Gun Crafting in Once Human: A Survivor’s 2026 Journey

The world of Once Human had never been kind to the meek. In 2026, the Stardust-infested landscapes still teemed with Deviants eager to shred any meta-human foolish enough to stroll by unarmed. For Elena, a survivor who had clawed her way from a crumbling shelter to a modest territory, the crack of a distant rifle was a daily reminder: ranged weapons weren’t a luxury—they were the thin line between breathing and becoming another forgotten corpse. She had been ambushed once too often by snipers perched on rusted husks, and that afternoon, smudged with ash and determination, she decided to build her own firearm.

Gun crafting in Once Human didn’t reveal itself like a stray can of beans. Elena discovered it was locked behind the Memetics tree, a sort of cerebral tech-web that governed everything from campfire cooking to high‑caliber engineering. She pulled up the radial menu, navigated to the Crafting branch, and there it was—Essential Tools. “Well, hello there, little gateway,” she murmured, half‑laughing at the irony that a thing called Essential Tools held the secret to firepower. Unlocking that node cost her some Meme Points, but it opened the path to the Gear Workbench, the actual station where weapons and armor would take shape. Once the workbench gleamed in her crafting options, the ability to craft a basic gun became available, though the fancier firearms remained tantalizingly grayed out. For those, she’d need to bleed Ciphers and Energy Links, the grim currency of progress. No kidding, those costs made her scavenging runs feel like a second job.

Before she could even think about pulling a trigger, Elena had to plant the Gear Workbench on her territory. The recipe was a scavenger’s checklist that smelled like sweat and furnace smoke. She propped a battered datapad on a crate and reviewed the requirements:

Material	Quantity	How To Obtain
Copper Ingot	30	Smelt in a Furnace
Metal Scraps	10	Looted from crates and disassembling junk
Shabby Fabric	10	Found during exploration or by breaking down scraps
Adhesive	5	Recovered from sticky remnants and scrap piles

Gathering thirty Copper Ingots felt like asking the Furnace to solve her existential dread—one chunk of ore at a time. “Piece of cake,” she told herself, though her calloused hands knew it was anything but. Metal Scraps and Shabby Fabric emerged from every dismantled toaster and torn curtain she could find, and Adhesive had a way of hiding in plain sight, like the universe wanted her to beg. Eventually, she hauled the last of the materials home, and with a satisfying clunk, the Gear Workbench materialized beside her sleeping bag. It sat there, stout and slightly judgmental, as if daring her to make something worthwhile.

But a workbench alone didn’t craft a gun. Elena quickly learned she needed blueprints—the arcane recipes that whispered dimensions and firing mechanisms into the machine’s core. Blueprints came in three flavors: a lucky full find, a jigsaw of fragments fused together, or through the different acquisition channels that seasoned meta-humans had mapped out by 2026.

The first path was right there in the Memetics menu, branching under the Gear Workbench node she had already unlocked. By spending more Meme Points, Ciphers, and Energy Links, she could secure blueprints for basic firearms—a pistol, a rough-and-ready rifle. These were the no-fuss tools that kept a survivor moving when danger breathed down their neck. Elena grabbed a rifle blueprint, its lines simple but reliable.

For something with more bite, she turned to Mystical Crates. These gilded containers were scattered across the map like breadcrumbs left by a benevolent, slightly sadistic game designer. Each region held at least one, often guarded by packs of Deviants near a Rift Anchor. Elena pulled up her map by tapping “M,” scanning for the jagged Rift Anchor icons. Whenever she stepped into the anchor’s radius, a task list appeared on the screen’s upper-left corner, and one quest always nudged her: Find a Mystical Crate. Chasing Mystical Crates felt like a twisted Easter egg hunt, with unholy creatures ready to crash the party. She’d sprint under flickering starlight, melee a few shamblers, and crack open the chest—sometimes a full blueprint tumbled out, other times just a shimmering fragment she’d fuse later. It was nerve‑wracking but addictive.

Then there was the Wish Machine, a piece of furniture that Elena had to lock in her Memetics menu just like the workbench. She placed it on a patch of clean concrete, its circular frame humming with otherworldly promise. Standing before it, she could press “G” to access the Blueprint Shop, where rows of firearms blueprints sat behind a velvet rope of high Starchrom costs. Even in 2026, those prices could make a grown meta‑human weep. But Elena had another option: pressing “F” to make a wish. She chose a reward category, closed her eyes, and prayed to whatever cosmic lottery governed the machine. It’s cheaper than the shop, sure, but the Wish Machine had a mischievous sense of humor. Not guaranteed to get the blueprint you want, the unwritten rule taunted. “Please, not another duplicate,” she whispered, and the machine whirred, spitting out a shotgun fragment she didn’t know she needed. That was the charm—and the agony—of wishing in 2026.

Armed with blueprints, materials, and a stubborn streak, Elena finally stood before her Gear Workbench. She slotted the rifle blueprint, fed in metal scraps, polymers, and gunpowder, and watched the progress bar crawl. When the weapon materialized, its weight felt like a promise. The world outside still teemed with Deviants, but now she could answer their snarls in a language they understood.

For any meta-human waking up in 2026, the lesson is clear: crafting your own gun isn’t just an upgrade; it’s a rite of passage. Unlock the Memetics, grind for that workbench, chase Mystical Crates like your life depends on it (it does), and sweet-talk the Wish Machine until it surrenders something lethal. The path is rough, but hey—nobody said outliving the apocalypse would be tidy.