After about 7 hours of being repeatedly shot, mauled by bears, mauled by wolves, beaten with rocks by naked men, and just in general getting murdered by Rust, I spawn in a place that I later was called... I think Civ Valley. Could be wrong. Southern edge of the map, midway between Factory Radtown and Small Radtown. So, I am generally sick of losing everything, so I'm all "[censored] it! Time to build a [censored] house!" So, I spend a while harvesting resources, scared [censored]less because there is a gigantic fort someone built smack in the middle of the valley, and before long, I have a 4x4 pad up in the hills, hidden enough from view that I can feel secure, but still visible enough that I can find my way back (Think Ryoga from Ranma 1/2). As I'm putting up the walls, I run out of wood. As I go back out, I am confronted with the most terrifying sight I could think of at that point. There's a dude in leather armor with an M4 pointed straight at my head. He asks me who I am, I tell him and ask him if he's gonna shoot me, he says no and suggests that I put a roof on my house pretty soon, before running off over the mountains. We'll name him Bob.

So, I continue with the construction, and as I'm putting the finishing touches on it, I run out of wood again. I'm trying to put up a proper roof made out of ramps. So, running down out of my mountain home, I am immediately accosted by two gentlemen, who turn out to be Bob and his friend Steve. Still terrified out of my mind at this point by other people, I inform them that I am merely gathering wood, that I have nothing of value, and that I won't bother them if the will simply let me be. Bob gets close enough to see my name, and he says "Hey, it's Fueledbycoffee! How's the house coming?" and proceeds to toss me a revolver and some bullets. Then they wander off, asking only that I do not shoot them with it.

So, fast forward a few days. Sun is setting. Construction of my house is finished, except for a window in my porch/workbench area. Up comes Bob and Steve, who ask me politely if they could crash for the night. So, they inform me that there are several raiders hunting them (They shot one), and my place was close, convenient, and nestled back in the rocks in a defensible and strategic location. So, we sit out on the porch (they with their automatics and me with my hand-me-down revolver) and watch as the aforementioned raiding party wanders past the house at some distance (they had flashlights, by which we watched their position) and shouting threats. However, they never found us, and with the greatest of relief, we got to see the sun come up.

I log for a while to try and fail to sleep IRL, and eventually come back on. I've finished my house, so what now? [censored] it, let's go hunt mutants for recipes. I have the presence of mind to craft some stashes for my resources and mats, stow my revolver, and armed only with my hunting bow, a hatchet, and a small portion of my food stores, I head out. I take down a number of mutants finding (wonder of wonders) pants and boots of perfect quality leather armor, a bunch of ammunition, some granola bars, and so on. After each one, I think to myself "I should go home and stash this", but my greed gets the better of me. I still haven't gotten a recipe drop. I shoot the final red bear, and immediately I hear a shot ring out. As I book it in the general direction of safety, I am struck by four bullets and slain by an [censored]. I lost everything. My character had suffered his first death since getting anywhere.

You know what? I was angry. Not at the game, not at the guy who killed me, but at myself. I shouldn't have stayed out so long. I shouldn't have gone so far. I should have waited until my friends were on before I struck out for the mutants and the towns. I died because I was a greedy, impatient idiot. It's one of the only times in a game where I've died and can say that I was 100% in control when I was killed. I was 100% responsible. I [censored] loved that.