good at Minecraft Turned Me Into a Villain
I was accused of using Creative Mode because I was too good at PvP. My friends split off to make their own server. And I learned that being right doesn't matter if everyone hates you for it.
The Greatest Compliment in Gaming
There’s no higher praise than being called a cheater when you’re playing fair.
I was in the middle of a 1vAll fight—the entire server versus me—and I was winning. End crystals were detonating in rapid succession, craters were forming, and players were dying faster than they could respawn. The chat was moving at terminal velocity:
"He's in Creative."
"There's no way he didn't take damage there."
"Op abuse. Look at him."
The reality? I was sweating bullets. We were on an Aternos server—free hosting that runs about as smoothly as a slideshow made in Microsoft Paint. Players were teleporting across the battlefield. Blocks were phasing in and out of existence. The tick rate was having an existential crisis.
I wasn’t in Creative Mode. I was just significantly better at crystal PvP than everyone else.
But in that moment, my skill was indistinguishable from tyranny.
The Tyranny of the Majority
The conflict was simple: the entire server wanted end crystals banned from PvP.
Their argument: “It’s overpowered. It’s not fun. We can’t compete against it.”
My argument: “It’s a vanilla mechanic. Learn to counter it. Why should I get nerfed because you refuse to learn the meta?”
I thought I was defending the integrity of the game. I saw it as protecting competitive fairness—the idea that skilled players shouldn’t be handicapped just because casual players find something difficult.
I held a philosophical position: this was a vanilla server. All vanilla features should be legal. Banning crystals because people couldn’t use them was like banning building because someone made a cooler base than you.
So when they proposed a democratic vote, I rejected it outright. I knew I’d lose. The vote would be 1 versus everyone. Democracy in this case wasn’t about fairness—it was about the majority enforcing their preferences on a minority of one.
I offered them alternatives:
- A duel between me and their best PvPer (3 rounds crystal, 3 rounds their choice)
- A training arc where I’d teach them the mechanics
- A coin toss if they wanted pure chance
They refused everything. They wanted the vote. They wanted crystals gone.
Who the hell made this a democracy?
The Soft Betrayal
While I was busy defending my position, my friends were busy making their own server.
They didn’t announce it. They didn’t stage a dramatic exodus. Player counts just started dropping. DMs went silent. Eventually, I found out they’d started a “crystal-free” server.
When I confronted them, I got the classic move:
“Oh, we’re not leaving leaving. We just wanted a break. You can join if you want!”
Translation: “We like you, but we hate your rules, so we’re going to lie to preserve the friendship while still escaping.”
They were too conflict-averse for an open betrayal, so they gave me the soft version—plausible deniability wrapped in false reassurance.
I was left alone on my server. My massive base. My custom plugins. My technical infrastructure.
Empty.
The Lesson: Correctness ≠ Authority
This is where most people would say “I was right, they were wrong, the end.”
But here’s what I actually learned:
Being right doesn’t give you authority.
I had the logically sound argument:
- Crystals are vanilla
- Banning mechanics because of skill issues is bad game design
- Majority rule can be tyrannical
All true. All irrelevant.
Because a leader’s job isn’t to be the smartest person in the room. It’s to keep people in the room.
The harsh realities I discovered:
1. Democracy isn’t about finding the “best” choice
Democracy is about buy-in. When people don’t feel heard, they leave. It doesn’t matter if you’re objectively correct.
This actually answered a question I’d had offline as well - Why do we go for democracy when democracy gives the majority the power to ruin everything. Why would we effectively hand a gun to a bunch of idiots?
Turns out it isn’t really about democracy per se, or about being right, or efficiency. It’s about people being able to go along with it.
It’s like a playground, if more of the people wanna play football, and fewer people wanna play tennis, you’d go with football. Not because football is the better sport, or because the people who want to play tennis are wrong, but because it’s not as fun to be playing with less space and less people.
2. The Minority of One Problem
When 99% of your population hates a rule, the rule isn’t “fair” anymore—it’s an obstacle to their enjoyment. Your technical correctness becomes functionally equivalent to tyranny.
I had won every argument. I had won the 1vAll fight.
But I had lost the server.
The Turning Point
After the split, I made a decision. If I was going to bring them back—if I was going to build something that lasted—I couldn’t just be a skilled player with owner privileges.
I needed to become an architect.
The server needed systems. Rules that felt fair even when they weren’t optimal. Governance structures that gave people voice without descending into mob rule. Transparency tools that killed conspiracy theories before they started.
I stopped trying to win arguments and started building frameworks.
What Actually Happened Next
I did eventually get that duel. Some of the “unsaid friend group leaders” agreed to let combat decide the server’s fate.
And in the background, I was planning something bigger. I was about to migrate us off Aternos to a real hosting provider—one that I’d be funding the majority of. That meant I’d be operating the server. Managing the backend. Holding the keys to the kingdom. And they couldn’t really leave, unless they wanted to play on a crappy aternos server.
I had learnt a crucial lesson about the difference between authority and power.
- Power is what you have when you own the server.
- Authority is what you have when people want to listen to you.
I had power. I was about to learn how to build authority.
This is Part 1 of a 3-part series on running a Minecraft server that grew to 6x its initial population, survived multiple civil wars, and taught me more about leadership than any textbook ever could. And yes, once again, this post was written by AI. It’s just faster that way honestly.