"Spiderbro" or "The spider that saved my life"
Posted: Fri Nov 08, 2013 4:18 pm
I'm sure most of you are familiar with the greentext that's been floating around the internet for a couple years now, that talks about the spider who killed roaches, and attacked a burglar. I'm pretty sure that arachnid got reincarnated in my game of btw.
My latest spawn puts me right at the intersection of an extreme hills biome, and a swamp. The first bit of exposed rock I find is at the bottom of a cliff, and near both a coal vein and a tree in the water. Having just about everything needed for the first couple nights, I dig out a shelter and bunker down for the night.
3rd night, I poke my head out to slay a zombie that was trying to join me in my furnace warmed digout, when a hat with arms almost as long as Steve's reaches out from the water three blocks from my door. This is the point where I realize that the location I've picked to set up is in a very bad spot. But all hope is not lost. Just as I prep for take off and what I was sure to be another spawn (preparations here being akin to dying my wool britches a lovely shade of brown) I hear a "SKRICHEEKT" from above, followed by a great wad of web spat out onto my feet. Stuck as I was to the ground, the hatsie's flight plan cancelled, I closed my reservation with a couple of axe hits and went back inside.
Plans for the morning include expanding my homefront coastal region, which I will undertake as soon as I finish washing my pants.
My latest spawn puts me right at the intersection of an extreme hills biome, and a swamp. The first bit of exposed rock I find is at the bottom of a cliff, and near both a coal vein and a tree in the water. Having just about everything needed for the first couple nights, I dig out a shelter and bunker down for the night.
3rd night, I poke my head out to slay a zombie that was trying to join me in my furnace warmed digout, when a hat with arms almost as long as Steve's reaches out from the water three blocks from my door. This is the point where I realize that the location I've picked to set up is in a very bad spot. But all hope is not lost. Just as I prep for take off and what I was sure to be another spawn (preparations here being akin to dying my wool britches a lovely shade of brown) I hear a "SKRICHEEKT" from above, followed by a great wad of web spat out onto my feet. Stuck as I was to the ground, the hatsie's flight plan cancelled, I closed my reservation with a couple of axe hits and went back inside.
Plans for the morning include expanding my homefront coastal region, which I will undertake as soon as I finish washing my pants.