Bay 12 Games Forum

That was actually my first reaction as well. Something about the shell and bloated body screamed "socially awkward computer addict."

I got him from Legends. Forgot what the other contender was, but two-tailed ankylosaur was too awesome to pass up.

Excellent. That means I have full creative license:

---

Heat.
Black grass. Baked mud. Burnt smell, Udib's overdone roasts. Patch of plump helmets, withered, crunch crunch, mushrooms don't crunch. Dwarven wine, drink, wet, water, no water, thirsty, dry, heat.
Red light in the north, campfire? Warm, peaceful, laughter. Friends.
Black bones. Friends.
Burnt smell.
Nausea.
Vomit. Udib's overdone roasts and dwarven wine. Thirsty. Dry.
Heat.
No, I'm fine, just the smell. And everything. Thanks. What's this? Weapons, steel, survived the heat, go up to the barracks. Weapons needed, anything we can scrounge up. Anyone we can scrounge up, soldiers needed, draft. Drafty, breeze in the caverns, hot air and cool air, fire and water. Steam. Hot baths. Warm, peaceful, soap, cleansing, dirt, mud, baked mud, black grass, black everywhere, walls, floor, ceiling, hands, faces, soot, ash, embers, heat.
Heat, ash, fire. Ash logs on the hall fire. The hall, granite pillars carved with eternal faces of stone, friendly faces at the table, Udib's overdone roasts the topic of conversation, of laughter. Udib laughs as well. He has a friendly face as well. Behind him a granite pillar carved with eternal battle. Mosus and the Dragon. Mosus behind his shield, spear outstretched, cuts the Dragon under the scale, black blood pours thick. Spear. Weapons. Weapons needed, to the barracks.
Thunder? Here? No. Cave-in. Dust everywhere, everything covered in white dust, snow, winter, cold. Hot drinks, hot meals, hot fire, comfort. No comfort here, just bones, bones and heat.
Cave-in blocks the stairs? Trapped? No, the garbage dump is still open, to the north. Take the weapons to the north. To the barracks.
Dragons don't live underground. What...?
Everyone stays behind to pick through the rubble, try to unblock the stairs. I go north. North, south, Ironhelm in the south, mountainhome, migrants. Seven years old. Mother and father and brother and milk cow. First time I saw the sun. My eyes couldn't stay open, bright, heat, holy heat, holy bright. Eye of the Lord. Why do we hide from the Lord, father? He is too beautiful to behold.
Father dead. Mother old. Brother, in the military, sixteen. In the barracks. To the barracks.
Red light, brighter. Closer? Warmer. Heat, but no burnt smell. The burnt smell is behind, the black bones are behind. Just warmth, nearness. Warmth of bodies, nearness of bodies, embrace, lips, soft hands, soft face. Warm face. Warm smile, warm laugh. Soft eyes. Warm eyes. Sometimes hot eyes. I had hot eyes too. Our eyes together, our I's together.
Warm eyes. Warm bed. Secret warmth, the fire must be kept low or the enemy will see us. She laughs. Warm kiss. Warm eyes.
Why do we hide from the Lord, he is too beautiful to behold. Too beautiful to hold.
Heat. Closer? Closer. Here. Bright. Eyes? Bright eyes. Warm eyes. The sun? Too beautiful to behold.
Warmth. Heat. Numb. Black.

Conversely, I might posit a loanword other languages should take from English: "whatever." In no other language have I encountered an expression with the same utter dismissiveness as "whatever"; who sayeth "whatever" immediately shuts down all debate and has conquered in the most petty of ways. It is one of my favourite words.

Personally I treat each tile as 1x1x2 meters (width-depth-height). It's a little nebulous anyway, seeing as an infinite number of giant sperm whales can fit onto a single tile.

snip

To be honest, my post was only tangentially related to the topic - in fact it belongs more to a historical-literary discussion. Sorry. But while we're at it...

Stories can have a negative impact if not challenged and put in perspective.

I wouldn't say "challenged," perhaps "understood correctly." Taking the unsubstantiated or deliberately fictitious as true is indeed dangerous.

I may not "believe" in ghost, aliens, magical energies... but that's not the point, is it?

What both parties, pseudo-scientists and actual scientists, seem to misunderstand is that myths are stories, not manifestos or primitive attempts at science. I believe that Lewis (or Tolkien?) said that "no one ever propounded the 'theory' of Demeter and Persephone" as an explanation for the seasons: it was just a story, incorporating cultural icons (the gods) as characters in an imaginative tale. Sure, some people believed it; some others probably tried to "debunk" the myth. But they'd all have been missing the point.

As I see it, it's the same today. There are the rabid believers in the factual truth of ghost stories or alien abductions, and the (pardon me) equally rabid rationalists trying to "de-mythologize" everything. I myself enjoy a good tall tale - and while a part of me knows paranormal accounts to be false, a greater part of me just doesn't care.

was enraged at/was just a pet
was (overjoyed by own dead sibling lately
was pleased to eat a child to reach a rough weapon production lately
has been tired of the decay of a criminal
was forced to have birth to (child
was enraged at the decay of legends recently
worried recently
has been (haunted/possessed/tortured) by a wonderful dish
cried about long patrol duty lately
was worried about work allocations about work allocations lately
was caught in a pillar of society recently
slept in a greatly angered by own dead corpse recently
was forced to have been/pleased to endure the dirt recently
conducted a meeting in a legendary drink lately
was forced to be/happy to have worn clothing in a good tomb after gaining an army of tax collection of the victim of a pet
was upset that nobody could be punishment
has lost a little happy citizen lately
dined in nightmares by a wonderful dining room recently
was beaten with father
was embarrassed to endure the dead
was upset to survive lately