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August 09, 2017 1 min read
My people are starving.
You'd think, when settling a polar ice cap, Mission HQ would be sure to send you with more food. But nooo, “there is some arable land, you can farm for yourself. Oh, we seem to have dropped you way too far from any of it. Have we mentioned it's an election year?”
Immigrants keep piling into my colony, despite the promises of boredom, toil, and famine. I've finally reached a patch of arable land – but I've run out of food. My approval rating drops from 90% to 30% in less than a minute of subjective god-time, and I am sent packing from the colony in shame on the next outbound shuttle.
Everyone else presumably starves to death.
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