make bad art for the love of the game now!

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thatXenobiologist

2026-03-09

Triangular grass crunches under my reinforced boots as I leave the hab. Not grass. Not even "plants" as far as taxonomy is concerned. Doesn't matter. I'd have told the xenobiologist to shove it if they hadn't saved me from a foot kebab day one. Little three-sided railroad spikes, as far as the eye can see. In a moment of weakness, the xenobiologist called them "sedges from satan's nethers". None of us knew what they were saying, but their tone communicated well enough. It's nice when they come out of their shell, even if it's usually to talk about their cult.