Topics

Right now it's too easy to farm the bugs:
1. Clear out the individuals
2. Reduce the hives down to a manageable number
3. Plop down a few plasteel turrets
4. Have a shotgun squad clear out the extra hives every few days.
5. MASSIVE JOHN CENA PROFIT!?!?!!??!?!


I'm currently feeding 10 colonists on the leavings from 3 hives. The bug meat is still stacking up and don't even get me started on the thousand jelly I just let sit in the room. Maybe have those hives spit out an unholy number every once in a long while just to prevent this sort of top quality cheddar? That's all.




It's late the memes came out. No, I'm not editing them away.

When I was playing on my A12 mega colony I was just starting to recruit my newest batch of prisoners and I get a message that I got another one.

I look and it's a young highly inspired man named Richmond. I was happy I had wanted Richmond to join for a while. But then I realize he's walking very slowly. His brain was damaged in the fight and is only half functional!

I immediately order him to strip and send him into the airlock. Outside are hundreds of boars swarming and frothing. I order him out and the boars gore him until he falls over bleeding from multiple wounds. He lay there for three days until he finally bled out.

He died thinking he had made new friends. Friends who immediately told him to go play with the nice piggies, naked, in the snow. He was convinced by the warden up until the end and was only just beginning to regret his plight when he finally died. Such faith. At least instead of being butchered he got to be interred in the crypts.

I have changed so much from the Alpha 10 days where I propped up my vegetative colonists with bionics until they were almost functional and buried enemy raiders with honors. Am I wiser now, do I play the game with more skill? Yes, but I think I lost part of my humanity along the way.

Okay, so first time playing alpha 12. Trying to go with defense lines and trenches rather than kill boxes. Randy Random on Challenge in a freezing desert (read May to August growing season).

Randy sends in a man hunter pack of muffalos. About 30 of them. I have 10 turrets in my line and the same of colonists. This isn't going to go well....

Then just when I think all is going to be lost mechs drop down from the sky and because how agro works I assume that the mechs and muffalo will cancel each other out. So I hide and turn off my turrets.

Just as I expect some of the muffalo turn around and bash the mechs and get themselves killed. *I grin maniacally* This will work. Then somehow, someway, Muffalo and scythe broker a peace treaty. (Not sure how given the difference between grunts and binary.) The muffalo watch the doors while the scythers light everything on fire. My colonists do not stand a chance.... Well, time for a save scum.

Hello all, I just got this shiny new dell laptop running windows 10 and have been trying to get rimworld to run.

It seems to be an issue with my display drivers, Nvidia v. 355.60. The computer will begin to act up and freeze, oddly enough, on the character selection screen. Sometimes the computer crashes right there and sometimes I can play for five minutes before the whole computer shuts down. The drivers are up to date and windows is as well. I have an i7 processor so there should be no issues  in a sane world. Then again I'm trying to play Rimworld.

I don't have any crash reports as the game is not crashing before the system does. Any bright ideas out there?

Thank you, Thane

My name is Rebecca Edwards, but my friends call me Lynx. That is if I had any left. I'm not even sure why I'm writing this down, there is no one left who has ever called me friend.

Where should I begin? I know with the Expedition. The Expedition was a grand plan handed down from command to 'Oust that group of ruffians and savages living atop Grundle Peak'.

By all accounts those living on Grundle had never come down to farm the greener pastures of the tundra, or to hunt the game that wander there. They have stayed on that frozen peak only visible as brief glints and glimpses to those of us watching on the plains below.

Nevertheless we have watched and have seen trade pods coming and going in a seemingly endless display of wealth and prosperity. My leaders, the Chieftains of The Proud Raven Men, have determined there can be only one reason for this. Gold.

It has long been rumored that Grundle contains gold enough to satisfy the lust of men. Such hyperbole is of course impossible, but the Chieftains think there might be at least some truth to the legend.

Scouting parties have been sent, but none have come back, but they were only lightly armed and meagerly supplied. Only carrying a few day's rations and their weapons.

We were not to be so shorted. Our orders were to make camp at Grundle's Peak, a mere quarter mile from the savages' compound, and shell the fools until they gave us all their wealth, or were dead. A simple mission.

The Expedition was slated for Early August, when the peak warms and the air clears. Beautiful weather for a shelling. However, we were delayed by some tribal scum insistent that that the mountain was holy and inhabited by gods. We informed them in no uncertain terms that there were already men on that peak. Building, mining, eating and sleeping.

They left chanting a war cry and we decided to wait a few more weeks until the tribals had nicely softened the target and then begin the shelling. That was our mistake.

We set camp on Grundle's Peak on September 1st and began shelling a day later. It was fine weather. Bramble, a former drone, grumbled about the cold, but I reveled in it and sucked in the crisp air as I loaded shell after shell into the mortars. A week passed with no change in the savages stronghold and no sign of life. Built of thick granite brick and nestled between three peaks, it seems to laugh at our attempts to break it. Shrugging off our explosives like so much water.

Then on September 8th winter came. Overnight temperatures plummeted to -55C and snow blanketed our camp in drifts, filling the passes behind us. We were prepared, but we could not cope.

Bramble was the first to go. Frozen solid when we woke in the morning. Eyes open, yet his expression was one of an eerie peace and calm. We couldn't close his eyes. We soldiered on with the shelling. We had no choice, but to continue

The rest of them started dropping like flies. Sergeant Grim was one of the last to go. He went mad near the end saying that it was better to die of a bullet than to go out like an ice cube. We obliged him with his death of choice. That left Nils and I.

Ah, Private Nils. We had never been good friends, but we both danced in the freezing rain while our compatriots shivered and sniffled. We tried vainly to continue the mission and shell the savages who somehow managed to live on this bloody frozen rock, but we soon succumbed to the cold. We lay there freezing to death hand in hand as our feet started to crystallize and together we fell into the sleep of death.

I woke up in this small rough hewn room alone. I had my notebook, my pen, my clothes and my life. For a second I think I am back in the labs and test chambers that stole so much of my life. I start to panic when I notice a tray of food sitting on a table nearby. A pile of mashed potatoes with a brown meaty gravy, served with Chianti and Fava beans. The beans and wine seem out of place, but I scarf down the food and I never say no to a drink.

Later a man, Vladimir he says his name is, tells me that I have been selected to join Absolute Zero. I ask him what that is and he informs me it is the name of the savages town. 'Ah', I think, 'they have a sense of humor about their situation up here.' I decline his offer with as much invective and vitriol as I can muster. He just smiles then produces a plate of meat and potatoes, but this plate is one of twice baked potatoes; again curiously served with fava beans and Chianti.

End entry: October 5th

October 15th; couple of seriously injured men have been hauled into my room and left there. One is even unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Ah Vladimir has arrived and he is treating the men, carefully binding their wounds. This must have happened to me to. I think of my left foot where I know scars, instead of toes, make their home.

I have decided. This is a good place. These people care. They are not violent, they only think of their fellow man. Another glass of Chianti. I think I shall join these fine people tomorrow. There is only goodness in their hearts.