Predator: Escape from Tarkov

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Drip. Drip. Drip. The drips of water fall into the saucepan, already almost a third full. I have no idea where this pipe comes from or where it’s going, but there’s water in it! Perfectly good water, in fact – clean, even. I send a silent prayer of thanks to the unknown bungler who’s to blame that the pipe joint leaks. If he’d been a decent welder, I’d have had to look elsewhere for my eau de vie… So, that’s one problem solved. Just one, and there are plenty more. And water’s not the most important of them. Top of the list is survival, then finding something to eat. Everything else comes after that.

Looking back, I remember those beautiful books with vivid covers showing burly, virile, for some reason always bare-chested men with one arm thrown around a sexy blonde (why were they always blondes, I wonder?), and the other holding a heavy machine gun. In the background, all sorts of bad guys would be flung around in unseemly poses. And everything always worked out alright for those heroes. They always found a stash of useful loot at just the right time, and their mandatory special forces training meant they always knew the right moves. And need I mention their ability to hit a gnat’s eye from 100 meters with any type of weapon? Of course not!

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