no death. no fun.
no death. no fun.
This game is something else. ;) Love it.
Oh dear. Seems that beds require research now (700 pts.). Sucks for Rich Explorer mode.
Isn’t that only the case if you start as a tribe? In my current b18 game I started with beds.
I did too, and then I made the wise choice of switching to unstable. Brutal requirement when you only have one settler capable of research. Fortunately, I already had four beds made in my current save when this happened, so I should be okay for a little while, but it seems like it’ll hit players pretty hard when first starting out (at least, in this mode).
The insects had burrowed up through the floors in the cavernous and beautiful central room we had dug out. The room served both as our dining hall, with its large ornate marble table stretching across the shorter width of the room, seating a dozen of us for meal times when we need it, as well as our recreation room, for there was a MegaScreen TV taking up a great deal of the wall, with wonderfully soft couches and recliners facing it. There was also a pool table and several wooden sculptures in there. And now there were monstrous insects with razor-sharp claws and mouths too. With gooey nests exposed and little crawling insects inside our walls. Where we ate breakfast. Where we saw 8 of us married and gave them well wishes and drank wine and partied.
An odd name for a red fox, for sure. No one could remember who named him that, or why. A cheeky joke from one of the sociopathic pirates we had recruited maybe. But it had stuck. A few years back our most talented animal trainer, Cougar, caught him wandering into the woods to the east of our encampment and had tamed him right on the spot. The fox had a knack for learning and was back in our stables that night, sleeping in a bed with the rest of our animals. It was good that Cougar had trained him right then, or else he might have become a snack for one of our Grizzlies. Many of his kin had met that fate, but not him.
Luckily for us, the doors, giant sandstone blocks on etched tracks, were closed. A blessing. There were four of these giant doors, one for each cardinal direction, one in each wall. We spent a lot of time moving in and out of that room and so we had a way in from each adjacent room. But today it was tightly sealed. And so when we heard the screeches and scratching coming from our colony’s triumph of art and respite and greatest sanctuary, we were protected. Momentarily. It was not long before we heard the digging sounds coming from the southern wall. The insects were not satisfied destroying our floors and taking our favorite place from us, they were going to burrow right out into our home and try to consume us or feed us to their young. Disgusting monsters.
The fox led a mostly enchanted life, unbefitting his name. He was taught how to fetch and move things for us and ate rodents in the wild around our settlement. When the raids came, he hid inside the stables with the rest of our animals while the Scythers or Pirates fought us and died in our traps. He slept easily through the automatic sentry fire while he was kept safe. When the toxic fallout blanketed the horizon as far as we could see we kept him in and he ate kibble for weeks, but he was a good boy and never wanted for anything. We traded a passing ship for a pair of female red fox companions and he became a father several times over.
We suited up, power armor online, helmet engaged. Grabbed our energy rifles and chain shotguns and heavy machine guns. 10 of us crouched, 2 or 3 per door, lined up, ready for go. Gordon, our animal commander called 6 huge grizzlies down the hallway, eyes wide, noses high, teeth bared, 4 inch claws clattering on the tile below. “GO!” He pulled open the door and ordered them inside. Chaos. Insects everywhere. Our beasts fighting the monsters. The other teams threw open their own doors, looked around the doorway and began to fire. Smoke filled the room and insects began to die. Screeching. Growling and thrashing. Two of our grizzlies went down, whimpering but alive. The smoke cleared and the bugs were dead. Mauled to bits and smoldering in piles of insect pieces. Then we focused our fire on the nests leaving nothing but puddles. Our doctors came in to work on the downed and hurt grizzlies while the couple wounded soldiers marched to medical beds. A few colonists came in to clean up the blood and insect goo that was everywhere. A damned abomination, cleansed with the fire of battle, now needed the kind of cleaning that happens with a pail and sponge.
The animals were all outside. It was safer than inside, when the bugs attacked. They were out on the grounds eating grass or hunting for small animals. Some of them were hauling the corn in from the field to the kitchen. Years of hard training work and our animals were a labor force, well trained masters of delivery and organization. Some of us had began to trickle out of our home. Bishop, the most handsome of us all, who commanded an amazing price for our goods, lazily walked out to a deep drill across the fields of corn and the strip of power lines coming from our geothermal power plant. Far out away from the base and barely visible by the scant trees. We heard him yelling something. “Something’s grabbing our animals! Something’s got Suffering! He’s been cut to death. The fucking bugs! The fucking bugs!” Across the fields and power lines out by the small hill we mined out long ago. Another insect nest.
We didn’t know. We thought about and fought about the ones in the grand hall. We killed the ones there. They had branched so far away, and we didn’t know. But they had come out at the same time and were hunting our animals. One by one, taking them to their nest. The red fox had been the first, but he was not the last. We ran out yelling and firing our rifles and shotguns and we shot them all to bits and swore and screamed and we cleaved them into pieces. A few more of our animals lay in pools of blood at their horrible nests dying. An arctic wolf. A couple wild boars. Our only and most prized fennec fox. Our friends.
But not anymore. Rest in peace. The best of boys.
I only posted this because you guys were posting your funnily named animals and I was going to say “hahah look at this red fox I got named Suffering”. And then this really happened in the game. Sigh.
That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
So far I have to say the banish option is the best addition to b18. I’ve used it twice now. Once when a useless and dangerous peon decided on his own to join the colony (there really should be a way to accept or reject them). The second time was when an escape pod landed nearby. While the guy in it at least had one useful skill (research, which 2 of my current 4 colonists already have good skill in), they also had cataracts, dementia and the frail trait. Normally I’d just ignore the pod and let them die cold and alone rather than risk rescue and them joining the colony and become another mouth to feed. Knowing I could banish them if they decided to join I happy rescued them and patched them up before sending them on their way.
I am picturing this option could be something akin to Crossroad found in Dead of Winter. aka, you choose not to accept them and then you get a little story pop up that says five days later you find their trail went cold in the mountains with only a puddle of blood to be found, or you know, something equally horrifying when you reject them.
I finally caved and got this. Man, it’s good.
One note on your room setup. I may be wrong about this, but you don’t really get any benefit from having a chess table in each room. For joy items you really only need one in a central location. In the bedrooms it’s just making the room a little less spacious.
Also try to make corridors three wide rather than one. The cramped space of a one wide corridor is bad for mood.
Figured the chess tables would provide a bit of value, darn. I thought I had found that prisoners appreciated chess tables. Hmm.
Kami, colonist #2, has been asking for a prosthetic for a long time.
Good news, Kami! A visiting faction was willing to sell us a simple prosthetic arm for $650!
Engie recovers from her second mental break (after the tantrum above) and steps in to perform the surgery.
I’m assuming that I replaced the arm successfully, but I’m not sure how I can verify this.
Fortunately, Michael “Flea” Shepherd-Fin shows up.
I just noticed recently that there’s dressers now that improve the effectiveness of beds. So I guess those are a good idea for when you want to put more furniture into a bedroom and improve its quality.
I would be so terrified of something going wrong in surgery that I wouldn’t even try giving my pawns a prosthetic limb unless there was a really good reason for it. I’m starting to think that Rimworld reveals a lot about your personality.
A message would have shown on the top of the screen if the operation failed. You should see the arm listed on the health tab. If after the operation it showed a cut, that likely means it failed and the cut was the resulting would from the botched operation.
When it comes to bionic upgrades make sure you have someone with really good medical skill. I usually wait until I have someone at 12 or more to start creating my army of bionic supermen.
Also, back to the subject of bedrooms, art is the best thing to put in them. It increases value and beauty. Start cranking out large wooden sculptures as soon as you can.
Rich Explorer mode limits pretty much every easy recommendation. Still checking on the operation results.
Prisoners do as they provide a source of joy and they can only use things that are in the prison. Your regular peons can all use the same table in your rec room.
Did you know you can build bedrolls now? Seems silly that beds need research, but maybe that’s why now?