a multiplayer game of parenting and civilization building
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It was my long-held dream to make a fully nomadic family, so when I was finally born as an Eve, I named myself Noma(d), even though I suspected jungle family was not the best for this endeavor. Eve time was not very different from any other slightly amateurish Eve trying to find a spot. We moved west while I tried to convince my kids to accept this lifestyle. They were not so enthusiastic. I remember my daughter Lucia wore a sad face her whole life and complained the taste of berries she was now “doomed to eat forever.”
Soon after Eve died, the first family split occurred. Some, including our leader, wanted to settle, but others (pressured by me) left anyway. I was joined by my sweet and supportive mother, my little sis, and a guy named Apache, who was the most skilled among us, he made backpacks and hunted mouflons and wolves for clothing, so his presence was quite reassuring. Even grandma Lucia came along, still sad and complaining. I found out later that our leader eventually remained alone. I copy here her last words because they almost broke my heart. “Order, sorry i wanted to build a new town. No one to build town for. Where are yo” But the Road called.
We headed east, with the goal of eventually reaching an abandoned town. It was not a journey without danger. We tried to keep each other close, while also avoiding our path to the west, where all the food was already gone. For this reason, we wandered to places we really shouldn’t. First we lost Apache. He was surrounded by two wolves on one side, and a mosquito-infested jungle on the other. His ever-precise arrow was not fast enough this time. Then grandma Lucia went. She died of old age on the Road, proving her a true nomad in my eyes. Eventually, through the jungles and mountains we reached a vast untouched green valley. We made a camp there for 20-30 years, strictly without farms. Pies made from only wild ingredients taste way better than the slop made from domestic berries and carrots!
However, the green patch dried out eventually, and we headed east again. Around this time, the Golden Generation was born. They were born on the road, lived on the road, and they made it work. Their words praising our way of life and belittling town folks really made me happy. We found a very rich abandoned jungle town, which we looted to the last rock in minutes. Even I wanted to stay and grow a little bit there, as I died and was reborn, but the Golden Generation pressed on. The Road called them. And oh boy, we traveled in style: Almost everyone had a horse (except me, as I was too young), and someone (it was Jonesy or Lucas maybe?) found a huge stash of gold, which he forged into crowns (three of them were still in our possession when I logged off later). We even visited an inhabited desert town. They must have been surprised when half a dozen jungle people descended on their kitchen like locusts! We looted dead towns in and around our home patch and made nice camps in the wild. And the Golden Generation turned out to be 3 or 4 generations in reality.
But good times are usually followed by hard times. I got separated from the rest of the caravan, as my yumlife crashed when I once again had only a handcart. As the distance from the leader grew to the multiple hundreds I was getting desperate. I started to move straight, which one really shouldn’t do in the jungle region without a horse and yumlife. One time, my young daughter Precious and I traveled through a jungle, with an active bear in it! It was a miracle that we both survived. Eventually, one of the last Golden (Wander or Wonder?) found us, helped with our dire food situation, and led us to the others.
When we reached an abandoned farming site (not even a town, just a well, and farms, no kitchen, no sheep, no pottery), most of our horses, and even worse, all of their great riders were gone. The new generation knowing only the perils of the journey or having been born there, understandably wanted to stay. We eventually rested there for almost a generation. At some point, I persuaded my mother (my last living relative aside from a sister wandering around alone) to make a tiny migration. We moved northwest, not far, to a still untouched wilderness, where we made camp. (This place has later become known as the old smithy / old cemetery.) At this point, my two daughters pleaded with me together to stay. I yielded and thus ended the fourteen-generation-long journey of the Noma.
I hope at least some of you enjoyed the ride. If I ever get to be a Language Eve, we will depart again! Until then, stay tuned for the next norm-breaking game mode I can come up with.
PS: There were so many stories I couldn’t fit here. Like Mily’s, who despite all the turmoil managed to make a proper grave with a note for her mother. Or Bibiano’s, who, according to his final words, left a note somewhere saying: "We were here! Noma fam!"
Last edited by neth (Today 03:03:47)
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