村人に必需品を与える方法
必需品 では、あなたの村人が彼らの生存に不可欠であることを保証します。このガイドでは、入植者を栄養を良く保つ方法について説明します。
あなたの村人に餌を与える
*必需品の村人給餌システムは簡単です。集落の中に胸に食べ物を置くだけです。村人が指定されたストレージとしてこれらのチェストに割り当てられると、空腹時に自動的に食べ物を取得して消費します。
Storageアクセスを含む作業を、解決メニューを介して割り当てることができます。
これが段階的なガイドです：
1。胸を作る：胸を作り、食べ物を満たします。 2。 3。自動化された給餌：空腹の村人は、割り当てられた胸から自動的にアクセスして食べます。
より効率的なシステムについては、和解内に指定された調理エリアを確立します。村人に調理作業に割り当て、必要な材料を提供します。材料の保管と食品貯蔵のために、胸を調理エリア内に置きます。これにより、村人は自分自身を調理して養うことができます。
最適な食品の選択
グルメ層の食品は、村人の栄養に最適です。ゲームの早い段階でアクセスできるブルーベリーケーキのレシピは、費用対効果の高いオプションです。
これは、 必需品 で村人に餌を与えることの必需品をカバーしています。より多くのゲームのヒントと情報については、逃亡者をチェックしてください。
最新記事
Two Embers – Part 1
By [Your Name]
The wind howled across the shattered plains of Eldryth, carrying with it the scent of ash and forgotten prayers. Once, this land had bloomed beneath twin suns—golden and silver—cradled in the arms of the sky. Now, only two embers remained: one buried deep in the heart of the Obsidian Spire, the other flickering faintly in the chest of a girl who did not know her name.
She awoke beneath a sky split in two.
One half burned crimson, the other wept silver mist. The earth cracked like old parchment, and from the fissures rose whispers—voices not of men, nor beasts, but of memory itself. Her fingers curled around a shard of obsidian, warm to the touch, humming with a rhythm that matched her pulse.
She didn’t remember how she got here. She remembered nothing—not her mother’s lullaby, not the sound of her first breath, not even the shape of her face in the still pools of long-dead lakes.
Only the ember.
And the dream.
“When the twins fall, the world will wake,” the dream whispered. “But not as it was. Not as it should be.”
She sat up. The shard pulsed. Her reflection shimmered within it—not a face, but a storm: a woman with hair like flame and eyes like dying stars.
“You’re not real,” she said, voice cracked from disuse.
But the reflection smiled.
And spoke.
“I am you. I am what was lost. I am what was never meant to be found.”
She stumbled to her feet, wind tearing at her tattered cloak—the color of dust and midnight. Around her, ruins of a cathedral rose from the earth, its spires fused with bone and blackened iron. The name carved into its fallen arch read: Aetherion.
Her hand trembled as she touched the stone. A vision tore through her:
A war not of swords, but of light.
Two beings—twin stars forged in fire—clashing in the sky. One wore the face of a god, the other… a child.
She gasped.
And the ember screamed.
From the east, a sound like a thousand bells made of glass. A procession of shadows moved across the horizon—hooded figures with eyes of ash, marching in silence. Their chants were not in any tongue, but in absence. In silence.
She turned to flee—then stopped.
Because behind her, in the west, a new light rose.
Not silver. Not gold.
Blue.
And from it stepped a man—tall, scarred, wearing armor of woven wind and memory. In his hand, a sword without a blade. Its hilt bore the same mark as the shard in her palm.
“Eira,” he said, voice like wind over graves. “You’ve come at last.”
She stepped back. “Who are you?”
He looked at her, and for the first time, his face cracked—just slightly.
“I was your father,” he said. “And I thought I’d buried you with the world.”
The ground trembled. The sky split again.
And from the ember in her hand, a voice rose—not hers, not his.
“The first ember dies. The second awakens. The war begins.”
To Be Continued in Part 2: "The Blood of the Twin Suns"
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