There must be a consensus on where the walls go. Everyone has to be happy with the decision to place your new kiln outside, on a particular spot. Maybe they represent the human psyche when base-building in Valheim - working as a group to fit all the required resources together, and protecting home at all costs. I like to think there's something deep there. Perhaps we placed so much importance on the bees' wellbeing because they were a bit like us: just doing their best to survive. We even tried building a little roof over them to protect them from the elements, but they didn't like that either. Despite all the perils we faced, we simply could not go about our business unless we knew the bees were happy. We freed up some space by destroying the foundation, and the bees were happy again. "We came to learn that bees have feelings, and are very demanding." We all gathered around and looked down at the beehive and frowned. Sigmund (the member of our party who basically did all the crafting, while the rest of us sprinted at boar or burned newt meat) built a foundation - the basis for most important structures in Valheim - in preparation for improvements to our base. AIf the bees are feeling good, it says "the bees are happy", and your heart melts. At night it says, in big yellow letters, "the bees are sleeping". Interact with a bee hive in Valheim and it'll tell you how the bees are feeling and what they're up to. We came to learn, however, that bees have feelings, and are very demanding. We were on easy street, and buddy, that street was paved with honey. We plonked it down in our cosy viking abode and looked down at it and smiled in satisfaction. Our very own source of nectar! By which I mean honey, which is made from nectar. ![]() "That could work," we said in unison.Īnd before we knew it, we had turned the bees nest into our very own beehive. Valheim truly is beautiful sometimes.Īfter much slugging away, Sigmund decided that perhaps he could use his hammer to knock it down. The soft thud of knuckle on wood, like the sound of flies bashing against a window. We all just huddled together and swung our fists at the shack's foundations, in the hopes that maybe we could dislodge it.įor a good few minutes, it was just some fellas quietly punching the shit out of a shack. We were totally magnetised by it, and looking back on it now, our first reaction was instinctive - primal, even, in how little logical sense it made. It must've been fate, for we happened on the nest dangling inside a ruined shack within all of five minutes. And to us, one of these finds was more important than anything else: the bees nest. But I suppose that's the appeal of these survival games isn't it? That every discovery, no matter how small, is of some significance. We'd been deposited in Valheim by a giant crow, but really it should've been a stork, the way we were bowled over by the existence of things like branches or stones, like a bunch of massive bearded babies. It was not uncommon to hear a distant, excited yell of "I got some raspberries boys!!" echoing in the distance. ![]() Plucking a mushroom from the earth elicited exclaimations like, "right-click and you can eat it!", followed by "yeah, the bar on the bottom left, yeah that number goes up when you eat something", in the deadly serious tone of a biological researcher. We got excited at the ability to pick up a rock. And we marvelled at the most basic things. These were the names of our clueless, but enthusiastic viking selves. Kiryun Kazumor, Sigmund, Ragnar the Red, and Dunder Mifflin. It's a viking survival game that's been popping off over the last few days, so we had to see if it was all it was cracked up to be.Īfter our first play session, it became clear that the most important aspect of survival in Norse purgatory wasn't beard management, or axe-throwing, or even longboat races. I and a few of my oldest pals donned our ragged tunics and purchased tickets to Valheim last week.
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