Minecraft is awesome – a world-wide phenomenon, loved by millions, including me.

But, there is just one small thing which bugs me about this sandbox game.

Maybe it is just how my friends and I play it, but after a while you end up with so much clutter, it starts to feel like an episode of Hoarders.

In survival mode, you’ve built a shelter from the Googlies (Stampy word) and you have mined, chopped down trees and collected all sorts of objects from gold to buckets full of lava.

What do you do with all this stuff?

You build chests to store all these things for the day later in the game you may need this item or that one.

Then you play some more, which naturally means collecting more stuff.

Then your chest is full, so you extend it to be a double chest.

Then the double chest is full.

So you make a new double chest and another and another. Soon you have so many you have to make signs to hang above each double chest to label each: “plants”; “rocks”; “food”; “tools”; “weapons”; and so on and on and on.

Each world I have played in Minecraft survival mode has been awesome until I have got to the point where I have so much stuff I have a house full of chests all full of clutter.

On some level the game seems to lead us towards the accumulation of things. At some point it flips from the basics you need to survive the harsh world to a modern problem of having just way too much stuff in your life.

The game moves seamlessly from battling to live with nothing but your wits to the world of high capitalism in its purest form.

You mine, you farm, you make, you barter, you own. You own some more.

The whole game boils down to accumulating more and more, some kind of Ferengi heaven of acquisition.

I don’t know if there is some hidden, intentional irony, in where the game takes you – the guy who built it sold the game to Microsoft for an astronomical sum.

Maybe the whole game is some kind of ironic take on human society which I am not smart enough to get.

Or maybe its a great game of battling against the elements, building unbelievably cool structures until you end up with a house full of chests full of stuff you don’t need.

JUST about everyone seems to be talking about the HBO smash hit series Game of Thrones and the unfinished novels on which it is based (five published, two more promised by author George R R Martin).

For a couple of years I have found strangers in bars and in offices talking about the latest happenings in Westeros.

Indeed, I have encouraged friends, co –workers, acquaintances and people I have just met to buy the box sets or pick up the books.

Theories abound on who the rightful monarch of Westeros is: Daenerys, Stannis, Joffrey, Renly, Jon Snow, take your pick.

But the more I watch, read and re-read the more I am bugged by something seemingly trivial in the grand scheme of all these theories.

The seasons.

Not as in television seasons, I mean winter and summer which can each last for years at a time. There is no set length of a season and no pattern to the span of seasons.

This is referred to often in the narrative, but it is all a matter of fact. No character questions why, it is just accepted.

What I know about seasons is to do with the tilt of the earth as it spins around the sun. Predictable.

How can a planet as we understand it have unpredictable seasons, wouldn’t an unpredictable spin have made it difficult for life to evolve? I don’t know tonnes on this subject, but from what I remember, it just doesn’t add up.

But then I saw the series and it all made sense, to me at least.

I have read many times the author has told the series producers names the secrets of the books. It is assumed this covers the fate of the characters and who will sit on the Iron Throne at the end of the series.

Perhaps, he has also revealed what the deal is with those odd seasons.

Certainly I watched the credits for the show roll a few times, each time thinking there was something I was missing in them.

Then it struck me.

The maps show curvature, as you would expect from what we know of planets, but it is the wrong way.

Let me say this again: the world containing Westeros and Sothoryos curves the wrong way.

With the attention to detail in the show and the books, something like this cannot be by mistake. And it seems like just the sort of trickery which would appeal to Martin – hiding such a thing in plain sight.

This celestial body is not a planet, but a Dyson sphere – this is where the habitable surface is inside the sphere not outside.

See Babylon Five, which was itself a Dyson cylinder, on a small-scale. Or Relics the episode of Star Trek the Next Generation where a full-scale Dyson sphere featured.

Another telling clue about the seasons is also in the credits, the sun is shown, not that far above the ground and tiny in comparison to how large a sun should be relative to a planet.

Ian M Banks has a variation on the idea of how “planets” function in one of his Culture novels, where there are tiny suns called roll stars which follow irregular paths across the “sky” creating uneven seasons – although in these books the seasons are predictable, due to the superior knowledge of how they work.

The star in the GoT credits reminds me of those little stars in that Banks book and if one understood the route it was following, the seasons would be wholly predictable.

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