Dune: Awakening – Spice Dreams and Hallucinations for Beginners
There are moments in gaming where you stop, take a breath, and think, “Ah, yes… this is where the sensible decision would be to turn back.”
Naturally, we did not.
Instead, we stumbled headlong into the sort of scene that makes you question whether you’re still playing a survival MMO or have accidentally joined a cult with a particularly aggressive lighting budget.
The Spice Must Flow (Up Your Nose)
It began with one of us (identity withheld to protect the guilty) deciding the quickest way to “level up” was to inhale an unregulated, desert-harvested hallucinogen served on a ceremonial dinner plate. The moment was reverent—solemn, even—as gloved hands slid the dish forward and our brave test subject leaned in to take the full, uncut aroma of pure melange.
Somewhere between the first cautious sniff and the enthusiastic lungful, reality started to… shift.
Side Effects May Include
Next thing we knew, we were getting what I’m going to call spice visions—although the Bene Gesserit PR department probably has a more marketable name for it, like “Prescient Cognitive Patterning” or “Special Seeing™.”
The world went purple. Not just a tasteful accent-lighting purple, but the sort of all-encompassing magenta haze you get when someone leaves a nightclub fog machine on for three days. The crowd—an endless assembly of silent figures—watched as our newly enlightened comrade clutched their head like an interstellar migraine commercial, glowing with ominous violet energy.
Above, chunks of rock and debris hung suspended in the air, because gravity had apparently decided to take a personal day.
Observations from the Peanut Gallery
Zaph, ever the tactician, muttered over comms, “So… this is what happens when you don’t read the dosage instructions.”
Craig asked if spice visions came with an achievement badge.
Dave wondered aloud whether the crowd was real, holograms, or just there to judge us for our fashion choices.
I was busy making mental notes for this blog entry while also keeping an eye on the “knife icon of dubious intent” glowing in the HUD. Because nothing says “safe hallucination” like giving the dreamer a dagger.
Arena of Stabby Regret
Then came the real fun. The vision shifted, and suddenly we were in an arena—no guns, no long-range tactics, no glorious explosions. Just knives.
And here’s the thing: none of us are knife fighters. We are, to put it politely, a gun-wielding people. If you hand us something with a trigger, we’ll work it out. Hand us a blade, and we’ll mostly just wave it threateningly while trying not to cut ourselves.
The result? A symphony of swearing.
Myles and Craig led the chorus, loudly condemning the developers, the game controls, and the very concept of melee combat. “Why knives? WHY?!” became the rallying cry of the moment.
Still, despite our collective inability to stab with any degree of elegance, we somehow survived the Rite of Passage Trial. Possibly through skill. More likely through sheer button-mashing panic and mutual stubbornness.
Moral of the Story
The spice does indeed flow, and when it does, it will pour straight into your synapses, rewire your understanding of reality, and leave you glowing like a Vegas fountain show.
Did it grant godlike foresight? Well… sort of.
If by foresight you mean “knowing exactly how many seconds it will take for Craig to try stabbing something in the vision just to see what happens.”
And if the knife fight taught us anything, it’s this: sometimes survival isn’t about grace or technique—it’s about swearing loud enough to scare the enemy into making a mistake.
