Episode 1: Wherein Everyone is Confused, Very Little is Accomplished, and a Rabid Squirrel Bites Fox.The four of you awake in your cryosleep sarcophagi to the sounds of sirens and ripping metal. You barely get to the escape pods before the ship is torn apart.
Some time later, you land on this unknown rimworld.
As pieces of the shredded starship fall around you, you start making plans to survive.
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"Hey. Hey you guys, listen up."
They aren't listening. Well, they've been through a lot these past few minutes..."Hey! Listen!"
"OK, there we go. Now, I'm sure you four have a lot of questions, I'll do my best to get you on your feet.
"I have good news and bad new, and then more good news and some more bad news. The good news: You are alive, and have arrived at a habitable colony planet. The bad news: Your ship exploded, and as far as I know, you're the only survivors. More good news though: Some supplies from the ship arrived, and we have enough to build a real colony here. And the final bad news: This world is not uninhabited, there are raiders, natives, and mechanoids basically everywhere; it may get violent around here."
They're taking this well. No panicking, just dazed and confused stares... Oh right."I'm sure you're wondering who I am. Well, basically, I'm God.
"Nah, not really. I'm the ship's cloud-based colonization computer: '
Distributed
Intelligence:
Building'. You can call me DIB if you'd like. I'm using your wrist computers for processing and communication, so I can see what you do and issue orders.
"Now, this is very important: I have a lot of information and advanced planning routines. If you all want to survive, it's going to be very important that you listen to me. Any questions? No? Well let's get to work."
And there they go. Nice. Let's take a look at who we're working with here.
Snarks Florian. 28 year-old Information Broker. He's got some decent (not great) social and crafting skills, and is capable of everything. Your standard jack-of-all-trades.
Fox. 65 year-old Researcher. Not-terrible shooting and social skills, and very good crafting and researching. Can't do manual labor though, that could be inconvenient. Hmm, he's "psychically hypersensitive"; that could be bad if something weird happens.
Engie. 34 year-old Combat Engineer. Our best fighter, and very skilled at construction. She can do everything too, though not very well.
And finally, Blank Johnson. 45 year-old Bartender. Melee fighter and doctor, and can do just about all we'll need him to."For your first task, everyone, I'd like you hollow out this hill here, you're going to need shelter. Right? Humans need that, yeah? Yeah.
"If you can't mine, (
Engie...), please gather together all our supplies, and drop them here. I've outlined a stockpile for our stuff.
Wait, what was that, moving over there? Oh, that's right, there were a domesticated dog and squirrel in the pods.
"Rodooooooo, who's a good boy? You are! And a little squirrel friend! Hi!"
OK, enough fun, what's next... "I know you're all busy and everything with the digging and lifting stuff, but when you get a chance, knock over these trees here, please. You're going to need material for walls and things.
"As soon as you get enough wood together, throw up some walls. I'm thinking we build a nice little cafeteria/kitchen/dorm."
Let's have a look at the work assignments page, see if there's anything we can do to get a bit more efficiency here.
That explains it. Nobody's assigned to mine or cut plants. It's an easy fix. "Everyone, if you'll turn your attention to your computers, you'll notice you've received assignments. Let me know if you can't do anything on there."
What's next... Ah, we'll need power for our cook stove and climate control units. A solar generator should take care of that.
Huh, that's odd. Everyone's just passed out on the ground wherever. Oh, I didn't assign sleeping areas.
There we go.
Ah, our refrigerator is done (enough)! "This area is going to be for fresh and cooked foods, and animal carcasses. It's going to stay freezing to keep everything from spoiling, so don't, uh, don't hang out in there too long."
Now that we have a bit of momentum going, I think I'll lay out food prep areas and a dining tabe. Battery will go in the cave, to protect it from the rain. Yes...
This mountain here looks pretty solid, and it has a good bit of steel inside. Think I'll make it the main headquarters. Little access corridor, and the communications/armory to one side.
This can be the kitchen/cafeteria/pantry, and I think there's room for a hydroponic farm, too. We'll see.
And the rest will be rooms. I don't think I'll have them dig this all out right now, we have more pressing matters.Fox: Uh, DIB, sir. Um, it looks like we're going to be here for a while, doesn't it? I was thinking, we should call our settlement something. You know? I don't think it has to be fancy or anything, but, what do you think?"
Hmm, yeah. That sounds good. "OK Fox, I have an idea:"
"The Colony, Rigid Lumens. Named after my dear old motherboard. Sorry, computer humor. :/"
Fox: Uh, yes sir mister DIB sir. It's a fine name.
"Glad you agree. Now! I think I have a way to kill two birds with one stone, here. Look at the plans I'm sending to you all:
"This structure will be both indoor material storage, AND a trading stockpile! Impressed?"
They don't seem terribly impressed.
"Whoap, hold on. We have visitors calling! Be nice, and try to make friends. You'll need all the allies you can get here."
The visitors from Dancer's Village came to our little homestead, and just kind of hung out for about a day. They brought their own food, which was awesome since we're running a little low... They sat, they ate, they chatted with us- er, with my colonists. All in all, I'd say it was a fairly successful meeting.
In the days to follow, I queued up some additional power sources, and scouted the area.
The boomalope is a very interesting creature. It's said it was a farm animal before they escaped and went feral. I don't know, reliable sources are hard to come by. But it's pretty well established that these guys will explode if jostled too hard. Think a boomrat, but huuuuge. They won't be on the hunt list for a while.
Hmmm, what's this? "I'm getting some strange psychic signatures off of one of the squirrels in the area."
"Oh, I see it now."
Engie: What is it?
"It seems this squirrel has gone off its nut, so to speak. It's mad and aggressive, and is charging toward you all as we speak."
Blank: You don't seem concerned, at least. Should we be?
"Yes, probably. EVERYONE! DROP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND MOVE TO THIS LOCATION, NOW!!! Get ready to fight!"
Fox: Aaaah! It's biting me! Ow! Help!
"Run, you fool! Use your significantly longer legs and GET AWAY FROM IT!"
"OK, now everyone: Step on it, kick it, and if it jumps on you, slap that squirrel!"
The colonists flail for a few vicious seconds, the creature a blur of fur and rage... And it's over. The squirrel is a sack of meat and smear in the dirt."Actually, as long as you have a squirrel carcass handy, why don't you carve and cook that sucker up?"
Fox: If I may, sir DIB sir, I'd like to handle that. I'm a bit of a chef, and I'd like to get some revenge on the beast.
I agree, and Fox dutifully sets to chopping and cooking the squirrel meat. Not immediately, of course. Blank bandaged up the bites and scratches superbly, first.
And then for a while, everyone just plugged along, gradually putting walls up, and digging out caves in the hills. Fox took down a few more game animals, and cooked them into simple meals.
We have a comms console now, so we can call up any of the surrounding communities if we need help with anything. We can also call trading ships that occasionally pass through orbit, and send goods up in exchange for things we can't get down here. No ships at the moment, though.
And then a random traveller decides to just join the colony. Neat! "Welcome to the colony of Rigid Lumens, Smax! Say 'hi', everyone!"
Fox: Hello.
Blank: Hi, Smax!
Engie: Welcome!
Snarks: Howdy.
Rodo: Woof!
Oh yeah, we have a dog. I almost forgot!" Hey Rodo, where were you during the squirrel incident, anyway?"
Rodo: Aroooo.
Meet Smax. 20 year-old glitterworld empath. How he ended up hiking accross a rimworld is anybody's guess, but it's good for us. He's a non-combatant, probably doesn't know the front end of a rifle from the back. But it's fine, he's a veritable wizard with words, and a very competent doctor and cook.
While Smax was getting settled, I detected a few cargo pods crashing to ground a short distance away. Probably supplies from our ship that just got delayed in slightly different trajectory, or something. Anyway, it's a pretty good supply of refined uranium! We can't do anything with it yet, but it'll definitely come in handy eventually.
Snarks: Hey Rodo, come here, boy! Look, we got some fresh meat, finally! You'd like some of this, right? Well, if you promise to obey us, we'll make sure you get allllll the meat you could want!
Rodo: *dog-shrugs in agreement*
And that's how our resident animal trainer does his business. It also probably explains why Rodo was off doing anything else during the squirrel event.Fox is becoming quite the hunter, he's moved from rabbits to deer, and he's taking them down with just a pistol and dragging them to the refrigerator himself.
Huh, Smax looks weird. "Hey Smax, what's up?"
Smax: Ah! The voice in the sky! Hello, DIB! Um, I'm ok. I don't like to complain, really.
"Uh huh. Come on, out with it already. Let me help you help me help the colony help you."
Smax: Well, it's just that I seem to have lost my pants. I'm ok with it, really. But flopping around in front of everyone makes me a little self-conscious.
"Right right, I'm familiar with the concept of modesty. I'll see what I can do to get you some pants, but it might be a while. Hang loose until then, ok?"
I've got to remember that these people have weird needs, and that morale is essential to survival. Pants are also useful. Apparently.
We're making some good progress on our warrens, so this will probably mark the end of this log. Oh yeah, I'm keeping a log of the colony. If they survive, their children will probably need to learn some history. If they don't... Well I'm sure somebody will read this.
