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Messages - shayame


Does anyone know if the bonus to sight, consciousness, etc, from something like go juice (or wakeup, bionics, etc) affect item quality at a crafting table?

I know penalties do, but wasn't sure if the bonuses beyond 100% sight or beyond 100% consciousness affect the final quality of the item made by the pawn.

Stories / Re: Summoned to GrimWorld
November 13, 2023, 10:51:34 AM
I have just finished reading the final chapter over at royalroad. What a delightful read. Thank you for taking the time to post your story on multiple sites.
Incredible survival skills. Can't believe you started with no land and moisture pump. Respect!
Stories / Re: Summoned to GrimWorld
April 28, 2023, 07:37:05 PM
Nice story. I liked the AI at the beginning. That was a cute personality.

Edit: just headed over to your site and read all 59 chapters that you have so far. Very interesting. I like the way your story builds. It's very well written. Love it
Stories / Re: Nation of Plasteel
August 01, 2021, 05:06:37 AM
I liked this story. thanks.
I remember making a young pretty girl shoot a dog, then patch him up then shoot him again, over and over, just to level her shooting and medicine skills. I wrote an epic story about it over here. In the story, Donald Trump made her do it:
Stories / Re: The Lasts
February 16, 2018, 09:10:38 AM
I enjoyed that. Thanks!
Stories / Re: The Saga of Peg Leg Pete
February 16, 2018, 09:00:49 AM
I love how Pete refused to do social and so died from hunger despite having visited a town with goods to trade. LOLz!
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
February 16, 2018, 06:35:58 AM
That's it for me. Thank you all for reading this far. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing it but a new job now prevents me from writing more.

This is where I upgrade to a18.

Notable events that follow include a wedding between Buddha and Lilica, which everyone attends. By coincidence, Cashmere the Muffalo crashes the wedding and walks between bride and groom at the perfect time. Wish I caught that screenshot - Cashmere wasn't even invited!

As I said before, I've thoroughly enjoyed playing and writing this. Thank you for reading!
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
February 16, 2018, 06:33:06 AM
Donald's wife and brother. As told by the Narrator.

Rimworld tells the best stories sometimes.

On this occasion, a crashpod landed with Donald's wife. My first thought was, "WHAT?!?"

Then, "Cool!"

She's a pretty decent pawn but incapable of dumb labour. I thought that was pretty accurate. The age was spookily accurate as well. She's rescued and joins. I immediately change her nickname to Melania.

This is great news for Donald. Donald's moods have always been challenging to handle. His 'too smart' trait leaves him more prone to depression and I've had a hard time trying bolster his mood, including scheduling extra joy time for him in the middle of the day, a better bedroom with silver walls, a better bedroom with the grand statue of Fernand, beer and so on.

You have one job, Melania. One job - you're gonna give Donald some lovin'.  ;) Turns out they only have +30 relations with each other, so that their opinion of each other provides only +3 happiness. You have one job, Melania, one job! Get to it.

So they get an immediate double bed and after a few days rekindle with "some lovin". I'm wearing a smile and I'm sure Donald is too.

A few days after Melania crashed, another crash pod survivor. This time, Donald's Brother. I didn't know Donald had a brother.

Donald's brother is the worst pawn I've ever seen. Incapable of dumb labour, incapable of smart labour, incapable of social, incapable of caring, incapable of artistic, incapable of firefighting, pyromaniac, abrasive. I left him to die in the snow. I knew Donald wouldn't be too happy about it, but figured the Melania "some lovin" buff would offset the depression at his brother's death.

I hover over the debuff from his brother's death. Sad for 25 days or so. Good on you, Donald.

Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
January 28, 2018, 08:10:03 PM
Arctic wolf manhunter pack and cannibalism, part 7: Epilogue. As told by Buddha.

I sit at the stove, cooking some rice. It's funny, when we butchered the 15 arctic foxes we thought we'd never run out of meat. There was mountains of the stuff. You know how long it lasted? Five days.

Olga found 30 packaged survival meals. That lasted us another 2 days. The math is wrong, but that's because we were raided soon after and now have a new recruit. Welcome to the colony, Flo. You never liked raiding anyway. You'll fit in well here. Not long after, Cassy comes along and begs for a meal. We're doing okay on the food-front and we didn't have the heart to say no. Welcome aboard, Cassy.

So now there's nine of us. Eleven if you count the Muffalo.

I'm so glad we kept Cashmere. We finally got a tailor's bench up and running. Chris made us some awesome muffalo parkas. There's not enough to go round, so some of us are still using the cloth parkas we bought from the traders early on. We experimented with foxskin parkas but they're not much better than cloth so we're keeping the foxskin for pants and shirts when those wear out.

I was worried for Lillica there for a bit. She wasn't herself for a while. I think she was really worried for me. She's more or less back to her usual self now, though some of her innocence seems to be gone. I hope it isn't gone for ever. Her smile and her eyes are still the brightest things in my day.

She's a great doctor now. I can't believe all the wolves left no scars on me. Whatever she used on me was fantastic. Donald and Lillith didn't fare so well. They both wake every day with shoulder pain. Donald eventually gets himself another bionic arm and we're hoping to one day get Lillith one as well.

Donald keeps telling it like he saved the world. In a way he did. But Lillith played a role that day too and he seems to downplay her part in things.

I owe Owl my life. We're both soldiers. He's got this harsh no nonsense exterior but war does that to people. I won't hold it against him.

I worry for Chris. He dug up 20 or more graves with Olga, though I think he did most of the digging. Sometimes I hear him screaming at night. I buried all the corpses again by the way. Just thought they were better underground than above ground, though in hind sight, I should probably have incinerated them.

I don't know what it is Lillica and I have. I remember I proposed to her, then there was the whole cannibalism episode. I was gone for 2 days, wandering around outside until Olga found me collapsed in a heap, exhausted. Then things got busy then there was this whole manhunter mess. We haven't really had a chance to talk. Romance on the rim just doesn't seem right. Nobody else is doing it. Maybe we shouldn't. It'll make the others awkward.

But then she sometimes gives me this smile and I get all confused again.
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
January 26, 2018, 06:54:44 AM
Arctic wolf manhunter pack and cannibalism, part 6: As told by Lillica.

I stand in the middle of seven bodies.

I'm officially a doctor. I have to be. I just have to be. If you told me a year ago that I'd be in charge of a hospital I would have laughed so hard my guts would have come up all over you. But here I am. Doctor Lillica, reporting to OR-1.

To my right, my Buddha lies asleep in a silver bed. Donald and Lillith are to my left in slate beds. Behind me, 4 arctic wolves are on the ground, bleeding out. My priority was always Buddha. He'd lost a lot of blood and I've used half our remaining glitterworld medicine on him. I don't care what Donald says, we can always buy more later.

Donald and Lillith aren't doing too well either. The most severe injury is Donald's gunshot wound to the right shoulder. Friendly fire from the turrets I presume. He'll be lucky to use that again. He's raving about bionics but now is not the time to put one in. Lillith has bite and claw marks all over her, as well as a gunshot wound to her right shoulder as well.

I've patched them all up as best I can. If Olga and Chris come in with injuries later, I'll patch them up too. Now it's time for the wolves.

They're all bleeding out. The nearest one is but a pup, she looks close to death. The others have a few hours, tops. If I use some medicine, even herbal medicine, I could save the pup. But we're running short on medicine and I don't intend to save a single one of these wretched wolves.

I move in quick and make a rapid assessment of her injuries. She's got multiple gunshot wounds to her torso, abdomen, face, pelvis and every limb. It's a wonder she's still alive. She's hemorrhaging everywhere I don't even know where to start. Despite my best efforts, without medicine, she's gone within the hour. I drag her out the door and toss her on the ice. Her body will keep longer that way.

Three more wolves. I tamponade their wounds in a rotating fashion, wolf 1, then wolf 2 then wolf 3, then go back and cycle between them, keeping them all alive simultaneously. I wear wristguards and gloves as well as a vest in case they bite but they're all too far out of it. I'm so tired, I can't see or think straight but I keep going.

Buddha. My Buddha.

My eyes are watering. I can't help it. These wolves hurt my Buddha. I imagine what it would be like, a dozen wolves, closing in on every angle, my Buddha running, crying to Owl for help and Owl just running, leaving my Buddha alone to be mauled by the pack. Did he fight back? Was it quick? Which of these wolves was it that chewed that chunk off his leg?

With a kind of crazed mania, I cut into a stomach to see if I can find my Buddha's leg. I find nothing, and I sew the animal back up. Then I turn to the next and do the same. Nothing. I turn to the third animal and also find nothing in its stomach. On an impulse, I try to harvest its liver. The animal dies and I don't bother sewing it up – I toss it unceremoniously out the door onto the ice where it skids a small distance, leaking blood and entrails before it stops.

Buddha's knee was hurt. It will probably heal fine but for a moment there I didn't know what to do with his knee.

I pick up my plasteel mace and break one of the wolf's knees. He doesn't even flinch. I then cut it open and study it, commiting all the tendons and ligaments to memory, flexing and unflexing the knee until I feel I understand where all the muscle groups attach to. Then I bandage it up.

I test my memory by smashing another knee on a different wolf. She wakes up and makes a weak effort to bite me. I smash her head in and she stops moving. I sit and watch as the life force dissapears from her eyes, imagining that those eyes could have been my Buddha's, out in the snow, bleeding out all alone. When the light is gone I resume my study of the wolf's knee.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I'm losing it. But these wolves hurt my Buddha. I will not let anyone hurt us ever again. I will be this colony's best doctor. I have to be.

It's like what Donald and all the rest always tell me. We do what we need to survive. These wolves will help me survive. I'll learn what I can from them before they die. They deserve it.
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
January 21, 2018, 09:39:38 PM
Arctic wolf manhunter pack and cannibalism, part 5. As told by Donald.

Everything is going wrong. It's very wrong. It's always hard to get good food but blame the solar flare this time. The food would have run out, sure, but we would have harvested a few potato plants early and then the remainder when they were fully grown. We would have had SO MANY potatoes we would have been swimming in potatoes.

But the solar flare got us. It got us bad. Those plants froze so fast my boys and ladies couldn't get to them fast enough. None of them knew how to cut a plant quick. They were all moving in inefficient ways. When you harvest plants. You do them in rows, you know. In rows, so that you don't have to backtrack and go over areas twice. I'm going to have to train them all to harvest. That was my mistake. I didn't delegate. I went and tried to do it all myself. When you're leader, there's too much to do. You always have to delegate.

Like now. Digging up graves. Can't be good but let Chris do it. He's keen on digging up bodies so let him do it. Pretend it's his idea if you need but as long as he gets the job done, it's all good. It's all about delegation.

Now Lillica is another problem. She's all hung up on that sweet kid Buddha. I need her on the front line with the turrets but it's clear that the heart wants what the heart wants. Oh, she thinks we don't know but we all know. She's got it bad for him.

When you're a leader you have to make the tough calls. Lillica will be a liability on the front lines. She's going to Buddha no matter what. So let her go. Then delegate. The little girl has no clue where Buddha is. She won't get far. Owl knows. So send Owl. Owl's dependable. You can tell he's solid. He's got marine written all over him. Says he's ex-army but it's in his blood. He'll follow orders. And he'll get the job done. So delegate.

"Save Buddha." That's all I said. And he nodded. We're men. I'm his commander. We understand each other.

So now I've got a dozen or more rabid wolves closing in and no idea how long they'll be. There should be enough power to keep the turrets running for 2 days if needed and we can always flick the switch off if the wolves are not coming. I go wake Lillith, our seventh member. We haven't talked much about Lillith and we don't need to. She's like some minor nobility or something. Good at research, knows a thing or two about building things, refuses to carry large objects – says it destroys her nails or something. Jesus.

We trudge up north and flick the switch to the turrets, they come to life and not a moment too soon. One of the wolves seems to have a headstart on the rest of the pack and is almost at the entrance. I spot Chris over near the graves digging 'em out and scream for him to come over. He doesn't seem to hear me over the top of the wind and snow. There's no time to get him. Olga is nowhere to be found. It'll be just me and Lillith and the turrets against the wolves then. Hope they come one at a time.

The first wolf gets stuck in some traps and never makes it through. The remainder of the pack come at us like savages. Despite the gunfire, Chris doesn't join us. He just keeps digging. I have a bionic left arm but my right gets mauled bad. Lillith doesn't fare much better, but we got 'em all. Fifteen wolves all in all by the end of the night.

It's morning by the time the last wolf falls. No idea where Olga and Chris are. The graves have all been dug up. I look at the empty graves and the littered corpses from afar. Not sure I want to get too close. I find it ironic. Olga and Chris go corpse-digging for food and the thought of cannibalism sends them off the deep end. Then a pack of wolves mauls Buddha maybe to death, then the wolves come and die on our doorstep, solving our food problem.

Just another of life's many lessons about patience and to control your emotions.

I sit down in the snow. I turned 70 earlier this year and I'm feeling it. I'm bleeding and Olga wants to get me to a hospital but I just want to sit down a moment. Overhead another satellite explodes. You'd think these events would be rare but they're surprisingly common out here on the Rim. I watch as the majority of the debris falls to an area just south of us. I remind myself to send Olga south to see if there's anything salvageable tomorrow.


Something falls right in front of me, almost in my lap, within arms reach even. If it fell a foot closer it would have smashed my head in. I look up, to make sure there isn't more. There isn't, and I surprise myself by not caring. It becomes one of those surreal moments where you just understand the meaning of life. A near-death experience. Survived famine, survived a manhunter wolf-pack while the rest of your colony is off who knows where. Saved everyone from being mauled to death, saved everyone from dying of hunger with god knows how much wolf-meat and then to die from aerial bombardment. You could almost laugh.

I turn the packet over. It's a packaged survival meal. I stare at it, and stare south where the majority of the satellite fragments landed, wondering how many more of these the gods had given us.

And then I laugh. I scream a laugh to the heavens. I've saved my colony. Killed the wolves, delivered meat to our doorstep and now found who knows how many survival meals. I did it. I did it all. From the bottom of my belly, all the anger, all the frustration and all the pain of the last few days wells up and comes out as laughter.

I've won. I did it. That's why I'm in charge.
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
January 21, 2018, 09:34:47 PM
Thanks for the feedback, Walking Problem. Love your avatar. Here's more of the story. Hope you like it.
Stories / Re: Donald Trump on Rimworld - an a17 story
January 16, 2018, 01:05:20 AM
Arctic wolf manhunter pack and cannibalism, part 4. As told by Lillica.

Cold water splashed against my face. I was in the dining room, face down on the limestone tiled floor. You could tell it was the dining room – it's our only room with limestone tiles. Donald says it was the first room he found when he crashed, and it was already built, as if waiting for him.

Memory returned. BUDDHA! My Buddha.

I cried, big heaving sobs and wails that shredded my lungs from the inside out and squeezed my heart in pain. My Buddha is dead. Dead. And it's my fault. If I'd agreed with Chris to cut up a man then my Buddha would be standing right here cooking for me. Right now, he'd be cooking for me and arranging my meal to look like a cartoon-heart. He'd be smiling and whistling as he stood by the stove, cooking away while the rest of us chatted and ate. He'd look at me and pass a secret wink that only I'd see. My Buddha.

Wolves. It was wolves. Why did it have to be wolves?

Donald was shaking me and saying something. I just kept crying and crying. It didn't matter any more. My Buddha was dead. I'd never feel his lips or his kiss. I'd never feel his kind hands again. I'd never taste his potatoes. Our potatoes.

"Lilly! Snap out of it!" Donald's hand smacked me across the face shocking me back to reality. He never called me Lilly unless I was in trouble. And he had never hit me. "Buddha may still be alive. He may be alive. I need you Lilly. Lilly. Listen to me. I need you."

He was saying the same things over and over as if he'd said them all a hundred times before. Was he saying Buddha was alive? But... how?

My vision returned, I was sobbing and he saw that he had my attention. Owl was sitting at the table, quietly eating his meal, watching us. All of a sudden I felt angry at Owl. He and Buddha went to collect steel and now he returns without a scratch on him and my Buddha is dead. Not dead. Donald says he's not dead. I turn to Donald, a questioning look on my tear-streaked face.

"It was a manhunter pack, Lillica." Begins Donald. "Owl here says they knocked him down and didn't proceed to finish him off. The pack just wandered around afterwards. It's a manhunter pack. You know what this means."

I do. We'd seen this disease or whatever it was before. Animals would suddenly get violent and attack anything that was standing. But as soon as you lie down, they leave you alone. It can't be natural. Wolves would starve if they stopped attacking prey that fell down. Donald thought it was a disease, like alzheimers or something for animals, except contagious. If a manhunter pack got Buddha, they wouldn't kill him. They'd scratch him up, but when he's down, they'd leave him alone and go on to their next target.

But he may die from blood loss.

I bolted for the door.

Donald grabbed my arm. "Whoa whoa whoa, where are you going?"

I looked at him incredulously, "I'm going to get Buddha. He's bleeding. Didn't you get me to practice on all those puppies for just this moment?" I was angry, but I didn't care. He was stopping me from getting to my Buddha and Owl was just sitting there eating calmly.

"Lilly, I need you at the north trap. If this is a manhunter pack of a dozen or more, the turrets won't be enough. Owl will get Buddha."

His plan made no sense. Owl was eating dinner. Owl didn't save Buddha earlier – he just came home for dinner. Nobody cared about Buddha. Donald didn't care. Owl didn't care. Only I cared. I needed to save Buddha. I needed to save Buddha now. I broke free from his grasp, "Don't 'Lilly' me. I'm not a little girl. I'm going to save Buddha." And with that I ran out the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Donald say something to Owl.

The cold wind slapped me in the face, snow pelted me pushing me, forcing me back inside into the warmth and safety of our colony. It felt like the whole world was conspiring to keep me from Buddha. I felt deep within myself the strength to rebel. I screamed my pain into the wind and started running. From behind, I heard Owl's voice in the doorway, "You're going the wrong way."

I stopped. I had no idea what I was doing. Where was Buddha? Why was I running? Where was I running? I turned around. Owl was pointing south. There were fresh footprints leading to our southern doors. I turned south and ran.

I ran and ran and ran until my lungs burned with cold. The southern walls had never seemed so far away. Behind me, I could hear Owl. We reached the wall and I moved to open the door. Owl's hand slammed the door close. I gave him a stare that promised death.

He towered above me. His face expressionless but his posture dominating. "Donald will never forgive me if we let the pack in through the south wall. You have no defences here. We save Buddha, but we save him carefully. We do it my way, Little Girl. We do it smart. And we do it safe. I'm not letting you out there until you agree."

He was strong. I was tugging at the door trying to open it with my whole weight and he was stopping me with just his one hand on the door. I had no choice. My head was screaming a maelstrom of jumbling thoughts, dominated by images of Buddha lying out there in the snow, bleeding pink over the white ground, breathing his last lungful of cold air but this man – no this Monster here – wouldn't let me out.

I almost lost it. I cried and I begged and I wailed. I felt rough hands grab my mouth. "Sshhhhh. The pack. They'll hear you."

I didn't care. So what if they heard me. Maybe I'll draw them away from Buddha. Maybe he'll get a chance to live. I cried and I tried to scream and I kicked and bit. I have never felt so powerless. I was almost there. Buddha was right outside that wall and I couldn't go and save him. I was utterly powerless. With his hands over my mouth, I couldn't even cry. I just sobbed. I sobbed in despair and leaked a mountain of tears that trickled down my face before my struggles flung them to freeze before they hit the snowy ground.

"Snap out of it, Lillica. Snap yourself out of it or I'll leave you and Buddha both here in the snow for the pack. I'm not going to leave Buddha out there to bleed. We can do this. We can save him. But we do it my way. Understand?"

I struggled some more but it was useless. He'd got me in some sort of army bear grip, pinning my arms uselessly with my legs flapping about in the air with no traction.

"Do you understand?"

I kept kicking around. Trying to unbalance him.

"We're wasting time. I need you to understand."

Rational thought slowly returned to me. Did he say he was going to try to save Buddha? Could we actually save Buddha together? Why won't he let me go? I slowed my movements and stopped struggling.

"Tell me you understand."

I nodded.

Slowly he removed his hand. I saw teethmarks in his gloves. Serves him right.

"Tell me you understand."

I understood nothing, but obligingly, I said, "I understand."

He flipped me around and knelt down to my eye level. "I'm going to open this door a crack and scout the area. Do not... DO NOT come out. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Tell me you understand." He commanded.

I looked in his eyes. "I understand." Inwardly I was anxious. We were going to save Buddha. Owl was going to help me save Buddha. He was still alive. I just knew it. I imagined I could still hear his heart beat somewhere out there. Buddha, hang in there. We're coming.

The silver door opened silently. There was a second door, a slate door. This one opened slowly. A crack was all we opened and we peered out.

I had no idea where to look. There were 1 or 2 moving shapes in the far distance, wolves I imagined, but I had no idea where Buddha was. I didn't have the best view. Owl was in the way.

After half a minute, Owl turns to look at me. "There's 3 or 4 wolves in the vicinity, all slowly moving north. The rest of the pack is already far up north, possibly at your turrets already. I'm worried about this one wolf hanging near him." Owl checks his gun and re holsters it.

Owl continues, "I'm going to sneak in and see if I can get Buddha. Hopefully, by the time I get close, that lone wolf will have decided to follow his pack. If not..." Owl pats his gun meaningfully. "If worse comes to worse and his friends come back for me, I'll either sprint back here to this door or I'll draw them off to those caves where I'll see if I can climb and get a height advantage and snipe them from there."

Owl looks at me with deep eyes. "I need you here, Lillica. You don't have a gun. If the wolves come for me and I lead the wolves to the caves, you need to save Buddha. I can take care of myself, but I won't be able to save Buddha and fend off the wolves. Do you understand?"

I nod my head.

"Tell me the plan, Lillica."

I look at him. It's a good plan. It'll work. It has to work. I say, "You go alone to Buddha and you'll carry him back here where I'll patch him up. If that wolf gives you trouble, you'll shoot the wolf. If the rest of the pack comes at you, you'll either come back here or hide in the caves. When the coast is clear, I'm the plan B for saving Buddha."

He nods at me and runs a hand through my hair. "Good girl. Stick to the plan." And with that, he's off.

As Owl attempts a stealthy sneak in thigh-deep snow, I look around and wish I had brought some medicine with me.