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Just remember the following:
The Rock Creed
This is my rock. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My rock is my companion. It is my burden. I must carry it as I carry my hopes.
Without me, my rock is just a rock. Without my rock, I am just another dehydrated soul wandering the dunes.
I must gather my rock true. I must stack faster than my enemies who also seek stone.
I must build before the sandstorm comes. I will.
My rock and I know that what matters is not whether the game is fun,
but how many rocks we can collect before passing out from thirst.
My rock is human, even as I, because it is my soul.
Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weight, its grain, its oddly polygonal texture.
I will keep it near, even when I have 57 more in inventory.
We will survive the beta together.
For Karl.
....Wait... You're double posting? Really?
That's leaf lover behaviour right there.
A rock is what you pick up 200 times an hour hoping it leads to progress.
A stone is what you carry in your soul after realizing it doesn’t.
Rocks are scattered across the desert.
Stones are what you build with when hope is already gone.
Rocks are for crafting.
Stones are for coping.
For Karl. For all of us.
We came to Arrakis expecting glory.
We left with 37 rocks and a thousand-yard stare.
Beardless behaviour.
Two minutes is all it takes when you're carrying the emotional weight of 147 rocks and zero gameplay.
If that's beardless behavior, then hand me a razor and call me Pebble Daddy.
Oh don’t worry, I drank those tears. Recycled them through my stillsuit and everything.
First thing in this beta that actually quenched my thirst.
Tasted like denial and unfinished game design.
I found a rock beneath the burning sun,
It called to me with silence, cold and dry.
No joy, no thrill, no battle to be won,
Just one more stone beneath a lifeless sky.
I carried it across the shifting sand,
My flask was dry, my will began to fade.
No water came, no aid, no guiding hand,
Just thirst and dust and choices poorly made.
I built a shack from all the rocks I'd found,
A square of grief where nothing good could grow.
No shelter here, just walls that mock the ground,
And in their shade, I weep and build some more.
Then came a man with gear and hope intact,
I swung my blade and brought him to his knees.
His blood I drained, my filters set to act—
A crimson drink, but sweeter than the breeze.
I fear the sun, its wrath a searing curse,
Unfiltered suits betray with deadly speed.
To sweat is death, my breath becomes my hearse,
So I absorb myself to meet my need.
I dodge the worms, yet dream of one I’ll ride,
A beast of sand, of legend, fang, and pride.