Bay 12 Games Forum

• Angzak, appearing as a male dwarf, associated with lies and trickery

Mmm.  My suggestion, don't actually make this god one.

Let your premise remain true and known to your game world.  Every god has a temple, absolutely.  But no one can find Angzak's.  Much like the real world Thugee, the followers and worship practices are hidden in plain sight, visible (and misunderstood) only at the moments and methods of the worshiper's choosing.  It's a psychological horror, but from that comes the best form of 'Terror', 'associated with lies and trickery' that I know.

Alright, year's done at last.  Feels like it took me a year, too ;p

I have no idea if we wish to continue this.

If we do, I think we definitely, possibly easily can.  The tantrum spiral is over.  There is one unsave-able dwarf soon to die, insane but not finished starving yet, however the mood of the 33 dwarves that are not doomed is stable and the fort is playable, if quite a mess.  It's not on the edge of a tantrum either, though I do recommend checking moods after any deaths and letting survivors have some time off if they are getting upset.  Wish I'd done that sooner.  It's really effective, but I hadn't known yet.

We have six legendary dwarves alive, two miners, an engraver, a mason, a clothier, and a record keeper.  We are about to get a seventh, whatever profession this mood gives, he was still collecting materials when my turn ended.

Most of the survivors have great stats.  Most are all friends.  A military or a dedicated and effective non-military system for defense is maybe wise to set up early in this next year. ;p

There is plenty of food and drink.  Quite possibly 'too much', depending on your playstyle.  There is a pretty decent quantity of trade goods ready for caravans, though not as much as would have been if the last quarter of my year went more as I'd planned.  All that giant cave spider silk for instance hasn't been touched yet.



Downsides, the fort's a mess, bad to really bad depending on your playstyle and tolerances.  Corpses, clothing, stuff everywhere.  Cats are still under control, but with cats that can change fast.  The one noble doesn't have any rooms currently.  There's no elected leader yet.  And if not handled, there's a host of upcoming problems that could easily kill the fort - course, that's a plus too

entrance level

one z-level up

The end year stats


Saved game is here

http://dffd.wimbli.com/download.php?id=1943&f=Lokumidek.rar

edit: Screenshot switched to imageshack, hope it opens for the people who couldn't see it before.

3rd of Obsidian

I cannot stop them, and I cannot persuade him to tend to himself.  So I will no longer try.  I have demanded that our meeting area be moved to him.  Even as he is cursed, he will be able to hear the happier sounds of others who are content.  Even the first few words of Momuz Ustuthrerras, who today is old enough to walk and speak for himself.

15th of Obsidian

They still tie up his time and will not let him tend to his needs.  His skin is stretched and sallow, and I fear he could die from thirst at any moment.  The vile Vabok Uristmeng, a dyer who appears perfectly happy to me, who even laughs between his words, is still shouting curses at my love, and complaining of how bad everything is and was.  But he is not, cannot be upset still.  He is enjoying torturing my love!  Even unto death.  I swear before Lilar, if my love dies, I will avenge him.  I will drive Vabok insane, somehow.  I will do this before I die myself.

16th of Obsidian

Two more, insane or deeply crippled, have died from thirst.  I know because I can hear people around me talking about it.  No one seems to upset.  There are perhaps two, perhaps three, more who will die because they cannot be helped, and cannot help themself.  I dread with every breath that my love will be one of them.  I cannot stand the pain of seeing him how he is, and I will carry the rasping croak of his ravaged voice still trying to console his tormentor with me for as long as I shall live, even if my love does survive this horror.

Since I cannot bring myself to gaze upon my love, I stare ceaselessly at Vabok Uristmeng.  Even as my hands write these words, I do not, will not, blink or waver.  I hiss between their words that his life is tied to my love's, and his death will be as sure as my love's, if my love does die.  But the voices around me are loud, loud enough I am not sure anyone, even myself, can hear what I say.

17th of Moonstone (early winter)

The berserk one found his way back into the cavern, getting past the traps somehow.  He killed another dog and made his way to the meeting area, where we worked together to kill him.  I've found myself throwing tantrums again almost daily.  I've lost the journal sometimes for days at a time.  I'm not sure if I will survive to see spring.  I'm terribly tired, but it takes me so long to fall asleep and when I wake, I am still terribly tired.

We've placed the incredible armorstand near the statue where we gather, and it is a small comfort to admire it.  And somehow, a baby was born into the madness here.  The baby and its mother both live, at least for now.

18th of Moonstone

In between the madness, the mess, the miasma, there are a few of grunts who seem to think life is going to go on.  One of them got an election going, and my lover, the fishery worker Minkot Tunonam was elected mayor.  He came out of a tantrum when he heard that, his beard puffing out and his eyes sharp again.  I feel a little happier seeing him happy, but not much.

27th of Moonstone

So many of the wounded are dying from thirst.  We all know it's going to happen, but it's still a terrible shock when each actually dies.  Even my love cannot control his anger and misery all the time.  In his rage he has called for maces to be made, shouting for a pair so he could lay about with one in each hand together.

Thieves keep trying to break in, but they encounter one of our roaming beasts and flee, I think before they are able to steal anything.

14th of Opal (mid winter)

Most of the insane ones have died, but another poor sod has started to babble.  Fights are common between us and there is no order or direction anymore, not from anyone, me or my Mayor or anyone.  There is nothing to write about but horror and hate.  39 of us remain alive.  Lucied Fikodzursul, our clerk, tells me that 31 of us seem alright, and that our community may survive this.

My lover lost a fight he started.  He broke his hand, and the sod that fought him off broke his back.  I think he has a few weeks of life left, perhaps.  There is no love for him in the cavern though.  I hear constant cursing that he is not well enough to be yelled at now.

21st of Timber

Many loved Solon Kamudo far more than I.  Tantrums have begun again, and another down in the sleeping area has gone dangerously mad.  Mostly everyone down there has crippling injuries and were doomed anyway, but I fear for the sanity of their friends, and indeed all of us.

22nd of Timber

The dogs managed to reach the new danger before the mad one could kill more than one of the injured, and they ripped the blighted sod apart.  Rakust still works on his creation, though some lost pet horse has somehow led the murderous mad grunt far from our gates again.  Everyone is very upset about the corpses, so I am allowing people outside to gather what they feel they must.  Maybe once that is done we can calm each other again and finally move past these tragedies.

23rd of Timber

One of our wounded died of thirst this morning, a fate that surely comes for all of them.  And this noon Rakust finished his work, an alunite armor stand.  He has named it Soakedfinger the Honorable Society, and he used the hematite ore to make an image of a crescent moon.  Our broker values it at 62400 worth.  I think I now agree about the place of a military in an oath.  It is as if Lilar speaks to me through it, and I feel much regret.  I meant well, and not chaos, and hope that Lilar will have mercy and bless this cavern even though I may have failed in my honor.

23rd of Sandstone

I threw the Journal and I beat someone up, but I feel a bit calmer now.  Found the Journal again.  There's still 55 of us alive, but several are hurt.  Cruelly, the sky bleeds with rain, but it is still so hot that the drops evaporate even as they strike the ground.  No hope for water from the sky, no hope for us, no chance at all.

The caravan is gone now.  Before they left, their guards cut down one of our violently insane ones.  Now that they are gone, another, a cook, has gone viciously mad.  Two of our own took him down as he went for a pet cat.

8th of Timber (late autumn)

Some migrants have come into the madness, seven brave sods who surely were not expecting this.  Before they arrived, 49 of us remained alive, though perhaps 8 or so had killing injuries and another 10 or perhaps 15 are doomed from their craziness.  There is still one dangerously insane sod charging about in the wilds, but I believe many of the rest of us may survive.  There was so much chaos, so much savagery.  I'm not actually sure of everything that happened, for so much was happening so fast.  We gathered and consoled each other, and the dogs tore apart one of us, at least one, as she went insane and started to attack.

So many fights, so many tears and blood.  Maybe it is over now.  I've ordered coffins to be placed.  Some of those who died earliest in the chaos have started to rot.

-Gives thumbs up-

I enjoy reading this. It's funny how my Dwarf is still mayor. >.>;

If our dwarves are still alive by the time my turn rolls around again, I may continue this rivalry. >.>;

Please do, please please do!  I lurve lurve lurve non-lethal aggression, play on    And if it's gotta be lethal, so be it... but that means it's over, I prefer the perpetual cold war 


I'm trying pretty hard to keep all the named ones, and any legendaries alive.  The rest... sob... are starting to feel unavoidably expendable.  And my narrator's under enough stress these days, she hasn't much energy to spare for hating your narrator, though there's the occasional dig at Solon still, as you will see.

17th Limestone (early autumn)

Time has been passing swiftly, and I was startled to hear that our caravan and liaison had been spotted approaching.  A week or so ago I finished work on all but a saved two dozen of the lengths of cloth we stored, and between the need to keep the blokes working to fell more trees, keep our wounded butcher moving when he needs to drink, and dealing with a troop of caged monkeys while enlarging more storage space and scraping the earlier, poor quality engravings from the floors, I've barely noticed the passing days.

The feel of the caverns is much different since the deaths.  There is less arguing and fewer grunts just standing around.  Even Solon Kamudo's been less of a problem, though she did just suddenly announce a couple of days ago that should we gain any electrum, exporting it would mean someone else would be needing a coffin.  Longland beer's not the same as dwarven beer by any means, but it's a good taste closer than sewer brew, and I've felt a bit appeased.  And with luck, these merchants have brought us twenty barrels of it, or more, and enough cave wheat seed that we never lack beer again.

1st of Sandstone (Mid autumn)

A second goblin ambush happened a couple of days ago.  Again armed with bows.  Several sods had been felling trees or bringing in lumber, and it was there that the attack started.  Everyone nearby was mobilized to run and help.

There were seven more deaths, all simple grunts not especially talented at anything.  And two crippling leg injuries, both of whom I am sure will die as well.

We continued the trading despite this.  Our caravan brought us a small selection of various sorts of metal bars, a single gem, and a lot of dwarven wine at outrageous prices.  There was some overpriced beer, ale, and rum as well, which I purchased, but as far as seeds went, there were bags and bags of more plump helmet spawn, which we do not need at all, but only a single bag of pigtail seeds and, inside a giant cave spider silk bag, a few rock nuts.  Terribly expensive, those rock nuts, but I selected them.  A great deal of leather, mostly bear and fox, and a tremendously overpriced large quantity of cave spider silk.  I couldn't resist that, even though I am not certain that we will gain that much profit from it even after it is worked by my hands, and I selected all the leather as well, as whomever takes this journal after me may wish to make a great deal of armor or other things with it, I do not know.

There was also a large amount of greatly overpriced food, which I did not purchase much of - food we have in plenty now, and with some decent variety.  I would have bought every turtle they brought, but they had not brought even one.  I did select a few reasonable picks and the large quantity of wood the wagons had brought.  All told, we traded for 36,518 value worth of goods, giving a generous fifty percent profit to our honest merchants.

Not a single cave wheat seed in the entire caravan.  That's a terrible thing to consider, another year without good beer.  I suppose it's better then considering the line of coffins the mason shops are still working on.