Gather 'Round the Campfire

[SirWinter]

So. I thought I had this game figured out.

I had this one game. I had survived 65 days so far, and it was starting to look like nothing was going to kill me. For the first time, I had crafted a full set of hide clothing. In fact, I did it twice, but we'll get to that. I had safe houses in every region, each one chock full of preserved food, medicine, firewood, crafting supplies, tools, and weapons. Bears, blizzards and any other threats meant nothing to me. I'd finally even figured out the trick to shooting rabbits with the bow. My only goal now was to fully explore the entire island; day-to-day survival wasn't even a concern anymore.

If it weren't for the motherfucking wolves.

Wolves, in case you didn't know, are the most annoying, infuriating little bastards on the face of the planet. They're not dangerous. They don't kill you. They're not even all that aggressive if you don't run away. But they kill and ravage the other wildlife, they get in your way when you just want to chop some firewood, and most of all they tear your clothing. And they don't do any of it until you've committed yourself to settling in and exploring Timberwolf Mountain for a fortnight with just a bow. I kid you not, within 4 days of climbing the rope from Pleasant Valley, they had ruined all of my exterior clothing and killed every rabbit and deer within a mile of the mountaineering cabin. The last wolf I fought didn't even hurt me at all. He just tore my clothing three times in a row and then ran off. At that point I gave up and went back to my main safehouse in Coastal Highway to recraft and repair everything.

Fast foward a week now.

It's midnight. I'm already exhausted, but the only gear I have left to craft is deerskin pants and my last deerskin just finished curing. I figure that if I make those pants and a few arrows for good measure, it'll be tomorrow evening and then I can turn in for a solid twelve hours, with the intent to make my way back to the cabin on Timberwolf the next morning. I put together my supplies and grab the remainder of the unspoiled meat from the fridge, then leave by the front door. I'm on my way to the gas station across the street. I know there's wolves about, so I decide to crawl there. I crest the ridge on the near side of the road, and sigh inwardly; there's a wolf pacing right in front of the door of the gas station. I'm gonna have to go around the back. No sign of any other wildlife though. I start sliding down the snow bank to the road and WHAM! I'm on the ground and there's green eyes in my face! I'm more scared than I've ever been in my life! I'd crawled right up to a wolf and neither of us saw each other until we were right on top of one another. He got the jump on me and gave me a deep bite on the arm, but I'm coming to my senses and struggling to get my knife out. There! It's out, and I stick it right in his neck - he bolts with a whimper. The other wolf is alerted to me now so I don't have time to see to my arm, but she's left her post at the door. I duck inside the gas station before she decides whether she wants to take a try at me.

Remember that last bit.

I'm in the gas station now. My arm's still bleeding something terrible, so first things first I sit down and patch it up. A little old man's lichen, just to be safe. It smarts, but it looks like it'll heal quickly. Now it's time to get comfortable - I've got a long night and a longer day ahead of me, but at the end I'll have everything I need to make the trip up the mountain. I start a little fire in the barrel, boil some water, and set my breakfast next to the embers to warm up a bit. I set to stitching; needle in, needle out, for hours and hours. I'm completely drained, but I keep going. I work on the arrows every few hours to break the monotony. Finally, with the sun setting over the bay, it's done. As tired as I am, I excitedly change in to my new wrappings: a thick wolf-fur coat, the softest rabbit-fur mitts I could craft, deerskin boots, well-worn and now well-patched, and the brand new deerskin pants to match.  I smile - things are as they should be again. I put my tools away neatly and drain off the last of my water from the basin. I probably won't be back here for some time. Check the windows, secure the doors, and I'm out the front door again. Just out the door I find a pleasant surprise. The wolf I'd tangled with last night didn't go far; he's fallen over in the street just in front of me. I don't need the meat. It's too heavy, and I'm setting out with a light pack in the morning. But it wouldn't hurt to skin him and leave the hide in a dry spot, just so it'll be here if I need it when I get back. I set about carefully gutting the corpse as the sun dips below the horizon. As the last sliver of light winks out, I finish, look up... and my face blanches. The she-wolf I'd left hanging hadn't gone far either, and now she's right in front of me and she's made up her mind: she's not happy about what I just did to her mate. I fumble out my bow, but I don't even get to nock an arrow before she's on top of me. We tumble and roll and I can't get any leverage to throw her. It's all I can do to keep her from closing her jaws on my face. She's trying to get at me with her claws, and I can feel her bruising my ribs, lacerating my neck, ripping my clo-

No.

No fucking way.

This isn't happening.

I'm not going to let this happen.

I do something unthinkable. Something I haven't done in years, not since I was a wee little lad playing Pokemon Yellow on the Gameboy Advance SP, trying to catch Articuno with an Ultra Ball. I scum the shit out of that save. I press Alt+F4. I relaunch the game. I load up "Sandbox6". It spawns me at the perfect fucking spot. At the beginning of the last paragraph, when I'd entered the Quonset Gas Station. The only progress I've lost is some accelerated-time crafting. I didn't even know the game saved on loading screens, I thought it only saved when you rested. I don't care, I'm on top of the world. Fuck the wolves, you think you can ruin my day? I've got fucking superpowers. I can rewind time. I skip the fire, I'll do it later. I go straight to the workstation and set it to craft my brand-new pants, my brand-new deerskin pants that are definitely, absolutely going to be at 100% condition, for 8 hours. The time starts flying by, zip, zip, thump, thump, and...

Do you see the problem now?

And I'm dead. "You died of blood loss". I forgot that I waited until getting inside the gas station to do first aid on my blood loss and risk of infection injury. I bleed out in hours, and those hours are flying by at the speed of a gamer's attention span. Bye-bye, save file. Can't save scum that.

Don't save and scum, kids. Save scumming kills.

Journal Statistics:
Survived 65 Days, 19 Hours, 37 Minutes
53% World Explored
32 Blizzards Survived
32 Wolves Killed
7 Can Openers Found