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Those crashed parts are full of nasty surprises but best dealt with as quickly as possible - the psychic waves will get worse unless it is destroyed - it's that that drove the deer mad 

I'll have a look at that - thanks. I do not use word much, normally using Final Draft on an old Power Pc MacBook pro  But that's no good for this sort of quick off the head scribbling I was using word 2007 for the first four episodes. Will have a go with notepad or something light and see if that works better. Thank you for the kind comments.

New episode shortly.

Thanks. Ok I'll drop word then and use notepad. That should cure it.

Four.

By the end of day I found myself laying awake and reflecting on our situation. I have spent a lifetime writing up reports on the mundane and the fabulous for the edification of the Emperor. Not that I ever imagine that in forty odd years he ever read one of them.

So where were we? What was the prospect of any kind of survival? Was my beloved Sarah already mourning? 'Fool' I thought. Of course she would not know. She would not know that the ship I was travelling on was missing. She would not know that for several months at least. With that small mercy I gazed upon a single star that I could see twinkling through the inadequate, barely patched roof above me.

It was whilst looking up at this star and watching the heavens slowly move that the realization came that we must be on a moon orbiting a planet and not on a planet itself. This was bad news as we were likely to suffer the effects of eclipses on our power supply. But what planet did we orbit? To what star did that planet and this moon belong? Small tears of lost desperation formed as I thought of Sarah so far, far away.
I awoke with a start to the sound of a heavy tropical rainstorm beating down. Small rivulets of water were dripping down from the patched roof as thunder boomed and jagged white brands of lightning made ghastly half images on the dark walls. We would have to find a better place to call home if we were to survive this sort of weather. If rain fell like this on a regular basis such a rude shelter would not suffice for long. Hard work, poor nutrition and damp would soon ferment illness.

My companions were already up and working as I struggled from my bed and ate from yet another package survival meal pack. I could hear them discussing the machine gun project to which Lupieri was devoting much of his time. Although none were actually working as yet the laid out parts he had constructed were looking menacing.
The rain eased and Cristobal was able to erect a small lean-to made from salvaged metal. This was to house three storage batteries that would skim off some of our spare power and store it for later use in case we had a power failure or just to power the machine guns if the generator failed. I spent the afternoon working on building a communication console and orbital beacon to see if we could contact a passing ship. It would also be useful in discovering if any others shared this damp jungle we reluctantly now called our home.

Our first small crop of super quick growing potato was ready to harvest after just five days. They do not taste good from what I have heard but they are super nutrient enriched and are easy for the food replicator to turn into a thick goo paste. This muck will keep us alive when the survival packs run out and they will run out in a few days unless we find more. With this in mind I picked up the old Lee- Enfield rifle and headed out to try hunting some of the wildlife we had seen.
We had decided that I would use the rifle, being somewhat familiar with old time weapons but still not a good shot. Both my companions had old pistols that are only good for close use and neither professed to any real knowledge of projectile weapons. Cristobal said had some basic tuition when employed briefly as a guard on a gemstone mine site many years previously. Lupieri had only seen them in museums.

'What does monkey taste like?' I called to them as I passed.

Lupieri pulled a sour face 'bad probably but I bet snake is worse. Try and get one of those pig things, they might be better. I'll rig up a table for jointing whatever you find.'

'How about we rig up a basic stove instead of just shoving it in the replicator? Pig and potato can be sausage and chips.' Cristobal said laughing.

As I headed into the surrounding jungle I looked up at the sky and realized that one of my fears was coming true: The planet was moving towards the sun, eclipse was not far off.

Thank you. I will be writing this one till it ends as have some time off at the moment. I write in Microsoft word and cut and paste as writing large blocks of text is difficult for me with the forums white text on black due to eyesight / colour blindness problems. Not sure why that would display incorrectly for others though - looks fine here.  UK English keyboard settings maybe

Would using 'text' be better than "text"?  I write TV scripts and have done so for 20 odd years and the former is habit from using typewriters back in the day for scripts. It's no problem to switch if it reads easier for most.

I have noticed on steam that Rimworld is getting a lot of good feedback on threads that are started on other games. I have noticed posters praising the game on Clockwork Empires threads ( the devs have got a copy and have hinted on pinching some ideas.) Spacebase DF9 and some other EA games. Quite a few praise Rimworld as the right way to do EA. Shows that a lot of people a very keen on the game and where it's going and that other devs are taking envious interest. That's very impressive for a small studio like Ludeon.

Three.

'I have found the plan for a making a generator using the venting of those volcanic plumes, I'll get started with the replicator and make the parts needed, might have power by tonight.' I said.

'Great, I'll use that wood you stockpiled and make a start on the repairs to that ruin and at least get some log wall to plug the gaps and a rough door. I'll get some basic beds sorted using the smaller branches and vines.' Cristobal Replied. 'By the way that place was full of some kind of Cobra so watch out.'

'Yeah, there are a few native critters about, what I thought at first were deer in the distance are some kind of Monkey like beast. I've also seen a few large slow tortoise types with a nasty looking beak as well.' I said.

Lupieri came trotting over he seemed to have at least cheered up a bit. 'Right I have had a think and I am willing to help as much as I can but let's get one thing straight. I am not going to lugging one single thing as I must not damage these hands. I have a glittering career ahead of me which resumes as soon as we get off this dung heap. I suggest we put all effort into building a spaceship.' And with that he turned on his thigh length high heels and flounced off to cut more wood.

'He's mad as a hatter.' The miner muttered.

'I read somewhere once that madness and genius are two sides of the same coin.' I replied.

'If he manages to build a spaceship that works we can call him a genius. Until then I'll be calling him something else.' Cristobal grinned.

By nightfall Cristobal had finished patching up the ruin which was little more than a tiny rectangular hut. There was just enough room for three rough beds. I had got a generator fixed up and a small amount of power was flowing to a faintly glowing lamp that I had rigged from some of the metal lying about that had likely fallen from the same spaceship as we ourselves had been rudely ejected.

Before turning in, even though we were all thoroughly exhausted, we scouted the immediate area and stockpiled any useful items. We had a pile of Silver, a good amount of ready to use metal, lots of wood, some medic kits and most importantly; a good stock of readymade survival meals. These had been automatically deployed from small rockets as soon as our escape pods had shot from the dying ship. Each one of these rockets held a couple of dozen meals and that meant we could last out until some food had grown or we had found out if the local fauna was edible.
We awoke early and all three of us started on building a much larger wooden structure with power conduit in the walls to facilitate later equipment that our blueprints would provide. We then got a basic food nutrient replicator up and running and put down a rough plank floor. Lupe, as we started to call him, much to his annoyance made a very good table and chairs and a few plant pots with fresh flowers in. Cristobal found that intensely annoying.

During the day Cristobal had seemed to soften a little towards the lad and I could see them chatting as they worked inside what would be our main living space. I could see them being a lot friendlier towards each other and this made me feel a lot better.  I could see that they both shared an optimistic outlook. Myself, I tend to be a little morose and reflective.

'We had better get some defences up. Those pirates who crashed the party might well be based on this planet or there could be other unfriendly types about as someone built this hut; I saw what looks to be another structure overgrown with vines in the jungle to the west.'  Cristobal said munching on his packaged meal.

'I built some machine guns that killed automatons in a site specific installation piece for the museum of galactic war on Persod IV last year. I could have a go at building something.' Lupieri said whilst staring at his breakfast.

We both looked at the boy with raised eyebrows.

Two.

'I'm Cristobal and looking at you two, I'm in charge.' The hulking brute of the deep space miner stood hands on hips staring at the dense foliage around our wrecked pods.

'If we are going to survive at least the next day or so we need to turn that ruin into a basic shelter and start looking for anything that might be of use.' He said, striding towards the rough walls of the ancient looking building.

'Stop blubbering boy!' Cristobal shouted at the be-quiffed loon. 'Go cut some of those trees down. Use the jagged edge of that plas-steel from your wrecked pod, and be careful not to break those girly nails of yours.'
He laughed and winked at me. 'Hey, old timer, are you any good at growing things? There are seeds in the escape pod for just this eventuality.'

'What's your name kid?' I asked the boy.

'Lupieri.' I'm a famous Artist and I am not going to destroy these genius hands to...'

I cut him short. 'Some advice, if you want to live more than a few hours then forget about what you were and think about what you are now. What you are now is in deep shit, go cut some wood. And don't go making a sodding sculpture out of it.'

I ambled off to my pod and retrieved the emergency kit. Inside were a few packs of potato seeds, a small power driver for drilling into anything from wood to plas-steel and a pack of plans for building emergency power units and food replicators and such like. I dug out a patch of earth and sowed the seeds. I then placed some small rocks in a rough rectangle and started to pile fallen wood and anything else I could see around our crash site that might be useful.

Cristobal returned from the shack grinning. 'Well done old fella. A potato patch and stockpile, It's a start. Looks like we can quickly repair that ruin and get a roof on and some rough wood beds made. A man works a lot better if he can get a warm bed and good sleep and we have got a lot of work to do.'

He offered his hand. 'I'm Cristobal, miner by trade but I can turn my hand to most things except shit like Art.' He spat in the general direction of the boy who was gingerly breaking small branches of a small bush.

'You look like your hardly cut out for this kind of crap, mind you, you still look more useful than that turdsmacker over there.' He nodded in the boy's direction. 'Even if you do look to be about a hundred and three years old.'

'Walter. Ex- clerk of the Emperor.' I gave him my hand and we shook.

'I like you Walter. I think you will do OK. He on the other hand is a liability, I suppose if things go bad we could eat him, but looks a bit scrawny.' He guffawed at this and I wasn't sure if he meant it.

Ok, I wasn't paying too much attention but they all seemed to be getting along ok. certainly no blind, lost wandering. Apart from the mad, given up ones. They picked about 8000 potato and 2000 berries in that time.

A New Dawn.

Rimworld alpha 7 vanilla story.

Randy Random. Extreme Challenge. 3 colonists as chosen by computer with no changes.

Cristobal  - Miner, 39 year old, Male.  Medieval slave turned Deep Space Miner.
Lupieri  - Artist, 17 year old, Male. Sickly child turned Conceptual Artist.
Walter- Clerk,  69 year old, Male.  Urbworld urchin turned Civil Servant.

Planet Far Fum, Tropical Rainforest in the high mountains. 2758mm rainfall, 20.79c.

My name is Walter. I am writing this journal in the hope that someone finds it after my death and returns it to my beloved wife, Sarah. I have no doubt that I will die on this bug infested, nightmare world. My god, I wish I had never accepted a free trip to the Glitter worlds as reward for a lifetime in the service of the Emperor as a lowly scribe. I have spent a lifetime scratching dictums on fine plas-steel plates and now I am to die scratching out a poor death on this hell world.

Of course I never got to see the towering marvels of the Glitter worlds. The ship I was on was attacked by pirates; keen no doubt to strip the wealthy on the ship of their baubles. I chose not to try save my paltry belongings when the ship was boarded. Instead I headed straight for the survival station and luckily dived into an escape pod just as some fool pirate let off a nuclear grenade. I knew it was that which doomed the ship as radiation alarms were ringing out all over the ship as I made my lunge for safety. I saw only a few pods escape from the burning hulk as my vision faded and the life support systems kicked in.

I awoke to find that my pod had been joined on the ground by two others. At least I would not die alone. I had only a few moments to take in my surroundings before the other two pods opened and I could examine my companions. I could see that we were in a small valley between two low mountains. We had crashed through the canopy of thick jungle to rest on a lush, verdant mass of green vegetation. A short way away I could see the ruins of a small shack like building with broken walls and no roof. Beyond that was a small steam vent puffing volcanic gasses into the thick, warm air. In the distance I could make out what looked to be a herd of deer and maybe some pig like creatures. They seemed to take little notice of us. At least we would not starve straight away.

My co refugees, shocked and staring, and in a way introduced themselves. 'Damn, Damn, damn it to hell' Shouted a rather fey young man of perhaps late teens. He was dressed in a, gold and silver jump suit with nipple clamp tassels. Thigh length purple boots and topped off with a huge golden quiff.  'Those bastards have blown up my sculpture; the universe has lost its finest piece of conceptual genius.' He fell to the floor sobbing, his quiff dangling in the dirt.

The other refugee was a burly, bearded hulk of a man. His huge hands protruded from thick mining leathers. He looked witheringly at the sobbing child and then at me and said one word.  'Shit.'

Feb 5 year 4 and all dead. Mole was the last, very apt. Driven mad by paranoid thoughts from a crashed ship part. This lead him to murder the other last two colonists before wandering off into the catacombs to die, blind, starved and with a nasty touch of flu. So the colony lasted near eight months with no player interventions whatsoever.

I put a pair of bionic eyes into them and then took them out. I repeated for every colonist. So now none have any eyes - makes little or no difference to the pathing or jobs etc. October now and 16 left alive after a 4 catapilla and 7 Scyther attack, defences now breached. I didn't mean this thread to turn into a story so might be best moved to stories.

Now Aug 2nd of year 3 and there are 23 left, they have had 4 large attacks all shot up by static defences. Three sieges all of whom starved or killed each other. A space refugee who survived the pod crash all on her own and wandered about the base sleeping on the floor for 2 months before making the poor decision to go eat some besieging pirates food - end of refugee. The power is fading as panels fry and a geo thermal  exploded. The medicine ran out months ago. There has been a very slow mass attack by all the tortoises that killed 3 colonists eventually. 3 colonist have died from madness / starvation. Wonder if any of them will see xmas.

Silly me, of course they won't see xmas not one of them has any eyes.

I am playing Randy 25% difficulty and with no more of anything to mine, and it was a lot of mountain map. 42 colonists, my first 3 launched off planet. I had 36 major threats, 29 raids, 236,286 total wealth. Biggest threat was 5  catapilla thingys with 7 Scythers  midway through year two. Everyone hate the colony 91 - 100%. I have  1 total bionic man and woman, half of the colonists have peg legs, the other half no arms and all have had their eyes removed ( just for sadistic reasons) and now its time to let it play out on auto to see what happens.

Now we have wood maybe Balista could be the first turret option? Tribals have Pila and Balistas are pila chuckers.