Bay 12 Games Forum

Hello various Dorf buddies,

     I was playing DF, while my wife was playing music, one of her favourite songs came on and, due to unfortunate over-exposure (and sheer catchyness) I started singing along to All About That Bass by Meghan Trainor.

     Not something I would usually relate, but some of the phrases hit me as easily adaptable. I am not a musical person, having never played anything more than a recorder (and that badly) but when "Every one of you is perfect from the bottom to the top!" can be changed to "Filling up with magma from the bottom to the top!"
"Got all the right Junk in all the right places" to "Got all the right Junk in all the Stockpiles"

 and such, I thought I'd release this thread into the unforgiving wilds of Bay12 and see if it flourished or died.

     

first post:





27th Obsidian, Year 108.


     I, The great and terrible Mekhelb have been banished to the wild wilderness from the nurturing Tower of my Master. I can expect no succour from any of these lands, and as such, my quest for the burning of the world shall commence!

     My former master, ‘The Overlord’ if such a worm could be so called, wanted to sacrifice my grand and nigh-godlike intellect, beautiful hair and unfathomable drive for a meagre spell to save his worthless hide. “Let the God of Death feast on your soul!” Bah! Everyone knows real magic takes pentagrams, circles and such, paltry squares mean nothing in the higher callings of the arcane!

     At any rate, my genius and beauty are unparalleled, and the Bandit King can’t possibly know that I am still alive after his moronic army of halfwits burnt the tower while I, in my magnificence loitered in quiet dignity under the refuse pile with several of the undead, whom I kept occupied fetching and carrying such niceties as might be needed. Supplies for tea, a warm robe, and of course, the only thing luxury that this trip has so far supplied me. My personal supply of Dwarven Syrup.
Following my not inconsiderate personality and charm is one bloodsucker, his name escapes me at the moment, but that mask is not flattering to his already skeletally thin figure. Several stinking ghouls are left at the back of the wagon we managed to commandeer from that farmer. Oh and the farmer and his sons' skeletons are doing as ordered and driving the damned wagon.
     Supply-wise we have what the farmers had in the wagon, mostly berries from the look of it. I set a skeleton to sort it out, but whenever I go to relieve myself in the woods (Oh! How far fate has made my fall!) it ends up going slack-jawed and sits there. Sometimes slack enough that the damned jaw falls off and I have to get a ghoul (nasty smelly things usually beneath my notice) to re-attach it.

     Anyway, berries, some sort of cheap liquor, a bucket, rope, an old axe, two pitchforks, and a bow and arrow that the idiot ingrates tried to threaten my magnificence with. We seem to be out of blood, so, we are stopping at the next river and setting up camp. I need to nip this problem with the vampire in the bud, or I might not live to see another dawn. However, with my supreme intellect, it should be easy.

1st Granite 109

     At the merging of three streams I have decided to set down. With the coming of the new year, and thus my birthday, I have reconfirmed my commitment to my revenge on those whom have slighted me.
     Now to get rid of that filthy bloodsucking threat to my regal life. Regal. I like that. I christen this fortress RegalDoom. Huzzah for the soon-to-be Ruler and Overlord of the ashes of civilisations!