This is, however, is one of the only moments of friction I’ve encountered in the game so far. I felt pretty smart about the whole thing, if not exactly heroic. I could have just waited it out, but I solved the problem quite simply by temporarily relocating the militia camp (which is one of the game’s few freely moveable structures) closer to town. In theory, the supply point between the militia camp and the village should have been staffed by a viking who would acknowledge Skorri’s need and go himself to fulfill it - but I could see he was busy trying to make himself a backpack. The terrain, which is procedurally generated, often restricts where you can build, and so you’ll need to drop smaller supply points between buildings to ensure resources are collected and redistributed across your settlement. Each building has one, indicating the distance the building’s assigned workers will travel to collect resources (though, peculiarly, this doesn’t consistently seem to matter - bakeries appear to source flour from way across the map if necessary). Clicking on the militia camp to which he was assigned, I realised his pathfinding was hitting the perimeter of its field of influence. Although from a distance Skorri’s behaviour was bizarre, I was able to diagnose the problem: he was unable to find the animal materials to fashion the bow-string near the militia’s campsite, and so started running back to town to find one. But he then got caught in a loop of indecision, wandering back and forth, picking up sticks then dropping them, again and again, periodically getting distracted by the demands of his belly.įortunately, the moment-to-moment interests of a viking are quite easy to parse - thought bubbles indicate their current intention, but clicking on one also gives you a readout of their profession, their stamina, their hunger, and any inventory they are carrying. When I required more archers for my newly-formed militia a viking named Skorri signed himself up and promptly set about sourcing the materials to make a bow all by himself. Usually they are smart about this, but it can occasionally be frustrating to be at the mercy of the AI. You have no direct control over them: instruct them to build a logging cabin and they will assign vikings to do the work, and then someone to run it once it’s complete, automatically seeking whatever resources are required in the process. Sometimes they get bored and go and have a chat by the bonfire. There is a satisfaction in seeing these little people with their own whims trundle about, pursuing whatever impulse they have: to find a bed to sleep under, or something to eat, or a piece of rock with which to fashion a crude axe. When I say it isn’t hard, I am not really making a complaint. Though I wouldn’t say that building an army is exactly hard either - mostly it is a matter of methodical progress as one building enables the acquisition of a resource that enables another, and so on - but there’s some thought required in placing courier outposts and supply points to ensure your berserkers keep their bellies full of beer and bread. I suspect the sacrifice route might be a sort of soft fail-state, allowing the player to progress but not feeling especially good about it. As it is, for the first four hours of the game, they are invariably trivial by comparison to the resources required to field an army. Even if the amount of resources required in sacrifice were substantial, it would only be a matter of waiting for your various production lines to churn through the order. They can, however, be placated by building an altar and sacrificing crafting materials upon it - and this seems to be a much, much easier option than equipping a militia and supplying them as they travel up the mountain.īut it’s also not nearly as fun. There’s a bit of fighting, too, in Valhalla Hills, though it’s often optional: to get to the next island you have to open a portal, usually placed on some icy crag and guarded by ferocious monsters. It’s an odd definition of heroism, but as someone whose greatest accolades cap out at “makes nice bread” and “drinks too much beer”, I’m willing to take it. The only way you’re getting back into Odin’s good graces, and so into Valhalla’s eternal drinking hall, is by, er, building a succession of pertly idyllic hamlets with well-supplied bakeries and breweries. You and your pet Viking tribe have been banned from the afterlife for being insufficiently heroic. This week he’s been playing Valhalla Hills, a jolly village-building god-game with a Nordic theme. Each week Marsh Davies attempts to prove his valour beneath the baleful eye of the gods, venturing into the frigid wastes of Early Access and coming back with any sagas he can find.
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