My supplies are short.
I've dreaded these words for years now. Deep down, I've always known it would happen, but I didn't think it'd be so soon. I assumed I had enough to last me until the end of the decade. I guess I was complacent. And now I'll regret it.
My bunker has always been impermeable, just as I designed it. Construction was swift; it cost me everything I had—including my wife and kids, during the divorce proceedings—but it was worth it. Truthfully, I don't understand why more didn't do this. Do people not care for their lives? Expense? Feh. What use will money be in the barren wasteland our Earth has assuredly become?
One thing's for certain: money sure as hell won't help me when I emerge.
I open my knapsack and look inside. My gas mask, though a little dusty, looks in fine condition; I brush it off and slip it on. It still fits like a glove, and the filter works beautifully. Good. I'll need it.
Next comes the suit. My hazmat suit would be ideal, but it's a bit too bulky; I'm aiming to spend as little time as possible outside, and it won't help my cause. The gas mask is probably enough. I settle for my dark brown jacket, the one I bought just a few weeks before the outbreak. How different life was then...
I stand up and make my way to the bunker door, but as I pass by the pantry, I open it and check. A small collection of Spam containers and cup Ramen sit on the bottom shelf; the rest is bare, consumed over the... seven years I've been here? I can't remember. Time blends together down here.
Next to the closet is my calendar. My Survival Document, as I call it. It's a simple concept: If I'm still alive, I make a red X for in the square for that day. And I keep doing this until I die.
It better not be today.
I flip through the calendar as far back as I can. It's a different sort of calendar: It documents more than one hundred years in the future, rather than those cheap annual ones with puppies and kittens and what not. I made it myself, in my free time. In other words, all the time.
After a few more moments, I finally reach the page I was looking for: June 2009. The first red X was marked in the box for the 12th. I remember it well, for it was the day I entered my shelter. I haven't come out since.
I know what I need to do. If there's any food and water to be found, it'll probably be in settlements above ground, if they even exist. I'll have to rely on the kindness of the locals... or I'll have to steal it. Either works for me.
I fi
... keep reading on reddit ➡
I have yet to beat the game, but I have played through the first half of this game more than a dozen times... and I only JUST learned about the Crestfallen's Retreat bonfire in FotFG. I feel so dumb to have walked past it so many times without seeing it.
I was cooping with a friend and he said he was at that bonfire, I was like "wtf?" He told me where it was and i saw it as soon as I entered the area. I feel so dumb.
Happy R2D everyone :)
I'm loving the site, but the restrictions on timing for build/retreats really hampers the game experience. Our game is weekly on press, and then builds/retreats are half that time. This is super slow, since combined, the retreats and build takes another full week. This impacts new players, who then find themselves waiting an entire week just to start press between fall 1902 and spring 1903.
We'd like to see something like
moves: 3 days
retreats: 8am-2pm PST
builds: 2pm-8pm PST
That way, there's still 3 days for press, but the builds/retreats all together take only 12 hours.
I've read previous threads where the devs say they are committed to having the UI be accessible, but I'd like to offer the counterpoint that games that get bogged down drive away new players. I think a UI solution could be found.
