Ark Survival Log 012616.1

HoC Ark: Survival Evolved Diaries - Pwnrock Edition - a.k.a.: Why am I still playing this game?

It's been a couple weeks now since Blackwaltis' Triceratops met with an untimely end in my care (a fact he feels the need to keep reminding me of), but I felt like now it was time. Spent the better part of the night (IRL) finding, sedating and taming an appropriate level female, not far from one of our less-used satellite bases once used for mining. Game time was a full day and night cycle. Then came the task of returning the new behemoth - and my trusty Pteranadon mount - to our main compound to the East.

I waited for dawn, but somehow still got into THREE separate life-threatening battles. By the third ambush, we got mobbed by everything imaginable, just down the hill from home, next to a neighbour's base with purple walls. The Trike had just one sliver of health left, it was that close. I gave the finger to one last venomous bug that had been trailing us, as I slammed the huge dino gate in his face.

Took a picture of the battle damage to show Blackwaltis, upgraded the trike, and pondered how to spend my latest skill point. Then everything locked up. Several long moments later, I was looking at the default Ark bacground, with the message "Lost connection to host. Accept/Cancel". Well no, I do not accept that. But "cancel" doesn't sound very hopeful either. Luckily we were all safe in our compound, so respawning was not an issue. I shook my head and reconnected.

"That was a close one"

A couple minutes later, I was back. But not in our home base. The area did look very famillar, however. In fact I was almost back where we had started! It took me a moment to realize that not only had I warped back to that position, but back in time as well. My Ptera was still flapping around my head in a panic, and the Trike was still down the hill and across the river, just like when we got separated during the first battle. So I wrangled my bird back to the ground, and flew over to get the convoy united again. So far so good, no sign of the insects that almost took us down during the second battle. Maybe this time will be different.

Unfortunately, it was. No sooner had I entered the forest, than we were greeted by some stleath velociraptors, hell bent on destruction. The team scattered again, so I focused on the vicious little Compys and the giant scorpion. By the time I was taking down the last of the raptors, I got the dreaded message in red across the screen: YOUR PTERA WHATEVER WAS KILLED BY A BRONTO LVL 100. Dammit! I loved that bird. She was the fastest in my fleet by far. Yes, her name was "Whatever". That's another story. But no time to grieve, there was still plenty of mayhem going on, danger music still blaring in my ears.

I wheeled around to locate my Triceratops and see what was still attacking her. Wait, what are you doing? You're both herbivores! Stop attacking that- YOUR TRIKE WAS KILLED BY A BRONTO LVL 100. Oh for the love of crap, what kind of stupid planet is this?! I was so stunned, I barely regained enough composure to flee and regroup. After taking out the remaining A-holes, I returned to recover the Trike's belongings (and last meal) for her next of kin. A procedure I'm now all too familiar with.

"At least we'll eat well tonight."

Well it turns out Brontos hold a grudge. If someone in your family does them wrong, they come after YOU. And finding myself inconveniently encumbered with hundreds of units of supplies and metal ore, I had to ditch something, fast. I did not even turn back to see if it was the pissed Level 100 or one of his enforcers, but they took out most of my remaining armor & vestments. I took a meandering route back to home base to avoid being followed. Through forest and around hills at full sprint, almost naked.

After the somber task of disbursing what little I had left into the appropriate supply cabinets (including the Trike's blood-stained saddle), I found myself moping around the compound. There was no consolation to be found here, so I returned to the scene of the crime to at least try to recover the Pteranadon saddle, if not some of the abandoned metal. Nothing to be found, not even closure. I continued down to the river bank, where I brazenly picked up a brightly coloured egg I had spotted earlier. Wild animal eggs are fiercely protected by their parents. To grab it earlier while fighting off carnivores would have been suicidal. And yet now I almost invited their wrath, welcoming the sweet release my annihilation would bring.

No such luck.

I spent another half hour trying to feed berries to an evasive monkey before coming to the inevitable conclusion: I am done with slow, stupid animals. This little primitive simian had the good sense to run away when spooked, and probably has lived for years as a result. So sorry, Blackwaltis. I know I said I owe you a Triceratops, but three strikes is some kind of sign I can't ignore.

How about a coffee?