I’ve stalled out. Upgrades are half-finished, blueprints are dangling just out of reach,
and my “plan” has become a list of things I’d like to do once I stop being poor in titanium.
So I do the only thing left: explore.

My memory is decent, but this planet is an endless blue maze, and I’m done pretending I’ll remember
where anything is. It’s finally time to start using beacons properly.

Beacon Therapy (Mushroom Forest Edition)

I craft a beacon, head out to the Mushroom Forest, and deploy it the second I arrive.
The logic is simple: if the radio nudged me here once, there’s probably something useful nearby.
I name the beacon, mark the spot, and start searching with actual purpose for once.

The theory pays off fast. I find another piece of the Cyclops puzzle, and — more importantly —
the second Moonpool fragment.
That one moment flips the entire run. Base building isn’t a “someday” thing anymore.
It’s now.

Side Loot: Shale Outcrops and Surprise Diamonds

Since I’m already here (and my sense of direction has clearly been outsourced to a beacon),
I start checking what this biome actually offers.

The big win: diamonds in shale outcrops.
That’s the kind of detail Future Me will be grateful for, assuming Future Me survives
long enough to remember why diamonds matter.

Prep Work: Pin Recipes, Build the Tool, Commit to a Location

I head back to the lifepod and start doing the boring-but-important part:
preparation.
I pin the recipes I know I’ll need, craft the Habitat Builder,
and finally accept that I need a home that isn’t a floating tin can with a radio.

Of course, the radio fires off another distress signal mid-planning.
I add it to the list. I already know how that story ends: no survivors,
just another location stamped onto my growing collection of disappointment.

Base Site Picked (Mostly): “Somewhere Between Here and There”

I settle on a spot roughly halfway between my lifepod and the Mushroom Forest.
In theory, it’s a sensible compromise: close enough to my old “base” for convenience,
close enough to the Mushroom Forest for materials and fragments.

In practice, I’m eyeballing distance in open ocean, which is basically the same
as saying I chose the location by vibes.

I place the first module and immediately run into the first real base problem:
power.
No power means no oxygen inside, which is a fun twist for something that is supposed to be a shelter.

Power Decisions: Solar Wins (For Now)

I weigh up options and land on solar. It’s not glamorous, but it’s doable right now,
and “right now” is the only timeframe this planet respects.

I do some early prep for the Moonpool materials while I’m thinking about the future,
but the titanium math is brutal.
I’m going to need a lot more, which means a dedicated scrap hunt is officially coming.

Hatch Installed, Oxygen Not Included

I craft a hatch so I can actually get inside my new base, but until I get power online,
it’s basically a room-shaped hazard.
No power, no oxygen — and my base is currently doing a great impression of a death trap.

I do have an idea for how to work around that if I need to,
but first I want to solve the problem properly.

Radio Upgrade: No More Lifepod Commuting

One small quality-of-life win: I get a radio set up at the base-in-progress.
That way, I don’t have to keep swimming back to the lifepod every time the game
decides to hand me another “go here” message.

I also keep the Seamoth parked close by.
It’s doing double duty as a safety net and a temporary beacon until I can get a second
beacon made specifically for the base location.

Solar Online: First Breath in the New Base

Once the solar panel finally goes up, everything changes.
I step inside my newly powered base and take the first proper breath of “this might actually work.”

It needs a lot of work. It’s barely more than a shell.
But it’s mine, it’s powered, and it’s a start.
Temporary home or not, it’s the first thing on this planet that feels even slightly under control.