Dune the Awakening: The Graduation (or How We Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sandworms)

 We decided to compare graphics cards.

RTX 2070

RTX 4080 Super

Let's Ride

After several sweaty weeks of assembling sandbikes, consulting with planetologists, and murdering every trooper trainer’s drinking buddy in a 5-kilometre radius, the big moment had finally arrived: we were graduating from the tutorial zone. No more handholding. No more convenient safehouses. Just us, our questionable decision-making skills, and an endless sea of sand.

We were now… couriers. Yes. Fear us, desert. For we deliver. Well, except for Myles, who refuses to use his bike’s storage compartment on principle.

An Important Stop: Rocks and Wrecks

Our first stop was a pile of rocks (to hide from sandworms) and a wrecked buggy to salvage. Dave and Craig gleefully dismantled it like raccoons at a car crash buffet while Zaph got shot down by territorial scavengers—his blood darkening the sands in an aesthetically pleasing spiral pattern.

Myles was too busy polishing his sandbike to notice.

A little duct tape and some heroic first aid later, Zaph was back on his feet, and we taught the scavengers who the real kings of the desert were (hint: it’s not us, but don’t tell Craig).

The Anvil and the House Vote

We made it to The Anvil, the local trading hub, where we delivered our cargo, grabbed every job on the board like caffeine-deprived interns, and chose to side with House Atreides. This was a purely democratic decision because no one wanted to shave their head and smell like boiled onions to join the Harkonnen.

Craig voted Harkonnen, of course. He was outvoted.

The Great Sandstorm Incident

While circling a promising outcropping for a base location, the weather satellites issued a sandstorm alert. Time was of the essence. Zaph panicked and drove his bike directly into a ditch, trapping himself in the storm’s path.

Myles, Craig, and Dave zoomed off, engines roaring and laughter trailing behind them, and made it to The Anvil just as the massive stone doors slammed shut. Inside, the survivors toasted their “fallen” comrade with a few rounds.

Zaph? Zaph became one with the desert.

Building the Base (aka The Great Hoarding Begins)

Once the storm subsided, we found the perfect spot for our base: on the edge of an outcropping, conveniently near resources. Dave slapped down a sub-fief console and began construction while the rest of us scattered like those weird hoppy desert mice, gathering granite, iron ore, and copper.

Walls went up. A roof followed. Storage chests appeared, multiplied like rabbits, and filled instantly. Craig, naturally, dropped his inventory all over the floor like a toddler with a Lego set just to make work for Dave.

Myles and Dave took an Ornithopter back to the tutorial zone to pillage our first base before scrapping it.

Iron, Blood, and Tears

Back at home, our iron ran dry, so Dave built a refinery. “Crap,” he muttered, “it needs water.”

We built a blood refinery. Craig and Zaph went hunting scavengers to refill it. We installed water tanks, dew collectors, and anything short of hiring a team of desert hermits to spit in a bucket.

Trials and Tribulations

Feeling brave (or bored), we tackled the second trial of AQL. Let’s not talk about that.

On the bright side, we learned to make compactor rods for harvesting Flour Sand—the main ingredient for silicone and, more importantly, better guns. Because if there’s one thing this crew agrees on, it’s that there is no such thing as enough firepower.

We also embarked on a heroic quest to retrieve stolen goods. The goods weren’t there. We looted a cave and killed everyone inside—still no goods. We hit a scavenger outpost for intel—another bust. Clearly, detective work is not our calling.

The Base Evolves

Back home, we expanded. A second storey was added, then a third. Craig installed trapdoors in the floors because “ambience.” Dave added a sandworm statue, curved walls (for Feng Shui), and a five-storey buttress with a ladder.

Craig, in his eternal wisdom, built a sniper nest on the roof, which immediately became another floor. Later, he added “inconvenient ladders” in strategic places to keep Dave on his toes.

Diplomacy and Dew Harvesting

We tried to curry favor with House Atreides by finding their missing spy. We found him. He was dead. Strike two.

Water shortages persisted. Myles researched dew harvesting and discovered, to everyone’s surprise, that you can get water from flowers—at the right time of day. Unfortunately, you still can’t get blood from a stone, even after Zaph died on it.

Final Notes

The base now towers like a bizarre architectural experiment born of equal parts necessity and chaos. Dave is still fixing Craig’s ladders. Myles is still refusing to use his bike storage. Zaph is still finding new and creative ways to die.

And Craig? Craig is probably halfway up the sandworm statue, building a diving board “just in case.”

We may not have conquered the desert, but we’re definitely redecorating it.

Dune: The Awakening – From Rogue Traders to Sweat Recycling Hobos

 

It was a very anti-climactic evening in the deserts of Arrakis, as The Worm—our would-be apex predator and Craig’s destiny—stubbornly refused to turn up and devour him whole. We’d crossed the sands, even shouted helpful instructions like, “Craig, stand still and wiggle!” but alas, the Worm was either on strike or enjoying its union-mandated coffee break.

So, in true conqueror fashion, we each built a base. Nothing quite screams “galactic domination” like a hastily cobbled 2x4 rock hut. Eventually, we consolidated on Dave’s base, partly because it was closest to the trading outpost and partly because it was the only one that didn’t look like a sand-encrusted bathroom stall. The outpost itself was a tall, well-lit building with thick walls designed to withstand the fiercest sandstorm. Dave’s base, in contrast, would struggle against a stiff breeze.

We teamed up like the dysfunctional family we are. The generator was stocked with power cells, lights installed, and—since Dave is a hoarding pack rat—storage boxes were added, then more storage boxes, and then even more storage boxes. It was hot work, so we extended the roof for shade and, in an inspired moment of “eco-conscious survivalism,” installed blood converters. Because nothing says “progress” like harvesting people for their blood to turn into potable water. Truly, how the mighty have fallen: from Rogue Traders with their own sector to escaped prisoners licking dew off flowers.

Zaph, being immune to distractions like “all the shiny rocks,” got ahead of the rest of us. Dave, however, couldn’t resist, “Put that down, we have enough copper!” as Myles intercepted him carting yet another armload of raw ore. Meanwhile, Zaph calmly set up a small ore refinery and a fabricator. Naturally, Dave went right back to collecting more copper. Craig, whose hobbies now include “murder for hydration,” needed to drain scavengers for their blood. So, off we went to the nearby Imperial Testing Station—a charming relic from a simpler, slightly more genocidal era.

We explored, looted, drank scavenger water, killed scavengers, opened secret doors, looted some more, and acquired weird components that screamed “future quest item.” Back at base, spice-induced dreams followed. Craig, feeling claustrophobic, added a second floor to the base because apparently “two levels of chaos is better than one.”

Then came the first Trial of AQL. We sniffed spice from a bowl, passed out, and dreamed of playing hide-and-seek with the sun. You know, normal Tuesday stuff. Afterwards, we ducked into a cave during a sandstorm, hit another scavenger outpost for the patented KLS treatment (Kill, Loot, Steal intel), and rolled back to base with new gear and slightly more heatstroke.

Zaph found a rifle but immediately grumbled, “There’s no scope. How am I supposed to do headshots with this?” Beggars, as it turns out, can be choosers even on a desert death world.

We raided an old Fremen cave (moisture seals were slashed—ziplocks clearly hadn’t been invented yet), looted scavenger outposts, and returned to base with a fresh haul. Blood was poured into machines; we researched surveyor probes using the mystical knowledge gained from our spice trip. Myles climbed rocks to launch the probes but found the height insufficient. After some mutual grunting and stamina breaks, he and Dave scaled a larger outcropping and successfully revealed part of the map. Craig, meanwhile, struggled to operate the surveying tool and possibly invented several new swear words in the process.

A visit to the trading outpost ensued. We spoke to an old geezer who promised to teach us to be troopers if we would kindly go murder his old drinking buddies. Sign us up.

After delivering copper and miscellaneous Imperial Station loot, we bought Camelbak recipes and headed for the wreck of a crashed spaceship. Rock outpost to rock outpost we ran, staying in the shadows while Myles screamed, “CRAIG! Stay in the shade or you’ll roast!” Naturally, we hit another scavenger outpost (KLS, rinse, repeat), looted the ship, and learned how to burn hinges off doors for maximum dramatic flair.

Returning to base, Craig took sadistic joy in placing materials in the wrong chests, sending Dave into a slow spiral of organizational madness. We crafted new clothes for scavenger infiltration, stillsuits for stylish sweat-drinking adventures, and bike parts to trade at the outpost.

Next week promises further idiocy: retrieving forgotten materials, building a trike, learning “planetology,” and finally leaving the newbie training area to embark on our real adventure.

Saturday morning: Dave logged in alone to do base cleanup, put items in the correct chests, and add yet another level to our rock palace. Because even in the grim heat of Arrakis, Dave can’t resist playing Space Ikea.