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Author Topic: Sad stories  (Read 1457 times)

UristMcGunsmith

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Sad stories
« on: October 25, 2009, 11:42:00 pm »

Well, to start out, I was carving a fortress out of a mountain and thought "Well shit, it'd be faster if I collapsed certain parts of the mountain"

So I dug out the base of the mountain adding supports accordingly. The first section I was going to take down was a relatively small section of mountain. Only 2 z levels tall and 15 tiles wide. I pull the lever and then came my "Oh fuck what have I done" face. I totally forgot that directly under that was my food stockpile. I was lucky, and had only killed 4 dwarves out of 110. I fixed the hole and wrote off the incident until I saw a child with a flashing downward arrow. I check her profile only to see that all 4 Dwarves that died in the incident were her parents and baby sisters. I orphaned her. I never really felt a lot about my dwarves unless they were war heroes or something, but this one tugged on my heart strings. I felt terrible. As the player, I was Armok. As Armok, I had forsaken her, so I decided to try to make amends with the young girl and gave her everything I could. A 15x15 bedroom, fully engraved by legendary stoneworkers, several chests and toys made of gold and platinum (She really likes platinum) even a little play table and chairs made of colorful materials. Gold statues, an artifact bed, her favorite foods, and none of it was enough to make her happy again.

Now my entire 125 dorf fort is designed to do nothing but keep this child satisfied and safe. When she grows up I plan on either making her commander of my armed forces or appointing her to whatever noble status I can, depending on how she grows up.



Another time I felt bad I kind of added my own back story to it, but still.

I had made my first large fortress, many months ago, and I had just gotten my first hammerer. Reading so many stories about how evil the hammerer was I rigged his room to flood with water. In time he never hurt anyone. Always kept to himself, following nobles and such. One day I cought him when he was in his room so I quickly pulled the lever and water started to fill the room. Then I noticed something odd.

In his room were stacks of toys. Stacks and stacks of them, made of microcline, orthoclose, olivine, and many others.

He had never hurt anyone, always kept to himself, and he liked toys. Oh god, I just started drowning a totally innocent dwarf. Not only an innocent dwarf, but a TRULY innocent dwarf who only wanted to be left alone and play with his toys. Oh god oh god oh god turn off the water. But it was too late. I killed him.  :-[

Beanchubbs

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Re: Sad stories
« Reply #1 on: October 26, 2009, 12:01:10 am »

My most sad story was of Urist McGimpyPants   :'(

Thinking of him and his many adventures brings tears to my eyes. His first battle was against an entire goblin ambush squad, 2 of which were dwarves captured in world gen. Every other squad I had was either on break or drinking/eating. He Killed every enemy in the ambush. His legs were broken and his arm was mangled. A few years later, he was back on his feet, perfectly fine. Him and his two personal bodygaurds granted to him for being so heroic, were ambushed by 2 goblin squads, and 3 crocidiles. His two bodygaurds killed the crocs, but were subsequently killed by crossbow bolts to the throat and head. He was pushing one of the squads back against the river, where the carp were dragging them down and eating them, when he himself got knocked in. Just then, my legendary squads arived and wiped out the rest of the gobbos. Luckily, I had a channeling for just in case something like this happened. We rescued him and nursed him back to health, again. He survived a few more ambushes, all with severe ambushes and recuperations. He died in an orcish siege by bolt to brain. R.I.P. Uris McGimpypants.
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Yikes, the Orcs have a nasty language.  Traditional foreplay would be right out for them; how would they ever "say my name" for one another?  No wonder Ocrs are always so bloodthirsty and violent, they're getting sub-par action.

Telcontar

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Re: Sad stories
« Reply #2 on: October 26, 2009, 03:44:01 am »

There was once a poor, novice marksdwarf, only in the military because we lacked the dwarfpower to repel the goblin ambushes (I was lax in military prep).

During those ambushes, a couple dwarves died, one of whom was very good friend with our poor marksdwarf's father. Her father was so bereaved by the death of his friend that he went insane.

Our poor marksdwarf was forced to kill her own berserking father, in self-defense. He was rushing her, intent on ripping her to pieces.

Something tells me tragedy just won't be what it used to for her.
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Skorpion

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Re: Sad stories
« Reply #3 on: October 26, 2009, 10:19:48 am »

Once upon a time, there was a miner. Domas was her name. She had a string of children, including a tiny baby, newly born that year.
Due to a gap in the mining operations, she was assigned to the project of paving over the sky. So, she grabbed a rock.
Unluckily for her, this rock was submerged in magma. 7/7 magma. I had just forgotten to forbid the door.
She caught fire, and her feet were turned into mangled, bloody ruins by the heat. She tottered towards her bedroom, keeling over halfway to the charcoal/potash/pearlash/ash stockpile, dropping the baby.
A passing dwarf picked her up, taking her to the nearest vacant bed, which happened to be that of the recently-deceased king consort. The bed then caught fire, along with the queen's bed next to it.
A flurry of pulled levers, dropped bridges, and running water later, and the Emergency Regicide Device was activated. Too late to save the poor miner, who died while the overseer was trying to remember which lever operated which bridge. The ensuing flood of water put the body out in time for it to be carted to a coffin without causing a catastrophe.
Meanwhile, the baby was still laying there on a patch of smooth rock, being ignored by virtually everyone, until someone took pity and gave her food and water. She proceeded to crawl around the fort, painfully sober and ignored by all but those keeping her alive, pausing from time to time to stare wistfully at a booze stockpile.
Eventually, she grew up enough to fend for herself, kept going only by recieving food and water and talking with her big sister. Eventually, she took her first drink of alcohol, staying latched onto the barrel for a good month.
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The *large serrated steel disk* strikes the Raven in the head, tearing apart the muscle, shattering the skull, and tearing apart the brain!
A tendon in the skull has been torn!
The Raven has been knocked unconcious!

Elves do it in trees. Humans do it in wooden structures. Dwarves? Dwarves do it underground. With magma.