It’s been… Three, maybe four days since the ship crashed. To be honest, it’s pretty brutal out here. I can’t see any trees, and all of the wildlife is hostile. I’ve been attacked by… Unthinkable horrors. I regret ever signing on to this damnable ship. My father was right- Space is no place for a Hylotl. And now I’m stuck here. Alone. On this rock of ice. My gills hurt. The wind chills me to the bone. My eye is gone- I don’t have a clue as to where it went, though that blood covered spike I woke up next to is a pretty good indicator. Luckily I was able to find some nano-wrap and curve the bleeding. Otherwise I’d be dead right about now. As for clothing, well, I’ve got what I could find. There was a big Apex on the ship, heading out to some unknown place to fight for the resistance or something. I don’t know. Never really paid any attention when he talked. Anyways, he’s dead. But his jacket is really warm. So I’ve got that going for me. I scavenged a pair of pants and combat boots from a human on board the ship. I think he was USCM, or Ex-USCM. His guns were no where to be found, of course, so just my luck. His pants are nice though. The boots keep my toes from freezing on this piece of shit planet. And the pants have lots of pockets for the nice and shiny tools that I no longer have. So much that engineering degree is worth, when you have nothing to work with. We crashed in, from what I can tell, a frozen ocean of sorts. The ship is stuck nose first in the ice, which re-froze extremely quickly. And because whoever designed this ship was an idiot, I can’t get to the engines to try and get myself a working vessel. And even if I could, I couldn’t fly it- But still, I’m freezing my cloaca off here. My first goal is to get some sort of tools, something. Gotta be a storage closet nearby. I’m off- If I die, well, good luck journal. You’re going to be alone for a long, long time. I have returned! While no real tools were found, aside from a couple strange human wrenches that make no sense, I did find my old welding goggles. Missing the lense for my third eye. But that’s not that big of a loss, considering that I DON’T HAVE A THIRD EYE ANYMORE. Now, I should stay calm. That’s the thing they always tell you on the StarNet and the television- Just stay calm. Someone will find you. Well, this ship has been stuck here for four days now, and there ain’t a one here for me. I’m starting to run out of canned rations- Luckily, I don’t think water will be a problem. Now, the welding goggles aren’t the only things that I found. I also found myself a portable heater- Which means my gills aren’t that sore anymore. I’ve actually got myself a nice set up in here. Heater. Journal. Crippling loneliness and a useless degree. Actually, I think I can eat the degree. Now, while I was finding the tools, I did get a chance to peak my head out one of the many, many broken windows on this ship. One, there are a hell of a lot of birds here. Which means food- Barbaric, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And two, the star in this system is a big red one. Now, day seems to be really short around these parts, which might explain why it’s always so FUCKING COLD HERE. I MEAN REALLY. ICE HERE. ICE THERE. I THINK IT’S LITERALLY STARTING TO CLIMB UP THE SHIP OR SOMETHING. Sorry. Sorry. I should know better than to talk to you that way, journal. You’re my only true friend around these parts. Anyways, I’m going to get to work on that heater. Seriously. Because it’s cold. Like I said above. Very, very cold. This is Shimo Masanori, signing off. Wait, that’s stupid. This is a journal, not a communications array. This was Shimo Masanori, freezing his ass off.
So you remember that ice that I mentioned? Well, it’s eating the ship. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I just know that it is eating the ship. Most of the ship is stuck under the ice- The section I’m in broke off. Like, literally, it broke off. And then ice froze it in place. So now I’m trapped here. But I’ve got a plan- Y’see, I’m an engineer. And engineers do… Engineer-y things. And I’m gonna build myself a flamethrower. Yep. You read that right me. A flamethrower. The idea came to me in a dream, really. A fuckin’ sweet dream. I melted my way outta this piece of shit rust ball of a ship, past the ice, and straight into the arms of a pink-but-lovingly-large-breasted Hylotl lady. She was a dancer, off looking for work, and she decided to set down on the planet because it looked pretty. And here I come, melting my way straight outta that ship wreckage. Needless to say, I think my dreams are trying to tell me something. And that something is that flamethrowers lead to freedom. And freedom leads to busty Hylotl women. So, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. But that’s okay- I mean, I’ve survived for what, six, seven days now? Surely that means I’m capable of building something like this. Now, before the bottom of the ship freezes over, I’ve gotta go down to the shop. I hope it’s not too over frozen. Better find me some of that steel cabling, as this may be a heavy haul. Be back soon, Journal. A couple of lines down, Not too shabby, if I don’t say so myself. I got myself a tool kit, and get this, one of the breeder energy cells down near the ship’s core. One of the spares wasn’t damaged, and you know what this means? Flames. Flames everywhere. I’ve got the fuel and the energy, now just comes the hard part. Gotta get me some tubes, pipes, and what-have-you. Then I’ll be eating roast bird and some of these new things that I found growing down in the bowels of the ship. Yes. New things. I don’t know what they are, but they’re… Unique to say the least. They’re like a bioluminescent fruit. They glow a bright red color, appear to be edible (Though I may regret that one later,) And have a lot of seeds. Like a lot. One fruit had me spitting for nearly half an hour. But do you know what this means journal? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? No. Of course you don’t. You’re just paper and leather bound together. You don’t have sentient thoughts! Haha! But I do. And I know what this means. It means I can scatter the seeds around, and these things seem to grow fast. Really fast. Which means that I can get light all over the place, or at least some rudimentary form of it. Which means that I don’t have to squint in the light of this slowly dying flashlight. Things are looking up, journal! And by things, I mean the steps taken to avoid my own death in this frozen hell. I’m going to go and work on putting together a working flamethrower. I’ll write again in a couple of days, Journal. Now, Journal, I don’t want you to go cheating on me. While I’m gone, don’t let me find you in the hands of another Hylotl, unless they’re busty, of course. Or in the hands of one of my frozen crew mates. Because I’m fairly certain they’re all dead. And if they’re not, they’re just doing a really, really good job hiding. Anyways, Shimo Masanori, freezing his ass off slightly less due to excitement.
So, no matter what I do, I can’t get this stupid flamethrower to work. I’ve rebuilt it, and redesigned it so many times that I’m not even sure if there are any more ways that I can configure this stupid thing. So, Journal, it’s been two days. I’ve planted those seeds around in my ‘room,’ and of course, they’re budding nicely. My diet has consisted of bird blood and meat, as well as some melted down ice so I don’t die of dehydration. In truth, I never realized how flavorful meat actually is, if disgusting. Peeling the skin and feathers off of a beast is disgusting. It makes me feel like some sort of savage human, or worse, a Floran. None-the-less, it is filling, and I’m not dead yet. It’s been what, ten days or so? Doing better than not. Anyways, meat is… Disgusting. Delicious. But disgusting. It makes my stomach rumble, and gives me terrible gas, and it’s horribly messy. If I miss with the well placed rock, I don’t get a meal for a while because these things are smart. Anyways, for meat, ya gotta peel the skin off, like I said above. Now, this isn’t the worst part. The worst part is the guts. They stink like hell, and not only that, but they’re… Well, they’re guts. Plain and simple. I learned the hard way not to eat them. They taste disgusting, they’re usually full of disgusting, and frankly, they make me sick to look at it. But it’s survival, I guess. Now Journal, you remember my eye and how it got gouged out or some shit? Well, it’s fine now. Still missing, but I’ve got a little patch over it made out of some leather. Keeps it real tight, and I only take it off when I know I’m going to be sleeping. I myself am doing… Okay. The solitude isn’t really hitting me like they say it would. Who do I mean by they? I mean everything. I like being alone, no ignorant family to tell me not to do something, no stupid opinions that are uneducated and full of ignorance, As for the outside, still cold, frozen, and no way to get there- WAIT, HOLY SHIT I’VE GOT AN IDEA- A pen mark trails off towards the bottom of the page, ending in a splatter of ink.
Jimmy the Flamethrower, meet Journal. Journal, this is Jimmy. Wait- no STOP SETTING JOURNAL ON FIRE- The next several pages are scorched out.
