Bay 12 Games Forum

Has anyone ever attempted to build something like http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Numidium? It just seems like a perfectly dwarven thing, building your own god. Any ideas on how to make it special and more than just a giant metal structure?

   No one oversees the Overseers though they do oversee the overseers. The capitalization on the O is important as it gives them the highest ranking. Now someone may watch or monitor them but no one oversees them.

Fixed, but I meant the second Overseer as a title and thus capitalized.

Mods are for people who want to have productive fun!

Damn monsters!

2nd of Sandstone, Year 71st of the Calender of teh God of Gin. From the diray of Fien Bromrekokol, Overseer and last sane mind of these god damn fools.


We've tried to  dig deper but the damn water that these  fools are so scared of vexes us at every turn. Our miners refuse to dig in neck deep water like the goat-licking bastards they are, I'd take a pickm to the walls myself but I'm far too busy figuring the exactg number of strawberry seeds we we have. Without such recods our outpost would surely devolve into madness and horror. May the Gods and their holy Liquid guide us for we are lost and drunken beyond compare. Otherwise we are doomed to the Thirst of Hate.


Barely two-thrids of the wall is completed, we are doomed.....

(last of the 6 is down, may make one more post while I'm still tanked  but don't count on it. This is what my typing looks like whne I'm too drunk to look over it properly. Next time I hope to have brandy or 4lokos. either way it shall get silly)

I can't stop hiccuping it's like a cartoon.

1st of Felsite, 71st Year of the Holy Wine. Diary of Fien Bromrekokol, Expedition Leader and Overseer.

Our Mountain home grew too much, and too deep, and too greedily, and awoke the greatest of beasts.....soil depletion. With my crops to grow, no holy booze could be distilled. In desperation some resorted to the unthinkable act of drinking from nearby rivers, there were no survivors.

So Our small band of 7 were send with seeds and some of the last stock of alcohol to start anew elsewhere, to grow crops and brew more of the life sustaining liquid. We traveled north to the sea and dug down next to a mighty river. a Simple dormitory, stockpiles, and workshops are being dug out and set up. I pray to the God Everclear that we shall find this scorched earth more habitual than it seems. I've taken the tough and strenous duty of keeping records of our dwindling supplies, my sacrifice noted and respected by the other memebrs of my noble band as I chisle away at these slabs day in and out, stopping only to take my allotted ration of rum so that my mind may not go blank from deprivation. Gods help us, not a one of us even knows how to set a farm up....

(one z level under the surface, the start of my main base.)

4th of Hematite, 71st Year of the Holy Wine, Diary of Fien Bromrekokol, Expedition Leader and Overseer.

ELATION! After much trail, error, and about 4 collective barrels of rum, we have managed to unravel the most difficult of mysteries; planting seeds. As it turn out, one must simply bury them in soil and they shall grow! Such magics are beyond me but thankfully two farmers were send with out party to assure our success. A small plot of year-round Plump Helmets has been set up to provide the most basic of subsistence. It is meager, insulting even, but all we have at the moment. The second they have taken to the soil we shall begin in earnest to diversify our crops so that we may not perish from pitiful choice and limitation. May the Almighty of Whiskey guide us through this hell.

(three pints down, the room is beginning to spin a bit. I only have 3 more so don't worry, I wont' do anyhting stupid....outside of this thread that is...)

You go into minecraft vowing to make an underground superfortress before getting bored and having your dwarves do it for you instead.