Ooga woke up on a beach with no tools, no hut, and no idea. The island had exactly one palm tree. The palm tree had exactly one coconut. It was, somehow, enough to start a civilisation.

Ooga discovered the First Law of the Isles: everything gives you stuff if you bonk it politely enough. Trees gave wood. Rocks gave stone. The crab gave Ooga a very hard time, and then some meat.

A wolf followed Ooga for three days. Ooga threw it some boar meat. The wolf considered this the finest treaty ever signed, and from that day on, anything that growled at Ooga got growled at right back — in stereo.

With a raft of lashed logs, Ooga set sail for the far isles — the green one, the stormy one, the one that was clearly an angry volcano. Behind the raft, a fin kept perfect pace. The MEGALODON was patient. Oceans usually are.

On Mount Boom, the ground gurgled, the drums started, and the LAVA SERPENT rose out of the crater like very angry spaghetti. Ooga gripped the club. The wolf gripped nothing, because wolves, but it looked extremely committed.

What followed was less of a battle and more of a rhythm section. Bonk. Dodge. AWOOO. Bonk. The serpent's health bar shrank like a snack at a sleepover — and when it hit zero, the whole volcano applauded in smoke rings.

Seasons passed. Ooga's club went stone, iron, gold, VOID. The hut became a fort, the fort became a village. Only one place was left unbonked: the Murk, where the Void Empress waited, glowing like a bad idea.

The Empress fell at dawn. The tribe carried Ooga to the beach where it all began — one caveman, one wolf, one very smug crab. "Ooga," said Ooga, which on the Isles means: tomorrow we do it all again, but BIGGER.