Re: FF2: Filling in the Suburbs
Posted: 04 Jan 2024 14:47
This set features a misty delivery from Liepaja in Latvia to the Arts Workshop in Winterland, along with a tense, emotive and gripping cliffhanger. Because that's what trucksim screenshots need.
Crossing the field to the jobsite through the mist, filled with foreboding.
Hitching up to precisely 22,146 kg of Christmas Fibre Stuffing as the rain endlessly falls.
Leaving the jobsite, I spot a bicycle precariously parked on the edge of a roof. This does not diminish my sense of unease.
Bars, bars everywhere! Like the bars of a cage or prison. Not the other kind of bar.
After hitching the trailer I’m rather wet, and chilled to the bone. This has to be the last job for Winterland, I must rest…
Suddenly, just outside Liepaja, a car looms out of the mist on my side of the road!! My numbed senses strive to react in time. I stamp on the brakes, and so does the other driver…
…but the road is slippery and we crash. Luckily, we weren’t going too fast, and damage was minimal. It left me badly shaken, though, which only added to my woes. Not only that, a bunch of things flew around the cab, including my prize castanets, a souvenir from my first trip from Winterland to Valladolid. I retrieved most of the things from the cab floor, but the castanets with their crudely painted flamenco dancers were inexplicably gone.
Continued on the journey to the portal with a heavy heart.
Nearly there.
Made it. Final trip, I hope.
As soon as we arrived I felt something was very wrong. Dizziness, strangely warped vision. It was like being in a fishbowl.
This is not good!
Whooooaaaaaaa…..
Suddenly I realized that I was looking down at my seat, and there was NOTHING THERE. Like I’m just some disembodied consciousness.
Even though it was freaking me out, I kept staring at my seat, as at least it provided a point of stability.
It was hard to drive, and the journey through the darkness seemed endless.
At last we arrived at Rudolph’s Crafts. Everything was slowly spinning around me, it seemed. The local people, or are they elves? The building, the trees…
Buzzing blackness rose in my mind…
…and then I fell to the ground and smacked my head.
I was woken by a large, kindly, white-bearded old man in red pouring warm mulled wine into my throat. “It appears you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, son,” he said. I instinctively felt I could trust him: “Am I trapped here? Is Winterland evil?” “No, my son, of course not. There’s nothing wrong with Winterland. But there’s something very wrong with you. Go home, go home and rest.” “But I can’t find my way.” “Reach out, and you shall find it!” With that, he pushed me up into the cab, belted me in and sent me on my way to the nearest portal. And off I went once more through the night.
The mulled wine quickly wore off and I could feel myself fading. No idea what he meant by ‘reach out’, but I searched once more for happy thoughts and tried to imagine my happy childhood Christmases and the stories my parents used to tell about their own happy times.
I must have been imagining this pretty well, because the voices seemed to get louder, and started to talk about things I couldn’t even remember, like my mum going with her parents to release Chinese lanterns and watch them fly into the air.
‘’Mum...? Dad....? Is that you??’
…but no answer came. I realized I wanted to get home more than anything in the world, and put my foot down. Soon we were near the portal. But we never reached it. My parents' voices sounded like they were coming from right behind me, like they were sitting on the bed in the cab, though I couldn't see them in the mirror. I simply had to look around.
At that moment, I lost control of the truck, came off the road into a snowdrift, and smacked my head once more, and then there was nothing.
Krigl
Crossing the field to the jobsite through the mist, filled with foreboding.
Hitching up to precisely 22,146 kg of Christmas Fibre Stuffing as the rain endlessly falls.
Leaving the jobsite, I spot a bicycle precariously parked on the edge of a roof. This does not diminish my sense of unease.
Bars, bars everywhere! Like the bars of a cage or prison. Not the other kind of bar.
After hitching the trailer I’m rather wet, and chilled to the bone. This has to be the last job for Winterland, I must rest…
Suddenly, just outside Liepaja, a car looms out of the mist on my side of the road!! My numbed senses strive to react in time. I stamp on the brakes, and so does the other driver…
…but the road is slippery and we crash. Luckily, we weren’t going too fast, and damage was minimal. It left me badly shaken, though, which only added to my woes. Not only that, a bunch of things flew around the cab, including my prize castanets, a souvenir from my first trip from Winterland to Valladolid. I retrieved most of the things from the cab floor, but the castanets with their crudely painted flamenco dancers were inexplicably gone.
Continued on the journey to the portal with a heavy heart.
Nearly there.
Made it. Final trip, I hope.
As soon as we arrived I felt something was very wrong. Dizziness, strangely warped vision. It was like being in a fishbowl.
This is not good!
Whooooaaaaaaa…..
Suddenly I realized that I was looking down at my seat, and there was NOTHING THERE. Like I’m just some disembodied consciousness.
Even though it was freaking me out, I kept staring at my seat, as at least it provided a point of stability.
It was hard to drive, and the journey through the darkness seemed endless.
At last we arrived at Rudolph’s Crafts. Everything was slowly spinning around me, it seemed. The local people, or are they elves? The building, the trees…
Buzzing blackness rose in my mind…
…and then I fell to the ground and smacked my head.
I was woken by a large, kindly, white-bearded old man in red pouring warm mulled wine into my throat. “It appears you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, son,” he said. I instinctively felt I could trust him: “Am I trapped here? Is Winterland evil?” “No, my son, of course not. There’s nothing wrong with Winterland. But there’s something very wrong with you. Go home, go home and rest.” “But I can’t find my way.” “Reach out, and you shall find it!” With that, he pushed me up into the cab, belted me in and sent me on my way to the nearest portal. And off I went once more through the night.
The mulled wine quickly wore off and I could feel myself fading. No idea what he meant by ‘reach out’, but I searched once more for happy thoughts and tried to imagine my happy childhood Christmases and the stories my parents used to tell about their own happy times.
I must have been imagining this pretty well, because the voices seemed to get louder, and started to talk about things I couldn’t even remember, like my mum going with her parents to release Chinese lanterns and watch them fly into the air.
‘’Mum...? Dad....? Is that you??’
…but no answer came. I realized I wanted to get home more than anything in the world, and put my foot down. Soon we were near the portal. But we never reached it. My parents' voices sounded like they were coming from right behind me, like they were sitting on the bed in the cab, though I couldn't see them in the mirror. I simply had to look around.
At that moment, I lost control of the truck, came off the road into a snowdrift, and smacked my head once more, and then there was nothing.
Krigl