don't buy this. rimworld is pixie stix and I upgraded to crack now. I have 300 rimworld mods installed and it's not even a fifth as complex as this game.

I'm hopelessly addicted. 94 hours. 6 days. do the math. I've slept 5 out of 7 days this week. I barely played Sunday because I couldn't reach my computer. A combined total of 1 hour of that maybe was AFK time.

God save me because I can't save myself.

if you play dwarf fortress you'll wonder what I'm yammering about but I'm hoping old gods can't see what I'm writing from their decadent thrones

this game was a gift from a friend and I feel like he gave me a necronomicon

I've read literally 500 pages of guides. I've been driven to the point of almost writing my own. Despite the discord existing, there are hordes of people with questions that are still unanswered because NOBODY KNOWS THE ANSWERS. This game is inscrutable. How do I farm spirit soul gems, I type, my fingers shaking, my eyes bloodshot. I have found them. A merchant is selling. I buy twenty-five. I cannot use them to make my qi more efficient. It was a waste of time all along.

I cannot use them. I never needed them. The peasants swarm the gates, walking willingly into Hell for an opportunity to join that isn't there. My sect is at 24 out of 24, and no plans to promote soon. The demon's ice freezes another twenty-five souls in anguished death. More Anguish Soul Gems. More talismans. More upgrades on the items that upgrade my qi so I can upgrade my upgraded Qi fifty times over and break through all reasonable limits. I am ready to forge the perfect golden core. A screenshot shows that my paltry 30k qi languishes next to the man with 1 million /before golden core/. I cower, I wail, I gnash my teeth, I plead for the mountains of Earth to protect me from the harsh sun of the radiance of his might.

"Solo sects with this build" the guide says. "Make a tiger-man think with the power of his tempered phallus." How? What? Why? What? What am I going?

I'm the Moon Form. My sanctuary riddled with discarded genitals. My shendaos are gods, in golden realms, tethered to the mightest artifacts of all. As they ascend, they leave them behind, remnants of their glory to be used by their dear friends in their mortal lives.

A severed ♥♥♥♥ and a pile of ♥♥♥♥. Their friends weep tears of joy. No weapon could ever compare in power.

"Body cults", the discord says. "Snakes make terrible body cults." My eyes glaze past words with no meaning, assembling a meaning from the nonsense. Snakes make terrible body cults, of course. They have no arms. You cannot punch with your face.

Who worships this body cult? do they worship my shendao also? No. The shendao's teary-eyed successor is a housecat who's been praying for 20 days straight, floating upside down in her room. Perhaps she will be spared the agony Heaven wishes to inflict upon her. The tiger is thinking. THE TIGER IS THINKING. HEED ITS THOUGHTS, ELSE IT FORGET AND LOSE ALL IT IS. A frog awakened. I ate it. It was better off food than being cursed with the problems of Mankind.

When you see this review, in six months, you will understand by my play count. 94 hours? 94 hours was nothing. Nothing at all. I haven't even picked up the razor blade with which I will gently scratch the surface of this game, trying to find some hint of what in the hell I'm doing.

I love this game. The tears do not stop. I am enveloped by the Sun.

don't buy this. rimworld is pixie stix and I upgraded to crack now. I have 300 rimworld mods installed and it's not even a fifth as complex as this game. I'm hopelessly addicted. 94 hours. 6 days. do the math. I've slept 5 out of 7 days this week. I barely played Sunday because I couldn't reach my computer. A combined total of 1 hour of that maybe was AFK time. God save me because I can't save myself. if you play dwarf fortress you'll wonder what I'm yammering about but I'm hoping old gods can't see what I'm writing from their decadent thrones this game was a gift from a friend and I feel like he gave me a necronomicon I've read literally 500 pages of guides. I've been driven to the point of almost writing my own. Despite the discord existing, there are hordes of people with questions that are still unanswered because NOBODY KNOWS THE ANSWERS. This game is inscrutable. How do I farm spirit soul gems, I type, my fingers shaking, my eyes bloodshot. I have found them. A merchant is selling. I buy twenty-five. I cannot use them to make my qi more efficient. It was a waste of time all along. I cannot use them. I never needed them. The peasants swarm the gates, walking willingly into Hell for an opportunity to join that isn't there. My sect is at 24 out of 24, and no plans to promote soon. The demon's ice freezes another twenty-five souls in anguished death. More Anguish Soul Gems. More talismans. More upgrades on the items that upgrade my qi so I can upgrade my upgraded Qi fifty times over and break through all reasonable limits. I am ready to forge the perfect golden core. A screenshot shows that my paltry 30k qi languishes next to the man with 1 million /before golden core/. I cower, I wail, I gnash my teeth, I plead for the mountains of Earth to protect me from the harsh sun of the radiance of his might. "Solo sects with this build" the guide says. "Make a tiger-man think with the power of his tempered phallus." How? What? Why? What? What am I going? I'm the Moon Form. My sanctuary riddled with discarded genitals. My shendaos are gods, in golden realms, tethered to the mightest artifacts of all. As they ascend, they leave them behind, remnants of their glory to be used by their dear friends in their mortal lives. A severed dick and a pile of shit. Their friends weep tears of joy. No weapon could ever compare in power. "Body cults", the discord says. "Snakes make terrible body cults." My eyes glaze past words with no meaning, assembling a meaning from the nonsense. Snakes make terrible body cults, of course. They have no arms. You cannot punch with your face. Who worships this body cult? do they worship my shendao also? No. The shendao's teary-eyed successor is a housecat who's been praying for 20 days straight, floating upside down in her room. Perhaps she will be spared the agony Heaven wishes to inflict upon her. The tiger is thinking. THE TIGER IS THINKING. HEED ITS THOUGHTS, ELSE IT FORGET AND LOSE ALL IT IS. A frog awakened. I ate it. It was better off food than being cursed with the problems of Mankind. When you see this review, in six months, you will understand by my play count. 94 hours? 94 hours was nothing. Nothing at all. I haven't even picked up the razor blade with which I will gently scratch the surface of this game, trying to find some hint of what in the hell I'm doing. I love this game. The tears do not stop. I am enveloped by the Sun.