Sam had always favored building her bases at Hidden Lake—also known among some Ark players as the Oasis nestled in the Smugglers Pass. It was secluded, naturally defensible, and had reliable resources and water. In the game, it was her sanctuary.
But as she sat beside her campfire, staring into the flames while the last remnants of roasted meat crackled and hissed, she realized just how far-fetched that plan was for now. Hidden Lake was on the other side of the map, deep within dangerous territory. Without a flyer, the journey would be suicidal. Even with one, the path was treacherous. Worse yet, she didn't have the levels or resources for building any secure structure there.
And surviving out here without any tames?
Unthinkable.
The next step was clear—she needed her first tame. Something simple, low-risk, and useful.
She'd briefly considered a Dilophosaurus. Small, fairly weak, and easy to knock out. But the thought of having to punch one into unconsciousness wasn't appealing, and she still wasn't sure if knock-out taming in this world worked like it did in the game. Would she actually be able to put a creature to sleep with punches? Would it work the same way? Would they die instead?
Then fortune smiled on her.
Lumbering lazily along the shore, waddling through the sand like it owned the place, was a Moschops.
Sam grinned.
A passive tame. No knockout required.
The big, waddling omnivore was the perfect candidate. Moschops were gentle, and if she remembered correctly, they were not only excellent resource gatherers—capable of collecting berries, fiber, wood, and meat far more efficiently than a human—but also ridable without a saddle. They were cowardly and wouldn't last long in a fight, but for now, they were the best she could ask for.
Still, there was a problem.
In-game, Moschops were picky eaters. They'd only accept one of several specific foods—Mejoberries, Rare Flowers, Prime Meat, and even Sap. Worse, their preference changed every time you tried to feed them.
Here? She had no idea what the rules were.
Sam glanced down at her supplies. She'd managed to harvest berries and some cooked meat. Maybe if she wrapped them in palm leaves, combined them into a sort of snack bundle.
"Worth a shot," she murmured.
She got to work creating rough packets of mashed berries mixed with strips of meat, pressed together in a leaf wrapper. She let them sit in the sun to dry out just a bit, forming compact, edible bundles. They looked something like weird, primitive protein bars. With any luck, the Moschops wouldn't be too fussy.
The sun was high by the time she approached the creature. It regarded her with a lazy stare, tongue flopping slightly from its snout.
"Hey there, big guy… girl?" she whispered. "Let's see what you think of this."
She held out the packet slowly, half-expecting the Moschops to either bolt or bite. Instead, it waddled closer, gave a few curious sniffs, and gently took the offering from her hand. It munched slowly, blinked, and then waddled away without a sound.
Sam let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
No notifications. No tamed percentage increase. But it didn't attack. That was a start.
"Guess I'll just keep doing that every few hours."
The next few hours were spent gathering supplies. She scouted further down the beach, watching the sky for any signs of danger, gathering wood, stone, and fiber. A group of Compies tried to mob her near a cluster of palm trees, their clicking and chittering growing into that familiar, high-pitched chorus.
Sam didn't hesitate. She lashed out with her spear, swinging with precision. The Compies were annoying, but not dangerous unless you let them swarm you. In less than a minute, they were nothing but meat and hide.
Her implant pulsed with warmth as the familiar ding echoed in her mind.
Level Up.
She crafted a set of cloth armor with the hide she had collected. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than walking around in just her hide undergarments. The stitching was rough and uneven, and the boots pinched a bit, but it gave her confidence. The feeling of being covered—however minimally—offered a sliver of psychological comfort.
Next came the waterskin. It was leaky, just like in the game. But it held enough for a few gulps, and right now that was good enough.
As dusk fell, the air began to chill again. She returned to the Moschops and offered another berry-meat packet. This time, the moment it took the food from her hand, her implant pulsed brightly.
A stream of light shot from her wrist and connected with the creature's body.
It blinked, stepped forward, and lowered its head toward her.
Tame Complete
The message rang clearly in her mind like a spoken voice, but without sound.
Sam gasped, then laughed and stepped forward to pet the creature's long snout.
"You're mine now," she whispered, rubbing just beneath its eyes.
The Moschops chirped—a strange, deep gurgle—and leaned into her touch.
She climbed onto its broad back. It was… uncomfortable. The Moschops wasn't built for riding. The vertebrae dug into her inner thighs and it waddled in wide, swaying steps, making her feel like she was about to fall off at any moment.
But she managed.
Together, they made their way back toward the campfire. The Trikes still grazed peacefully, their shadows long in the orange light of sunset.
Once back, Sam dismounted and pointed toward a cluster of nearby bushes.
"Go gather," she commanded, half-expecting nothing to happen.
But to her surprise, the Moschops waddled off toward the bushes and began chomping through them enthusiastically. Leaves flew everywhere. Within moments, it had collected a decent pile of berries, fiber, and even some thatch.
Sam knelt beside the haul and grinned.
"It works," she said, marveling at the efficiency.
That night, Sam rested against the Moschops' flank, its soft snoring and warm body offering comfort under the stars. She stared up at the sky, watching faint glows of orbital supply drops in the far distance. There was still so much to figure out—why she was here, how the Ark systems translated into this world, and what her future held.
But tonight, she had food. Water. A fire.
And now, a companion.
Tomorrow, she'd start preparing for bigger challenges.
Taming wasn't just a game mechanic anymore.
It was survival.
And for now, she was winning.