kirabug's idea files

Day 249:

Dear duckens,

If you’re standing where I need to set a very heavy block of stone, I will not hesitate to crush your little heads, so MOVE.

Okay, not really, I haven’t crushed one of you yet, but it’s getting really tempting. These stones are heavy!

love,

your grain supplier

Day 248:

Working my way out of this ravine by digging up (aka putting up a ceiling, climbing up it, putting up another ceiling…)

I prefer that if I’ve built a level, all the chambers on that level connect, because it makes running back to a cache easier if you don’t have to go up and down steps.

And let’s face it, hauling rocks up and down steps is a special kind of suck.

But the last chamber I dug on this level was… well, let’s call it “far away”.

So the “easy” dig I thought I was going to have is going to be not so easy, as I carve a tunnel back to the last chamber.

Yay.

Day 247:

Still digging toward the sky, and toward the east, to the big mountains. Not a lot to talk about when it comes to digging. Dig, clear stone, dig, clear stone.

I wonder if my friends think I’m dead.

It’s been at least 247 days since I was on the galaxy net, sending anyone any bad jokes or making fun of their clothes or laughing about things that had happened.

I hope they don’t think I’m mad at them.

…unless they’re not even looking for me. Then maybe I’m mad at them.

Day 246:

One of the interesting aspects of the lime gelatin from hell that I described yesterday is that the duckens are totally unphased by them, and they don’t care about the duckens either. I can walk into a room totally filled with duckens  and find a giant cube o monster inside and the duckens don’t even seem to notice.

But come to think of it, they don’t seem to care about the zombies or the giraffe-corgis or the skeletons either.

I guess that’s why they’ve all been able to survive together?

Day 245:

Oh hey, I haven’t mentioned the goo monster yet!

OK, here’s want I want you to picture: hospital gelatin.  Lime flavored. But for some reason because it’s the medical center the lighting is off so it doesn’t look like an appealing green. It looks like the green of the hallway walls, or the green of a dying plant.

If you’ve gotten to baby-poop green, back up, it’s not that brownish.

Now make it perfectly cubical. And two meters tall. And give it giant eyes and a  big squishy maw that makes you wonder how it chews.

You know when it’s around because there’s this sickening “splort” sound when it hops. It would remind you of an undead axe murderer crossing a swamp at midnight in an ancient movie reel. The noise that makes the stupid teens go investigate and the audience go drop another dollar for a barf bag because carnage is about to ensue.

The only way this thing is a result of terraforming is if someone dropped their lunch into the payload before it was launched.

Slice a hunk off, and after a short pause, that hunk becomes another just like its bigger parent.

So far the only way I’ve found to defeat it is to beat it with a sword until it’s small enough I can squash it with my boots.

Thank heavens it doesn’t appear to be caustic or I would be out of boots.

One upside to being attacked by a giant cafeteria dessert is that the green goo it leaves behind seems amazingly springy. It bounces, is what I’m saying.

There’s got to be a use for it, other than ruining my day. I just have to find it.