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I went on a naked sail in Valheim and punched some barnaclesExposed to the elements
Exposed to the elements
My friends and I are still continuing our odyssey in Viking survival gameValheim. Despite still-minimal progress towards an advancement of civilisation, namely into theCarrot Age, we march on. We are hardy folk, and we must persevere, even when we cannot fathom how to grow just one (1) of our five (5) a day.
We had booked in an appointment with a mysterious baddie who lives across the sea, but one of our clan, Dunder Mifflin, was absent for this planned trip (tattoo removal, an unfortunate double-booking). To prep for our kinsman’s return, we attempted a little practice sail instead. A pleasant skim across the ocean, which left us naked… and afraid.
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But our legs wobbled at the thought of sailing across the blue expanse to meet our mystery opponent. The problem being, our legs had suddenly become irrelevant. We needed to rely on our wits (as a resource, there is not much of this), the water, and the wind direction.
Most importantly, it was key we had a raft. Once again, it was Sigmund The Resourceful One who crafted what would become our legs-of-the-sea. And with Dunder Mifflin busy at Ymir’s Tattoo Parlour, we thought it best to attempt a practice sail before he rejoined us at a later date to cross the seas for real.
So Sigmund, Ragnar the Red and I huddled together on a frosty morning, and, while the bees were still asleep, and with our beards touching, we came to a decision: we would strip down to our pants. We didn’t know what dangers might lurk in the ocean, so we were terrified of losing all our equipment in a calamitous capsizing. Naked sailing seemed to be the most obvious option. So in the end, it would be the three of us, the gentle lap of the ocean, and our nips whistling in the breeze.
“That’s it Sigmund, that’s it.”
Having run down to our raft like giggly kids in a Haven advert, we set sail! For the first time! And it was agony! Turns out the act of sailing in Valheim doesn’t involve holding the W key, but requires thought and co-ordination. I am not sure why I keep being suprised that Valheim asks actual input of me, but I am. I took control of the rudder for a bit, and I can safely say not one brain cell engaged. In fact, I think my brain started malfunctioning. It seemed so complex, the smattering of icons that twisted and turned as if in the sea breeze. Too much for me. So I handed the controls back to Sigmund and Ragnar, while weinchedforwards.
I’m talking molluscular (a term I have just coined) levels of speed. We could not, for the life of us, figure out how to make the raftgo. The ocean behind us was our shiny snail residue, as we shuffled towards a small isle we’d picked out at random. At times we came to a grinding halt and just bobbed for a while, in which case we’d take turns pushing the boat forwards with our skulls. One of us would jump off the end of our raft and breastroke into the back of it, in the hopes that maybe we could act like pale, fleshy engines. So our legs did actually come in handy in the end.
At this point we were just three fellas, hanging out, breathing in the salty ocean air together. We all wore the same boxers too, as we thought that it would add to our cohesion as a group. Mainly it was an excuse to get our thunder-thighs out on display, though.
I turned to Sigmund and calmly stated, “Sigmund, I’ve had it up to here.”
And that was it. We spent all of one minute on the island before we retired back to our raft, knuckles bruised and hands empty. Ragnar took the reins this time, while Sigmund and I sat and accepted the long night that awaited us. When we arrived back home, our teeth were chattering and our nips were numb - numb to it all.
When Dunder Mifflin gets back, we’ll inform him of our practice excursion, and I know he will laugh in our faces, and we will snap back at him with childish retorts. If we all finally sail over to this mystery baddie and it ends up being a massive barnacle, I am going to scream.
