1/08/2014

In Rust, Your Best Friend is a Rock IGN All

I’ve been taken prisoner. The cell - such as it is - is a shack made of what looks like corrugated iron, four rusted walls and a locked door. I’ve tried to hack at the walls with a stone hatchet I crafted out of some twigs and rocks that were in my inventory, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much. At least I could make a little campfire to crouch beside out of the remaining wood I was carrying around. My captor is taunting me with food, throwing rations through the open door now and then and closing it before I can dash out. I’m considering a hunger strike.


I didn’t even do anything to deserve this ridiculous situation. Here’s the thing: I wasn’t marched here at gunpoint by a gang of bandits after shooting someone with an arrow. I wasn’t even captured. There was no drama. I walked in here, My mistake was assuming that the guy I was following wouldn’t close the door on me the second I stepped inside. He built this place, you see. Only he can work the doors.


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