So I'm new to this sort of thing (Writing logs to go with a game) but I will try my best. I assume that this goes here, since that's where this sort of thing seems to go. Without further ado, a couple things:
-I am playing this on hard mode
-I will NOT be making mention of how things are blocky, let's pretend that that is normal where the character comes from or something.
-More will be explained in notes that come after entries.
And now for the actual journal! Remember that feedback is appreciated. And also, mods, if this is somehow in the wrong place please move it to the correct one.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Day 1:
My head is foggy. I just woke up, lying on a beach. A vast ocean spreads in front of me, and while much of the grass is green, I see snow far in the distance. I do not know where I am, or for that matter, who I am. I found myself carrying only this ragged journal, which is blank besides what I am writing now, and carpenters tools. These include a small hand trowel and rock hammer. The rock hammer is not able to pull meaningful materials from rocks, but at least I can break through them if necessary.
Only a few hundred feet from where I woke up, I have found a deposit of clay. The trowel allowed me to dig it up, and I reckon I have enough now for a small shelter.
After traveling a while longer, it seems to be high noon. I have found a hill that seems perfect for my shelter. I will begin construction immediately.
A gruesome as it is, I had to utilize a small pocket knife that I found with my other tools to slice some defenseless animals' throats. I have a small amount of leather that I will be able to make into tougher clothing, as well as several cuts of pork. I have seen sheep, but sadly they seem to be of an odd variety, as their meat was nearly inedible. I will stick to pork from here on. I have a few pieces of wool torn from them as well, but I have no use for it at this time.
It is dusk. I have finally completed my small shelter, and am writing this journal from it. I used a saw - yet another of the tools I found on me - to harvest wood from surrounding trees. I fashioned a makeshift chest to store some of my belongings, like the leather and wool, until I find a use for them. I also made a table suitable for crafting items.
Night has fallen. Oddly, I feel no real need nor desire to sleep. As the moon rose in the sky I fashioned some spare wood into a door. I have also put together a large wooden spade, along with a pickaxe (Or, at least, a semblance of one) that I hope to gather sturdier materials with.
I have seen dark shapes in the distance. As I write this the night is still young. I have made a wooden blade, sharpened with the pocket knife. It is purely for self defense, should the figures turn hostile.
--End of Log--
Notes: The tools are simply an excuse for why he can kill animals, chop down trees, dig effectively, and break through rock, albeit slowly. This log is being written in the night partially, yes, but the next log will be dedicated to the full night.
Also to be noted throughout this journal: Each paragraph is a segment of time. The elapsed amount of time varies between segments.
Night 1:
As it is too dark to venture outside, I sit and ponder my presence in this odd place. I am beginning to get a small trickle of memory, but all it is seems to be a dreadful hissing, followed by me waking up. I am not sure what this means, but perhaps more will come back to me as I continue on.
While I write this, horrific figures lurk in the darkness. Rattling skeletons, brandishing bows creep alongside the risen dead and spiders of size I could never have imagined. Fortunately my door seems to hold, and I have room to swing my sword without much danger to myself.
Not much to say now. I hear the spiders skittering across the roof, taunting me with their shrieks as I sit cornered in this hut. I was able to get a clean blow on one with my "sword" and as it died it shot out some string. This may prove useful in the future.
Aha! I see the sun rising in the distance. It is only a matter of time before I can feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. However, I am not sure what will happen to the undead and spiders as the sun climbs in the sky.
--End of Log--
Notes: It is not day yet, it only has the pink horizon, which is why the zombies/skeletons are not burning and the spiders are still hostile.
Not bad. The notes aren't necessary, though. Creative license is to be expected, so you don't have to explain every little detail that is different, haha.
Well I'm just sorta making sure that people get some of the obscure-ish stuff, and making sure that some of the things that may not have been explained properly are. There will be a lot less notes later on.
-I am playing this on hard mode
-I will NOT be making mention of how things are blocky, let's pretend that that is normal where the character comes from or something.
-More will be explained in notes that come after entries.
And now for the actual journal! Remember that feedback is appreciated. And also, mods, if this is somehow in the wrong place please move it to the correct one.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Day 1:
My head is foggy. I just woke up, lying on a beach. A vast ocean spreads in front of me, and while much of the grass is green, I see snow far in the distance. I do not know where I am, or for that matter, who I am. I found myself carrying only this ragged journal, which is blank besides what I am writing now, and carpenters tools. These include a small hand trowel and rock hammer. The rock hammer is not able to pull meaningful materials from rocks, but at least I can break through them if necessary.
Only a few hundred feet from where I woke up, I have found a deposit of clay. The trowel allowed me to dig it up, and I reckon I have enough now for a small shelter.
After traveling a while longer, it seems to be high noon. I have found a hill that seems perfect for my shelter. I will begin construction immediately.
A gruesome as it is, I had to utilize a small pocket knife that I found with my other tools to slice some defenseless animals' throats. I have a small amount of leather that I will be able to make into tougher clothing, as well as several cuts of pork. I have seen sheep, but sadly they seem to be of an odd variety, as their meat was nearly inedible. I will stick to pork from here on. I have a few pieces of wool torn from them as well, but I have no use for it at this time.
It is dusk. I have finally completed my small shelter, and am writing this journal from it. I used a saw - yet another of the tools I found on me - to harvest wood from surrounding trees. I fashioned a makeshift chest to store some of my belongings, like the leather and wool, until I find a use for them. I also made a table suitable for crafting items.
Night has fallen. Oddly, I feel no real need nor desire to sleep. As the moon rose in the sky I fashioned some spare wood into a door. I have also put together a large wooden spade, along with a pickaxe (Or, at least, a semblance of one) that I hope to gather sturdier materials with.
I have seen dark shapes in the distance. As I write this the night is still young. I have made a wooden blade, sharpened with the pocket knife. It is purely for self defense, should the figures turn hostile.
--End of Log--
Notes: The tools are simply an excuse for why he can kill animals, chop down trees, dig effectively, and break through rock, albeit slowly. This log is being written in the night partially, yes, but the next log will be dedicated to the full night.
Also to be noted throughout this journal: Each paragraph is a segment of time. The elapsed amount of time varies between segments.
Night 1:
As it is too dark to venture outside, I sit and ponder my presence in this odd place. I am beginning to get a small trickle of memory, but all it is seems to be a dreadful hissing, followed by me waking up. I am not sure what this means, but perhaps more will come back to me as I continue on.
While I write this, horrific figures lurk in the darkness. Rattling skeletons, brandishing bows creep alongside the risen dead and spiders of size I could never have imagined. Fortunately my door seems to hold, and I have room to swing my sword without much danger to myself.
Not much to say now. I hear the spiders skittering across the roof, taunting me with their shrieks as I sit cornered in this hut. I was able to get a clean blow on one with my "sword" and as it died it shot out some string. This may prove useful in the future.
Aha! I see the sun rising in the distance. It is only a matter of time before I can feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. However, I am not sure what will happen to the undead and spiders as the sun climbs in the sky.
--End of Log--
Notes: It is not day yet, it only has the pink horizon, which is why the zombies/skeletons are not burning and the spiders are still hostile.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24HJnYoPKg0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24HJnYoPKg0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24HJnYoPKg0