Obviously, with the way it is being conceptualised and developed, Thrive is an incredibly ambitious and ingenious project. Although currently largely an optimistic idea, the base is already developing, and with the reality of Thrive becoming more and more achievable everyday, time (and manpower ) seems to be the only barriers that Thrive currently faces.
As a game, Thrive largely relies on a real process that we find in our universe, evolution, to create experiences that are alien, and yet uniquely real. It is meant to be a game that turns a player’s expectations upside down. As @Untrustedlife says:
There should be specific moments in a player’s game experience that makes them think, “This is not Earth, this is Thrive”. Thinking about this phrase, I wanted to see what the rest of the community thinks and generate discussion, so I ask you all: What moment would make you think, “This is Thrive”? More specifically, what moment in the game would make you realise and appreciate that the concept and idea of the game has been achieved?
I’ll give my own humble 2-cents. For me, I would think “This is Thrive” when my organism is swimming across the ocean in an environment resembling the Cambrian Explosion in terms of an Earth analogy. If I saw many strange forms of life swimming around my creature with crazy adaptations and experiments going on, I would think, “This is Thrive”.
Now how about you?
(Also, this is a bit of an informal introduction, so hello all!)
Imagine you’re playing through the mid-Aware Stage. You’ve seen the many offshoots and innovations from the first creatures to crawl out of the swamps. Some thunder across the land in awe-inspiring herds, escorting their young. Some have developed brutal yet refined methods to bring down (or up, in the case of those tentacled, arboreal nuisances) their prey. Some can even fly, their luminescent forms streaking across the night sky like UFOs.
Everything seems well. But the galaxy is a harsh mistress.
Your screen shakes as a deep boom resonates through the atmosphere, heralding a blanket of smog that shrouds the sky and chokes the earth. Temperatures plummet, and your population dwindles. Death surrounds you. By the time the sun graces the land once again, the world is a tattered husk. Having narrowly evaded extinction, you and a handful of other species are left to rebuild.