Bottlenecks, Channels, Slabs, and Roads...

As I have had to report a few times in the past: Progress is steady, but sometimes, we cannot avoid the occasional roadblock.

We encountered an issue with the Unity engine that was preventing us from properly integrating the new player controller/NPC system that caused a couple of days of delay on certain fronts.

Thankfully, progress continues on others.  Our main systems guy figured a work-around in our vegetation spawner that resulted in jaw-dropping improvements in performance on the PC side - I cannot wait to see how it improves things on the Mac side!

We're also working on ensuring that ground foliage actually reacts to your cats' passing - which is a bit more involved than you might think- more on that, in the next update!

On the downside, we had a little issue with YouTube:  Since we last spoke, the official channel for the Peace Island project was taken down, along with mine - not once, but TWICE!

The reason for this is still under investigation and appeal.  Thankfully, our main channel was reinstated, and we've started moving content over there, as time allows.

So- let's talk about Slabs.

On one of the more remote, eastern islands of Casco bay, was this thing...

I've previously visited this particular island a few times over the years - it was a source of much inspiration for Peace Island (you'll see why, further down.)  

However, I had never been to this particular part - and that grey shape confounded me.

It was very similar in footprint size to a WW2 gun battery on another island, so I was assuming it was perhaps the foundations for another such installation that had never been built.

There was no way to be sure, unless I went there, myself - but there were two things standing in my way:

The first was the Pandemic.  Even in the early stages, the islanders of Maine were generally of the opinion that their home was NOT open to outsiders.  Some folks "from away" decided to disrespect the wishes of such communities, along with Maine state regulations regarding travel - but I was certainly not going to be among them.

The second reason is that visiting the outer islands of Maine is in some ways similar to visiting the Faroe Islands: 

Every bit of land - even some of that upon which public roads have been built - has been privately owned since long before the "United States of America" was even a concept.

After an hour-long trip, you are deposited at a picturesque dock, where you are again reminded of the importance of respecting private property.

Should you walk into the island's only store, you are politely reminded that you are perfectly free to "turn around and get right back on the ferry."

But then you walk out of the store, look around, and realize how STILL and QUIET it is, even though you are in the heart of "downtown."

You look to your left, and see an amazing stone wall built atop glacial bedrock, holding in the most picturesque front garden of wildflowers you've ever seen.

And you decide: "Hey - Time to check out that Slab..."

You continue down the dirt road (indeed - there are no paved roads at all on the island) passing by the occasional farmhouse.

At one point, the entirety of the island had been given over to farming and ranching, as small as it was.  (Back then, it was called "Crotch Island" - but I digress...)

Eventually, you approach the steepest part of your journey- this gentle slope. 

However, you really don't mind, because you can look at that amazing burst of flowers on the right as you ascend.  But then - just as you think things couldn't be better - you discover that the locals have set out two benches alongside their flower garden, so that passers by can relax in the shade.

You sit down for a while, and wave at the rare golf cart of a local as they pass by - and they all wave back.  You begin to realize that the folks out here are friendly enough, they just want their peace, their quiet, and politely ask "Please don't pee in our garden."

Thankfully, you already considered this, as you knew in advance there are no public restrooms on the entire island.  

You continue onward, and the road gets slightly rougher.

And rougher.

Until you find yourself in a place where you wonder whether you've wandered off the roads entirely.

But no - this five-foot-wide trail is the sole access point for three different residences - hidden away in the nearby bush.  As you continue, the roads become even more overgrown.

Until you arrive at a point where you realize:  

THE SLAB!

The SLAB is NEAR!

You coat yourself with the strongest, most pungent bug sprays that you can buy without violating EPA regs, and head up a steep and rocky incline, careful to place your feet in established trail prints.

It's not easy - you trip a few times, get a few scratches, and in the end, it was FAR more steep than it looked from below - but eventually, you get there.

But something's wrong - the surface is granular and undulating.

As you get closer, you realize:  It's not a slab at all, but a large field covered with woodchips.

Looking around, you notice that on a heavily wooded island, it's strange that this high top seems scoured of anything larger than scrub.

Your suspicions are confirmed, when you see the remnants of burnt trees scattered about:  This was the site of a huge FIRE.

You continue on to see another glacial rock shored up with smaller rocks- similar to those that you saw near the dock.  However, these are cruder, larger- more ancient.  Whether they were used up to separate one cattle herd from another, or shore up a crude road, is lost to history.

You stop to consider how many deer ticks have been able to penetrate your shield of bug spray, and head back - there's only one more ferry before the day ends, and there are no hotels out here, either.

As you approach "downtown" again, you note again how the haphazard layout of structures resembles similar isolated communities - who knows how many foundations crumbled to dust in this soil...

You're disappointed to see that the one pay phone on the island is no longer functioning - its earpiece cradle now the site of a spider nest.

You note how much island dirt is under your nails, and pledge to do something about it as you hear golf carts converging:  The ferry is arriving.

Fortunately, all passengers disembark, and you have the ferry to yourself...

As you look back at the island, you think...

"THIS is why I made this game - If I can impart 1/100th of the quiet peace and wonder I felt today, it's all worth it."

See ya'll in a week!