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Author Topic: What's going on in your fort?  (Read 5786913 times)

Radray

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50850 on: October 30, 2017, 05:03:05 pm »

So I select all the xClothingx to be hauled to the trade depot.
There are some items hauled there, but they are colored red and I cannot toggle T to trade them. 

Any idea what is causing this?
Check to see if your nobles have banned any exports.

The red color means that they were seized from another caravan.
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Just now, a merchant drowned under misterious circumstances on his way to my fortress. When I examined the corpse, he had a book on him that talked about flotation devices and buoyancy.

oh

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50851 on: October 30, 2017, 09:30:23 pm »

My dwarves are currently engraving every possible stone surface with images of salt crocodiles killing dwarves. Like not just the vague idea of that, but specific historical instances of salt crocodiles killing dwarves. And they've done like a hundred surfaces and haven't run out of fresh material yet. It's not even just one dwarf who is especially afraid of salt crocodiles: I have ten engravers and they're all doing this.

My civ appears to have problems with salt crocodiles.
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Eric Blank

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50852 on: October 30, 2017, 10:23:40 pm »

You might have to serve saltwater crocodile roasts at the dinner table
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I make Spellcrafts!
I have no idea where anything is. I have no idea what anything does. This is not merely a madhouse designed by a madman, but a madhouse designed by many madmen, each with an intense hatred for the previous madman's unique flavour of madness.

vekar

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50853 on: October 31, 2017, 12:06:27 pm »

You really need to make an adventurer from the same civilization and have him/her go on a quest to exterminate the salt crocodiles, have him come from that same fortress too, "grew up" seeing the murals and is taking sweet vengeance into their own hands. Should make for a fun story, or there will one day be one more dead dwarf mural...


In other news: the queen Muthkat has demanded nothing but toy boats be made for years now and prohibits the export thereof. She wants a family and has zero luck so I guess her longing for children is showing.

Edit: Ordered them to just export all the darned toy boats, crates of them. Well, the Queen is the trader, she sold them all... Then blamed the BARONESS for it (she has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING) and wants her locked away from... A good while.
« Last Edit: October 31, 2017, 12:44:43 pm by vekar »
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Fleeting Frames

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50854 on: October 31, 2017, 01:38:20 pm »

On the bright side, no mandates from baronness while locked up.

vekar

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50855 on: October 31, 2017, 02:19:23 pm »

Little Ast (10) decided to "play with mini-iron forge" via clubbing a giant monkey to death, followed one militia dwarf after it and like a mini-piranha jumped the monkey and aided in beating its head off physically.
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Derro

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50856 on: October 31, 2017, 02:33:54 pm »

Violenttrades has experienced... minor problems.

It all started off normal enough, with me designating some more adamantine to be mined out. After all, I was barely digging past the third cave layer: it should be safe enough!

It wasn't. Don't ask me why, but the freaking spire had fifteen hollow levels. I mined out one piece, and the fortress literally went to hell.

The first wall I tried to build to stop the demons was far too close to the adamantine, and they stormed past it before my builders had even arrived. By then, a few had already succumbed to their attacks. The second wall was foiled by an item misplacement glitch (the one where material distance is minus fourty thousand or something). By the time the dwarves started work on the third wall, the demons had already arrived, and began slaughtering everybody.

The militia was powerless against so many foes at once, and died without killing more than a few demons. Panicking dwarves were running everywhere. Parts of the fortress were actually melting. I briefly glimpsed a bunch of dwarves dashing into a smoke cloud: when it cleared they were all dead.

Within moments, only two survivors remained: the chief medical dwarf (hiding in an underground stockpile), and a random miner who got a secretive mood (scepter conspiracy!) while near the surface, and was now freezing to dead because all workshops had been deconstructed.

The chief medical dwarf knew he could not escape, for the only path upstairs was blocked by various demons and no picks were to be found. Instead, he bravely snuck into the dining room (aided by an artifact bed all demons were gathered around) and pulled the lever displayed there.

Deep underground, a floodgate opened, and a cave lake started draining into the cistern. Sadly, before he could see it flood, the chief medical dwarf had already been slain by a wandering demon. Only the lone uncontrollable miner on the surface remained.

It was then that something very special happened: the miner gave birth. Knowing that the fortress was doomed anyway, and knowing that there was no way she or her child would survive if I kept playing, I abandoned the fortress.


I later looked up Violenttrades' history. It was a fortress from 200 to 204, the year where contact with it was suddenly lost. Around 150 dwarves had settled there, and many more had briefly visited. In its short five years, it had survived two sieges and three forgotten beast attacks, had completely wiped out the evil creatures plaguing the surface, survived endless nauseating rain, and had tamed the upper caves. With its vast supplies of gold, platinum, and adamantine, it was unquestionably the wealthiest fortress of its civilization, which was more than the seven empty-handed peasants that had once founded it could ever have hoped.

Finally, I looked up the moody miner. Apparently she was attacked by night trolls twice during world generation: when the first struck she was only eleven. Many years later, in 202, she traveled to the fortress with her husband, where she continued her mining work. Little was mentioned of her time in the fortress, but I know based on timing that she must have participated in the construction of the guard quarters, as well as the excavation of platinum and the first adamantine.

The final message was a simple one. In 204, she fled Violenttrades, having apparently emerged from her mood, and began a traveling group consisting only of her and her infant, called the Moist Gold. A reference to the riches of Violenttrades molten by firey demons? Who knows. For now, I feel like this is a fitting end. May Unib Fencedagger and her child survive on the Gory Glacier, as the founders of the fortress did long ago.
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Fleeting Frames

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50857 on: October 31, 2017, 04:27:53 pm »

'minor problems'

'the fort literally went to hell'

Maybe minor compared to settling on a glacier without anything, but still an excellent understatement.

Oddly, I've seen more spires that are as hollow or as full as possible than ones that are almost entirely hollow.

I take it the season wasn't receptive to migrants, given you abandoned it. Month and half badly positioned is more than likely, after all.

The miner was perhaps the luckiest dwarf in the fortress.

I wonder if you started another fort, would she migrate into it in strange mood? If she did, would she promptly go insane and start wielding her pick to slaughter her child alongside the rest of migrant wave?
« Last Edit: October 31, 2017, 04:29:30 pm by Fleeting Frames »
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mikekchar

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50858 on: November 01, 2017, 07:46:10 am »

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  I mean, there were 7 of us and our lives were hopeless.  Can you imagine getting to the age of 52 years and not having a single skill to your name?  We were all in the same boat -- no family, no friends, no skills and no money, wallowing in pity in the depths of Lokumesesh, Spearspun.  Nobody gave us a chance at anything and so when Thob called on us, we had nothing to lose.

"I've got them!", he cried breathlessly.

"You've got what? Herpes?" Etur retorted.  She spat on the ground.  She didn't like getting woken up at 4 am and being dragged up to the trade depot.

"I got a Yak.  And a horse.  And even a wagon.  Look, this is our chance.  There's 7 of us.  Just like all of them expeditions.  We can do it, I tell you.  We can start our own fortress."

We looked at each other.  Then we looked in the wagon.  It was empty.  Not even an anvil.  It was crazy, hopeless and stupid, but so was wasting our lives staring at the walls in the depths of the mountain home.  So we went.

We didn't venture too far out.  Dwarfs are made of stern stuff, but the land of the Big Tools was surrounded by the goblins of The Swift Hell.  We didn't stand a chance against them.  And beside that, our plan was to make a temporary kitchen, hunt, fish, gather plants and ultimately sell food back to the mountain home.  It wouldn't do to be too far away when the caravans started their journey in the fall.

At first it was fun.  Etur took up the fishing.  She's a right brat -- always spouting off at someone.  Within a week she had built up a grudge with half of the group.  I have to admit that even though she rubs me the wrong way, I admire her spirit and count her amongst my friends.  Thob likes her too.  Maybe a bit too well.

Eshtan slaughtered the yak as soon as we set up camp.  From that point, we called him "Butch" -- short for butcher.  As luck would have it, we have another Eshtan in our group, so it helps us keep them apart.  Mistem set up a temporary tanning rig with wood from the wagon and tanned the hide to make leather.   She's another one who's about my age, but she only seems to have eyes for Butch.  I guess killing a cow is manly in her eyes.

Since, I don't mind spending time with Etur, I took up cleaning fish.  I tell you, Etur loves to fish.  "Here's another one that looks like you, Deduk!", she'd call time after time.  Sense of humour like war hammer.

Mosus and Thob set to work collecting plants.  Our plan was simple: keep shuffling the wood from the wagon around, building various work stations.   We would cook prepared meals for the mountain home.  It's not glamorous, but that stuff has an amazing profit margin.  In no time we would have enough food to trade for an axe, pick and maybe even an anvil.  Just like any other fortress expedition, we could strike the earth and build our fortune!

Eshtan (the not-Butch one) called out to us, "I've got a surprise for you!".  We looked around and what did we see?  A glorious barrel of foxtail millet beer!  It had been a whole month since anything other than river water had passed out lips and I immediately started drooling.  But where had he gotten the wood for the barrel?  Everyone knows you need 3 pieces of wood to build even the most humble of trade depots.

"Who needs those snobs from the mountain home?", he sneered.  "They never gave us the time of day when we lived there and now we are supposed to trade our hard work for their trinkets?  Never, I say.  We will take what we need and if they don't like it, *they* will be the ones suffering."

I looked at the camp.  One barrel.  One fishery.  One log.  There was no way to build a trade depot.  Once you build a barrel, you can't just "unbuild" it.   You can't prop it up on a stick and write "Please trade with us" on the side.  It's just not dwarfy.  If I could have found even a single urist of magma, I promise you Eshtan would be swimming in it.  I would even have been happy to give him a hammering -- but of course, we had no hammers.

Well, there was nothing for it.  From today we are the Bandit Camp.  We will hunt the wildlife to become strong.  We will build a tavern to lure in travellers.  Woe be unto him who has an axe because it will soon be ours.

To be continued.... maybe...
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Derro

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50859 on: November 01, 2017, 10:34:38 am »

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  I mean, there were 7 of us and our lives were hopeless.  Can you imagine getting to the age of 52 years and not having a single skill to your name?  We were all in the same boat -- no family, no friends, no skills and no money, wallowing in pity in the depths of Lokumesesh, Spearspun.  Nobody gave us a chance at anything and so when Thob called on us, we had nothing to lose.

"I've got them!", he cried breathlessly.

"You've got what? Herpes?" Etur retorted.  She spat on the ground.  She didn't like getting woken up at 4 am and being dragged up to the trade depot.

"I got a Yak.  And a horse.  And even a wagon.  Look, this is our chance.  There's 7 of us.  Just like all of them expeditions.  We can do it, I tell you.  We can start our own fortress."

We looked at each other.  Then we looked in the wagon.  It was empty.  Not even an anvil.  It was crazy, hopeless and stupid, but so was wasting our lives staring at the walls in the depths of the mountain home.  So we went.

We didn't venture too far out.  Dwarfs are made of stern stuff, but the land of the Big Tools was surrounded by the goblins of The Swift Hell.  We didn't stand a chance against them.  And beside that, our plan was to make a temporary kitchen, hunt, fish, gather plants and ultimately sell food back to the mountain home.  It wouldn't do to be too far away when the caravans started their journey in the fall.

At first it was fun.  Etur took up the fishing.  She's a right brat -- always spouting off at someone.  Within a week she had built up a grudge with half of the group.  I have to admit that even though she rubs me the wrong way, I admire her spirit and count her amongst my friends.  Thob likes her too.  Maybe a bit too well.

Eshtan slaughtered the yak as soon as we set up camp.  From that point, we called him "Butch" -- short for butcher.  As luck would have it, we have another Eshtan in our group, so it helps us keep them apart.  Mistem set up a temporary tanning rig with wood from the wagon and tanned the hide to make leather.   She's another one who's about my age, but she only seems to have eyes for Butch.  I guess killing a cow is manly in her eyes.

Since, I don't mind spending time with Etur, I took up cleaning fish.  I tell you, Etur loves to fish.  "Here's another one that looks like you, Deduk!", she'd call time after time.  Sense of humour like war hammer.

Mosus and Thob set to work collecting plants.  Our plan was simple: keep shuffling the wood from the wagon around, building various work stations.   We would cook prepared meals for the mountain home.  It's not glamorous, but that stuff has an amazing profit margin.  In no time we would have enough food to trade for an axe, pick and maybe even an anvil.  Just like any other fortress expedition, we could strike the earth and build our fortune!

Eshtan (the not-Butch one) called out to us, "I've got a surprise for you!".  We looked around and what did we see?  A glorious barrel of foxtail millet beer!  It had been a whole month since anything other than river water had passed out lips and I immediately started drooling.  But where had he gotten the wood for the barrel?  Everyone knows you need 3 pieces of wood to build even the most humble of trade depots.

"Who needs those snobs from the mountain home?", he sneered.  "They never gave us the time of day when we lived there and now we are supposed to trade our hard work for their trinkets?  Never, I say.  We will take what we need and if they don't like it, *they* will be the ones suffering."

I looked at the camp.  One barrel.  One fishery.  One log.  There was no way to build a trade depot.  Once you build a barrel, you can't just "unbuild" it.   You can't prop it up on a stick and write "Please trade with us" on the side.  It's just not dwarfy.  If I could have found even a single urist of magma, I promise you Eshtan would be swimming in it.  I would even have been happy to give him a hammering -- but of course, we had no hammers.

Well, there was nothing for it.  From today we are the Bandit Camp.  We will hunt the wildlife to become strong.  We will build a tavern to lure in travellers.  Woe be unto him who has an axe because it will soon be ours.

To be continued.... maybe...

I like this. Please do more!
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pikachu17

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50860 on: November 01, 2017, 01:28:11 pm »

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  I mean, there were 7 of us and our lives were hopeless.  Can you imagine getting to the age of 52 years and not having a single skill to your name?  We were all in the same boat -- no family, no friends, no skills and no money, wallowing in pity in the depths of Lokumesesh, Spearspun.  Nobody gave us a chance at anything and so when Thob called on us, we had nothing to lose.

"I've got them!", he cried breathlessly.

"You've got what? Herpes?" Etur retorted.  She spat on the ground.  She didn't like getting woken up at 4 am and being dragged up to the trade depot.

"I got a Yak.  And a horse.  And even a wagon.  Look, this is our chance.  There's 7 of us.  Just like all of them expeditions.  We can do it, I tell you.  We can start our own fortress."

We looked at each other.  Then we looked in the wagon.  It was empty.  Not even an anvil.  It was crazy, hopeless and stupid, but so was wasting our lives staring at the walls in the depths of the mountain home.  So we went.

We didn't venture too far out.  Dwarfs are made of stern stuff, but the land of the Big Tools was surrounded by the goblins of The Swift Hell.  We didn't stand a chance against them.  And beside that, our plan was to make a temporary kitchen, hunt, fish, gather plants and ultimately sell food back to the mountain home.  It wouldn't do to be too far away when the caravans started their journey in the fall.

At first it was fun.  Etur took up the fishing.  She's a right brat -- always spouting off at someone.  Within a week she had built up a grudge with half of the group.  I have to admit that even though she rubs me the wrong way, I admire her spirit and count her amongst my friends.  Thob likes her too.  Maybe a bit too well.

Eshtan slaughtered the yak as soon as we set up camp.  From that point, we called him "Butch" -- short for butcher.  As luck would have it, we have another Eshtan in our group, so it helps us keep them apart.  Mistem set up a temporary tanning rig with wood from the wagon and tanned the hide to make leather.   She's another one who's about my age, but she only seems to have eyes for Butch.  I guess killing a cow is manly in her eyes.

Since, I don't mind spending time with Etur, I took up cleaning fish.  I tell you, Etur loves to fish.  "Here's another one that looks like you, Deduk!", she'd call time after time.  Sense of humour like war hammer.

Mosus and Thob set to work collecting plants.  Our plan was simple: keep shuffling the wood from the wagon around, building various work stations.   We would cook prepared meals for the mountain home.  It's not glamorous, but that stuff has an amazing profit margin.  In no time we would have enough food to trade for an axe, pick and maybe even an anvil.  Just like any other fortress expedition, we could strike the earth and build our fortune!

Eshtan (the not-Butch one) called out to us, "I've got a surprise for you!".  We looked around and what did we see?  A glorious barrel of foxtail millet beer!  It had been a whole month since anything other than river water had passed out lips and I immediately started drooling.  But where had he gotten the wood for the barrel?  Everyone knows you need 3 pieces of wood to build even the most humble of trade depots.

"Who needs those snobs from the mountain home?", he sneered.  "They never gave us the time of day when we lived there and now we are supposed to trade our hard work for their trinkets?  Never, I say.  We will take what we need and if they don't like it, *they* will be the ones suffering."

I looked at the camp.  One barrel.  One fishery.  One log.  There was no way to build a trade depot.  Once you build a barrel, you can't just "unbuild" it.   You can't prop it up on a stick and write "Please trade with us" on the side.  It's just not dwarfy.  If I could have found even a single urist of magma, I promise you Eshtan would be swimming in it.  I would even have been happy to give him a hammering -- but of course, we had no hammers.

Well, there was nothing for it.  From today we are the Bandit Camp.  We will hunt the wildlife to become strong.  We will build a tavern to lure in travellers.  Woe be unto him who has an axe because it will soon be ours.

To be continued.... maybe...

I like this. Please do more!
Better yet, make a community story of it. I know I would like to read more of it.
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Sigtext!
dwarf 4tress from scratch
The Pikachu revolution!
Thank you NatureGirl19999 for the avatar switcher at http://signavatar.com

A warforged bard named Gender appears and says"Hello. I am a social construct."

Rabbot32

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50861 on: November 01, 2017, 01:54:19 pm »

Dealing with someone who barely knows how to Dorf Fort, namely some asshole named Rabbot.

Edit: Currently dealing with a fairly massive issue, the person who packed the wagon failed to include a fucking anvil. Godsdammit.

Doubleedit: Starving because I forgot to set up food.
« Last Edit: November 01, 2017, 03:17:15 pm by Rabbot32 »
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Hell's bells, we're still using signatures?

Splint

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50862 on: November 01, 2017, 04:35:31 pm »

Decided to fire up masterwork before I got back into the swing of things.

Settled in a haunted woodland with what might be good resources below it, depending on how deep said resources might be. And settled very, very closely to the largest Naga civilization some 15k+ strong (vs a civilization around 5 times smaller, and too far away from them to be a viable target.)

There is traces of undead, but not the evil plants I wanted, which kind of upsets me. I wanted to face the naga horde with warriors clad in black uniforms like edgy fucks. :c

EDIT: And it seems the area is not only full of goodies, but positively bursting with chalk and coal, as well as iron. And my two fightin' dorfs are armed and clad in basic mail and helms to battle an undead trollkin (evidently a small troll, basically.)

Time to see what they can do.

Immortal-D

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50863 on: November 01, 2017, 09:39:24 pm »

Dealing with someone who barely knows how to Dorf Fort, namely some asshole named Rabbot.

Edit: Currently dealing with a fairly massive issue, the person who packed the wagon failed to include a fucking anvil. Godsdammit.

Doubleedit: Starving because I forgot to set up food.
Bwahaha :)  Welcome to Dwarf Fortress, enjoy your stay.  My first fort died because I didn't know how to pasture animals.  The oxen starved to death on top of my dining table, and then a necromancer casually walked through the front doors.

PlumpHelmetMan

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Re: What's going on in your fort?
« Reply #50864 on: November 01, 2017, 10:43:13 pm »

Having my engraver carve up numerous custom images of elves dying in gruesome and horrific ways (a lot of them are in the hall leading up to the trade depot too, so you can bet any visiting elf merchants will see them).
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It's actually pretty terrifying to think about having all of your fat melt off into grease because you started sweating too much.
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