The Long Dark: Road to Desolation Point


SpoonyMass

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Journal Entry Day 25

I slept in comfort of a bed within one of the Rural Crossing homes, the dregs of the forgotten and frozen keeping me alive still as I harvest, collect, and utilize the bits left to scavenge.  I know I've ventured far from Signal Hill, Pleasant Valley is nothing but vast, and, at times, beautiful.  But that beauty hides ill and death nearly at every corner.  Even the food I eat, the game meat I've consumed, I can already feel it's parasitic vile beginning to take it's course; a special bonus this morning.  

I have crossed the bridge, rested my tired bones, and now I head back out into the cold, the dawn already past and the light ebbing to fall towards the distant horizon.  Again, the beauty does not escape me, I am not ignorant to it.  But I've survive this long by not succumbing to its temptation to simply wander forward with no discernible goals.

I have decided to try for Timberwolf Mountain, see what provisions I might gain from the wreckage of my crashed plane.  Perhaps the radio still works, but luck hasn't generally been a thing I've come to count on.        

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Journal Entry Night 26

I journeyed further up road, nothing but the snow covered ground and the glare of white to keep me.  These grounds are ripe with game, rabbits, deer, it's a wonder that I've not seen any wolves or, even more dreadful, bears in this area.  I'm sure if I were to stay in the area any longer than I have, perhaps that would change.  When the weather rolled in I had bagged a deer, which, come to think of it, I believe was my first.  The meat was fresh and filled the air quickly enough for me to be worried.  As I made my way back, I discovered a foot trail but the day was waning and the winds howling.    Again I find myself sleeping at Rural Crossroads, wondering where the trail would take me.  I anticipate more exploration by the morning if this weather holds out.  

 

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Journal Entry Night 27

I find myself back in the comfort of the Rural Crossroad house, a third night eating on the dregs of day's hunt and the embers of salvaged reclaimed wood.  It would be easy to stay here another night, salvage more from the housings around, hunt more deer, cook more meat.  During the day I searched the surrounding area, exploring the trail I discovered the previous day and finding a collection of hospitable caves; though, I fear for their former occupants.  Reminders of their occupation is clearly visible in the snow, tracks so weighted that not even a day's snowfall could cover them completely.  Again more ghosts assaulted me, the dead frozen that succumb to the peacefulness of the long dark.  I don't find myself pining for such release, it's healthy to have a goal, a direction even as aimless as the one I tread.   

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Journal Entry Day 29

The days prattle on and I lose track of time.  The windswept nightmare of a blizzard continues to hound the walls and ceilings of the Rural Crossroad house I find myself in for yet another round.  It's maddening that I remain still; no objective, no means of finding purpose to trek.  Nothing but the cold.  Nothing but the dark.  I curse the storm, curse every flake fallen for it has forced me to remain here; locked in my own thoughts, my own concerns.  What if this is it?  What if there isn't hope beyond nor rescue should there be a spot to warrant such regard.  What if it's just me?  As small as this world is, as perplexed as I might listlessly be, what if there is not a single soul out there?  Perhaps such thinking is egotistical, surely those smarter and greater would have a notion on a better way of survival than I simply have stumbled through.  But I have not seen anyone..., have not found any whispers that someone else is in the same hell.  

I am fed, warm enough, and comfortable until nature decides to deal another hand.  Is it selfish to say that is not enough?    

 

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Journal Entry Night 29

Cold.  Afraid.  Tired.  Stupid.  Dying.  My own drive becomes my death.  How stupid am I to wander so far, how idiotic of me to camp here in the cold.  I hear the wolves, I see their glowing eyes (my imagination or something seemingly worse).  I fear every chance of sleep, look beyond the flames of my fire with bated breath and hope that nature will cut me some slack despite evidence to the contrary.

How stupid am I.  Perhaps this wasn't some venture to make tracks further along the road, perhaps it's a subconscious want to find some ending to this journey prematurely.  

..., I'm losing it.   

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Journal Entry Night 29 (I think...,)

The road further to what I'm assuming to be north has not been kind.  Heavy wolf migration keeps me from traversing my previous path, and a bad night outdoors keeps me from doing much of anything else but heal and bide my time.  I find comfort once again in the Rural Crossroad house, licking my wounds and being thankful that I didn't venture so far into the depths of the woods.  A clarity strikes me, a clarity safe from the darker thoughts I've been having.  Tonight I sleep and hopefully soundly.  

 

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Journal Entry (Days are messed up for some reason)

I've slept in comfort again, the Rural Crossroad house once again being my salvation in this cold and brutal existence.  Recovery from the previous night then back out again to search the fields of a farmstead on the other side of the river.  There are more wolves outside this dilapidated barn, the clothing tatters after hunting a deer through a blizzard.  I lost the trail, obviously, and wasted much in the way of ammunition.  I feel cold, stupid, and above all else, a failure.  How I wish nature would just take me.    

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Journal Entry (-)

The days are a blur.  I've lost them in the snow, covered listlessly like my footprints.  I am alone out here, alone and cold and now lost.  The wolves are listless, the migrations right on top of me and I'm not sure where I'm at.  I'm starting to think exploration in a blizzard is a mistake.  This place scares me.  

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Journal Entry (-)

A continuous drive forward, trying to keep ahead of the wolf migration that I have found myself within.  I can hear them howl in the dark, eyes burning unseeming beyond my sights scope.  These wide open areas freak me the hell out, more so than the thickness of the woods that I've shuffled off in my contrails.  I hold hope that this area is center and in sight of Signal Hill, finding quiet sanctuary in an all of a sudden large barn.  Sheltered from the cold and hopefully further out from the migration, tomorrow might be a brighter day.  

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Journal Entry

Memories flood me as I took steps back to Signal Hill, now with renewed purpose of reclaiming the hides that I have left scattered to cure.  I seat myself at the farmstead, a localized area ripe in view from all around, an easy area of central exploration to define my next steps after mending my worn clothing and creating further applications for the spoils of my kill.  I spend enough time at Signal Hill to afford the last of the cure to be done to the bear hide before heading back to the farmstead; a day, maybe more.  

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  • 11 months later...

Bit more info now that I've got the time :D 

So, Road to Desolation Point is the first series I ever did for the Long Dark that I was like serious with.  Since Hinterland put in the challenges however, I felt it wasn't quite prudent to continue the series.  However, with the last update to sandbox mode now out, Faithful Cartographer, figured it was time to take it off the shelf, blow off the dust, and see if I could venture into the uncharted territories I'd never been to before Wintermute hit on August 1st.  That is the goal of this particular playthrough, to venture, to explore, to seek out the other areas I've never been to beyond Mystery Lake and Pleasant Valley and eventually conclude at the lighthouse at Desolation Point.  

Don't know if we'll make it.  But it'll be fun.  

This series is a special series, with a release Monday thru Friday at 6/5 PM.  

 

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