Traps, Tigers, and Teamwork in Pairs (Sort of)

Last night’s misadventures in Enshrouded taught us many valuable lessons, some more painful than others.

First up, Craig became intimately acquainted with the concept of traps. After Dave pointed out the suspiciously obvious leaf mat concealing a spike trap, it took all of two seconds before Craig strolled right into it. We’d like to think it was bravery, but honestly, it was perfect comic timing. Well played, Craig.

Meanwhile, Dave, always in a hurry, learned that flying with low stamina is a leading cause of death in Enshrouded. One moment he’s soaring through the skies, the next he’s plummeting to his doom. Given his experience, you’d think he’d see it coming, but nope—too eager to get wherever it was he was going.

Zaph, on the other hand, demonstrated a different survival strategy: ditch the loud ones and run ahead. Somehow, he managed to get a whole kilometer north before we even noticed. We were both impressed and slightly concerned that he hadn’t died—usually, going alone in Enshrouded results in a quick and painful demise. But hey, it worked.

As for me, I learned how to dodge. Or rather, I learned which button to press. Unfortunately, I mostly pressed it too late. Still, progress is progress.

We also rediscovered the value of smashing everything in sight. This time, it wasn’t just for fun—there’s extra loot in those piles of debris, and now that we’re in need of new materials, we’ll be smashing everything in sight with purpose. Dave, ever the explorer, stumbled upon a secret door, which means we’re now doomed to spend every minute of the game checking for more. Expect slow progress in future expeditions.

Speaking of teamwork, we’ve perfected a new strategy: splitting up. Apparently, four people can easily go in three different directions, but it’s still teamwork if two pairs go in two directions—at least, that’s our excuse, and we’re sticking to it. Of course, at one point, we all wiped out. The plan was for Dave to heroically respawn and heal us all. It went as well as you’d expect. One by one, we all ended up respawning anyway. Next time, we’ll just skip to that step.

On the combat front, we bravely killed a Fell Monstrosity and even managed to provoke the Vukah (bugbears). The tigers, however, remain a problem. One is manageable, but they never seem to come in ones. We always miscount, and then it’s a panicked scramble to escape.

To wrap up the night, we upgraded SpiderHouse. Dave took it upon himself to build not one, but four wells. Apparently, exploring is thirsty work. He then spent a suspicious amount of time organizing the food into storage boxes—cooked meat in one, mushrooms in another, berries in a third. It’s all according to some VivalaDirt video, but let’s be honest—Craig’s going to mess with the system. It’s just a matter of time.

Until next time, when we’ll probably run into more traps, fight more tigers, and argue about storage boxes.

Oh, and obelisks

Addendum (Courtesy of Dave’s OCD Corner)

In a further bid to impose order on our chaos, Dave has now sorted all the food. The proud declaration: meat in one box, mushrooms in another, and berries in a third. Very neat, very efficient… until someone (ahem, Craig) inevitably mixes things up. We all know it’s coming.

But wait, there’s more. Dave’s heroic efforts also revealed a source of great shame—the mysterious blue rift near SpiderHouse? Salt mine. Yes, folks, we’ve been running circles around our much-needed resource without realizing it. Cue the collective facepalm.

As if that wasn’t enough, a quick bit of googling revealed that the tin we’ve been frantically searching for is also conveniently located in one of those blue rifts we were running around last night. So, in short, we’ve been smashing everything but the most obvious.

Oh, and while Zaph was away, Dave, Craig, and I tracked down what we needed to start alchemical production. Naturally, this required more wells, so Dave, never one to do things by halves, built two more. Alchemical production, as it turns out, is a thirsty business.