Every farm sim like this has someone like him. A museum owner. A curator den. A deity whose magic relies on objects you find or make.
Slate is the local teacher and scientist whose collection of artifacts and projects washed away in the flood. Locating specimens to refill his collection triggers many important events.
Once you greet him—which I did at the tavern last night—he explains the reward program for recovering his collections and scientific experiments. Which he did. Last night. I smiled and nodded throughout the entire rambling, excited spiel, becauseSlate’s great, and also maybe I was still recovering from my shame of having been carried in, sat down, and fed stew.
Problem is: I don’t have time to go about opening up the mines theproperway.
Ergo, it is a marvelous thing I’ve no pride left to speak of.
I, simply, am going to beg.
Appealing to Slate’s manic sense of adventure is something I am fully confident in.
Step three: rebuild, explore, upgrade.
And live happily ever after with Samson in our pretty little town where even the arrogant jerk archetypes likeAustinlearn to appreciate my presence, with enough nagging, and also gifts.
It’s a perfect three-step plan that absolutely doesn’t have a thousand substeps, including—but not limited to—wooing a man I am certain will unravel my atoms the moment I see his handsome scruffy face.
I am savage just thinking about him in this setting, where I canfeeleverything as though it’s real, and I’m alive. Well—sure—I mean, I’vebeenalive…but for the first time in my life, it feels like I’m really, trulyliving.
And I’m appreciating every detail, even the imaginary ones I hope got included with the realism mod DLC.
Like. Okay. Hear me out.
When Samson and I are married, will I get to witness him shaving with a sharpened blade like in ye olden days?
Hot.
Too hot, almost.
But extremely good for morale as I sledgehammer my way through these trees, sucking logs and fiber up with my bag as I go.
Thankfully, I just need to touch the edge of something with the void, and my bag gobbles. Double thankfully, I have enoughfree inventory slots for the usual clean-up drops, and they stack up to nine hundred ninety-nine.
Triple thankfully, no matter how many logs or rocks I destroy and pile on in, my bag remains virtually weightless.
Which is great.
Because my arms are starting to burn.
Oh, the things a woman will do for love.
It kills me, but the realism mod has cursed me with the awareness of dirt, sweat, and muck. Showers were not included in the game previously, so I will need to figure out how exactly I’m supposed to clean up and wash my clothes after I’ve cleared the path.
Preferably before my meet-cute with Samson, please. I know there’s a pond somewhere at the bottom of the farm property and the soaps Kaolin gave me should be all natural and safe for the fish in it, but is that actually my best option?
Bathing with fish and hoping I haven’t warranted any visitation events while I’m in the nude?
Yikes. Not a fan.
Speaking ofnude, am I beginning to black out, or is that…
Samson.
My…beautiful…hot…nakedSamson.
Taking a bath in his own pond while his fields of hay sway in a breeze and his cattle moo.
