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"The river is too deep to ford. You lose:
74 bullets
2 wagon wheels
2 wagon axles
2 oxen
Mary (drowned)
Bill (drowned)"
More about OregonTrail
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Occupation:
Computer Game
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Hobbies and Interests:
Oxen, Wagon Tongues, Fording Rivers, Dysentery, Exhaustion, Broken Arm, Broken Leg, Cholera, Apple II Computers, Whitewater Rafting, Shooting Buffalo
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Favorite Books:
You shot a 600 pound buffalo, but you are only able to carry 100 pounds back to the wagon.
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Favorite Movies:
Independence, MO. Fort Kearney. Chimney Rock. Fort Laramie. Fort Walla Walla. The Dalles. Columbia River.
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Favorite Music:
Date: April 4, 1848, Weather: warm, Health: good, Food: 995 pounds, Next landmark: 42 miles, Miles traveled: 60 miles
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Favorite TV Shows:
Your wagon breaks down without the specific spare part. One of your people is sick, and you do not rest. With bad water/inadequate grass, you push the oxen too fast.
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About Me:
The river is too deep to ford. You lose:
74 bullets
2 wagon wheels
2 wagon axles
2 oxen
Mary (drowned)
Bill (drowned)
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Who I Want to Meet:
You must get to the Willammette valley in order to score
any points.
Once you do, you receive a multiplier based on your
profession: three
for farmers, two for carpenters, one for bankers. You get
the majority
of your points based on your party's health at the time you
arrive in
Oregon.
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At the time I just laughed it off, and considered that he was suffering from dehydration.
ever played this game was to go
hunting. Excessively. I remember always
leaving the town with nothing in the
way of food except two cans of peas and
a dried biscuit. This of course was to
make room to carry enough ammunition
for my wagon to be classified as a WMD.
We wouldn't be traveling for 5 minutes
before I was pulling over to go drop
some rabbits. There was nothing more
gratifying than bagging 5000 pounds
more meat than I could carry. For many
of us, it was our first foray into
gratuitous violence, and it left behind
an insatiable hunger to viciously
attack things that were completely
harmless. At the end of every differnt
trek, one thing remained constant: even
though we left town with nothing but
explosives, there was never a point
where our food rations dropped to
grueling.
snakebite, but you still carry on,
Oregon Trail, and I love you.
worry about saving money, but I'm a
goddamn rich banker from Boston!
Hah! "Hmm..how many wagon tongues
should I buy?" How many ya got?! That's
my motto. Buy, buy, buy! Hell, I've got
more ammo than I know what to do with.
And don't get me started on blankets
and clothes. Barlow Toll Road? Chump
change. Indian guide? I spend more
money when I SHAVE.
skip out of the best part of the game to
take that damned expensive Barlow Road:
5 dollars for each wagon; 10 cents for
each head of horses, mules or asses,
whether loose, geared or saddled; 10
cents for each head of horned cattle,
whether geared or loose.
spring time. Ah' had nothing to lose and
was fixin' for something new. Ma' family
was already mostly gone, pappy and ma'
older brother pete died out east in a
minin' accident round about '37, and
sayin' bye to ma' momma and her whisky
breath jus' wernt that hard, ah guess.
Out on the train, ah was put in charge
of collecting cow pies, we used them fer
tinder, ya see. Everyonce in awhiler
ah'd git to go ahuntin, usually just
squirlies and rabbits, but sometimes, a
deer or, even once, a bear. know me an'
ma' wife emma got us a nice place out in
the territories, but things is changin'
quick. I reckon more and more people be
out here soon, people is talkin' bout
'intacontinental' railroads and
locomotives or some such nonsense.
Hunting. I was a little stick man
working out my squirrel issues. Set the
grueling pace and start thinnking up
clever headstones. Man, that was some
good stuff.