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Liquored-Up Let’s Play: Rust, Beer, and A Lack of Clothing

Welcome, beautiful readers, to the first (and hopefully not last) installment of my new series, “Liquored-Up Let’s Play”!

As the title suggests, each week or so I’ll play and review a random game (suggested by you) while consuming inordinate amounts of alcohol (also suggested by you). The only pre-production edits made will include spelling (for your sake) and the insertion of images or clips.

At the end of each installment, I’ll open the comments section to suggestions for the following LULP, and I’m counting on you to decide both the next game and booze to go along with it. Stretch your imaginations and get involved, just please no one suggest flavored Bacardi..

I should probably get a real camera one of these days..

Beers Consumed: 0

This week’s Liquored-Up Let’s Play features the popular survival game, Rust, and a collection of seasonal beers from the local grocer. I like beer and I like surviving, so this is already chalking up to be a good night. For the sake of clarity, I’ve broken down the events of the night into what looks like an alcoholic’s journal entries.

Beers Consumed: 2

The installation took longer than expected, so I went ahead and downed a couple “Vienna Style Lagers” to pass the time. I use quotes because I have no idea what Vienna tastes like, and this “Josephbrau” fellow could very well be a liar. I guess I should share a little bit of what I know thus far in the interim.

As I understand it, Rust is one of about a dozen survival games that allows you to interact with other players in the world. There are no zombies, and from what I’ve gathered, the focus seems to be on crafting cool shit while subsequently robbing people of their cool shit. I’m down with the idea so far, but then again, I’m a morally bankrupt individual. Boom, done loading, let’s boot this baby up!

Beers Consumed: 3

My eyes flutter open. I feel the sun beating down and a slight breeze washes over me. As I rise up from the dusty pile of rocks I realize two things: 1) I’m butt naked, and 2) I’m a dude.

I crack another beer (while my screen shows some crack) and sit back in my chair to consider things. Waking up naked in a field is fairly typical for me, so immediately I feel as if a bond has been established. It’s like Rust gets me in ways the local P.D. doesn’t. This guy even kind of looks like me if you overlook the fact that I’m shorter, paler, and fully clothed (for now).

The man ass on my screen isn’t particularly well-rendered, and though I’m no connoisseur of digitized glutes, I certainly fail to appreciate that high graphical settings cause the game to collapse. I didn’t buy a nice computer to stare at low-def cheeks, guys. Moving on.

Nothing beats that brisk mountain air!

Beers Consumed: 4

With a lower graphics setting in place, I finally got my guy to stand up and face the light of day. It’s time to take stock of my surroundings. As I meander through a heavily wooded forest (ignore the floating trees, it’s early access), I realize that the game’s namesake is completely inappropriate. Where I would have expected a more…oxidized setting, I’m instead greeted by an overabundance of green. In fact, even when I strain my eyes I can’t see a single thing made out of metal that has the potential to even consider rusting. A bit of a misnomer, but I’ll let it pass.

Having picked out a direction to take, I equip my starting rock and head out. Hearing the the telltale crunch of what sounds like a chip bag being trampled by chihuahuas, I turn around and find myself face to face with a bear. Nature’s pretty cool in my book, so instead of braining it with my chunk of granite, I attempt to test how real this game is and  begin backing up slowly. I don’t remember much from Boy Scouts, but I do recall something about bears and never turning your back on them, or something like that.

It’s apparent that my respect of Mother Nature won’t get me far. The bear seemed nonplussed by my display of backwards ambulation, and instead seems much more focused on my tender bits. It’s fair to assume I died here.

My first respawn confirmed my suspicions. Every time I die, I lose all my stuff and wake up in a random place, naked. I don’t so much mind losing all my stuff since I only had a couple logs and a rock on my first go around. It’s the fact that I have to look at my own ass over and over again. I don’t even do that in real life. Seems kind of like punishment.

Beers Consumed: 5

I’ve reestablished my bearings (heh, ursa jokes) and have decided to explore a separate, quieter meadow to what I’m assuming is the North. A handful of deer prance around the shore of nearby pond, and suddenly I’m serenaded by a muffled chirping sound. Feeling curious, and perhaps a bit emboldened by the brew, I decide to poke around. The chirping turns into clicking, and the clicking intensifies.

It’s only after I fall down in a pile of limbs and disappointment that I realize radiation is a thing here. I mean, I get that radiation is a thing everywhere, I just didn’t think it was something I necessarily had to keep an eye out for in a place that looks more like Yosemite than Chernobyl. Somehow, as I skipped through the meadow, I failed to see the little danger symbol in the corner of the screen, and now I know what it feels like to have made love to Marie Curie.

Where the hell was I storing my Geiger counter?

I’d pull up a chair and admire the scenery, but I’m slowly dying of radiation…

Beers Consumed: 7

I think I’m a god. I mean, I’m not the god, but certainly a god. I just stabbed a boar so hard it straight up disappeared. That’s some next-level physics right there. This god is thirsty and deserves another beer.

Oh, I made a freaking spear! I’m prowling the grassy plains with something a bit more lethal than my rock, and boy does it feel good. I’ve also figured out how to craft fires and kill things, which has staved off my hunger for the time being. Drinking something is a whole other story, in the game (I’ve got it pretty well down in real life, minus that last spill).

Apart from spear-vanishing the local fauna, I’ve also discovered an overabundance of wolf meat. While I haven’t actually seen a wolf yet, whatever I murder (that stays in my field of vision) seems to be chock full o’ raw wolf shanks. I’m not complaining, meat is meat, but you all know how frustrating it is when they get your order wrong at the drive-through…Oh man, there’s a Taco Bell right down the street from me.

Beers Consumed: 8

I’ve run out Vienna Lagers (no love lost there), so now it’s on to the Oktoberfest Brew. Oktober with a ‘k’ sounds so much more foreign than October with a ‘c’, I feel like a citizen of the world now.

There’s no catching of  break here. Between the packs of bears (BEARS DON”T EVEN TRAVEL IN PACKS YOU JERKS!) and invisible radiation fields, everything I do just seems like one step closer towards the inevitable. The whole game plays like one big analogy of mortality in real life.

Oh, and I’ve also added Falling of cliffs and dying of hypothermia to my list of “things I know how to do well in Rust without even trying”.

This will make an exceptional loin cloth!

Beers Consumed: 9

The guinea pigs look on in disgust. They know I can’t win. I don’t even blame them, but their cold stares still cut me deep. Three hours in and all I’ve learned is that there is no difference between doing nothing and trying to do everything. You’re going to die regardless.

An urgent sense of drive has taken hold of me. I’ve decided to try and further immerse myself in Rust’s world. By that I mean I’ve opened up all the windows, let the guinea pigs out of their cage, and stripped down. I’m now attempting to sew a stylish codpiece from a bandanna I found in the closet. It’s going well.

Beers Consumed: 10

Sewing, drinking, and navigating the keyboard is proving to be too much, especially since I’ve finally discovered people. It’s time to put down the crafts and meet the local residents.

They’re watching as I approach. If a face could simultaneously convey disgust, nausea, contempt, and confusion, all at the same time, I’m sure that’s what I’d be greeted with. I’m fairly certain I can win their hearts. As is custom from the village I was raised in, I decide to greet them with a traditional genital-waving, up-down jump dance. It usually goes over quite well with the ladies, so there’s no reason to suspect it shouldn’t work here.

They yell something, but I wasn’t paying attention. Waggling around like a streaking frat boy takes a lot of concentration, I have little to spare.

I don’t suppose I should be surprised to find myself once again naked in a field.

They chose to not accept my gracious housewarming rock

Beers Consumed: 11

I think I’m done. The keyboard is must be drunk, it’s missing, most of my fingers at this point.

I honestly can’t tell if tonight’s game was a failure or not. Sure, I died more times than beers that I had, but I think I learned a valuable lesson. Something along the lines of the frailness of the human condition, or how all life is sacred. I don’t know, I’ll figure it out later. A few not-so-esoteric things I did happen to learn from all this is that I can’t sew for shit and people don’t like me when I’m naked, if at all.

Beers Consumed: 12 / My Conclusion

Rust is one of those games you can play with your buddies to settle a bet. Whoever falls victim to the wiles of nature first loses. For that, the game has a purpose. Otherwise, I can’t seem to see much else of benefit here. In the game you feel a constant state of panic, while afterwards you just come away feeling incompetent and extremely dizzy. Therefore, I can neither confirm nor deny the value of Rust, and will have to give it another try, presumably after I chase down the damn guinea pigs. Somebody let them out…dear god my power lines.

This concludes the first installment of Liquored-Up Let’s Play! As I said earlier, I’ll plan the next article based on suggestions from you, the readers, in the comments section. What I play and drink next is up to your design!

Johnny Ohm

Johnny's first love was writing, his second was beer, and his third was The Elder Scrolls. He is resigned to his fate as a bitter critic who uses the crisping drawer to keep his lagers cold. You can contact Johnny via Twitter or ouija board.


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