Playing Frostpunk 1: A New Home. It really does put you in the grim victorian industrial survivalist mindset...
Captain's Log. Day: 20???
Despite the atrocious rate of casualties, the constant influx of refugees has kept kept all industry functional. I must have my engineers construct additional automatons using our last remaining steam cores. Those things don't get frostbite, hypothermia, and then die. I am exhausted by the number of bodies I had to bury in our crypt and I crave an end to it. Speaking of...
The super-ultra-mega blizzard of death is one or two days away from annihilating us. While we might have enough coal and housing to survive the short term, we barely have enough of anything else. Which means we're all most likely going to starve to death. I've ordered a 24 hour overtime shift (with extra ration compensation, I'm not a complete monster) at one of the hothouses to delay that end. But I fear it's no where near the necessary levels of production.
My litany of mistakes can simplified in two strokes: Mismanagement of our scouts and our research workshops. I did not realize that I needed to explore the ruins of Winterhome in order to reveal the lands surrounding Tesla City. Furthermore I should have researched better heat technologies and those ridiculous "flying hunters" sooner. Had I been wiser, smarter, We would be facing the final storm with strength and plenty. Alas I fear we shall succumb and become another failure in the frostlands.
Scribbled in the margins:
If that lady astronomer (Jump Cannon?) is correct and the sun is not metallic but a hyperdense ball of gas then that gives me some hope. The decrease in it's lumosity is not due to irreversible cooling of it's material. Something must be blocking its' light. What kind of horrid object could do that?
