My first game of Lost In The Open came to a sticky end in the borderlands, when my ragtag group of dog-eared bodyguards and hastily-recruited vagrants encountered the full flower of the Strathian military. Outnumbered, underlevelled and already bloodied, my warriors struggled to make a dent on the gleaming Strathian plate, and were swiftly surrounded and slaughtered.
It was at this point that I realised I had fled too efficiently through the mountains and forests. I should have spent more time grinding bandits, looting old forges, and putting aside resources for the inevitable midboss encounter. I’m not sure I can be blamed for my haste, though. After all, I am a nearly-dead king, the survivor of an assassination attempt during a diplomatic dinner, and there is a whole army sweeping over the countryside behind me.
