General Kethric's Last Stand: A Tale of Tentacles and Tempers

So we did a bit of a clean sweep last night, Myles and Dave found the quartermaster wandering aimlessly on the ground floor, so we pillaged all the cultists, harpers, and flaming fist bodies and sold their crap to her. Bought out her arrows, and healing potions. After the dungeon fight, we thoroughly explored the place, including the gruesome Mind layer oubliette. We found the bodies of some tieflings we were asked to rescue - OOPS! Back to camp for a good nights sleep before we headed off to the mausoleum to find the Shar treasure room and the end of the Gauntlet that we somehow missed.   It was a bit of a fight, some trapped bookshelves, solved a puzzle to lower the portcullis, and found Myles some nice Justiciar armor to wear, and a pointy stick.  Then back to the room where the Necromancer was when we met him, cleaned out the alchemy supplies he no longer needs, and found our budding Necromancer (Craig) a handy dandy ring.

After a later brunch, we headed back to the Moonrise towers to sell all our new crap to the Quartermaster, and buy her new stock of healing potions.  Then we climbed to the top of the tower, for the epic battle with the not so immortal anymore General Kethric. Of course, he was a right prick and wouldn't let us hack his head off with a halberd , since he was no longer immortal. Myles refused to beg like a dog, so the fight was on.   First thing Myles did was to pump their wizard full of arrows so we could avoid that group fireball shite they like doing.  

Craig is scared of dogs, so he lobbed an ice knife at the generals mutt, which made it slip over. Of course both his zombies promptly fell over in the ice and he was annoyed we hadn't advised him that would happen. We did ask if he had read the fine print before casting the spell. To add icicles to injury his third creature jumped over to deal with the puppy, slipped on the ice and end up on its butt as well.  So our usual job of tactics.

Finally, our winged angel with a little help from us beat the snot out of Kethric, who then had a trumpian hissy fit and giant tentacles burst from the roof, pinned the angel, and carried her away.  After only a slight hesitation we jumped into the tentacular hole in the roof to follow.

So the intrepid adventures travelled through the squelchy, bloody hidden mind flayer lair under Moonrise towers. We found our old intellect devourer friend (that we freed at the start of this whole thing) locked in a cage. Whilst Myles worked on picking the lock, I talked to the brain dead Orc (Chomp). Not sure if it was my conversation choices, or Craig trying to smash the cage open, but of course it was all on like Donkey Kong in a room full of intellect devourers.

After the usual looting, we went down a really skinny corridor, and opened the door into a room full of Greater Zombies, Lesser Zombies, one of those Undead Lord thingies, and some flappy beasts. Craig dropped the spike growth which killed most of the zombies as they walked to their seconds deaths, which was a good thing as we tried to unjam ourselves in the corridor.  Myles blew up some Zombie spawning pillars, Zaph dealt with the flappy things, and a few in our face zombies which Myles ignored to shoot the zombie furthest away. After some repositioning we killed the undead Sheppard, paused briefly to complain why was Zaph the only one to ding a level, looted, went to the next room, where Myles did the mind flayer body pieces puzzle with the coloured lights to unlock a treasure room.

To be continued...

Elegantly Wasted Efforts: Or How to Do Everything the Hard Way.

 

If only there was some kind of map somewhere, that would help us solve this puzzle...

We ain't falling for that mimic trick again.

Whoa, that's a lot of enemies on the roster.

I never could quite get the hang of Thursdays (Zaph's graphics card glitched)

Now, if only we could get them all lined up, I have this awesome spell... oh, wait I'm out.

I love this time of year

 

Which time of year is that?

 

Six pints of bitter and quickly, please. The world's about to end.

There you are sir — six pints. 

Keep the change.

The Perplexing Predicament: A Lavatorial Odyssey

Now, one might wonder, how does a seasoned adventurer mistake a lavatory for a magical gateway? The answer is simple: when you've seen as many glittering portals and shimmering doorways as Zaph has, anything with a door starts to look promising. Plus, let's not forget the enchanting aroma - a confusing blend of mystic herbs and, well, other less savory scents.

As Zaph sat there, contemplating the universe and his place within it (as one does in such situations), he pondered over the great existential questions: Why are we here? Is there life beyond the stars? And, most importantly, why is there no toilet paper in magical realms?

In our latest escapade, we encountered a peculiar and slightly unhinged "physician" obsessed with eradicating the pain of life through, of all things, macabre surgical practices. Convincing him to lead by example in his bizarre crusade, we employed a blend of reverse psychology and sly persuasion. We suggested that true pioneers must demonstrate their convictions, especially in the avant-garde field of silence-eliminating surgery. To our amusement and relief, he eagerly agreed, seeing himself as a trailblazer in a strange, new frontier of medicine. 

In the dimly lit, somewhat melodramatic setting of an abandoned church, our intrepid party faced wraiths – the universe's answer to the question, "What if shadows got bored and slightly malicious?" Visible only in light, these wraiths took an impish delight in extinguishing candles, plunging us into the kind of darkness usually reserved for inside jokes among bats.

As we stumbled around, relighting candles with the urgency of someone who's just remembered they left the oven on, the wraiths seemed to chuckle in the draft, playing a spectral version of hide-and-seek. It was a bizarre dance, a peculiar blend of a séance and a slapstick comedy, where every flicker of light offered a brief, teasing glimpse of our elusive adversaries. In this absurd tango of light and shadow, we learned the hard way that in the world of wraiths, it's not just the candles that lose their wicks.

The Quirky Quandaries of Casting Spike Growth

 

As he lay there, contemplating the irony of his situation, Zaph couldn't help but wonder if the universe had a personal vendetta against him, or if it was just having a bit of a laugh. Given his current predicament, he was inclined to believe it was a bit of both.

In the universe’s grand scheme of 'Do's and 'Don’ts', casting a Spike Growth spell falls squarely into a category best described as 'Do... but with the caution of a cat walking around a puddle of water'. It’s a spell that makes florists and gardeners wince, and adventurers think twice about their choice of footwear.

Here we see Dave wondering why he's in the middle of spike city and the Grand Inquisitor is not?

In the grand cosmic theater, where the absurd often shakes hands with the profound, our intrepid adventurers found themselves in a rather peculiar conversation. They were chatting with Vlaakith the Lich Queen, who, as far as liches go, was surprisingly good at small talk. She had a knack for discussing the weather in various planes of existence and was particularly fond of commenting on the 'lovely, ashen skies' of the Shadowfell.

Vlaakith, with the casual air of someone asking for directions to the nearest tavern, requested our heroes to kill an entity trapped in an artifact. Now, artifacts in the world of Baldur's Gate aren't like your average mystical knick-knacks. They’re more like the sort of thing you’d avoid at a garage sale, even if they were free.

Our heroes, being seasoned adventurers and not easily swayed, responded with the kind of cautious skepticism one reserves for emails from deposed princes promising vast fortunes. They were aware that dealing with Lich Queens and mysterious artifacts was generally considered to be career-limiting, if not outright life-ending.

The prospect of entering the artifact brought to mind a host of potential issues, not least of which was the decor. One does not simply walk into a mystical artifact without considering the aesthetic implications. Would it be tastefully furnished? Or would it have the usual dreary lich motif of skulls and ominous glowing orbs?

Then there was the matter of meeting their Guardian face-to-face. Guardians, as everyone knows, are notoriously difficult to shop for, and the etiquette of such meetings was still a grey area. Should they bring a gift? Perhaps a nice potted plant or a selection of cheeses?

As they pondered these existential dilemmas, our heroes couldn't help but feel that the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to add 'interior decorating' and 'cheese selection' to their already extensive list of adventuring skills. 

I think we went with the Cheese option!

Party Enters Forge, Gets Hammered: Anvil-able for Comment.

 

And, that's a wipe.

I'm not quite sure why Zaph is just standing there and watching..

Let's take a moment.

Well, when you know what you are up against it makes things a little easier - but you really don't want to mess with these Mimics.

Misty step to get to the switch on the other side of the flaming trap.

Biting Off More Than They Can Chew: The Vampire's Guide to Portion Control.

 

So, when a vampire says they need a little blood, maybe use that wooden stake, before they drain you dry!

Here we see Craig - dead.

That's going to cost a res-scroll, , and where's the vampire in question, sulking at the back of the camp. Say's he's sorry, promises he won't do it again. No so much as a how's your friend, or here let me pay for damages.

"In the dimly lit dungeon, the gang scratched their heads. 'Is that res-scroll really worth the gold?' one pondered aloud, eyeing their flattened friend. 'I mean, how much do we really like him anyway?'"

---

So after we logged last night, I thought I would spend a few minutes roaming the caverns looking for treasure chests.

> Delving solo into the cavern's depths, I wasn't hunting for trouble—just some shiny loot. Glittering in the darkness, three chests beckoned. 'Jackpot!' I thought. But as I reached out, the chests grinned back, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Turns out, they weren’t chests at all, but cheeky mimics. Just as I was contemplating the peculiar diet of mimics and whether they preferred their adventurers with a side of chips, everything went dark. The last thought that crossed my mind? 'Should’ve brought that stick

Household Staff Gone Rogue: What To Do When Your Butler Isn't the Dobby You Expected

 We'll look after your character Craig, no problems - not a scratch we promise.

When your butler shows up, and ... well let's just say he's not Dobby.

Zaph, you've got this - right?

The ancient book before him whispered malevolent incantations, its pages an eerie echo of the infamous Necronomicon. He raised his hands, incanting a spell he hoped would incinerate the accursed tome. "Extinguo librum," he intoned with a quivering voice.

Nothing. A haunting laugh reverberated through the valley, emanating from the book itself. It was as if the malevolent forces within had nullified Zaph's power, mocking his feeble attempts. Cursing, Zaph realized he was spent—drained of magical energy and faced with a reality too grim to fathom. The book remained, as menacing as ever.

With no other options, Zaph hastily shoved the book into his bag, its dark energy squirming like a caged beast. "This isn't over," he muttered, backing away. "I'll be back, after a full rest and a recharged spell arsenal. You haven't defeated me yet." Retreating, Zaph vowed to return, to conquer the malevolent force that defied annihilation. For now, the battle was lost, but the war was far from over.

Cloudy with a Chance of Daggers: The Uncertain Skies of Balders Gate

In a tale that would surely be embroidered into tapestries, sung by bards, and exaggerated by drunken uncles, our quartet of adventurers vanquished the nefarious goblin leader with the kind of finesse often reserved for artists and conmen. Dave, the astute mage, released a perfectly-aimed cloud of daggers that rained poetic justice upon the goblin's domed cranium. It was, by all accounts, a flawless victory. As easy as solving a two-piece puzzle. A masterstroke of tactical brilliance that one might think had been the plan all along. 

But let's pull back the curtain, shall we? For our first attempt was less "masterpiece" and more "mishap."

 

Ah, the curious case of four intrepid adventurers, with all their spells, swords, and spiffy armor, finding themselves in the less-than-enviable position of invading an underground goblin fortress. A place so dark and damp that even the cockroaches had formed a union to protest the working conditions. The mission was as clear: take down the third goblin leader and halt the continuous harassment by the goblin collective on, well, anyone who wasn't a goblin.

Myles (the elf) was assigned the task of sneaking into the throne room, which is a grandiose term for what was essentially a dank cavern with a chair. The plan involved climbing into the rafters. It's at this juncture we must discuss the nature of "plans," which have a notorious reputation for unraveling just when you least want them to.

Enter Craig. Ah, Craig, whose stealth capabilities are comparable to a bullhorn in a library. His entrance into the scene was akin to announcing one's presence with fireworks and interpretive dance. Understandably, the goblins took notice. 

Now, when a goblin notices you, it doesn't jot your name down in a diary for future reference. No, it goes straight for the jugular, or any available soft tissue. Our Goblin Leader, not a fan of uninvited guests, immediately swung into action with his goblin minions, which is a poetic way of saying he skewered Dave, Craig, and Zaph in quick succession. 

In the adrenaline-fueled chaos, Dave's focus momentarily faltered, and his magic missiles, notoriously accurate and indifferent to friendly fire, found their mark in Zaph instead of the intended goblin henchman—a mistake that, while not fatal, was spectacularly unhelpful in the grand scheme of their skirmish.

In a final clash, an opera of clashing steel, which is unusual for the elf, Myles too joined his comrades in their newfound ethereal journey. 

And so, our adventurers wiped. Not the cleansing, victorious wipe one would use after a meal, but the sort of wipe that signifies a do-over. Our brave band had to reload, to roll the dice of fate again. It was their first wipe, an initiation of sorts into the grand tapestry of heroic failures that all true adventurers must weave.

Time to try again. Because in the end, how hard can it be?

Craig's down

Zaph's down

You can't control the dead (but you can speak to them)

Here's Zaph, later saying "Gordan's alive".

How to Borrow Your Friend's D&D Character and Nearly Get Eaten by a Beholder

 

Ah, yes. The intrepid band of would-be heroes: Zaph, Dave, Craig, and Myles, faced with the dilemma of an unexpectedly vacant Friday night. It's akin to a group of philosophers finding themselves without an existential crisis: disorienting and just a bit irresponsible.

Zaph and Craig couldn't make it, presumably off saving actual worlds. So, they casually passed us the metaphoric keys to their digital Ferraris, in much the same way that a cat entrusts you with its dinner, with an implied, "Don't mess it up." The mission was simple: rid the realm of a pestering goblin camp. With arrows nocked and spells charged, we did so with the elegance of a ballet dance and the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

But then, behold, the night was still a babe, and curiosity got the best of us. What was behind door number three? What's at the bottom of the rope ladder? A treasure chest? A secret admirer? No. We found ourselves in the very bowels of the Underdark, standing in a keep at the precipice of a chasm filled with more gloom than a room full of teenagers.

And there it was, a level 5 mini-beholder. Or should I say, "beholding us"? The good news? We were safely barricaded behind iron grills, as snug as kittens in a bed of yarn. So, we began our brand of guerilla archery. Not content with our advantage, the beholder upped its game by reanimating Drow minions. Ah, but arrows are the great emancipators! Freed from beholderly oppression, the Drow, confused and purposeless, started pulling their weight for once.

It was all going swimmingly until the beholder did something unexpected—it hovered upwards. Ah yes, the Z-axis. A classic oversight in a world that typically confines evil to a horizontal plane.

Now, beholders hovering upward is not something one finds in manuals or Etiquette for Encountering Eyeballs, but it's an indelible lesson now. On its last gasp, the creature floated through the window. One final volley of arrows, a sprinkle of magic, and down it went. Our characters were a little worse for wear, but that's what healing potions are for— the fantasy equivalent of band-aids and aspirin.

So, the lesson here? The next time you're given the keys to someone else's character, remember: the road less traveled might just lead you into the maw of a vertically-mobile floating eyeball. Always bring extra arrows.

Strumming to Death: Craig's Bard Kills the Competition—Literally

Ah, the misadventures of Craig's bard—a character who could woo a dragon but not a decent night's sleep, it seems. In a most perplexing dream that felt like a collaboration between Salvador Dali and Edgar Allan Poe, our bard found himself doing away with the other NPC bard. Why? Maybe it was poetic jealousy or perhaps just a nightly quota of existential dread fulfilled. Upon waking up, however, it turned out to be less of a dream and more of a nightmare's internship—bloody hands, a lifeless NPC, and a party looking at him like he'd just rewritten their favorite epic into a limerick.

This raises questions—thorny, awkward questions that you wouldn't bring up at a polite dinner party. Questions of free will tangled with destiny like a pair of earphones left in your pocket. And let's not even mention the profound existential crisis regarding the reliability of dreaming as a non-homicidal activity.

Meanwhile, trust levels in our group have plummeted faster than a bard's sobriety during a tavern visit. It's a social currency devaluation so significant that if it were the stock market, you'd hear economists weeping. Will the party still pass Craig the healing potion during battle, or just a strongly-worded note of caution?

So, as we traverse further into pixelated chaos, one must wonder: Will Craig's bard find redemption, or is he doomed to become the protagonist of a tragedy written in disappearing ink? Only time—and perhaps a few dice rolls—will tell.

Rolling Ones, Rolling Eyes: The Unforgettable Moments of D&D

 

As the sun bathes the valley and river below in a warm, golden glow, your eclectic party takes a momentary respite atop the cliff. Craig, donning a peculiar hat known for its enchanting effects on his vocals, stands still for once, perhaps contemplating his next performance. Myles, the elf ranger/rogue, has his bow strapped securely to his back, a silent nod to his dual expertise. Zaph, the dwarf paladin, wears a grin, unaware that his broken oath will soon ripple through his life in unforeseen ways. Dave, the Githyanki warrior mage looks determined as always (ed. Why do mages always carry a staff? To have something to lean on when they're out of mana?), his mind on a long-standing vendetta against mind flayers. It's a snapshot in time, capturing the serenity before challenges yet to come.

Ah, the infamous natural 1: the D&D equivalent of slipping on a banana peel while trying to defuse a bomb. One moment, you're a heroic paladin, radiating the glory of your divine oath. The next, you're tripping over your own sword. But don't despair. These epic fails often make for the most memorable stories. You might not be the hero in that moment, but you're certainly the star of comedic relief.

Ah, the quirkiness of rolling a natural 20 on a Wisdom check when all Zaph needed was a mere 2. Imagine needing only a dollop of common sense but instead channeling the wisdom of Gandalf, Yoda, and Dumbledore combined. It's like seeking to understand if it might rain and instead comprehending the intricacies of meteorological patterns across multiple dimensions.

Baldur's Gate 3: We Waited Longer Than a Wizard's Beard

We embark on a whimsical journey back to the fantastical realm of Baldur's Gate 3, a journey that spans over two years. Our adventure began on Friday, February 12, 2021, when we first delved into the pre-release version of the game, filled with anticipation and excitement.

Now, on September 22, 2023, the long-awaited moment has finally arrived, and we find ourselves reflecting on the 2-year journey that brought us here. The duration between our initial post and this gameplay experience has felt like an epic quest in itself - 647 days later.

We rediscover Baldur's Gate 3, sharing our nostalgia, excitement, and the unique humor that comes from waiting two years to fully embrace this beloved game. As I ventured back into Baldur's Gate 3, a profound sense of déjà vu enveloped me upon encountering familiar traps. My recollection was as hazy as an old spellbook; I could only think, "I remember this bit," yet the finer details only resurfaced when I stumbled upon each obstacle, much like an arcane incantation that had waited to be recited.

Here's us in the before times

And now

But first, let's crash this ship - the Nautiloid

  And time for a breather, now that we found all the traps - say cheese!

No Matter Where You Teleport, There You Are: Lessons from Diablo IV

 In the wickedly torturous and somehow, against all odds, absurdly bureaucratic labyrinths of Diablo IV, our band of misfit adventurers, no doubt led by some cosmic design or more likely a complete lack of anything better to do, came upon a chamber. It wasn't just any ordinary chamber (if you could even call any room in the eldritch, spine-chilling underworld of Diablo IV 'ordinary') – this was a room that glowed, quite against the laws of physics and interior design, with an unyielding aura of emerald obsidian. The effect was remarkably similar to disco ball lighting, which led to an impromptu and terribly off-key rendition of "Stayin' Alive".

Craig, whose commitment to recklessness was only rivalled by his ill-advised belief in his own invincibility, was egged on by Dave. Now, Dave was the kind of person who would encourage you to touch a live wire just to confirm it was indeed live. His notion of fun was just a few shades shy of a health and safety nightmare. Nevertheless, Craig, in an act of what could only be described as supreme overconfidence, decided to try out his teleport leap. The goal was simple, to leap to a lower section of the chamber, a feat no doubt intended to impress us or perhaps to secure his place in the annals of misjudged video game decisions.

But, as anyone who had paid attention to the manual (which, we could all agree, was no one), the teleport leap came with one rather irksome drawback – there was no return ticket. Much to his chagrin and our collective amusement, Craig found himself stuck in the depths of the dungeon, surrounded by all manner of unspeakable horrors and, perhaps worse, his own wounded pride. 

With the raucous laughter still echoing in our headsets, we resigned ourselves to the inevitable. With the air of a procession heading for a second-rate amusement park, we began our slow and arduously unimpressive descent to reunite with our stranded compatriot. After all, what are friends for if not to revel in your momentary blunders before begrudgingly coming to your aid?

Diablo IV: Because Who Needs Swords When You've Got Sapphires?

 

ChatGPT rewords Dave's thoughts on the matter.

So, you might be asking yourself, why on earth would anyone want to engage in the seemingly tedious task of crafting gems in Diablo IV? Well, dear reader, let me let you in on a secret: if you truly aspire to be the Warren Buffett of the Diablo world, then you should consider trading in your sword for a jeweler's loupe. Believe me, there's no thrill quite like charging some over-encumbered adventurer a cool 40,000 gold to transform their ragtag collection of 15 cracked diamonds into a modest 5 chipped diamonds. It's the Diablo equivalent of selling ice to Eskimos! To @molescat, my sincerest apologies. After having bankrupted myself on a gem-crafting spree, I've taken to selling all my blue items for cash and scrapping all my golden items just to make ends meet. Who knew I'd find myself running a virtual pawn shop in the bowels of Hell?

As with many misadventures in our digital playground, the infamous Rope Trap Incident began rather innocently. Zaph, in a rare bout of creativity, had laid a trap in the shape of a pentagon. Now, this wasn't just any pentagon - it was Zaph's pentagon, crafted with all the loving care and attention to detail one could expect from a demon-slaying, loot-hoarding adventurer who typically concerned himself with less geometrically complex tasks.

However, the trap, in all its mathematical elegance, was - how shall we say - a touch underwhelming. It possessed all the menacing aura of a cucumber at a vampire convention, so we naturally assumed that it belonged to our enemy - the shaman.

Such was the rope trap's convincing lameness that we mistook it for the shaman's summoning circle. It was an easy mistake to make, really. After all, in a world where a fire-breathing dragon is considered a Tuesday, a dull pentagonal trap could easily be mistaken for the handiwork of a malevolent, all-powerful sorcerer. It's like mistaking an orangutan for a space ship mechanic - unlikely, yes, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility given the right circumstances.

The Devil's in the Detail: Our Journey Through Diablo's Hellscapes

 

For the uninitiated, Diablo, a series that forever changed the landscape of action RPG gaming, may seem like a mere diversion - a digital pastime to occupy idle hours. But to us - Zaph, Dave, Craig, and I - it is much more than that. It is a chronicle of our camaraderie, a testament to our shared love for the thrill of the hunt, the lure of the loot, and the electrifying joy of vanquishing pixelated monstrosities from the pits of Hell. For nearly two decades, Diablo has been a shared language between us, a touchstone in our enduring friendship.

The journey started in the dark, gothic recesses of 1996 with the release of the original Diablo. It was a game that was as punishing as it was rewarding, yet we navigated its treacherous corridors together, fueled by sheer determination and an unhealthy quantity of energy drinks.

Diablo II, arriving in June 2000, plunged us deeper into the abyss with its expansive world, intricate storyline, and addictive gameplay. The introduction of online multiplayer expanded our horizons and made the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat all the more intense. 

In 2012, the release of Diablo III presented us with a different beast altogether, one that challenged our skills and camaraderie in ways we hadn't expected. But the trials and tribulations only served to strengthen our bond, bringing us closer together through the shared experience of virtual demon-slaying.

And here we are, once again drawn into the dark, enchanting world of Diablo IV, released in 2023. We continue to forge our legacy in the fiery pits of Hell, a testament to our enduring friendship and shared passion for this gaming series.

Our current adventure marks another chapter in our longstanding gaming tradition, which reaches far back beyond the realms of Diablo. The genesis of our shared gaming history began on the 26th of September, 2005, with our inaugural post for GuildWars on our blog - the CCF (or "Crypt Creeps' Friday") Blog. This platform has served as a record of our digital exploits, a way to chronicle our virtual victories and losses.

Our love for gaming stretches back to the dawn of networking games, to the likes of Doom which hit the scene in 1993, ensnaring us with its fast-paced action and multiplayer capabilities. And let us not forget our skirmishes on the sand dunes of Dune II, the pioneering RTS game from 1992 that had us commanding armies and shaping the fate of entire planets.

But if we were to delve further back in time, the birth of multiplayer games for us really began in the coin-operated arcades. Games like Asteroids, which came out in 1979, were our initial foray into the gaming world. Perhaps the first co-op game for us was Gauntlet, released in 1985. I distinctly recall Dave dropping $25 into it in one sitting, an event that blew both our minds and our wallets at the time.

So join us on this journey through time and pixels, as we revisit old haunts, rediscover forgotten thrills, and write a new chapter in our shared gaming history with Diablo IV. From the early days of network gaming, through the Diablo series, and to whatever virtual worlds we conquer next, we are united by our shared love for gaming. The devil, as they say, is in the details - and we can't wait to explore those details together.

Don't Panic, Just Delete the Scaffolding: Craig's Guide to Building Skyscrapers in No Man's Sky

In the whimsical adventure of Dave, Myles, and Craig, their mission to build a new base on the enchanting planet, The Well of Happiness, was not without its challenges. Balancing atop precarious scaffolding, they teetered on the edge of laughter and disaster, knowing that a misstep could send them hurtling towards the great unknown. Jetpacks were their trusty companions, capable of saving them from certain doom, but only if activated at the very last moment. Oh, the temptation to test their limits! And let us not forget the vital landing pad, the holy grail of interstellar parking, without which ship landings would be as futile as juggling neutron stars. And the teleporter, a gateway to convenience and teleportational wonders, ensuring that the base remained accessible even across vast cosmic distances. But alas, failing to execute these crucial tasks would leave them stranded, forever yearning for the comforts of their unattainable abode. A race against time, gravity, and a mischievous sense of irony commenced as they embarked on this comical journey through the cosmos.

We built a thing.