Bay 12 Games Forum

What idiot names anywhere Balor? Might as well name the most liveable planet Durwich...

Hey god of war, you should slap GWG in that other god game your playing, steal/ reduce power from him would be amazing, and your a higher tier at combat than him

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That's metagaming to the extreme. Can't you at least bring this up in the right thread?

Alright, reposting my character. Finally.

It's mostly the same in spirit, but with (I hope) more acceptable names and a bit more explanation. Also fixes other issues, hopefully including cliches and contrivedness. But you know what? I like the guy. He used to be a moron, now he's wise. The best of both worlds.

Name: Waljan Woodsman, alias
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: Looks thoughtful; wide, brown eyes; short, brown hair; lithe; tanned skin; short and broad-shouldered; wears a dark-colored tunic and a distinctive blue-and-red hat^*
Bio: John was born near [Urist McBeanie's stronghold]. He was a normal kid, in a dull village whose only industries were woodcutting, preparing timber, hunting, and a few handicrafts (mostly traded locally). It was terrible. At age 13 he was apprenticed to a woodcutter; he hated it. It was so boring...he could hardly stand it. A few months later, his magical powers manifested and he found a little outlet for his boredom. A month or so after he really understood how to use his abilities--almost a year into his apprenticeship--he met a couple of likeminded adolescents and they began to go on "adventures." They were a hunter-in-training named Shona Hunter (although he called himself Lynx Nightarrow) and a girl named Luch with the pseudonym of Saber Robinscall, who used a pair of small swords or large knives purloined from her drunken father shortly after her mother died, when he was selling everything he could. The three of them met a couple times a week, talking legends they knew, sharing rumors they heard, and planning adventures they would have. This went on for about four years. At that point, as they neared man- and womanhood, the three friends pondered why they hadn't ever done their planned adventures. So they set off, buying or finding everything they thought they needed to be legendary heroes. They set out for a treasure cave, rumored to be protected by curses and monsters, and came back disappointed with some mouldering antiques that they sold for a decent sum in the stronghold, to some passing historians. They set out to find a witch and discovered an old lady who evidently didn't much like other people. They set out to slay a dragon and found the bones of a drake. They were constantly disappointed by their quests, but the day-to-day life of setting up camp, hunting, chopping firewood, and the like made up for it. Finally, after months of this nonsense, they discovered a quest that was all too real.
A few bandits had decided to prey upon merchants heading to [Stronghold]. A foolish trader who remembered the trio fro when they brought in the antiques made it to the keep at the time Grimore and his friends were there, selling a few pelts and some firewood to the nobles (which said nobles accepted due to the low prices the kids could be paid). The trader remembered them, saw a wolf's pelt from a dying wolf Lynx found, and decided they would be able to drive off the bandits. The band of merry adventurers, faced with a challenge, charged in and won...technically. There were only four bandits, caught by surprise; they hadn't expected any response for a couple more weeks, at least, as they had just gotten there a short time before. Grimore's magic also surprised them; the bandits hadn't expected a mage to ever be sent to them. One bandit was rendered unconscious, one killed, and the others fled, but the wounds Grimore and his friends suffered would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Lynx caught the brunt of the first volley or two of arrows, when Saber was charging and Grimore's axe seemed to mark him as a warrior; their shots were practiced and careful. Lynx was mortally wounded and died of his wounds before the day was out, crying in agony. Grimore got shot a few times once recognized as a mage, and once he closed to melee range to assist Saber he got a rather major cut to the back of his left leg from a "fallen" bandit's smallsword; the leg is still partly crippled, and will be barring some sort of healing. Saber herself got some truly terrible scars; she also lost her right hand and lost an eye. The worst blow to the survivors wasn't to their bodies; it was to their souls. Grimore had fought to kill these bandits, and did kill the one who hacked his leg. He saw his friends bleeding from terrible wounds that only a quick response by the team sent when the nobles heard what the trader sent their source of discounted wood and such to do let two survive. Grimore and Saber saw their friend dying in agony. Their world was shaken; they dropped their old pseudonyms almost entirely. Luch vowed never to harm another living creature, even going so far as to swear off eating meat and wearing leather. Waljan didn't go that far, but he retired to [Stronghold], becoming a woodcutter, neighborhood magician, and example of the dangers of foolishness. He and Luch married, hoping for a simple life.
Around his 20th birthday, he was drafted to deal with a new "bandit overlord", due to his magic and experience in combat. The incident with the bandits taught Waljan the value of life; his time as a soldier taught him the value of death. He managed to secure a promotion to a low-grade officership by the time the King died. By then, he had a young daughter, named Zinna, at home. Rather than remain in the field and risk his life and entire family's livelihood, he retired (having fulfilled his tour of duty) and began preparations for his new life. Waljan's old desires awoke, stirred up by his time in the military. He would make himself Somebody, not just Waljan. Kingship was not on his mind, but he fully saw himself as a noble within a couple decades...if all went well. First, he would need money, as Luch's weaving income plus Waljan's miniscule stipends from his time as an officer or a wannabe-adventurer wouldn't even cover basic expenses for their family.

*Imagine if a blue bicorn had a figurative child with the Red Mage's hat.

Skills: Tactics, Wild Magic (Metal, Fire). Also proficient at using an axe to cut wood or as a weapon, although that shouldn't come up much. (I imagine that the partly crippled leg should balance out mere proficiency.)
Religion: Waljan worships the High Gods, although he pays some homage to the Wild Gods as well.


So...anything I missed this time?

I think that we shouldn't toss out classical reproduction altogether. Nor should we discard the utility of further generations of workers.

I personally look forward to the day that our AI tech is advanced enough that we can safely be immortalized in hardware. It will be SO convenient for the cope of me that goes into the machine...

Possible, but there's no evidence either way. Therefore, the more sensible answer is to see if taking it literally can make sense.

It can, especially as NPC adventurers don't seem to have that tag.

Name's Stukos, Stukos Fogclasp. I'm a miner. I was sent to this forest in the Vale Beyond the Mountains. No one had ever set foot there in recorded history.
More likely, a bunch of people had and they're all dead.

I've killed a weasel, a falcon, an eagle, and a dog since I got here. I wasn't the first to kill any of them, nor the last to kill most.
My beloved, Bembul Squeezingwall, killed the same birds as I, plus a honey badger. He was a jeweler and craftsdwarf. One of my surviving friends, the fisher-turned-many-things Melbil Foldhammer, killed the eagle, the falcon three times, the dog twice, and a weasel three times. The other survivor, gal-of-many-trades Zulban Pantherportals, is the only one to have avoided killing anything.

The other three in the party? Dead. They wandered outside, for reasons I'm not sure of. The dead blocked their path before they could return. A fish dissector, a carpenter, a stoneworker. Shame. The worst part? Melbil and Zulban loved a couple of the fools. They've vowed celibacy in their memory; I haven't done the same, but I'll be going down the same path.

We've been hiding underground as long as we could, and under a roof once we got that up, to keep the birds out. It's probably early Galena, though. There was some movement. There were supposed to be some migrants this summer. Maybe that was them. We heard faint screaming, saw them running about through a crack between the wall and some trees. Two couples with little six-year-olds, a couple others. One with a pick got killed. Others died. The one with the pick dug. They continued to die. One mother was hacked to bits by a zombie with a pick--lost an arm, half of the other, then her abdomen. The last to die was the little girl, who ran towards safety and saw her father's corpse...just in time for another zombie to rush out, grab her head, and bite her skull in.
So it's just us. Four dwarves, two cats, a water buffalo bull (the cow got left topside; we meant to drag her downstairs, but the zombies distracted us). And this journal.
A couple months ago, early Hematite, we were exploring the caverns we had found and discovered two things. We saw a magma pool, a blessing, for it allowed us to dispose of corpses--a couple falcons too small to butcher, and the dogs, who we couldn't bring ourselves to cut when they weren't moving. Soon we'll have another corpse to add. Anyways, we found something else as well. I think it was Zulban, cutting wood, who noticed it.
Adamantine.
The legendary blue metal, known only to grow in volcanoes.
No one ever found it. We have.
We will mine some.
We will forge some.
We will take notes.
We will escape.
We will spread the knowledge.
Maybe, some day, we will return.

That is our goal.

Sadly, Bembul will not live to see this goal fulfilled. She went mad just over a month ago, late Hematite. Right after the migrants were spotted. We mentioned it to her; that was too much. He was drafted and fought the dead many times; he lacked chairs and beds; he had no comforts of home. Who wouldn't go mad?

Now none of us will marry if we can't escape. This project will die with us if we can't. It will die if we do, which may happen--somehow a dead eagle got in. If we can survive, can escape...we will. But first, we must study. The adamantine will not be moved; we must mine it. I approximated its location and dug a shaft to it, and am digging out more as we speak...

I embarked in an evil biome, lost three dwarves to stupidity and trying to give the (then one) dwarf outside a hand, then sealed them in and lost another to insanity as migrants arrived. (At least it wasn't berserk like practically every insane guy seems to be for me...she hasn't jumped into the cave ponds or the pool yet, hm...) The migrants died, which struck me pretty hard. A couple brothers, their wives, their kids, and two random guys. It was really bad because I had just been meeting with my own extended family...
Well then. Sucks to be a dwarf sent here. All got the custom profession name "Fool" or some variation thereof. I've got a zipped save to share if anyone wants it.

There's 20 zombies on the surface. 11 dwarves, 4 dwarf bits, a kitten, a keet, an eagle, the cow, and a honey badger. There's a bunch of inanimate stuff up there, too--a jaguar or two, a wild sow, some other stuff probably...

Fun.

I'll post updates (ir)regularly.

What about 3.1415th edition?