Last Day On Earth Obb
Randolfo Rasberry
The earth is unlivable, so you decide to create a space colony. Gather resources, then build and research your way to a better future! Make your city grow from a single exploration ship to a huge metropolis, full of advanced technology. Fly to other worlds with space ships, or even build teleporters.
if anyone's still here I need some help. For some reason I have over 100 homeless people, even though theres more than enough free space and the houses are 100 quality too. I can't figure out any way to get them to actually move into the houses, and its stopping me from getting to 60 happiness
This game literaly cured my depression. I was feeling realy low around six months ago, i dont realy want to go into it, but i had some realy bad stuff going on. I had contemplated suicide once or twice, never seriously, but the thought was there. I remember one particularly insomniatic night, i decided to bust out my old ipad, just for the sake of it. I remember loging back onto the cool math app, and seeing this game on my recomended page. Hundreds of hours of memories from a long forgoten part of my childhood came flooding back. I spent the rest of the night on my computer just playing the game. No regrets. And I kept playing, day after day, trying to make the perfect utopia for all of my little moving pixels. In doing this, i think i was also working on myself. After I 100% the game(subjectivly-every building,10000 citizens, at least a million of every resource, 1000 year old SSotK member) I finaly had the courage to talk to my parrents about my issues. Thank you from the bottem of my heart, for making this absolute masterpiece, i will always be grateful
I'm at almost one thousand people, and the housing suddenly for five seconds says 300 homeless people, then I build like two park pods and suddenly it's back up at 200 housing space available. This is happening constantly, I think it might be a bug.
-detailed statistics of mining percentage and production of buildings (so we can find out things like 5 stone mines for every rock teleporter if you have better pickaxes, but not the AI - assisted mining or any of the bonuses from the mining research center.)
lol, yeah. I had someone named bennie in my city. I loved following him and watching what he did. Sadly, after a while, he passed away, and i felt bad for a virtual person. Thats what makes this game calm. You see your people, knowing its ai, but it feels like... you know. A vibe.
On his way to a Friday night date in Florida when he was 18, the car he was riding in veered into a tree, killing his best friend, who was driving, and leaving Wynn in a coma for 10 days. Doctors drilled holes in his skull to relieve the pressure on his brain. He had been preparing to enter the Air Force, where he had signed up to train as a firefighter, but instead spent nearly six months after regaining consciousness learning how to walk and talk again.
Wynn had given up driving due to his disability and rode a bus about 30 minutes to the college. Our class was at night, its first meeting in January, and the dark Colorado bus stop could be brutally cold and windy. After the first class, I started giving Wynn rides home and to class events. We rode together on a field trip to photograph the Frozen Dead Guy Days festival in Nederland. The event celebrated the memory of a deceased Norwegian outdoorsman brought to Colorado as part of a cryogenics experiment, but it seemed strangely symbolic to me after Wynn passed.
During the hours he sat in my passenger seat, I learned Wynn practiced Buddhism in the Shambhala tradition, hiked in the mountains whenever he could, attended yoga classes and loved dancing and music. He rode his bike year round to his insight meditation sangha, therapeutic dance gatherings, work at a local natural food store and just about every other corner of Boulder, where we both lived. Employees at the local REI, the outdoor gear store, knew him by name.
With the National Center for Atmospheric Research, the largest National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration office in the country, the National Renewable Energy Lab, a top-tier science university and a plethora of other environmental labs and nonprofits, the Boulder area likely has the greatest density of climate scientists, policymakers and activists in the country. Some of them would be a part of his life, too.
His computer would sit on my desk, its screen staring me in the face every day when I started work. Larger-than-life people he had photographed gazed at me from gallery prints I stored in my guest room. His tripods and camera bags, sitting on a shelf in my garage, were the first things I saw when I parked my Prius.
The remains his father asked that I take to the top of a Colorado mountain; the books, photos and hard drives his former girlfriend left with me; and the computer passed on to me by his neighbor were windows into a story I felt both fearful to explore and obligated to tell. Perhaps they could help me step beyond the stigma surrounding the way he had chosen to end his life, and the disability that he had struggled with through most of it, to find what he was trying to say.
He had rarely posted on his Facebook page, but in the days after his death it filled up with hundreds of comments. Saddened friends, climate activists and Buddhists wrote to his digital ghost. More than a dozen people friended him on Facebook after he was dead. But soon other comments came from people angered by his action and the attention he was receiving. Then climate change deniers chimed in, questioning his purpose. Finally, trolls mocked him and picked fights with anyone who responded. Some suggested other climate activists, Swedish founder of the Fridays for Future climate movement Greta Thunberg in particular, should take the same action he did. Others pointed out that by using fire and an accelerant, he had actually harmed the climate.
Although his son rarely spoke with him about his environmental passions, Doug was certain that Wynn was trying to make a statement at the Supreme Court about the existential threat of the climate crisis.
But Wynn also seemed to be following the kind of erratic, searching path that has left thousands of disabled people living on the street. He moved to Boulder, where his father was shocked to see where he was living.
Stephen Bross, an organizer of the event, carried a bicycle helmet. He was shopping at the Vitamin Cottage, a natural food store, when he met Wynn, who was working there. Wynn was soon showing up on his bicycle unannounced at the communal house where Stephen, a devout Christian, lived, and was a regular at the contemplative gatherings held there.
People with disabilities who recognize the threats of climate change to their own lives are often hindered confronting it with actions like marches, letter-writing campaigns or comments at government meetings.
She carries silicone earplugs and tinted glasses to make her time outside in large crowds less overwhelming, but in the end, climate protests were too taxing for her. So she found other ways to engage with the issue like working on administrative tasks for an environmental nonprofit from home.
The Species at Risk Act, which had been in the works for 10 years, became law, but as Canada pivoted to a more conservative government, it set back much of the progress Candice and her colleagues had made on climate and biodiversity. She burned out.
She gave up her government job, but continued to hurt. As a child, she suffered from a genetic disorder and spinal issues that surgery had corrected to allow her an athletic youth, but an accident after she left policymaking crushed several of her vertebrae, leading to more surgeries, a difficult recovery and ongoing health struggles. She wore a back brace for two years.
As Candice finished her program at Naropa and engaged more deeply with the world of counseling and therapy she would work in, the couple had less in common. She would eventually move back to British Columbia, but even after they split up, she and Wynn stayed in touch.
After completing their Ph.D.s in climate science at Rutgers University in New Jersey, Kritee Kanko and her husband, Imtiaz Rangwala, took jobs in Boulder. Both originally from India, Kritee joined the Environmental Defense Fund to promote Climate Smart Agriculture in Indian farming communities being devastated by global warming while Imtiaz was hired by the Cooperative Institute for Research in Environmental Sciences, a partnership between the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration and the University of Colorado Boulder. Devoted Buddhists, they joined a sangha where they met Wynn, whom they found unusually welcoming.
Three months later, the NCAR Fire that ignited in similar conditions just five miles to the north was named, ironically, after the National Center for Atmospheric Research, which was threatened by the fire, as was the neighborhood where Kritee and Imtiaz lived.
I had never visited the Rocky Mountain Ecodharma Retreat Center until Kritee organized a memorial service for Wynn there in October of 2022. Nestled amid forests, meadows, crags and streams looking up at the Indian Peaks, the landscape invited visitors to just sit in nature and contemplate its majesty.
In one of their last gatherings, students took turns sharing their feelings about climate. While the other students in the circle spoke, Melissa observed Wynn drawing into himself, like he was rehearsing what he was going to say. One woman talked about the guilt she felt for shopping and traveling. Wynn went next and seemed to dismiss her concerns.
David Loy helped found the Rocky Mountain Ecodharma Retreat Center beneath Indian Peaks with another area Buddhist, Johann Robbins, who he had joined on wilderness retreats, including floats down the Green River in Colorado and Utah.
The essays are often jumbles of thoughts and narratives, photographs, typography, text colors and creative punctuation. They sometimes look like film noir ransom notes with words cut out of different magazines.
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