Celeblith

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Everything posted by Celeblith

  1. I'm creeping up on day 40 . . . might make a new survival save for the sole purpose of exploring the muskeg, or I might do it in story mode, but there's no way I'm putting my current save's life on the line like that. I like the idea, though.
  2. Right, I just mean that in-game, it might be possible. But then, I wonder if you wouldn't eat the cattails faster than they can grow back . . . Also, as for the bow and arrows, I crafted a survival bow a short while ago. Also, I know finding arrowheads is a lot to hope for, but right now I have no interest in abandoning my base to put my life on the line trying to find a hammer and brave the muskeg just to forge some stupid arrowheads . . . then again, I'm gonna need something to get rid of these wolves. My current strategy is as follows: get naked, take only knife, find wolf, run kamikaze-style at it, get mauled, kill wolf, wait until I heal, repeat. Not very effective.
  3. The Long Dark: "Fuck all of you, but fuck this guy especially."
  4. I got sick of where that playthrough was going so I deleted it haha
  5. One could probably subsist on nothing but cattail stalks (good idea for a vegan roleplay playthrough???) but besides that, it'd be silly to try and be vegan the way we can be in the first world, in a survival situation like this. People often say, "If you tried to be vegan a hundred/a thousand/ten thousand years ago, you'd starve!" And they're right! We avoid cruelty and try to protect the environment to the best of our ability, but surviving harsh conditions often means your continued existence necessitates the death of something else, and that's, as non-vegans love saying, the circle of life I like what you said about bow-hunting being more ethical (and of course ethics in this case is practically meaningless, since they're not real bunnies--still, it's fun to talk about). I'm in a real hurry to find/craft a bow--partly for that reason--but to be honest I'm having trouble finding arrowheads (and I'm not ready to leave the safety of my starting region to find a forge!). Anyway, good luck with that, and as I say to everyone on here, happy hunting
  6. So (surprise) ya boi Celeblith is vegan . . . but a survivor's gotta do what a survivor's gotta do. Still, I can't help feeling a little bit of guilt (not strictly as a vegan but as a human being in general) when I ploink one of those little thumpers with a rock right between his peepers, lumber on up to him, look into his eyes, and snap his lil' neck as he lets out a muffled screech. The game's gotta be commended for having this kind of realism (making me feel remorse for killing incorporeal lines of code projected as pixels in the shape of a rabbit is pretty cool), but I'm curious, anybody else cringe a little when snapping rabbit necks?
  7. So, I guess I'm not new anymore. I've posted on several topics--I would've posted here before if I knew this thread existed. Anyway, I'm Celeblith (pronounced ke leb lith; means "silver ash" in Sindarin Elvish, one of the languages J. R. R. Tolkien invented for his Middle-earth legendarium) and I'm pretty big on LotR and its universe (if you couldn't already tell), and I love memes, animals, and finding whetstones in unlikely places--but, then, don't we all? I've lived in California all my life, so it's no wonder I love TLD, coming from a part of the state where it snows only twice or thrice through all of winter (if we're lucky enough to get even that). This community's really cool and I'm looking forward to being a part of it as the game develops and (hopefully) attracts more pilgrims, voageurs, stalkers, and interlopers. Happy hunting
  8. @CaveDweller I really like your treatment of different gaming perspectives. I wasn't even aware of the debate between vertical and horizontal progression, but your explanation really made me think about how and why I play video games. I'm going to look for more discussion on this, but I really hope you post more about it as I'd be very interested in reading more of your thoughts on the matter.
  9. Celeblith

    Fire Pit

    I agree. Yet another reason base-building would be not only unnecessary but also game-breaking, gratuitous fan-service (if you can even call it that, as from what I've seen fans have little interest in such Fortnite-esque, Fallout-ish nonsense).
  10. I've seen this general idea suggested in different words in multiple threads, and I think it's a great thought and that the devs should definitely act on it. That said, I'll speak in defense of the poor furry robots before rejoining you in agreement. On the whole I've found wildlife to be fairly unpredictable--more so than in games like Skyrim or whatever wherein wildlife behavior isn't a cornerstone of game mechanics. But I'll grant that's not saying much. Much of what makes wolves wolves in TLD is, for me, their behavior outside of direct confrontation. When you're just exploring around, little is more blood-chilling than the howls of nearby wolves--actual wolves, mind you (i.e. not just sound effects emanating from nowhere). Furthermore, something truly menacing about wolves is their cleverly designed intelligence. In-game, they behave very craftily, hiding behind objects until you come out from your shelter for a once-around of the grounds, returning to their hiding spots once they've frightened you back into submission. Very mischievous boys indeed. That said, I couldn't agree with you more with respect to their behavior in confrontations: about-turns without animations (a little bizarre) and silly, unrealistic (even by the game's standards) confrontationality--seriously, how dumb are these wolves? Don't they see my nine hunting knives dangling from my wolf-gut belt in a long, shiny skirt of canine-killing armaments? I'd be very happy to see smarter wolves, more unpredictable wildlife in general, and more or less exactly what you described.
  11. Celeblith

    Fire Pit

    I only have this to say: # of caves < # of houses Ever read My Side of the Mountain? Kid made his house in a tree, and he wouldn't have been able to do it if he hadn't dedicated a large amount of time and resources to building a rudimentary clay chimney (a major reason fires can't be built on a whim indoors is because of suffocating smoke).
  12. This makes me sad and I don't know why
  13. Too dark. I refer you to my state of helplessness as a result of becoming lost within my unlit domicile.
  14. That would've been nice to know . . . but did I even deserve to live? I think not.
  15. Okay, this is kind of lame. I decided to start off in Milton this playthrough, and I've been doing all right. Constantly vexed by inquisitive wolves prowling the surround and never giving me a moment's peace, but they're better company than deer and almost as good as rabbits (the once-burgeoning population of which they've now all but exterminated--sigh.). But that's not my problem. So, the aurora's weird. It makes the game ten times spookier (and that's saying something), but this is double weird. I awoke fully rested to green windows and flickering lights. Whatever. After enjoying the light show (cut off early by one of those same wolves I described, now glowing green for some reason), I crept back indoors to pass some time with a little game of solitaire (or whatever it is the player character does when (s)he passes time), only to find that I could not. No option to switch from rest to pass time in the bed menu. No deck of cards in the campcraft radial. What's up with that? Anyway, for lack of the fatigue to sleep, I wandered around my farmhouse, only to get lost in the dark without any matches. Someone please give me an explanation for this absurdity before my character dies of starvation in his own damn house like the utter buffoon he is.
  16. I'd like to add to this discussion that perhaps (building off of what @Hackfleisch said) animal aggression should be determined by more complicated settings. In addition to what people have already said, what if wolves were more likely to attack if there were other wolves nearby, or something like that? Bear aggression could be handled a little differently, and I wonder if the community has any thoughts on that one.
  17. Celeblith

    Fire Pit

    @shade_grey Understandable. I can definitely see your point of view. It could be rather game-breaking to be able to set up a fire anywhere, anytime. I mentioned this before, but I think it's worth bringing up again: two options that might limit the OP-ness of craftable, indoor fireplaces include high craft-times and resource requirements, and, alternatively (or in addition), portable stoves that use lamp oil or something to function. I like the former idea because it offers long-term customizability for permanent (or semi-permanent bases) at the expense of time and resources (you can't just do it on a whim--if you're building an indoor fireplace, you plan to stay a while!). I like the latter because it comes with its own restrictions. Limited fuel and fuel availability would mean you wouldn't be able to use your stove very much or even very often. Good if you need to boil that one half liter of water that's the difference between life or death, or for cooking up that stray rabbit you chanced upon before a gnarly blizzard trapped you in a resource-deprived cave--the one time you didn't bother to pick up a few sticks, just in case! The stove would also be a pretty rare accessory, and might come at the cost of some precious inventory space (I'm not sure how large they usually are, but I wouldn't be surprised if it fell in the ballpark of 2.00 kg, a hefty piece on any excursion). If you couldn't tell, I like the stove idea better than the fireplace one, and I think you make a strong case against the latter. That's not to mention that there are several decent permanent-base-type structures already scattered (albeit sparsely) across the game world. Still, it'd be neat to be able to set up a permanent base near a valuable resource without the introduction of game-breaking and often ridiculous base-building.
  18. @stratvox The main reason I bring up candles is because of the live action short film for TLD, "Elegy." In it, a female character lights several candles on the dash of a car, presumably after being trapped their by weather or predators. I thought it'd make sense in-game, and I really like the notes and info you added. Great points about fat consistency!
  19. Celeblith

    Fire Pit

    Fair, but I have one question: what about locations that already have indoor fire receptacles, like fireplaces and wood stoves?
  20. One of my most tragic survival stories comes from Pleasant Valley. Like several people on this forum, I thought it might be a good idea to establish myself at the farmhouse there. Why not? It's a nice enough place, plenty of game in the farmlands and forests on the surround, a fair amount of firewood, and decent prospects for loot. Yes, I felt quite at home my first few days there nestled in my flannels, warming by the stove in the decrepit kitchen. I'd made the mistake in an earlier save (also starting in Pleasant Valley) of venturing outside the territory on a circuitous journey, the final few kilometers of which I only knew in theory as I'd never walked that extent of the path; long story short, I got eaten by a wolf as I stumbled through the dark in the middle of the night. For fear of a similar demise befalling me this time, I resolved myself to stay within the confines of the valley to explore, map, gather, and prepare for expeditions much later. An important preface to the story: on an expedition up the hills on the radio-tower-side of the farmstead, I discovered a hunting rifle in the cold, ghostly remains of the control hut. A great find; it was with this gun that I hunted my first deer (I wasted about eight shots). It's been said that the root cause of almost all the deaths experienced by players of TLD is hubris. Such was the case for me. It was my short-term goal to cure enough pelts to make a full suit of animal-skin clothing, and to do that I needed one more wolf pelt. Feeling tough with my new rifle, I left my farmstead home one morning with an itchy trigger finger. What I encountered on my hunt was far more than I bargained for. I heard it before I saw it: the whimpering of a frightened wolf, the snuffle of a lumbering bear. As I turned, I witnessed the canine flee the great hulking beast which lurched slowly after it. Upon seeing me, however, the wolf forgot its fear and charged. I hadn't counted on behavior like this, and I leveled my rifle all too late. In my medicine stash, I found bandages to stanch the flow of thick blood which pulsed out of me and left a trail of droplets from the site of the attack to the bathroom in the farmhouse. It wasn't until my wounds were tended to that I realized what I was missing: antiseptic. Not knowing of any sure spot to find it, I quit my mental search for peroxide quickly. There was one alternative: a treatment of Old Man's Beard. But where to find it? My condition was weak--about 50%--so I knew that whatever I did, I had to do it carefully. I set off in the direction of the radio tower, the only swath of the wilderness I'd thoroughly explored. I seemed to recall seeing some of my quarry there on a past expedition; what I found was disappointing. There's a small pond out there with a single fishing hut on it. It was in the vicinity of this shelter that I realized something devastating: I had no gloves; they'd been shredded in the initial attack. At risk of hypothermia and infection, I sat by the fire I'd started in the fishing hut and thought. With predators lurking behind potentially any tree, going out any farther from known territory might well have been a death sentence; that ruled out Old Man's Beard . . . unless . . . If I made haste to the radio tower, several of three outcomes might've resulted: 1. I find some Old Man's Beard on the trip there; 2. I find some antiseptic inside the shelter there; or that which I dreaded, 3. I find neither and become trapped on a mountain come dusk, which was not far off. I had my doubts, but it was my best chance. This is where I realized I was living out a case study in worst-case-scenarios. I hadn't made it halfway when I attracted the attention of another wolf. He dogged my steps (no pun intended) all the way to the tower where he nearly caught me as I slipped between the chain link fence which marked the line between safety and danger. My relief at being beyond the animal's reach was tempered by my dejection at not finding any Old Man's Beard. I had one last chance. Creeping into the hut, I knew on some level already what I'd find--or not find, as it were. I wasn't surprised when I searched every container, every nook and cranny of the hut, and came up empty. Desperately, I came up with one last idea: I'd go out and scout around the tower, utilizing the commanding vantage point of the hilltop. But nature wasn't done with me, and as I stepped out into the twilight, I felt a creeping sense of dread. The wolf was there. Fed up, I decided to eliminate him if it was in my power. I leveled my rifle, but before I could pull the trigger, an all too familiar sound met my ears: the whimper of the wolf, the heavy breaths of the bear. Had he followed me all the way here? I was outside the fence, and one thing I'd never done was attempt to shoot a bear. Yet again, my hubris overcame me: "At this range," I thought, "what could go wrong?" Everything. Everything could and did go wrong. What I didn't know was that bears don't fear rifles; they hate them. The crack of the shot's report hadn't stopped echoing in the cold hills when I turned tail and ran for my life, ran back to the safety of the fence--but the bear was faster. I don't have to describe to you the terror of a mauling, so I simply won't. I will, however, describe the events that followed. Remarkably, the bear didn't kill me. Not directly, anyway. I bandaged my wounds, but to my dismay I was met with an even greater threat than the risk of an infection: the risk of two infections. I lay in the bottom bunk in the radio hut and awaited death. Death, however, did not come. I was running out of supplies, though, and as my first infection risk reached 90%, I hoped more than ever that I'd pull through, and an hour later my infection risk healed--and I developed an infection in earnest. I'd never known that infections could be cured with antibiotics. "I'm saved," I thought, remembering my large store of medicine back at home. How naive I was. At any rate, one task awaited me: I had to find my way down the mountain in the dark, and that's exactly what I did. Slowly, careful not to slip and fall the many meters to the foot of the hill, I picked a path down, down to the valley's floor. Relief washed over me as I arrived at my back door. "I'll make it after all," I thought. I opened the door, transitioned to the loading screen . . . and my game crashed. Fuck me. What could be more stressful than picking one's way down a hill, through a wood, and across a field to one's home, all the while dodging the attentions of wolves and bears? Doing. It. Twice. To this day I don't know why the medicine and the tea didn't work. I took every antibiotic I had (and I had a lot). It didn't do a damn thing. You'd think I'd have died of overdose, but I wasn't so lucky. I spent the rest of the night convalescing (or trying to) in the upstairs bedroom. But I knew I wasn't healing, and once the second infection took hold, I knew the end was near. Why should I have come all this way, survived all these perils, only to die in my bed clutching an empty pill bottle? Why didn't the bear just kill me then and there? Did he know this is how I would end? Was this my punishment for thinking I could kill him, for trying to when he'd done me no harm? Probably, probably. If nothing else, this was a consequence of my hubris. I woke from troubled dreams with 5% condition, and it was falling rapidly. Within minutes, I was at 1%, and my infections were far from breaking. I lay in my bed one last time, and with no intention of ever getting out of it. My fevered thoughts turned to the bear. He was more of a survivor than I, and my last hopes were that the gunshot hadn't wounded him too badly, and that he might live on where I could not have, should not have. My eyes shut, and I faded into The Long Dark.
  21. @Cr41g Is it pronounced "Bye?" "Bee?" "Bay?" "Boy?"
  22. An empty thread for TLD poems put this idea in my head:

    Poems about Survival

     

    Churning beyond the fire’s farthest reach, night’s breast

    Rumbles just below what can be heard. What can be heard

    Better, though, is the crunch of steps, padded footfalls

    Circling in the snow. The flame’s tongues are reflected

    In the ice’s glistening eyes, and in the eyes

    Of my new companion bellying nearer, and tomorrow

    When the coals are cold, he’ll remain, my friend

    The Wolf,

    Gnawing on my bones.