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My tribe-mates are idiots. Let me rephrase: My tribe-mates sometimes act like idiots. Yesterday, I was out in the field harvesting metal to refill our forge; as usual I had an ear out for the tribe's communications in case of trouble on either end. About halfway through my task, I hear our tribe prankster utter the dreaded words, "Watch this." I then heard several minutes' worth of giggles and laughing as I started to make my slow way back to base. When I returned, I found that all of my unconscious tribe-mates had had their hair Afro-styled and dyed, and their faces were painted like clowns. Our tribe leader was one of the affected, and I look forward to his reaction when he sees his reflection. His Royal Highness is grumbly on the best of days, and he has been known to rage when things go wrong, but we love him anyway. I hope he is feeling mellow enough to appreciate the humor in the situation. It is after all only dye and a haircut, which are easily fixed. HOpefully the fact that we have started our Christmas preparations--at last--will fill him with the delight of the season that the rest of us haven't yet started to acknowledge. He has been subjecting us all to bursts of Christmas songs for several months already, so now that the rest of us have finally accepted the inevitable march into this "joyful" season, I anticipate an increase in his tolerance for the tribe's shenangians. Or he could decide to embrace his inner Grinch and murder us all in our sleep. It's hard to say. *Content adapted from events and players on the old Valhalla Server. Any resemblance to players past or current is entirely intentional.

This place is so frustrating that I want to scream! ARRGH!!! It's not nearly as satisfying writing a scream as it is to actually scream it out loud. Dammit. Everything here is trying to kill me. If it's not some prehistoric terror ambushing me from out of nowhere, it's dehydration and starvation. And I can't get too far from my very tiny shelter or I die—again—and risk losing the few tools I have so far managed to craft—again and again. The little progress I do make is always thwarted when something kills me; even attempting to tame a dodo (simple enough, right?) is a monumental task when something eats it right as I get it knocked out. Don't these stupid things know I need that bird?! Even gathering materials to expand my shelter is a task because I have to keep repairing my primitive tools all while making sure I don't carry too much weight--though on the plus side, I am slimming down some thanks to the lack of food and increased physical activity... I guess that's not a completely terrible thing? I will truly be thankful when I have some kind of storage for all this stuff. And better tools to make weapons that can actually kill the things leaping out of the bushes before they get me! It's almost pointless to do much else besides stay near this small shelter, since leaving it is so dangerous, but I must venture out for more resources; truly this is a frustrating Catch-22. My continued deaths and loss of the few weak animals I am able to tame to help me is a crushing blow to my spirits. But...I will go on because I know there is so much more to this place than dying all the time. Isn't there? (The events described here are taken from experiences on all the ARK maps)

Another survivor has tamed a bird larger than anything I've heard of--something our implants' HUD identifies as an Argentavis. While the Pteranodon is more easily tamed, the Argentavis truly is a better all-around mount for sky travel. The carrying capacity alone makes them worth their weight in metal ingots, and even better, their saddle incorporates a small smithy so that we can craft items on the fly. This new addition to our animal menagerie has allowed us access to the skies. Flying on the back of a huge bird is an exhilarating experience. The only danger, apart from predators, is accidentally dismounting from the bird while in flight. To my shame I have done so more than once, though the only time I was at any great height, I fortunately had a parachute with me, allowing me to remount in midair. Another tribe-mate was not so lucky. He dismounted and fell to his death, and his bird was killed shortly thereafter by some wild cousins. After finally adjusting to the details of safe bird flight, my ability to move around the island has increased dramatically. With a bird I do not need to worry about dangers on the ground except when I need to land to rest, and I can more easily access areas that had previously meant detailed planning to visit. I have also gained a new perspective on the geography of the island, which has only reinforced the enormity of our environment. There is a diverse selection of habitats for the creatures of the Island to enjoy, and seeing it all from the air has only increased my appreciation for the boundaries between them. *The players and events described here are taken from the old Island server

My earliest days upon the Island were fraught with death and loss. Eventually, though, I established a safe base away from the dangers that had plagued me until then. I even made a new friend who had many months' experience in this strange place. Soon enough, and with a little assistance, I was able to tame a young Mesopithecus, which I named Roger. Though my first approach frightened him (and my nearby Trike did little to calm him), I was eventually able to fully tame him. Together we gained much experience as we explored, hunted, and crafted together. In battle Roger's feces-flinging ability proved quite helpful, partially blinding our attackers so that I could maneuver around them. Perhaps the only bothersome thing about Roger was his tendency to jump off my shoulder as I harvested berries and fiber; if I didn't pay close enough attention, I could leave him sitting in a field as I went on my merry way. Many days into our partnership, I set out on a scouting mission with my loyal Pteranadon Pterry and Roger. We had landed on a ridge above the swamp so that I could harvest some thatch from the trees, and we were suddenly attacked by a Titanoboa. The snake's bite paralyzed me, and Pterry and I both died (I seem destined to meet death often at the fangs of this giant snake). It was several days before we could mount a search for Roger; interestingly, he did not show up in the logs as having died with Pterry and me. I was hopeful we could find him in the swamps despite the time that had passed. Though we called for him, we saw no sign. After a time, sadly we received notice that Roger had died—again because of a Titanoboa. I was devastated to think that our efforts to save Roger caused him to leave whatever shelter he had found, only to meet death in the end. Despite the tragedy, I remember Roger fondly. He was adorably scary in his raptor skull helmet, his ability to warn of nearby dangers was exceptionally useful, and you certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of his attacks. Though I may claim another such companion, Roger shall always hold a special place in my heart as my first shoulder pet. For all our loyal, lost companions, we will remember you always. Rest in Peace Roger