Don’t mess with my stuff.
Rimworld loves to mess with your stuff. A happy little sci-fi sim, this is not.
I just spent two hours researching the technology that allowed me to set up the work station that enabled me to build the improvement that I needed and now here come a bunch of pirates-jerks to smash it all to bits. And kill everyone. And stomp on the flowers.
I hate pirates.
I hate the fact that I have just spent all this time building a better base for my poor, starving, neurotic, flawed castaways on this backwater, hellhole planet and these punks are now burning, looting and smashing everything that we have worked so hard to build.
Sure the game is rock solid. It’s great that they are working on updating it all the time.
But, Elroy just got shot in the head.
My automated defense turret got hit with a grenade and exploded.
Tammy, my favorite yellow lab, whom I was delighted we finally taught to haul sacks of potatoes in from the fields, just got killed by a shotgun blast from a dastardly pirate (see comment above about how I feel about pirates). I mean, who shoots a dog?
Eva is crying in her dark room. All of her precious research work did little to save her.
Wilfred is puking all over the marble floor because the poor bloke got food poisoning from eating uncooked, two-day old turtle meat.
Daisy wants a biotic arm. Hawk loves Mikelia, but she’s already married to Wilfred.
Jon is cloud watching, oblivious to the death and carnage raging around him. He always was too gentile for this world.
Oh, looks like we might get some more toxic fallout today. That’ll be great.
It’s all going to hell quickly, my whole colony is being destroyed in front of me.
It’s just like the Afghanistan simulator.
(sigh) Damn it. Time to restart. Maybe someday I’ll manage to get someone off this rock.