So, here we are. A tiny fraction of the ship's crew, lost in the middle of an unknown world with only the contents of two colony pods and a few guns to our name. Those few who followed me all insisted on calling our landing site 'The Mountainhome,' even though it's less of a mountain and more of a flat plain with a small hill in the distance. Why did I get the crazies? At least we have the ship's leading geneticist with us: he has already shown us a design for a set of 'recycling tanks.' He hasn't yet mentioned what they're supposed to recycle, however: we already recycle more or less everything. Regardless, we're too short on resources at the moment to build them.
Initial forays into the surrounding area revealed two Unity Rovers, as well as abundant supplies of an odd but highly nutritious plant. The rovers were immediately sent to explore our surroundings further.
Hostile alien life! And the fools laughed when I insisted we equip our scouting parties with flamethrowers...
The men were a lot quieter after that. Nothing like the fear of your brain being eaten in an unimaginably horrific way for instilling professionalism.
A data pod. Most of it was just a compilation of Morgan's ramblings about economic theory, but there was some useful stuff on it.
Such as a description of the process of making synthmetal, which could easily stop most conventional weapons.
...Can someone tell me how an old man managed to refit one of the colony pods, gather six followers, head off into the wilderness without ANYONE noticing, and proceed to found a completely independent new base?
And THEN build a colossal monument to his own success?
And after that, revolutionise the field of human psychology after only a year?
I don't even know what this is supposed to represent.
I feel like I should be invoking the name of a certain Aramaic-speaking carpenter right now.
In less mind-boggling news, we've discovered evidence of a lost civilization.
This is where we stand after ten years.