Category: One Among the Dead

Day 558:

Either I’m getting better at avoiding the monsters or something is up, because I haven’t seen something trying to kill me, like, all day.

Maybe the very tall hill is where the monsters come from and I’ve managed to drive them off? Maybe they don’t like mining noises? Maybe I’m grasping at straws? Maybe it’s all part of a prolonged fever dream and I’ll wake up in the morning with knowledge of how to play the flute?

It was a nice break, I’ll give it that.

Day 557:

I’m essentially tiering this mountain (well, there’s no snow at the top, so “very tall hill”) the same way someone would if they were growing plants in terraces… I don’t remember what it was called, but the hill looks much nicer… on the other hand, I think I’m shortening it.

I’m not sure how I feel about that except that it’s a lot safer now. And as I still appear to be the only inhabitant of this rock of the humanoid variety other than the undead monsters trying to kill me, I think I’m going to worry less about the environmental impacts of one extremely tired miner and more about the safety impacts.

But I do think I should replant some trees because the very tall hill is going to be a very empty hill by the time I’m done if I don’t. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. The trees look nice, and they may be critical to the oxygen supply if this place was terraformed. On the other hand, exploding giraffe-corgis jumped out from behind trees twice on me today and I wasn’t very fond of that part.

Maybe I only reforest the places I never go in the first place?

But then why smooth them in the first place?

(Because I might be chased into them by a zombie.)

Ugh, ethics are hard.

Day 556:

I’m practicing building staircases up steep hills, like the one to the south, so that I know how to handle them when I get to the big mountain.

It’s important to build something that won’t just become a giant mud slip zone, or a knot of roots with ankle-breakers in between, or something with loose stones that will slip out of place and take me with it down the side of a mountain.

Plus, I have a ton of leftover stone, and my ability to give a duck about whether I’m spotted died a violent death when I realized that a few days ago I passed 550 days here, which is ridiculous.

SOMEBODY GET ME OFF THIS ROCK.

So yes, climbing  small mountains in practice for big ones, putting stairs down, lighting torches at the top.

Day 555:

I miss barbecue sauce.

I wish I’d learned how to cook before landing on this rock.

Day 554:

I’m practicing my sewing on making cushions that I can see if I’ve gotten this gut-string right yet. It’s also kind of nice to think I can make something to sit on other than the bed that isn’t literally rock hard.

I’ve got a ton of wood available to make furniture from, and I’m thinking a chair might be nice.

I think this was the kind of stuff my ancestors did over the winter, but so far there’s still no sign of a season change, so unless there’s an extremely long orbit on this rock, it’s not tilted at an angle and the seasons are determined by the latitude and the elevation.

Which would explain the snow on the mountains that are virtually in my backyard, anyway…