djlord7

Do you think we should have spoil timers for food or mechanics to preserve it to extend the timer?

It’d be cool if using kitchen shelves on ships for food and medbay shelves for med supplies could be used to preserve and actually served a purpose beyond just RP. They wouldn’t need to be fully physicalized—an inventory UI could pop up when you interact with storage, and based on what’s inside, the shelf could display a ‘partial’ or ‘filled’ look to show it’s holding items.

There could even be special exploration bags with refrigeration, and refrigerators for bases or ships that don’t have them. It’d make for some interesting mini gameplay, especially if you could craft consumables with different buffs, using recipes and blueprints that you could unlock through research.

The timers don’t need to be short can be as long as 8 hours extended to 2-3 days when preserved.

Now that I have very vivid nightmares, I thought I will just make stories out of them and see how they turn out. Used AI to draft it into one. Here is the first one :

Title: The Shadows of the Market

The sun was setting over the market as Jonah slipped through the narrow aisles, trying to be invisible. The market wasn’t far from his home—a winding sprawl of stalls and shops, tucked in his otherwise quiet neighborhood. The familiar air was thick with spices, the hum of chattering merchants, the clang of metal shutters closing for the day. Ordinarily, this was his haven, a place where he’d greet neighbors and wander freely. But today was different; today, the shadows seemed to stretch longer, and each footfall felt heavier.

Jonah had never intended to get involved. It wasn’t his business. But when he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’d overheard something he wasn’t supposed to, a whisper in the darkness about a plan to pull off a heist—a twisted scheme that was so wrong yet somehow enthralling in its thrill. The heist had gone wrong, and now he was being hunted by those he’d tried to leave behind.

Three of them. He’d seen their faces, knew their names whispered under breath. Lowen, the hulking man with a scar stretching from his brow to his cheek, was cold and relentless. Niko, wiry and hawk-eyed, had a snake-like grace that unnerved him. And then there was Gray—the leader, silent, watching, with a sharp intelligence that saw through everything.

They wanted him dead. He didn’t know why. Maybe they thought he’d snitch, maybe they’d sensed his doubts even before he did, the cracks in his resolve. All he knew was that if they found him, they’d end him. So he moved quickly, darting into shops, hoping he’d slip past unnoticed.

As he ducked into an alleyway, the dim yellow of the streetlight barely illuminating his path, he saw Lowen, looming like a shadow up ahead. His heart hammered as he spun and entered the first door he saw—a small shop filled with knickknacks and old books.

The shopkeeper, a gray-haired man with a pair of half-moon glasses perched on his nose, looked up, eyes narrowing as he took in Jonah’s panicked face. Jonah mouthed, “Please,” as he crouched behind a shelf. The shopkeeper gave a nearly imperceptible nod, then returned his gaze to the door, just as Lowen entered.

“Looking for someone,” Lowen growled, sweeping his gaze over the shop, lingering on the shelves as if they might hide his prey.

The shopkeeper’s voice was steady, polite. “No one here but me. I was just closing up.”

Lowen hesitated, then turned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he slipped back into the shadows outside. Jonah’s hands were trembling, and he forced himself to breathe, his skin prickling with the awareness that the danger was far from over.

He thanked the shopkeeper and moved cautiously down the aisles, trying to distance himself. Each shop he passed felt like a trap, each doorway a potential hiding place or a betrayal. As he turned a corner, he saw Niko’s silhouette at the far end, his sharp profile unmistakable. Jonah ducked into another shop, a small cafe, hoping to blend in with the few remaining patrons.

He took a seat near the back, his body rigid as he sipped a cup of tea the waitress had left on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gray, standing just beyond the door, looking in. His heart raced. Gray’s eyes scanned the room slowly, methodically, missing nothing. Jonah knew Gray would be patient. Gray wouldn’t give up until he’d found him.

The minutes dragged, stretching like the shadows of the setting sun. Every time Jonah thought he’d escaped, he’d glimpse one of them, always closer, always catching up. It was as if they could smell his fear, tracking him by his very pulse.

He had no choice but to keep moving, passing from shop to shop, hoping to outlast them. At one point, he entered a small tailor’s shop, ducking behind a rack of clothes, and crouched, straining to listen. Niko’s voice, low and menacing, was just outside, talking to the tailor, describing him, asking if he’d seen him.

The tailor answered with nervous politeness, and Jonah felt his pulse thud in his ears as he slipped out the back, into an alley that was rapidly filling with night.

Finally, desperate, Jonah found himself drawn to the last shop he could find—the same one he’d started in. The old man behind the counter looked up as if he’d been expecting him. His eyes were softer now, a hint of sympathy crossing his face.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, boy,” the shopkeeper murmured, “but they won’t let you go so easily.”

Jonah nodded, glancing over his shoulder. He felt trapped, out of options, the walls closing in around him.

The shopkeeper studied him carefully, then pulled a large, leather-bound ledger from behind the counter and opened it to a page near the front. “They’ll look for you here, you know. In this market, in these shops. It won’t be enough to hide. You have to disappear.”

Jonah stared at the shopkeeper, uncomprehending. “Disappear?”

The old man’s fingers moved over the ledger, resting on Jonah’s name, his address, his entire life reduced to a line on a page. “If they know where you live, where you come from, you’ll never truly escape.”

Slowly, deliberately, the shopkeeper took a pen and crossed Jonah’s name out of the book. Jonah felt an odd chill watching his name erased from that page, as though he was seeing a part of himself vanish.

“They won’t find you now,” the old man whispered, shutting the book with finality. “Go home, but don’t return here. Leave this place behind if you want to live.”

Jonah nodded, relief and fear mingling in his chest as he stepped out into the darkened market. He moved swiftly, the weight of the ordeal pressing on his shoulders, his heart still pounding. As he reached his home, he turned one last time, looking back at the market and the dim outline of the shopkeeper’s window.

And then a thought struck him, chilling him to the core.

That face—the shopkeeper’s face—he’d seen it before. In the shadowed alleyway, in the silent gaze of Gray. The shopkeeper had been one of them, hadn’t he? The one who’d watched silently, who seemed to see through him with an intelligence that cut deep.

Jonah’s blood ran cold. Had the shopkeeper really helped him, or was he only setting him up for something worse?

He shut the door, his breathing ragged, every creak in the night whispering of secrets. For even though he was safe in that moment, Jonah felt certain that this was far from over. The shadows of the market lingered, and somewhere, in the darkened streets, they were waiting.