(Or: How We Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Zebra)
It began, as all questionable decisions do, with Dave and a purchase.
Not just any purchase—an expansion for Icarus. Specifically, the one that promised zebras. Rideable zebras. Not horses (common, pedestrian, gauche), but zebras: the formalwear edition of equine transport. Black tie optional, stripes mandatory.
Dave, having spent a respectable four-day staycation (IRL) communing with the game like some sort of digital druid, had unlocked the mission. The ritual was complete. The zebras awaited. All that remained was to assemble a team of willing participants.
Or, more accurately, volunteers who didn’t read the fine print.
Zaph was secured almost instantly with the phrase “rideable zebra,” which to him translated roughly as mobile sniper platform with personality. Craig required only a flamethrower, which frankly explains most of Craig’s life decisions.
🎵 Tonights song – He’s a Zebra (as performed by Dave, in the key of Z)
Look at the pajamas on that horse
That’s a zebra
He’s quite a sight
All black and white
Take a look at those stripes
He’s a zebra, zebra, zebra
Don’t call him a horse
He’s different of course
I’m happy to endorse that
He’s a zebra, zebra, zebra
People stop and stare when he goes walking by
He’s just an interesting looking guy
He is definitely not a horse
Zebra, zebra, zebra
Dave’s Agricultural Empire (Now With 30% More Caffeine)
Before the expedition, Dave had been busy. “Busy” in the sense that empires are “busy” while conquering continents.
A vast glasshouse had appeared, containing 30 plots, all dedicated to coffee production. Coffee, it turns out, is less a beverage and more a financial instrument. Current valuation: $1800 worth of beans, presumably traded on the Interplanetary Espresso Exchange.
Gold mines were also operational, though they seemed more like a side hustle compared to the caffeinated juggernaut.
Dave, notably soy intolerant in real life, displayed no such prejudice in-game. Soybeans were lovingly processed into vegetable oil, then biofuel—because while Icarus may simulate orbital re-entry and hostile ecosystems, it still refuses to let players bottle farts for energy.
Some design oversights remain.
Pumpkins, however, were still beneath him. “Evil vegetable products,” declared Dave, with the conviction of a man who has clearly been wronged by a squash.
The Expedition Begins (Checklist Not Included)
We set out.
Dave had thoughtfully packed everyone’s horses with “all necessary gear,” which would have been reassuring if Myles had been present to enforce something resembling a checklist. Without that stabilizing influence, “all necessary gear” turned out to be more of a philosophical statement than a factual one.
We stopped at a lake near the desert cutoff to build a supply station. Zaph, in a move that surprised absolutely no one, insisted on constructing it on an island.
This introduced complications.
Minor ones, like access, logistics, and the fundamental concept of land.
Into the Desert (What Could Possibly Go Wrong)
With the island fortress complete (ish), we headed into the desert in search of the UC Zebra station.
Dave monitored the map, tracking giant worms helpfully highlighted by orbital satellites—because nothing says “casual outing” like avoiding creatures the size of commuter trains.
We hugged the canyon wall and traversed the desert without incident.
This was suspicious.
The Cougar Incident™
The UC outpost appeared abandoned.
No people.
No zebras.
Just a house.
Full. Of. Cougars.
Dave, temporarily promoted to leadership due to Myles being on holiday (a decision whose consequences would shortly become evident), issued orders:
“Craig advance with your flamethrower, and set those cougars on fire”
Craig, never one to question authority—especially when it involves fire—advanced and began hosing the structure with flame. The building ignited beautifully. The cougars ignited less cooperatively.
Their enraged screams echoed as they tore at doors and windows.
Zaph, demonstrating the only functioning survival instinct in the group, moved the mounts to safety. Dave crouched behind a rock, rifle ready.
Then the doors gave way.
Twelve burning, furious, deeply offended cougars charged.
Craig continued applying fire, which the cougars treated as more of a mild inconvenience than a deterrent.
Dave dropped two cougars.
Two cougars dropped Dave.
Craig attempted a tactical retreat while still setting everything on fire, including presumably his own sense of self-preservation. He went down.
Zaph, now operating in what can only be described as metronomic murder mode, picked them off one by one.
Eventually, it came down to one cougar.
Then one very unlucky cougar.
It turned its attention to the mounts, who responded by kicking it to death with the quiet dignity of animals who had just witnessed human incompetence on a profound level.
Silence fell.
Post-Battle Reflections (Mostly Regret)
“Oops,” said Dave.
What followed was a masterclass in consequences:
“I guess I will have to respawn at the supply hut without equipment, food, water, or oxygen, and walk back here.”
“Yes, you will,” replied Zaph and Craig.
Then came the revelation:
“If only we had fortifications to put up before the fight, we could have survived.”
“They are packed in a bag on my horse.”
The collective death stare bounced harmlessly off Dave’s current state of being deceased.
The Long Walk Back (Featuring Oxygen, Barely)
Dave respawned, grabbed some oxite rocks (the universal currency of poor planning), and trudged back across the desert. He recovered his gear and revived Zaph and Craig.
The outpost, now partially cremated, revealed itself to be quite impressive—solar panels intact, floor and barn less so.
We claimed it.
Desert Living: Now With Zebras
Repairs began. Floors were rebuilt. Equipment installed. Water filtration set up at the nearby lake.
Craig chopped trees. (Somewhere, a forest trembled.)
Zaph went zebra hunting.
This, predictably, upset the local cougars, who objected to having their lunch removed. Several additional fights occurred, but this time with slightly more competence and slightly fewer casualties.
For the final three zebras, Zaph took a saddle, mounted up, and rode faster than the wind—or at least faster than the cougars.
Each of us received a zebra.
We admired them. We ooed. We aahed.
If our horses could have glared, they would have.
Logistics, But Make It Ambitious
Zebras secured, we returned to Dave’s lakeside house.
The following morning, at 6am, Dave rose with purpose.
There was work to do.
The desert outpost would become a desert palace. Naturally, this required:
- Full kitchen (medicine bench, butchery block, cooking station)
- Fabricator
- Salting station
- Stone floor
- Concrete furnace
- Wood composter
- Biofuel composter
- Fridge
- And, crucially, a much larger house
Because nothing says “light scouting mission” like building an industrial complex in the desert.
Lessons Learned (Allegedly)
- Dave learnt not to allocate hut building to Zaph
- Zaph learnt that building on islands is harder than expected
- Craig learnt that if you wait long enough, Dave will eventually ask you to burn down a forest
- There is no achievement for rescuing, taming, or riding zebras
Achievements Unlocked
- Dave: Money, Money, Money; Mass Production
- Myles: Paris (IRL French vacation, arguably the most successful mission of the week)
- Craig: Some People Never Learn
- Zaph: Zoologist
Closing Thoughts
Thus concluded the great Zebra Expedition.
We set out for striped mounts and found instead a burning building, twelve homicidal cougars, and a renewed appreciation for checklists.
Tune in next week, when we level up our zebras and Dave converts our peaceful desert retreat into a full-scale oil production facility—
solely to power a chainsaw for Craig.
Because of course he will.
