#waxmoon

total time spent is about 5 hours out of the 12 hour trip

I'll just say what I think about the "killing fish" in the game

I don't really think outright killing them should get implemented.

I never really killed anything in the first two games anyways, I'd usually just give them a smack and if I felt like they weren't learning a lesson I'd chase them down.

I am virtually exactly the same but I don' chase anything down anymore. I feel like part of the game is integrating with an alien world, and I don't think ruthlessly killing anything in your way is meaningful interactivity,

"Oh WOKEnautica isn't listening to the players we wanna kill every fish we can!!" Like okay Chara put the True Knife away and get out the survival multitool m'kay?

I get the Mango Nibblers and Marrowbreaches being annoying, but its never to a degree where I want to exterminate them, plus,

You have three tools that counter them

Who looks at the Waxmoon, or the Hycean, or any of the smaller fish, and think:

"K I L L ."

Okay, assuming you did get to kill these creatures... now what? The smaller fish; if they're in slashing range, they're in collecting range, unnecessary violence. Waxmoon, does nothing but swim around and be ✨️✨️stunning✨️✨️, you kill them, now what? Wow bro, you look really cool against that nonaggressive animal. Reeeaaal cool.

And even for the only real targets which would be the Nibblers, Marrowbreach, and Collecter Leviathan

First of all, being able to kill these creatures would ruin any actual horror, as all you'd start doing is, instead of going:

"Oooooh whats that?"

You go

"Oooooh a new victim!"

Who tf are you playing for? Nibblers are literally so easy to deal with, one smack, they stop their attack, just get away from the Marrowbreach or Sonic Resonate them, and the Collecter, come on, they're awesome, why would you want to kill them? If you want to powertrip about killing giant creatures, idk, play Helldivers or something, I think the Collector stealth is so much better than a collector boss fight, and honestly, I kinda hope if they add the PRAWN suit back, it doesn't have a drill attachment, because it tricked all the youtoobas and cloutchasers into thinking that felling leviathans was the point of the game. Its not.

Also, despite the PDA explaining that in the presence of a gun, pioneers would often turn it on others or themselves, yet these braindead sponges want guns because they're not smart enough to experience the game's mechanics that are deliberately explained to them, and, isn't one of the ruined bases ruined because there was a riot and people were exploding the base? They would 10000% shank people if they had a knife, the Multitool, while looking like a switchblade, looks a lot more blunt then a tomahawk, and being able to smash small material clusters probably shows that its more of a hammer than a knife.

MonikaCinnyRoll had a good idea in a Flare Gun, that just acted like the Distraction Flares, but gun, it would make sense to have, and would work in game.

Listen, I'm just saying, I think playing the game and watching the creatures gk about their behaviors is so much cooler than just killing them all because you wanna exercise your dominance over these creatures.

LOOK AT EEEEMMMM, COULD YOU SEE THIS IF YOU JUST KILLED THEM ALL ON SIGHT??

Tay's nose crinkles, and she shakes her head once. Twice. "I'm not." She adds before Anna can quieten her, earnestly, "you are. You're always gonna be." To me is swallowed alongside a mouthful of beer. Her lips remain pressed against the rim of the glass bottle. Personalising it wouldn't go down as smoothly— she keeps her mouth busy to prevent it. Though, predictably, Anna counters her and Tay lets out a breathy laugh in response.

Perhaps it was her fault, her timing was terrible. Perhaps she should have hoped for more traffic. Perhaps she could have walked. All possibilities, plausible nonetheless. Though if she had arrived later, Anna would have had more time to wipe the lipstick from her mouth and banish the bra (still hanging over the back of the couch— little use in hiding it now, Tay supposes) to the bottom of Jackson's laundry pile. At least they could have laughed about that, or knowing Loren, teased him about it. Tay will miss him the most, she thinks.

She sighs, leans back in the chair until it's digging, painfully, into her shoulder blades. Only then does she ask, through gritted teeth, "is there something wrong with me?" Because all I have done is try. And yet, it hangs in the air uncomfortably like the answer is, unmistakably, yes. It must be: Anna doesn't love her, she can't. not if... but her resounding no cuts Tay's self-pity short. Her head snaps up, sheepish expression on her face. It would be too easy to forgive her, to reach over and take her hand, to believe her when she says it was a mistake, and that it won't happen again. (Or again. Or again. Or again.)

This is the last time.

Tay snatches her hand away from the table, in case the temptation grows larger than the wound Anna will leave behind. Temptation would win; it would always win. No more, not again. Too many nights left alone curled up in an empty bed, clutching at her damned, bleeding heart, asking— What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Am I too much? Am I not enough? Thinking still, there's something wrong with me, despite the promises that it's not true. Her fault, after all— too akin to a ripe peach: soft, easily bruised. The same hand is now in her lap, clenched into a fist.

When she speaks, it's laced with regret— "I think we're done. Well, I think I'm done." It's anger that Anna deserves, unbitten back seething rage which doesn't end until every indiscretion is laid out and picked down to the bone. But Tay can't be cruel, it's not in her nature, and Anna would find someone else to lick her wounds anyway. (As if Tay would dare to leave a mark.) "You—you're not gonna love me, are you? I mean, you don't love me." She laughs inappropriately, it's an ugly sound. "So I can't— I don't want to keep doing this." Because I'm tired of trying. She stands in a rushed movement, chair careering backwards across the tile. Her eyes dart everywhere initially—

Tay's mug on the dish rack,

TAY: WHAT DO YOU THINK? ANNA: IT'S A MUG. TAY: WITH A DOG ON IT? ANNA: THAT'S A FUCKED-UP LOOKING DOG. TAY: DON'T SAY THAT, HE'S CUTE. ANNA: HE'S UGLY. TAY: I'M GETTING IT.

the Statue of Liberty fridge magnet,

ANNA: YOU LIVE HERE. TAY: IT'S NOT FOR ME. ANNA: WHO'S IT FOR? TAY: YOU. ANNA: I LIVE HERE? TAY: SO? IT'S A GIFT. ANNA: FINE, BUT I DON'T WANT THE STUPID HAT.

the ring on Anna's finger— silver, with a chunky ornate skull,

TAY: OKAY, I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER. SHE GRABS THE SMALL BOX FROM UNDER THE TREE, CHEAP LIGHTS BLINKING OUT, AND HANDS IT TO ANNA WITH TOO MUCH ENTHUSIASM FOR SOMEBODY A DAY EARLY. SHE CAN'T HELP IT. TAY: OPEN IT. ANNA: IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE. TAY: OPEN IT. ANNA RELENTS (OTHERWISE TAY WON'T QUIETEN) AND MAKES QUICK WORK OF REMOVING THE PAPER. HER HANDS ARE COVERED IN THE RED GLITTER, WIPED OFF ONTO HER JEANS. TAY SMILES APOLOGETICALLY. ANNA: OH. TAY: I'M NOT PROPOSING. ANNA: ... TAY: DO YOU LIKE IT? ANNA: YEAH. I LIKE IT. TAY: WELL, I LOVE YOU. ANNA: YEAH.

her hand, which has itself wrapped, softly, around Tay's wrist,

@waxmoon: grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

and finally her eyes. Tay has never been able to tell what they mean— what she means. After she blinks, they look the same as they always do, likened only to blankness. "Let go." Stern, but soft. (Or exhausted.) "It hurts." The grip is slack, Anna should have no difficulty in distinguishing what she means; Tay has been nothing but obvious since the night they met. Since the first bashful grin, and set of blushed cheeks, choking down smoke in a shitty bar. Lost in thought, she doesn't realise Anna has let go, but hasn't moved. Tay nods, definitively, and moves towards the front door for the final time.