Frostpunk 2 News

What is it all about?
Two brave Frostpunk fans - Lars Andreas Melsæter and John William Baier Hofoss - set off on an expedition through the frozen nooks of Norway. This is a story of their journey.
The previous posts about the venture can be read here: https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/1601580/view/3122690263509401625
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/1601580/view/3217271087478821042

---- Telegraph from New London ------------
Imperial Exploration Company is pleased to share the news about the ongoing expedition to Norway providing further opportunities to get to know the customs of the local people.

As our, for now, sole Scout progresses, we leave Vardø behind and aim to cross the Tana River. And following a large river like Tana makes pathfinding brutally straightforward. In addition, the river is used by snowmobiles and dogsleds, leaving paths for explorers to follow. On the other hand, the ice could be unsafe, or – more likely - reascent heavy snowfall will not be blown away or compacted by wind and leave the expedition wading in deep, loose snow. This passage may take six or eighteen days, depending on these factors.

Administration of New London bows to the achievements of our Scouts.
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“A nomadic livelihood of traditional, indigenous people of northern Scandinavia - The Sámi, served the expansion of a tent-based culture. People who dove into coastal fishing, fur trapping, and sheep herding, also developed more permanent settlements - described by the umbrella term “gamme” - like hunting and fishing huts, spread out in the wilderness. And searching for them proved to closely resemble the refreshing activity of exploring the frozen outskirts of New London.

Often built with locally available materials in carefully picked locations - fruitful hunting or fishing grounds, and summer or winter grazing lands. Among the most common kinds of huts, was the small or semi-small "buegamme" curve/arch-gamme. This style relies on naturally curved birch cut down and stripped of its bark before it is leaned upon other curved logs. The shape is important so finding the right trees was almost an art form. Wooden bolts were also in use. Onto this main wooden skeleton, a new layer of thinner logs and poles was laid to act as the inner walls. And support more layers to come.

The gamme would now look somewhat similar to an igloo, though often more egg-shaped than hemispherical. To waterproof the structure, large cylinders of birch bark were cut off the trees, stretched, and dried before it too was laid onto the structure without fastening. Birchwood is in its dry state efficient firewood, but its bark is also entirely waterproof, making dry birch hard to come by. By overlapping the patchwork of so-called "never" (Norwegian for birch bark), downpour would flow along with it and end in the surrounding soil. This process would start along the ground, and as one worked upwards the final layer would also be placed down to hold it all in place. Slabs of topsoil with low dense vegetation (called “torv” in Norwegian, and incredibly common up north as well as south) would be cut out and laid down leaning in towards the slightly tilted wall. These slabs might be something like 30-40 cm wide, 30-60 cm long, and 5-15 cm tall.

Once the entire structure was clad in this manner, a door would be installed. Originally not hinged. The floor was made from young birch branches, and there would be an open fireplace with a hole in the roof. That’s it for the tradition. As modern times arrived so did hinges, windows, wood-burning ovens, wooden floors, insulation, and plastic moisture protection. Today most gammes forego the traditional construction in favor of standard "plank and nail" constructions, but the law still mandates the exterior "torv" cladding.

Quite some years ago it was decided that these huts, that usually were owned and used by families or reindeer herding family groups, were to be open to all. This was partly a measure to improve the safety in the mountains, and partly to direct the culture. In Norway, there are so-called laws about "every man's rights". They’re to ensure nature is not privatised and locked away but remains available to all. This meant that those who wanted to keep their gamme, also had to keep it unlocked and assure its maintenance to safety standards. Some families, or individuals, opted to accept this, others never applied for this new permit and registration and let the old structures decay.

Today the gammes are marked by a "point of interest" sign on the map. A small black triangle which you can never be sure what you’ll find there. Some huts can be of the oldest, some are modern and comfy, some are about to collapse, and some simply no longer exist. To be honest - I felt a bit like a proper Frostpunk scout running around the map looking for "points of interest" not knowing what to expect. It ended up that I explored five marks that turned out to be too decayed or entirely gone thus far on the expedition. The cabins in the first phase of the expedition, whilst crossing Varangerhalvøya, have a sadly relevant history tied to the fights between Norwegian partisans and the Nazis during a past war.

Whilst staying at Bjørnskardhytta I had the worst mental day I have had during the entire expedition. My mind played awful games with me and I felt the urge to give up, yet I could not find any practical reason for my deep discomfort. Later I learned that the Parthians were snitched on and the Gestapo caught and executed at least one man in the very same cabin. Approximately a further eight men had also attempted to parachute to the cabin but been blown off course and landed on the hillside. They broke their legs and hips and never made it down from the mountain I was sitting looking at.”

The latest Frosptpunk 2 lore newspaper is here!

Read the previous issues here:
New London Courier The Toolbox New London Dispatch

New London Sports latest issue is also available here full size in PDF:
https://11bitstudios.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/New_London-Sports_Fists_of_Stone-3.pdf

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On a day like this, not even the piercing wind and frigid temperatures could spoil Thomas' mood. They were welcomed and revived the boy after a mostly sleepless night. Today, despite being glued to his regular spot on a corner of one of the many shabby streets in New London with a bundle of newspapers on him, his mind was elsewhere.

“Hey brat, are you with me?”

A harsh, out-of-the-blue voice of an approaching gentleman tore Thomas out of his blissful idleness. “Could you tell me what’s up in the news?”

“The great Joey McGregor retained his middleweight championship title, sir! Can there be more exciting news than this?”, replied the newsie enthusiastically.

“Pshh... do I look like someone who cares about commoners' amusements?” The man’s face twisted in a disapproving grimace. “Are they reporting about any matters that have an actual meaning? Or has even the press in this pitiful world reached the level of the London cobblestones?”, ranted the monumentally tall gentleman.

With a bushy mustache, a monocle in his eye, and a posh trench coat, he indeed didn’t resemble those who packed into the arena yesterday, to take in an unforgettable fight night.

“Plenty of important matters inside, sir, as always. Take a look”, Thomas assured the customer while handing him the paper.

Albeit today, Thomas didn’t even care about sweeping through its pages. Today, nothing mattered more than the joy he still felt from the night before. He could feel a tickle of excitement while remembering the jarring knockdowns and had a sore throat, torn by his enthusiastic screams. Thomas was at the tournament until late in the night along with a few other newsboys. The loose board in the fence had once again done the trick, and he was able to forget about his burdens and lose himself in powerful emotions provoked by the untamed crowd.

Thomas' father was a hardened coal mine worker. A puny gear in the city's machine leading a life that no one reckoned with, he couldn’t broaden the boy's horizons much. He often returned home drunk, mumbling about class injustice and wishing death upon all of those who beguiled him, but it usually ended with him venting his frustration on his family. Despite his downfalls, the boy’s father had passed on his love for bare-knuckle fighting, even taking young Thomas to see his first bout. He taught Thomas about jabs, and haymakers, and told stories about fearless, undefeated champions who demanded respect from every rival.

Thomas idolized them as warriors who lived by their own rules and who were loved by the crowds. They were heroes leaving an indelible mark on this hopeless world and were a beacon of courage in an era of despair and anguish. Thomas dreamed of becoming such a warrior. He didn’t have a clue how he would achieve it, but if the boy was sure about one thing it was an overwhelming sense that he never wanted to end up drowned in bitterness like his father.

“Thomas, Thomas!”

This time a younger voice muffled the boy’s thoughts. It was Henry, a fellow newsie. “Don’t stand here like a broke drunk outside the pub. It’s about to start. We better hurry”, shouted Henry, passing him by in a rush. Thomas immediately remembered what this was about and without further ado followed his colleague.


CLICK THE IMAGE FOR FULL RESOLUTION

What is it all about?
Two brave Frostpunk fans - Lars Andreas Melsæter and John William Baier Hofoss - set off on an expedition through the frozen nooks of Norway. This is a story of their journey.
The initial post about the venture can be read here:
https://store.steampowered.com/news/app/1601580/view/3122690263509401625
---- Telegraph from New London ------------
Dear Citizens,

Our efforts to descend into Norway territory in search of future trade routes and Imperial expansions had been exposed to delays, but quickly went back onto the right track and into steady progress. Please, be aware of the report provided by one of the Scouts.
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Vardø got a hold of us for longer than expected. What can lay ahead, when even the slightest beginning of our journey isn’t going as planned? We arrived at the town by ship and had a camp set outside the city before the sunset. The overall exhaustion, which we initially thought made us postpone the start of the real expedition by a day, proved to be something more once my partner was torn out of his sleep in the middle of the second night. Mr. Hoffos got sick and as I remained healthy, we parted ways. I remained in the tent, taking care of the dogs, and he was quarantined in a hotel room. It came to me that I may need to start the first phase of the journey on my own.




But I decided to wait. On the third day in Vardø, the wind climbed. It was bad yesterday, but Lord have mercy! I believe it was getting to 20 m/s from the side of the tent, which is bad. The small wall I built yesterday simply did not suffice. At 3 PM I had enough of listening to the poor tent battle for its well-being. I went outside to raise new snow-made constructions during the storm. Ten metres long, two metres tall, and half a metre wide - that should do. Still, the tent shakes. Mikey - one of our dogs - got out of the tent, but did not take long to turn around and dig his way back in.




The next day, when the weather loosened, I went to the local store to get two beers and some candies. It was Saturday after all. I was healthy and needed to find something to do in Vardø since doubt is hasty to set in when there is nothing but a tent wall to look at. The people were tremendously nice, I have been offered several places to come inside if necessary. But what helped me most was a local theatre for kids. Everyone should see a kid's entertainment now and then. It’s good for the soul.




On the sixth day we reached the conclusion that it would be best for me to continue alone, and for Hofoss to get fully cured and back in shape, and then find me again further West. A kind of a relief decision, since I felt purpose again while being moved out from my suspended state, came after a tiring and frustrating night.




I thought the weather was nice enough to let the dogs sleep outside, but they clearly didn’t agree. Gøril made such a fuss about it that she woke me twice. Both times I got dressed up and climbed out of the tent only to find both dogs in good shape, and some equipment torn to bites…




It wasn’t any better the next day. These damned dogs haven't pulled anything a godforsaken meter! Barely 10 km today, solely my doing. The weather has shifted from bright sunshine to snow and white, from ice-cold winds to sweaty back, and then back. We have had some degrees below as of now remarkably still a beautiful sunset. A good end to a difficult day only to get up on the next one and learn that Mikey chewed off his rope. What I was saying about things not going as planned?

Dear Citizens.

As our city prospers, we need to reach for the uncharted to maintain its growth. Your Administration is pleased to inform you about attempts underway to expand our influence. On behalf of the Imperial Exploration Company, in the upcoming months, two brave Scouts will travel through the frozen nooks of Norway. They will send back reports on the weather conditions and everyday hardships they encounter in order to share knowledge about survival in hostile conditions. It is the Administration’s honor and privilege to share these accounts of their deeds with you.





Now let Lars Andreas Melsæter and John William Baier Hofoss - the two Frostpunk fans who approached us with an invitation to take part in their incredible journey - share a few words about themselves.

Lars: I’m 22 years old. Born and raised in Molde, in the midst of the mountains, hills, and fjords of Møre og Romsdal, western Norway. My heritage traces to a long line of fishermen from the island-village of Bjørnsund.

After finishing my 14th year off school with flying colours, I decided not to devote myself to an education I did not care for and applied to Folkehøgskolen 69 Grader Nord in northern Norway. Folkehøgskole's unorthodox teaching covers hunting, dog keeping, clothing making, pathfinding, and all other skills that one might need to travel in northern Norway. The studying lasted for two semesters. Prior to moving to the far North, I actively participated in the local scout section for more than a decade, mostly in leadership positions. Scouting and the outdoors have been a great passion of mine for most of my life. Though I spent hundreds of nights outside and covered thousands of kilometres on foot, I have never undertaken anything of the scale we are about to embark on. I have long dreamt of a journey like this, and hopefully, it shall only be the first of many. Because of that, I moved to Tromsø in order to plan the expedition from here.

The peace of the woods and mountains, along with the simplicity of one’s basic needs, has always been the way for me to retreat and relax in an otherwise stressful lifestyle. I enjoy quiet evenings by the fireside for the view but granted my upbringing I do not like sitting still if it is uncalled for. Somewhat countering this love for peace and quiet, I am also known for highly ambitious trips and projects, and like pushing myself physically hard for no particular reason. Cabins are wonderful and cosy, but seeing, feeling, and doing the extreme ends of the spectrum are thrills and accomplishments are difficult to surpass.

John: I have been fond of nature for most of my life. I’m 20 years old, and grew up in the Norwegian countryside, in Hadeland, surrounded by forest and hills. Here I hiked a lot with my family. Also, a common practice for kindergartens and primary schools is to let the children play in nature, so I took part in that.

In my area, countryside cross-country skiing is not as common as the one in pre-made tracks, so I was a stranger to it until school. My chosen subject centred on planning and executing expeditions in the mountains of Northern Norway. One assignment was to make a group for a planned 18 day trip without a teacher, and it made me fall for long expedition-like trips. I had no experience in the snowy mountains and plateaus of northern Norway, but I feel this half-year has taught me enough to take on this expedition. During my journeys, I also developed a love for photography, and for the expedition upgraded from a small, cheap camera to much more expensive equipment to better capture the wilderness. I adore photographing parts of nature that very few people have seen.

After school expeditions, I knew I wanted to continue, albeit sleeping in a tent for a long time really makes you appreciate four walls and a roof over your head. I moved to Tromsø to study urban planning, while also going on hiking or skiing trips. And when I started to feel limited by my studies and short, two-day trips related to them, Lars' proposition came. We knew each other from the expedition school and he told me that he’s going on a 4-5 month trip all around Northern Norway. After some consideration, I quit my studies and decided to come along.

Those fine gentlemen, accompanied by two lovely dogs: the black one named Gøril and the white one named Mikey, will attempt to cover approximately 1800 kilometres of various terrain on foot. Their initial report talked about expecting a little daylight and below minus 40 degrees centigrade before the spring gradually brings the light and thaws up the North.



The starting part of the journey - going by ship from Tromsø along the coast to the far east settlement of Vardø - left the crew with light seasickness. After a slight delay, Lars and John were ready to move into the actual first stage of the expedition that concluded in the municipality of Tana. “It’s a flat open terrain, but also a difficult, river-cut one, with limited vegetation and relatively frequent whiteouts” - explains Lars. “Along with not being used to the camp routines and being in worse physical shape than later, the unfamiliar whiteout-prone landscape makes this the segment I personally look the least forward to. The Varangerhalvøya National Park does hold its unique charm, though I believe it to be more spectacular in the spring. There are luckily a few cabins here and if the weapon accusation goes through, we may stay and hunt for a while. The temperatures here may vary but will not be as low as the peninsula is hated by the sea surrounding it. As of writing this the temperature at the middle of the peninsula is minus 15 degrees Celsius”.


Click on the image to view the higher resolution.

We wish our Scouts all the best. The New London Administration will provide you with more updates as the expedition progresses.

The evening is quiet, streets lit up with the yellowed moons of street-lanterns, the sky above once more filled with the acrid, heavy to breathe-in smoke. Thomas grabs at the broom Mother gave him, the wooden handle chipped with old, smelly paint that grits against his reddened hands, cracked and bloodied from the frostbite, with callouses that have broken up and healed with puss that stained the papers, that made the boss-man yell and yank at him.

His tongue instinctively moves to the broken tooth, running around its rough edges that met the sidewalk that day, the taste of dried blood soothing the dull ache.

Thomas could not get his supper if too many newspapers were damaged, and this week, half of them are good for nothing. The bandages given in the infirmary bled through, and till they heal, he has content with the street cleaner duty. It’s still better than rotting in a cell, mind you, especially given the approaching frost.

He peers over the window sill inside one of the tenement buildings, a cheeky fireplace and green fir branches blinking as if to bid him welcome from within. It feels strange, shoveling the heavy snow from around door to door, some of them poorer in design, icy cold wind howling within the frame and the corridor; others - double-glazed, prepped from the inside with cushions that must feel heavenly when laid down to sleep in, oh what Thomas would give to have a make-shift pillow over the wooden plank used at the boss quarters! It would be so wonderful, and so warm, and cozy enough to…

“The hell you think you get to ogle me flat for?” A voice booms from behind him. “Boy, stop dwindling in there, eh!”

The dreamy smile Thomas has plastered across his face immediately falls.

The lady is tall and broad in shoulders, her fat stomach taking the better part of Thomas’ view as she towers over him, her chalky coat trimmed with white soft fur; two little fox faces look down at Thomas, their eye sockets empty but the rotten black teeth still intact, modeled in a joint sneer forever.

The fur spills across her arms filled with various tokens; a greased bag full of meat and bone, fresh green moss, and scraps of fine leather. There is a big drawing of a festooned tree on the newspaper she has clasped to her breast.

She huffs at Thomas, as he bends onto himself, his cheeks hot and ashamed. He snatches the dirty cap from his head and mutters an out-of-breath greeting into his scarf to the boss’ mistress.

“Make way!” She elbows past him without even a nod of her head, the musky odor of her clothes making Thomas’ head spin.

“We’ll see who makes way for whom…” He looks past her and spits at the street, just beside her heel. The broom trembles as his grip hardens, as the cobblestones echo with her footsteps.



New London Dispatch also here.
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https://store.steampowered.com/app/1601580/Frostpunk_2/