Bay 12 Games Forum

I am currently making my way through a cave, in search of glorious battle and, inevitably, caverns from which I will assault the forces of *spoiler* and steal, but not use, their upright *redacted*.

...You can do that? There are natural paths that lead that far down?

Huh. And here I thought you had to build a fortress and dig down manually. I guess that makes things easier. For a given definition of "easier."

If you still need a captain of the guard, I believe I have yet to request a dorfing for this game. ^.^

That said, if you were planning on giving the position to a random grower anyway, might I suggest a random Cheesemaker instead? The name would be Hamlet; either gender is fine. Personality-wise, think "tough love." Ya know, making sure that everybody respects the law, eats properly* and gets plenty of sleep. Or else.

*Cheese: it's part of this balanced breakfast! And lunch. And dinner.

Urist cancels pull lever: interrupted by snow clown.

What would Urist do for a Klondike bar?

I don't know anything about Runesmith, so I'll probably leave that for someone else to deal with. Having our most skilled fighter be the guy with a bad hip and asthma is kind of hilarious, anyway. Reminds me of Cohen the Barbarian, if somewhat less awesome.

Anyway, had to savescum because this happened.
So, there'll be a real/better update with screenshots and such... probably tomorrow, once I figure out and implement a new battle-plan. Things were going so well, too... Aquifers are a pain in the ass. :[
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Guildmaster's Log

Rophello has left Tryrar's body to go haunt the fortress and pester people for a while. Seeing as how the rest of the bureaucracy's only meetings involve griping at each other about not having any offices to meet in, beds to sleep in or tables to eat at instead of, ya know, actually doing something about all that, I've taken charge of things in an unofficial capacity. I hold no rank, except for my title of Guildmaster--which is, in both a practical and social sense, currently meaningless--but people seem to like my ideas.

More than that, they actually listen to my ideas, which is why we're well on the way to having proper bedrooms for everyone. We would also be well on the way to having a decent dining hall, except that Tryrar--once he was out from under Rophello's sway--insisted that area I wanted to use for it is unsafe. More groundwater, apparently--does it ever end?

What else... Ah, yes, the harpies returned. They come from the sky, and always in pairs. Don't ask me why, but it's a blessing; in such small numbers, anybody working outside manages to spot them and get away before they can do any real harm, and our sorcerous army of neophytes takes care of them easily enough once they touch down. Stationing archers and/or properly roofing over the work areas is on my list, but it's a low priority at the moment. We have more important things to deal with first, like the fact that we still don't have enough beds for everyone and the only axes we have are considered military equipment. Which wouldn't be so bad, except that the two soldiers we have who actually know anything about woodcutting are in foul moods and refuse to work because the living conditions are so poor. Paradoxical, isn't it?

Ghosts, monsters, madmen and a priest who talks to rocks. No wonder the Nobles go mad; compared to some of the things I've seen us get into, the Elves actually seem sane by comparison. Which, incidentally, is one order that I've heard some grumbling about; this kill-traders-on-site nonsense is going to stop, for as long as I can keep it stopped. There's no sense closing off trade routes just to satisfy some mad sense of Dwarven pride, especially considering how few in number we are. At the moment, if we started a war, it wouldn't go well for us, and personally, I'd rather things go well for us.

And speaking of wells, that is actually high on my priority list, so I should attend to it.

So much to do, and so little time...

To clarify, from my experience:

1)Bruises heal with no lasting side effects.
2)Flesh wounds ("torn apart," "split open," etc.) heal, but often (always?) leave scars, and may leave you crippled depending on the wound. I had an adventurer with two scarred feet who couldn't walk anymore, for example.
3)Broken bones (and cartilage, e.g. a broken nose) never heal. Tough luck.
4)Severed parts stay severed. Although, if you want an especially creepy weapon to tote around, that may be a good thing?

This is all assuming that you don't die from bleeding out or suffocating or some such first, of course. But generally, all the things that do heal should do so pretty quickly; just sleep or fast travel for a little bit, and you'll be feeling fresh as a daisy.

Oh, I'm well aware. I just wanted to add a bit of extra challenge for myself, and I hadn't played a striker before anyway.

Oy, talk about needing the basics... Yeah, any megaprojects will have to wait for another year. Got my work cut out for me here, guys.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Guildmaster Hamlet was, to say the least, fed up. She knew that people in her profession didn't get any respect on the outskirts (or in the Mountain homes... or pretty much anywhere, really), but she'd been at Spearfalls for over a month now and these people still couldn't get her name right.

Not that she was really surprised, considering the management. Their much-admired "Earth Priest" Tryrar had lead them straight to an aquifer, and the other co-founder--Raphael? Something like that--had died and was now possessing Tryrar. Hamlet wanted to give him a proper burial, but apparently it was in his will that he didn't want one, and priests apparently took last wishes like that very seriously.

Oh, and if that Royal Guard member had gotten as skilled as he was without some twisted sorcery being involved, Hamlet was the Queen of Denmark... wherever the heck Denmark was.


"How is this guy still alive?" Hamlet had asked some random hauler.
"That's kind of a rude question..." was the best answer she'd gotten.

Not to mention the fact that this place had been operational--for a given definition of the word--for over a year now, and they still didn't have any tables or chairs. And that wasn't even the half of it. For Moldath's sake, they were still sleeping in a cramped hallway next to the workshops.


"Terrible. Just terrible."

Ten beds for forty-five dwarves, all squished together with nowhere to sit down and eat, the meeting hall was a tiny room up above ground where the harpies were hanging out, the hospital consisted of a single bed next to the trade depot where they were screwing with the elven traders... The place was a mess.

And to top it all off? The one decent lye maker they had, and by extension the one decent chance that Hamlet had to get the only respectable dwarven food industry up and running, was possessed, with the ghost rambling on about some fancy bauble that it wanted to make. And since the upper management had been killing all the traders and they didn't have a butcher, Kosoth's simple enough request for some silk and bones was completely impossible. So, he'd been walled up in his workshop, and judging by the bloodcurdling screams coming from behind the wall he'd finally snapped.



"...Yep. Time for a coup."

---------------------------------------------
Up next: The brief and disappointing return of the harpies, Making some bedrooms, and a Dining Hall.

Also, I think I should probably make the images smaller next time; I'd put them in spoiler-tags, but I know that cuts off the right side, so yeah. Sorry about that!