Luca Loquax

TLD is my fav game of all time and I would very much like to have the opportunity to support Hinterland in more development.

Woooooo!

When you pick something up at the store and keep saying "I hope nobody needs this any more"...

I have no idea how one could fit "Hinterland" and "Immoral" into the same sentence. Raph and DEVs have all been class-acts in my humble evaluation and I am a huge fan of all of their work. I paid for this game waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back during early access and have not had to pay a dime since. I, for one, would be happy to purchase DLC content to enhance the game and to help support future development. Raph and DEVs have worked very, very hard to make TLD the best game ever and I'd be happy to help support them. :)

Hooray for Raph and Devs! Yay! Thank you for taking all of the time you need to give us the best. It shows that you care.

BEST GAME EVER! Mad respect to Raph and Devs.

I know what you mean. I played Interloper until I was able to get my 30 badge and called it a 'win'. Mad respect to those who can survive on Interloper indefinitely.

410! Nice! I hope U R having a great time.

When out in 'the world' and you pick something up, do you find yourself saying "I hope nobody needs this"? Do you have a huge pile of sticks in the middle of your living room floor because you can't stop collecting them? Does the sight of the sun getting low in the sky make you immediately seek the nearest shelter? Do barking dogs in the distance make you reach for a flare? Do you refuse to start a walk anywhere when it is past high-noon? Well, I've been playing for so long I probably need some professional help... but I am REALLY good at TLD! Mmmm, prosac....

I can't find the exact date I bought TLD as a 'early access' user when it was new to STEAM. What I do remember was at the time the whole game was the sandbox and it was just Mystery Lake. The game would start you at a random point with the captions "A geomagnetic storm caused your plane to crash in the frozen Canadian wilderness. How long can you survive?". It was love at first sight. All these years of development I have witnessed make me feel like it is kinda my game too and I have truck loads of respect for Raph and Devs. It has been said: "Receipts or it never happened". Lo

I know! Right?

Coastal Highway here! All of the regions are special to me but that is home sweet home. Mystery Lake is my fav for getting started, tho. Quincy's Quonset has everything I could want or need (except for one of those AWESOME 6-burner stoves) and has that big service area where I can party like its 1899.

4,946.7 hours. I have no life.

TLD L.A.R.P.ing could be super fun, super rewarding and... maybe make one super-dead. Please plan ahead, your mileage may vary.

I enjoyed watching this vid, there are others like it up on Utoob. Although she did seem to harp on the cannibalism thing a bit much....

Like, wow!

Thanx 4 posting!

Welcome to The Quiet Apocalypse!

Hooray for Canada Yay! You are going to have a super-awesome time!

"The Last Email of Sarah Easton" An unauthorized fan fic set on Great Bear Island By Luca Loquax. All honor and credit to Raph and Devs. The following is a Royal Canadian Air Force record of an email that was sent to the 'info@' alias with the subject line, “survivors, need help”. Whoever sent this has considerable technical skills owing to the complexities associated with wirelessly transmitting an email with a compressed text attachment in such a way that it bounced off of a satellite and hit the domain. The contents of the email are as follows: “To RCAF or any receiving station: I hope someone is still there receiving incoming traffic. My name is Sara Easton, I was the Radio Canada International operator assigned to the Signal Hill station on Great Bear Island. Since the events of and around the geomagnetic storm that crippled our electronic infrastructure, I have been doing my best to contact the mainland to no avail. All of our hopes are with this message finding its way. If our modern electronics being rendered useless was not enough, the litany of earthquakes have rendered Great Bear a fractured shell of its former self. The fleeing hope of ever getting back to 'normal' quickly degenerated into mere survival for survival sake. The following onset of the worst winter in all recorded history forced us all into the community center where the ensuing cold, malnutrition and sickness killed half the town in the next month alone. We actually had an honest to goodness doctor stagger in one night from Goddess-knows-where, just ahead of one of these damned blizzards. She did what she could to help us and even carried back a survivor from a crashed airliner. We were about to make her our leader when she disappeared as suddenly as she arrived. Thanks doc, wherever you are. It was clear that we were running out of everything but snow and fresh air so we hatched a plan to make a break for Perseverance Mills. Barb, bless her soul, got a farm tractor running and hitched it to a pair of hey wagons with improvised cover. We scavenged all the fuel, tools and supplies we could load and our rag-tag 'desperation express' and set out in the best weather we could hope for. Barb was at the wheel doing all she could to keep that tractor running. Father Thomas and I were on shotgun duty with the rifles Dan taught us how to use; a priest and a vegan-pacifist packing iron, who'd have thought it possible. Ammo is so scarce that practice was out of the question. We made good time at first and we even saw Bonnie wave us 'goodbye' as we passed her farm. It was clear that she had no intention of joining us. Fare ye well Signal Hill Station, I scarcely knew ye. Pleasant Valley: Population – 1. Our caravan exited the tunnel and the weather was holding, mostly. Even in the rear wagon I could hear Barb's coughing over the sound of the tractor's engine. That precious engine. We all would have traded the last ten years of our lives for a school bus with a functioning heater but it never would have made it over the broken road surface in many places. On our last litres of fuel the tractor had pulled us to within four Ks of the Perseverance Mills town line when we hit the end of the road thanks to the last earthquake. End of the line. With the clouds turning pink from the approaching sunset, the wind began to pick up and stray flakes began to blow past us. On foot we go, no choice. The first kilometer was not too bad as our mob staggered along. The second was worse and took twice as long and the third was when we lost the light and that cursed storm arrived in force. None of us had eaten in three days. All of us were sick or still recovering, hypothermic and dehydrated. We clung to the sick and weak as long as we could but Goddess forgive us, we left them there. What were we supposed to do, die with them? We could barely make way ourselves. Dan, Father Thomas, Barb and I made a dead-recon for the wisp of smoke we thought we saw over the next hill and pressed forward. By maybe blind luck, we stayed on the road and made it into town. Dan caught a glimpse of light in a basement window and we made our way to the school building. At the very last flicker of our endurance we were met by the townsfolk who had settled in school's lower level. I don't remember what happened next. Thompson Crossing: survivors – 4. Atwood is essentially chief of the last survivors of Great Bear. In the following days he introduced us to folks who had been able to make their way here by mostly singles and pairs from other parts of the island. Milton, Coastie Townies, a lighthouse operator and mix of workers, residents and tourists who did not know that the last ferry off of the island was, in fact the very last ferry off the island. At least the families with small children had already made it to the mainland. Everyone here works all day every day. Atwood sent a party to retrieve the tools and supplies we left in the wagons. When Father Thomas asked about burying our dead he said there is no way to dig graves and no time or energy to spare building cairns. There are frozen corpses everywhere. Father Thomas held a mass for the the living and gave last rites to the dead. Almost all our time and effort is spent on either food or firewood. Daily our little tribe busies itself, weather permitting, hunting, fishing and demolishing buildings and their contents for fuel. My job is carcass harvesting and cooking, hell for a vegan but I am around food and the wood stove so I count my blessings. Anything is better than going out THERE every day into that frozen hell that used to be our home. I have not left the basement in... weeks, maybe? Months? The days all run together. Atwood's HAM set is an old vacuum tube set that is immune to EMF and I have been able to get it up and running. Barb, Dan and I managed to cobble together car batteries and an actual inverter which is how I got this message out via my laptop. It turns out that microwave ovens really do protect electronics. Atwood was not happy about the time and energy spent to get me up and running here but Father Thomas convinced him that our one and only hope for long-term survival is calling for help to get off this thrice-damned island. For that we have placed all our hopes in whoever receives this message but thus far the whole world seems to have fallen silent. We are down to our last one of everything with no hope of any kind of resupply. Who would have thought the apocalypse would be characterized by dead silence? We power the HAM set when the aurora is up so if anyone can answer my CQ we beg you to respond even if you can not help. We have caught bits of unintelligible chatter now and then but have yet to get anything better than a 2/1. It gets worse. What everyone has noticed but nobody will talk about is how the weather is getting worse, the cold is getting colder and days are getting shorter. There should have been SOME sign of spring by now but this long dark is just getting deeper. To any receiving station please respond, I don't know how much longer we can hold out. I get my best reception on the upper side bands at night. Sarah Easton and the last survivors of Great Bear Island.”

I love the idea that people from many places who speak many languages share our love of TLD... unfortunately I can't read it... Turkish maybe?

Very nice! Thanx 4 posting! As an alternative I'd like to nominate "Arctic" starring Mads Millesen. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6820256/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0 M00f! Enjoy! Official Trailer here ->

We have not yet seen the place called "Perseverance Mills". For one, I'd to see the place where there are actual hU-mans! The living kind! What kind of a change of pace would it be if instead of everything being open for us to help ourselves to and 100t at will, there were already a community of survivors who'd be willing to trade us tools and supplies for say; food, hides, raw materials etc. I'd also like a town with a small airport, river running through it (hence the name 'mills') and lots of ice fishing. We also know there has to be at least one shortwave tower and at least one person to receive the 'wintermute' message. Stay tuned, fellow survivors and remember: if it moves, shoot it!

I would like a friendly companion Raven! Kawwww! My Raven, lets call him Muninn, would fly out ahead of me and do a loooong slow 'kawww' for "Something of interest ahead" and a series of quick, loud 'kaw, kaw, kaws' for "DANGER!". He may even be able to bring me small objects he found. I could feed him once a day, give him nesting materials and sacrifice bear hearts to the Old Gods. Praise Wotan.

Sorry, don't understand the question.