camp

three ways to spend a night on the trail, and one rule shared by all of them: none of them ever set your spawn. they sleep through vanilla's own machinery — the night skips, the monsters keep their usual manners, the morning comes — but waking up somewhere beautiful does not quietly become living there. a night on the trail is a night on the trail, not a change of address.

the bedroll is three pixels of quilted cloth, unrolled wherever the day ran out; crouch and it rolls back into your hand. the tent is the whole camp in one bundle — pitch it and it stands facing you, canvas walls, open doorway, a bedroll already unrolled inside; crouch against any panel of an intact tent and everything folds back into the bundle. cut a panel out of the middle instead and you get string, because a cut tent is cloth, not a tent.

the hammock is a gesture in two knots: tie the first to a post, walk to the far one, tie the second. the posts must stand level, facing each other, two to four blocks apart with nothing but air between — and every refusal says exactly what refused. lose an anchor and the whole cloth comes down as one item, because half a hammock is a flag. the almanac, if it is home, remembers the first night anyone sleeps out.