Nice to see that you’re mentioning Shards Online. Can’t wait to try that out (I pledged for Alpha access). I’m highly interested in the server ‘Shard’ hopping and the high customization for server owners.
What’s interesting about this is that right now, there is ZERO communication off the island. Aside from the airdrop, there are no goods or events coming or going. I’m really curious to see exactly how this would be implemented. Can I send a raft with messages off to another island? Hell, can I climb on a raft and go bother another island? Can I organize a server-wide raid on another island?
So much potential. This has got me more excited than just about anything else in Rust history, because it has the potential to dramatically change the game.
I can see two “rust cities” established on two different servers and utilizing server hopping, could easily have a constant flow of resources and supplies between the two. There you go, a fully established player-run economy.
I believe it’s garry’s intention that you’ll be able to get on a boat and fuck off from your starting island into another server. In theory, if you can choose what “direction” you sail off in and land at (the destination server), hell yes you can organize a server raid against another server.
I really like the idea of being able to send messages in a bottle and have them drift to the beach on a random server, somewhere, in the archipelago of hellish bloodsport arena islands Newmans live on.
After having survived his harrowing and horrifying first night on the island, and having taken his first life, the freshest Newman scrabbles along the beach in the morning dawn, away from the body, looking for clues, supplies, anything that could explain the living nightmare he has awoken to find himself in. After scrubbing the blood from his hands, he runs along the shore, looking all around him, pulse pounding in his ears over the soft white noise of the ocean.
And then, there, motion, bobbing in the water close to shore. Something, a green glass bottle. He splashes into the chilly water, scrapes and cuts stinging as the salt licks at his knees. He grabs the bottle and quickly runs back to dry sand, shivering from the chill against his unprotected skin. The cork is fastened tight, and the glass is hazy and encrusted with barnacles and the beginnings of a carpet of sea growth.
He looks around. A heavy boulder is nearby, silently dominating the expanse of sand and sea. Newman approaches it carefully and slowly circles it, watching for the appearance of extra footprints on his second pass. No extra feet.
The bottle smashes against the rock, and a small paper roll falls out into the sand amongst the emerald shards. Newman approaches and picks up the paper, careful to avoid stepping on the dirty glass.
He unrolls the paper, revealing, in crude, blotchy, charcoal-black lettering,