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Bakinho's short story
They left him in the village entrance. The large group had lost its youngest member. And in the end, it was his own choice. Bakinho said good-bye and took a look over the place - A light rain falling constantly. An old man, sitting in a cabbin's door, watched into the boy's eyes: "Life is rough - they seemed to express - but you don't know about that yet". He didn't enter and went ahead with his lonely trip, seeking for a water source and getting into the unknown. It was not until he found a tiny lake, that the rain stopped. A new page in his life's book was up to be written, this new chapter living by his own. His first days were so hard. He knew plenty skills, in their mind and body, but his soul seemed to have sleept away: that burning flame in it was almost extinguished. He couldn't build a fire, fall a tree, get food. He had forgotten everything... -------------------------- -Hi, my name is Bakinho. I am starving - I said with a tear rolling down my cheek. And a tiny, streched stomach. -Hello, Stranger, we don't know who you are - Answered the old man. -I need something to eat - I begged. -Pick up whatever you want, but pay for everything you pick - He stared at me. I went out the village. What were they doing, taking care of their own beloved ones and property or beeing pitiless? ----------------------- Those days were even roughers. But Bakinho managed to fish and fullfill his stomach by himself. Never getting enough food, although he could get over the starvation and its issues. He realized that those tiny wild 'fruits' were edible, that those tree leaves were a great wall to get away the weather elements so then sleep better. His spiritual flame was growing. And he was thankful to the Great Spirits for that. ---------------------- I am alone, I need to talk with someone. Is this what i think it is? And the village's people shown me their backs. Yeah, this is a fresh track! Some child, they are purer, they are more gentle. So you are going to the north, huh? It seems like a big creature. A child or maybe a good friend to be with me, to share even silence. I have to be very... careful... it saw me! Run! ... --------------------- Tomorrow will be a better hunting day. Luckely i have fish for breakfast. -------------------- Bakinho climbed up to the top of a hill, and watched the peaceful horizon. Two human shapes into the far. He went for the encounter, that was a great sign of providence, claiming that finally some fraternal warmth was near. -------------------- -Hello, my name is Bakinho. I am hunting - I said with a smile in my face, to the tallest man there. -Hi, friend o'mine. You seem like a great hunter! Just look at you! - He replied with a perfect smile. -Well, i do what i can. I am improving, though. 'Cause i am young. Now i became a lonely man - I said, my chest got bigger and wider. -You are! Look that staff, such a masterpiece. You'd fight three bears back in a row - His vivid eyes had a hidden secret. I heard two human laughing behind me. -I... c-can te-teach you how to make one fo-for yourself - I began to fear. -Don't lose your time, just handle me that spear and knife, then if i feel mercyful i'll let you go with your legs still sticked in your body. I am screwed, i thought. The last thing i felt was a hard hit in my head. ------------------------ I woke up. The forest was strange, my inner, desolated. I was all broken and slowly i managed to recover. I understood i couldn't feed myself with those great fruits. I couldn't fish nor hunt. I didn't find my way back either. After several days I found my shelter, and entered in the village, some hundred of meters away. ---------------------- -Hi, i am Bakinho. I really need your help, I...- -Hello Stranger. What do you want? - She asked. -I need to recover myself, i am not well - I was clearly bleeding. -I am really sorry, i cannot help you - ----------------------- Fury. Anger. Awoke a demon within. I hitted her in the head, she ran away screaming in pain. I catched her again and hitting, i knocked her down. ---------------------- He stayed in front of the unconcious body, breathing heavily, his mind drifting away. Some loud screaming were getting closer. -There he is. I saw him, he is trying to kill her. Come everybody. He is trying to kill her!- The old man hitted Bakinho's head with a club. Wasn't until there that he went back into reality. Bakinho fighted back, and really quickly understood he had failed. A second man arrived, with a knife. The two men were stabbing and hitting him. Bakinho just got lost into a dark new place, a new world. ---------------------- At the end this was a short trip. That thorax stab was deep! huh! And i just have to say... those hits in my head are crushing my skull... to the Great Spirit, how regreted i am. Another stab... -------------------- The coward young boy learnt from this life, and the soul's trip goes on. Now in another place, no more in this world. He learnt from mistakes and suffering, now he awaits a new oportunity to go beyond understanding. (Migrated post. This section were quite blank. This was the first experience i had with the game some several months ago. I loved it. Regards) May 23, 2017, 05:18:20 PM |
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Leucism, etc.
There was a post on this on the old forums, about occasionally finding animals with some sort of pigmentation disorder like leucism, melanism. You would then be able to obtain a fur from them that would be very valuable. Thought I'd bring it up again after seeing a story about a white elk making news in Sweden  https://www.thelocal.se/20171114/swedes-rally-to-save-famous-white-elk-from-being-shot November 14, 2017, 10:22:05 PM |
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Re: How to make all materials repairable?
Inspired by Caethan's comment, I came up with recipes for repairing metal armor. These are for a lossy process, where you need more materials than the final weight of the gear. To me, this represents crude repairs that an amateur smith might make: cutting out damaged lames and lacing in better ones from other armor scraps, riveting good links of mail into a damaged piece, and crudely welding/riveting patches onto a helmet. As far as I can tell, there's no way to specify a recipe where you take an item and then need to add wildcard items until the combined weight reaches some value. The URW engine obviously knows how to do that, because the existing Repair function does that, but that function isn't available to mods. Code: [Select] [SUBMENU_START:Clothing]
April 23, 2018, 03:58:58 AM |
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Bloodied Snow
In the dead of winter an Owl Tribe man is roaming the mainland to find big deer to feed his huge pack of dogs. He is going north of the coastline to his trapline he left near trading villages. He easily finds a huge elk on his travel and shoots two arrows into the animals side, releasing the dogs they rush the dying animal. The creature quickly loses his breath and the man catches up to give him a quick jab of his northern spear. The elk dies in one hit and is cut up, then tied onto his pet bull. Then after looking for more game he runs into a red shirted killer. With his hunting pack of dogs he takes him on by shooting his fine longbow. A broadhead arrow finds its way into the other mans thigh and he drops, the dogs shred him alive. The man called Frost Owl then loads him up on his bull as well and the trek continues. Checking and feeding his pack he takes off. His search is again stopped by a roaming red shirt, he loads up his longbow and shoots but the arrow finds its way into a nearby spruce. The red killer rushes Frost Owl before he can reload his trusty bow. He is stuck hard in the eye by the mans knife and loses consciousness. He later awakens and releases the hounds, the dogs are in a fury and quickly bring down the man, tearing at his neck while he is on the ground. The man is loaded onto the bull. After returning to his island cabin Frost Owl releases the animals into their respective pens, processes the elk skin, and tosses the mangled corpses of his enemies to his pack. He takes the dog called Two to a spot away from the others and names her Blood Hawk for saving his life and proving herself to the pack. Islander and Driik legends tell of a man missing one eye who comes from a distant island in the far ocean. He arrives in a blizzard of blood and snow with his frost hounds, he tears across the land and vanquishes all signs of evil with none escaping his dogs jaws. The man rarely appears in villages trading shiny battle swords and expensive piles of furs for all of the villages animals, then disappears with them away into the ocean, his boat fades into the mist. All fear the day the comes out of his hibernation again, holding a rage as powerful and angry as the fiercest winter blizzards. April 11, 2019, 07:43:09 PM |
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Additional “trophies”
It’d be nice if we could get skulls of taken: lynxes, gluttons, wolves. Get tusks of wild boars. Claws from bears and lynxes, gluttons and badgers. And maybe even Njerpez’s/human skulls. “Have skulls, build a grimoire” And it’d be pretty nice touch if we could apply pair of antlers or a predator skull above the door on our cabins. Or ask for optional “trophy” when building door. May 07, 2020, 07:38:37 AM |
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Re: Additional “trophies”
When the game gets old women added to villages, maybe have some of them, when in good standing with the village, have her ask for trophy item X, and when delivered make a good luck charm for the character. Or have it as a sage/shaman quest. May 08, 2020, 06:25:44 AM |
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Jutta's Tales: The Bog Mother. (A URW Horror Story.)
Hi, I want to try something different. Instead of a character story, I tried to write a horror story based in the URW. There might be more. I think Jutta has a few stories to tell. This is a little dark, and based on true things. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jutta was my mother's mother. She came from the far north, away from the coast we call home now. Mother told me that she came from the Owl Tribe, before settling down with her husband, a Seal Tribe man in his homeland, our homeland. He had been killed before I was born and Jutta had moved in with us. Father, was a Seal Tribe man through and through, and didn't like Jutta. On good days, he said she had the touch of the Spirits. On his bad days, he would say she drank too much of them instead. But she seemed so ancient, so wise to me, I was just a little boy at the time. I took her word as law much to my practical father's annoyance. I was forever panicking over spilled salt, casting the expensive substance over my shoulders, refusing to whistle indoors for our dogs and all sorts of old Spirit ways. It seemed for beings who didn't care for humans, they certainly cared a lot about all sorts of things we do according to Jutta. Even though it has been many long winters since she left us, I still remember her sitting in front of the hearth. A broken net over her lap, her curled and swollen fingers deftly passing the bone shuttle needle through the cords, stitching it. The little clicks of bone, almost lost with the wind whirring past the window, sending snow against the sides of the cabin we were in. My job was to hold the lengths of cord taut as she worked. An important job she always told me. Fixing Father's fishing nets was my favourite job, not just because I get to stay in the warmth, curled against Jutta's leg, but because Jutta would tell me stories. Now I sit in front of the fire now, my children's children around me, watching me whittle, I still remember her stories or was they more warnings? I clear my throat, the children looked up expectantly. They were waiting for the next tale, as I did when I was their age. The wind howled and made them jump and look around skittish like deer and I smiled. “Have you ever heard the Bog Mother?” I started, echoing Jutta's words from so many moons ago... Winters on the coast are cold but with the sea air keeping the worst of the snow out, it is nothing like the far north. There was a village that was on the tip of the world it seemed, so far north and so cold. But nothing was colder than the people. Hunger and death was a constant companion to the people, Nothing would grow in the stony frozen soil for most of the year. The kept reindeer was scraggly starving beasts but the people made do. Yet they didn't move on. Some say they were cursed, banished to the far frozen north for some evil deeds, land and bloodlines cursed. All I say is that when the milk of a doe was ending, they often mixed it with the does' blood, bleeding the beast slowly keeping it alive and the hot blood mixed in with the thinning milk was their favourite treat. In the leaner years, when the villagers, deep into the dark months felt their stomachs ache with hunger, what little food there was, was shared out to the village hunters, trappers and crafters first. The men eating what they could as they needed to find more. The scraps was given to the womenfolk to pick whatever they could from the lean bones, breaking them for marrow like starving wolves. Whatever, if ever, anything was left it was scraped into the pot and boiled, the thin soup dished out to the elderly. There was one year though, it seemed the Spirits was plaguing the village, traps were sprung but lay empty and half the reindeer does lost their calf, the other half just didn't carry. The villagers already was gaunt from one bad winter but a worst spring? Followed by a tragic summer since the hunters was bringing barely any food in, just enough to keep them all from dying. The Summer Solstice brought the village leaders and the Sage, to the middle of the village. The old Sage, was barely able to stand but still chanted and cast a few bones into the fire and watched them burn. A sharp snap from the bones made him fall back. “A bad winter!” Was declared, the omens black. Worry filled the village far faster than food in the stores. Was it worse to die slow starvation or quick? People muttered as they walked past the storerooms again and again, looking at the small amount of food as if it would change. In the midst of summer, a young outsider housewife, who married into the Tribe but a year ago gave birth. The first one in many years. However births was not celebrated like yours. They marked another mouth to feed, another drain on scarce supplies they had. The other women, the ones who hasn't bared in years talked in hushed tones about it, how not right it was, how did she bare when even the does were barren. Even the Sage couldn't answer. The babe, seemed not quite right; small, pale and silent. The Tribe women whispered about it, how it wouldn't survive the night. Summer ended, and so did Autumn, the hunger and whispers grew as the child survived. Curses, and promises with Spirits was muttered, why else this year was so barren when the mother wasn't so? Didn't all the trouble start when she arrived? When winter began to creep into the village, one of the village women who lost her only child years ago began to tell the others about the unnatural sickly looking child who had weaned. Eating food. Even though it wouldn't survive till Spring. A waste. It's portion of food could feed her husband who brought that seal in. At the start of winter, it was just hot words in the cold air but as winter continued, and the hunger sank deeper in their bones, she wasn't the only one saying it any more. Winter is bad time to get a head full of bad ideas. No one had the energy to shake them off or think, all they kept hearing is how they could get more food for them, for their family. The mother hid herself and her son away, while her husband a crafter, unskilled was low in the village so kept quiet. He was already distrusted for marrying outside the Tribe. So he wasn't told when the leaders went to have a meeting on a nearby hill, out of eyeshot and earshot of the village. Hunger was a desperate beast that day, it's growls echoing in all the leaders' stomachs, the wicked anger clawing through them as they decided. In the older times, in leaner times, ones they thought they had passed, they would send the elderly off, into the woods with no supplies. One less mouth to feed. The outsider's child should be banished first, not one of the elderly. It was decided in harsh but quiet tones. They waited till the next full moon on the solstice, the Sage had said it would be best. The Spirits could snatch up the child before it's soul was left to howling void. The next words was heavy on his tongue, blood ritual offering are best on the solstice. One of the leaders jumped in his skin and admonished the man for his crude words. Blood rituals hadn't been done in generations, though they still drained the does when hunger set in. The mother found out only when the Sage knocked on the door of their cabin as night fell that evening. The leaders were just behind and with a glance into their solemn gaunt faces, she knew what they were here for. She screamed, cried as her husband held her. She tried offering them anything but her son. Food, valuables but in the end she offered her life up. Surely an adult's portion was far greater than what a babe would eat? The leaders accepted it with a jerky nod. Better on their soul, a woman give herself up then condemn an infant. She followed them out into the night, each of the men holding a burning torch, the guttering flickering lights surrounding her leading her deep into the marsh. The frozen ground crunching under her leather boots. She was sobbing to herself, the icy cold night freezing the tears on her face. The moon came out from behind a cloud, bathing them in the silvery light. She was handed a torch and ordered to walk away into the bog away from the village, away from her child, sobbing. The babe didn't survive long, neither did the husband who followed within a week. The woman was never seen again, but she was heard. The next full moon, an eerie call came from the bog. The village's best hunter grabbed his bow and arrow and crept out. He was shaking as the cold wind blew across him and a thin woman's sob drifted over him. He raised his bow and arrow thinking the outsider had returned, but there was nothing. He approached slowly and carefully thinking she must have been hiding behind a tree. He scurried home terrified. Again, the next full moon, the sobbing was closer now, the edge of the marsh now. The leaders gathered up as many men as he could arm, and marched them out to see what was happening. He heard the thin sobs and spun around, the noise seemingly surrounded them. They scattered, fleeing in haste away from the painful wretched sobs. They thought they were safe in the village, the cries moon after moon, never left the bog. The village learnt to live with it, the Sage drumming on full moons to banish the evil and stop the sobs. Maybe it was that, and not the offering which made the game plentiful, the traps full and the nets bursting with food. The village recovered even, the next winter easy to get through, even the bog was silent. Years past, the old Sage passing on, and drumming stopped. It was waking up the children who soon filled the yards of the village, horrors forgotten. It was after that winter solstice, when the children first mentioned her. The Bog Mother. The lady in the marsh, who called to them to play who promised them that she would be their mother. The children told the adults fled, all of them except one. One who had argued with his mother that morning, one who didn't know the dangers of the bog, one they found the body of face down in the mud, dead. They told the children never to play near the bog, to ignore any voices, any lights. It didn't stop there, a child woke up next full moon to a voice outside his window, calling for him. His brother sleepily awoke to see the boy leave the room and never return. Another child, and another, soon they were gone. The village died out but they still say she is out there, the Bog Mother, looking for her child every winter. If you sit quietly you can still hear her calling, or sobbing for her child she lost. I finish my story and look at the spell bound children, just then the wind blew past the window, a thin almost wail, sending the children to tears and screams. You know, it did almost sound like a distraught woman calling out. May 26, 2020, 09:12:49 PM |
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Re: [3.63] Incorrect 3D sound positioning
When listening to the sounds, you should also note your character's direction. The sound may come from the east. But if you character is facing south, the sound should en up in your left speaker as your character is hearing the sound from his/her left ear. From the news.txt in the game files. - sounds are panned relative to your characters location/direction The sounds your character hears during the game already have loudness relative to the distance from you. Now the sounds are also panned relative to your character's location and direction he/she is facing. For example: S = something that makes sound, @ = your character S.. ... .@. ... If your character is facing directly to north you'll hear the sound slightly from the left. If your character is facing towards the sound then you will naturally hear it from the center. And if your character is facing to south you'll hear the sound slightly from the right. "Heading" screen also still shows the sound location visually but now you can also find your way to the source of the sound just by listening carefully. August 21, 2020, 10:25:24 PM |
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Re: Who were "Njerpez" ?
I can't believe that nowadays you have to prove the correctness of your fantasy world.
August 24, 2020, 10:53:57 AM |
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Disengage command & Shouting function for human companion
I know currently companion already have several functions, but what I would like to suggest is adding some commands that distinguish them as intellectual human beings from simple-minded hunting hounds. One of the commands I want to suggest is to ask companion to disengage from enemies. Dogs, although no disengage command available, leash can make them at least stick around you and even stop them from being aggressive by unleash & leash them spontaneously. However human companions cannot be leashed (of course) and more importantly, cannot communicate during the fight, which doesn’t really make senses to me. I already have two companions died from stupidly charge to large pack of beasts without my command/ help and that’s frustrating. Their deaths are really unnecessary if we could just retreat from those animals since most of them are not willing to fight us to death and will flee if injured. One more thing about the command to companion is the shouting function. We can command dogs out of our sight but can’t command human companions out of sight? This really make no senses to me and I really hope this function get added into game soon. September 15, 2020, 05:01:37 AM |
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