- 1 Description
- 2 Relic Descriptions
- 2.1 An inspiring vision
- 2.2 Chemical Plant sketch
- 2.3 Cookhouse ancestor
- 2.4 First Folio
- 2.5 On Bunkhouses
- 2.6 On Secret Mission
- 2.7 Painted toy horse
- 2.8 Rejected automaton designs
- 2.9 St Edward's Crown
- 2.10 Steam Core model
- 2.11 The case of an Empty Village
- 2.12 The First Flying Hunter
- 2.13 The Lamp
- 2.14 The Practical Prosthesis
- 2.15 Tools of a surgeon
- 2.16 Newspaper clipping
- 2.17 Resignation letter
Relics can be found after the first storm cycle in Endless mode by scouting Buried Dreadnoughts. There are typically three relics per storm cycle. When your scouts arrive at a dreadnought, they will have one of three options:
- Explore it safely - This option usually costs resources, but will guarantee that your scouts retrieve the relic. There are three sub-types of this option:
- Risk your lives - Has a chance to find the relic or kill your scouts.
- Leave it for now - Leaves the location to be scouted later.
Note: When a Relic is first discovered, a roll is triggered that will determine which of the costs will appear for the Risk option. This roll is based on current resources in storage, thus if the player has no Steam Cores in storage, the risk will be a toxic trap rather than a sooty tomb.
The following are descriptions of the 17 individual relics.
An inspiring vision
The journal of Frederick Stanhope Morton, a 26-year-old engineer employed in the construction of an early Generator. While he believed it to be the very first one, he was most likely misled.
|“||A Utopia for our times
I cannot stop thinking how obscenely wasteful this whole endeavor is. To put such an astonishing amount of materials and so many months of hard work into building this marvel here, where nobody but a handful of selected scientists, financiers and assorted notables can see it - words fail me.
Supposedly they don't want to get peoples hopes up in case the whole project ends in a fiasco. But I can't see how such a simple and elegant mechanism could fail. The Generator is the key to our future. Once the concept is proven, we can provide everyone with shelter and basic sustenance, using the vast resources of the Empire. We only need time.
Chemical Plant sketch
A page from a set of blueprints for a Chemical Plant that was rejected by the Industry Committee. It contains comments from at least two different people involved in the decision process.
It deeply saddens me to say that while the design is elegant and highly practical, I cannot recommend implementing it. Hard liquor is the least dangerous among the variety of substances an unscrupulous leader could use to keep the people in check, and this plant is capable of turning out many drugs and stimulants as well.
It is our duty to weigh the benefits for the colony of the various chemicals that can be produced in this plant against the mortal danger some of them pose not just to the well-being of the populace, but to their immortal souls!
[a comment in another hand] Remove from official circulation, but do not destroy. Transfer to Proposals under Consideration.
Comments on a rejected kitchen design, from a letter written by Master Planner Henry Collins to his wife. It was found among other effects of Mrs Collins in her cabin.
[...] truth be told, I don't envy anyone who'd have to work there. The design was supposed to be easy to build with rudimentary tools and materials, while being as comfortable as possible, but Mumford's team focused entirely on the former criterion, neglecting the latter. The result is an abject failure: a cramped hovel where the diners would get frostbitten while the cooks would get burnt, turning meals into a particularly cruel torture. I intended to insist on a redesign that meets all of our requirements.
But I fear that even in a proper kitchen there will soon be no ingredients nor time to make proper meals, not when hundreds have to be fed every single day. And concerning spices - they're frowned upon as a waste of precious space on dreadnoughts. It is estimated that the average consumption of salt alone exceeds 10 pounds per capita per annum, which means that in less than a year it will be gone.
My dear, can you imagine life without salt?
This book was published in 1623 and contains 36 plays by William Shakespeare. It was enclosed in an armored case filled with neutral gas. A note was found with it.
|“||To the finder of this treasure
"Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds. Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet."
Remember: not all is lost. The spring will come. Have hope, and endure. With this I leave you, and wish you courage. Henry Wetherby, bookworm.
"If i must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms."
A fragment of a Royal Society member's diary where she's reminiscing on her work in the Arctic Housing Committee, reviewing designs of modern and efficient Arctic housing.
|“||Home is where the heat is.
Snow huts were deemed beneath the dignity of the English people, and they were also impractical, as they tended to melt in the liveable temperatures. The chair was pushing his "London house," designed to remind the people of the streets of our capital, but I knew that they wouldn't have the means to build the kind of housing Sir Edmund considered adequate.
A much more practical, if ugly, sheet metal hut designed by Jenkins also brought London to mind, just its less fancy districts. I added more insulation and dropped the triple bunks at the advice of admiral McClintock, whose people built snow huts to escape the confines of their ship during their wintering in the Arctic.
Then I forged Sir Edmund's signature and the Bunkhouse was born.
On Secret Mission
An assignment order for Lieutenant Edward Billings, RN, posted as a military liaison officer to the Arctic observatory of the Royal Astronomical Society.
The main objective is establishing and following a set of robust security procedures, and enlisting as needed the help of the technical staff, to protect the scientific members of the expedition from dangers posed by the ferocious Arctic fauna and weather [...]
The following part of your mission is considered state secret. Report all mentions of anthropogenic sulphur aerosols or the term "Saffron Cloud" while doing your best to refute any and all rumours concerning them. Our operatives have failed to uncover any conclusive evidence of the mere existence, much less use of this alleged doomsday weapon. You must not allow such unfounded theories to distract the scientists from finding out the real reason behind the recent cooling.
Painted toy horse
Object from the British Museum collection of Roman artifacts, about 2000 years old. Found among the effects of one of the deceased passengers, along with his journal.
[...] the ship was going down, we were about to board the lifeboats, when I noticed that Robert had disappeared. You can imagine my thoughts. I rushed back into our cabin, wading in ice-cold water to my knees, but he wasn't there. Desperation seized me, but then I heard the patter of his feet above. He emerged from the tangle of smashed crates. I caught him in my arms and ran. We barely made it. As we cast off, I noticed that Robert was clutching something tightly in his hand. "I didn't want him to drown," he said " He can't swim, see? Because he's a horsie, but with wheels."
So here it is: the story of how this part of the collection was saved. The rest now lies at the bottom, and I pray that the crates which weren't crushed by the ice hold until we can retrieve them.
Rejected automaton designs
A page from an engineer's notebook detailing his opinion on automaton designs proposed by Sir Thomas Merton of Nether Wallop in Test Valley.
If I had a penny for every letter we got from well-wishers convinced that a machine built to their specifications could face the Great Winter, I'd be a rich man. I'm all for people trying things outside of their domain, but you need a feel for this, or at least a bit of common sense.
One look at these abominations is enough to tell they'd topple before they took a first step. With the center of gravity this high, two legs won't do! And what were they supposed to grab with these hands? Perhaps a shovel to dig themselves out of the snow they'd be constantly sinking in.
St Edward's Crown
The most important of the Crown Jewels, this XVII century crown was used in coronations of English and British monarchs starting with Charles II. It was found in a steel safe with a note from, presumably, the last Master of the Jewel Office.
|“||The last of the Queen's jewels
James, I have already used my connections to secure the other jewels, but you are the only man I know I can trust with this. Now that almost every single piece of the Queen's most prized collections has been auctioned away to fund the expeditions, the Exchequer is starting to mention the unthinkable. The Crown Jewels must not be sold! If I have to steal them in order to save them, so be it.
Steam Core model
A model of the Steam Core prototype, which was picked from the sea by a corvette searching for Professor Hawkins. A report of the commanding officer is attached.
|“||The tragic loss of Dragonfly
[...] the chest with the model was waterproof and remained afloat, but the safe containing the blueprints and other documentation presumably sank with the rest of the wreckage at a depth of at least a thousand fathoms.
The cause of the accident is at present unknown, but as it's exceedingly unlikely that anyone will ever read this report, I will allow myself the liberty to speculate that it was either a mechanical failure or pilot error. Contributing factors include weather, inadequate crew training and the experimental nature of the aeroplane.
It was sheer folly on the part of Mr Hawkins to attempt the crossing in a largely untested machine, and utter, criminal madness to let him board it.
The case of an Empty Village
A page from the journal of Lieutenant R. Phillips, who was lost with his entire scouting party leading a survey from the dreadnought, HM Resolution.
|“||Abandoned Fishing Village
[...] The gale hit when we were in the open. It was the strangest blizzard I've ever experienced, although I cannot say what made me feel that way, if it was the eerie wailing of the wind or the monstrous dark shapes formed by the billowing snow.
When we finally got to the village longing for a warm welcome, we found only ice and silence. The disappointment was all the more hard to bear since I remembered the fishermen living there so well. They were cheerful, if somewhat coarse folk, hardened by the cold and work at sea; a close-knit community, but friendly to the outsiders nonetheless. We've looked for clues to their disappearance, but found none. Apparently the whole village has moved out, taking everything they could with them and, to our astonishment, locking the doors.
They were good people. I hope they will come back someday.
The First Flying Hunter
A fragment of Mr Erasmus Quain's diary, describing his experience as a member of a hunting party. Most of the pages were damaged and unreadable.
|“||The Peculiarities of Hunting in Frostland
The first thing we learned was that the barrels of rifles carried the usual way become jammed with fine, windborne powder. The second - that when carried muzzle down, rifles get stuck into the snow whenever we stumble or sink to the knees. Thereafter, an old sock put on the business end of the barrel was the preferred solution, although when the picture above was being taken I had removed the sock to preserve my image as a fearless explorer.
We soon discovered that hunting in Frostland is an activity very unlike our favorite pasttime back in England. Although the game is not skittish, it is so scarce that to bag anything at all, one has to search for hours upon hours, wading in knee deep snow. This drove us to attempt the first, and the last so far, airborne assisted hunt in Frostland. I volunteered, being the adventurous sort (rumours about the existence of a bet are entirely fanciful). We fashioned a string of sturdy kites and soon I found myself dangling from it like a hare in eagle's talons, staring at the faces of my friends looking up at me, their poorly concealed concern rapidly rising in direct proportion to my altitude. Whipped around by the icy wind, I tried to look for prey while at the same time not looking down, a feat which I found quite impossible.
Upon my happy return to terra firma, I let my friends know in no uncertain terms that while the idea had promise, we are going to need a more stable platform for it to work, and also another volunteer. Until both can be secured, we'll have to rely more on lowly traps and less on our rifles.
A fragment of the patent description for The Lamp, attached to a service manual. It was found inside a fireproof locker in the dreadnought's library.
[...] of biggest concern is the ability to manufacture the device described in this patent in large numbers, while meeting a very strict timeline, and, most importantly, to continue manufacturing on site, where proper workshop tools and supplies might not be readily available.
The device affords the user a source of light and heat, and a means to sound a distress signal. As such, it is considered vital for survival, as its malfunction in typical operating conditions is essentially a death sentence.
Therefore it is necessary to provide maintenance training for every engineer assigned to the Expedition and to equip every dreadnought with a set of blueprints and operation manuals.
The Practical Prosthesis
The first working prototype of the modern arm prosthesis with notes on its design by the inventors, Eleanor Owens MRCS and Francis Baker FRS.
|“||Function above form
We are greatly indebted to the late Mr Henry Heather Bigg, particularly for his seminal book "On artificial limbs, their construction and application" published by the Royal College of Surgeons of England. Building upon his work, we were able to restore to the patient most of the lost functionality, including not only the action of the elbow joint but also that of the wrist in its several motions of pronation, supination, and rotation. The appearance, as can be seen in the drawing above, was deemed secondary.
The motion of the artificial limb is assured by small motors, which use the motive power of the Lamp device, or, when the Lamp is removed, of internal springs that can be wound by locking the elbow joint and bending it repeatedly, for example by leaning on it.
Tools of a surgeon
A set of surgeon's tools that belonged to Sir Thomas Watters, a physician on one of the first Frostland expeditions, with a page from his personal notebook.
|“||My everyday tools
As a field surgeon I saw my fair share of horrors that required amputations, but nothing could prepare me for the dreadful reality of living in this Hel of Norse mythology. Merely trying to survive in such temperatures is like being on a battlefield. Frostbite is as common as a bullet wound and likewise as dangerous.
So it's not surprising that the tools we received in London could have come straight from my field chest, with emphasis on speed and brutal efficiency. For anesthesia I got a small bottle of ether and a wooden gag. God have mercy on us.
These next two relics requires "The Rifts DLC" to unlock
A letter to the editor clipped from The New Times of London edition published shortly before the fall. (you find this on the Shipwreck)
In these calamitous times, when people look into the future with trepidation, I am writing to you so you may pass to the readers a message of hope which I have received from my husband, an engineer working on a great public project undertaken by Her Majesty's Government. It's an ingenious device which, when finished, will provide heat for a colony created to safely accommodate hundreds, if not thousands, of inhabitants and protect them from the harsh winter weather. I was told that such colonies are being built for people from all parts of the Empire who could be most affected by the current climate change.
(A handwritten note at the bottom reads: "Find and eliminate the source of this leak".)
A handwritten letter of resignation found crumpled into a ball.
I am hereby tendering my resignation from the position of the administrator of Third Colony.
Thank you very much for the opportunity you've given me to acquaint myself with the operation of this settlement. Thanks to your inventive scheduling of the deliveries, the usual questions an administrator faces most days weren't troubling me too long. For example, the answer to "what will my people eat tomorrow?" was often simply "nothing", and the reply to "how are we going to stay warm?" was "by huddling together".
I would not presume to know your intentions for cutting our supplies, nor would I second-guess your decision. You must certainly have had your reasons. Nevertheless, I believe I can no longer in good conscience lead our people when I am not able to answer their questions as to the outlook of our colony to their satisfaction.
I remain your humble and obedient servant.