Let's play Dwarf Fortress: Happy Accidents

Better late than never. I’m really enjoying this thread, so thanks for that.

I’m so glad it’s not just me!

I just did this the other day on Amazon.

Really enjoying the writing and the creative story telling!

Enjoying it here!

Addendum to the Management’s Report to the Mountainhomes, Late Autumn 500

There’s wine enough for some weeks yet, but the common workerdwarf must be closely watched. Their penchant for guzzling is well known.

To continue where we left off, there were many matters to attend to this season, and our sorry state of rumlessness crept up on us. Scarcely a month after the caravan arrived, another wave of migrants made the journey. Eight more stout dwarves, and (though we did not think to mark it at the time) eight more unquenchable thirsts.

Noteworthy additions to the fortress include anonymgeist (a musician of some talent); her husband Nunok Bumal-Ish (a peasant whom we’ve employed as a clothier); and Wyndwraith (a legendary bone carver and part-time mechanic). Also joining us are Citizen #500-2-01 through Citizen #500-2-05. We assume belouski must be among one of these five, but it was raining when they arrived and it seems their travel papers were rendered quite illegible in the downpour.

The new arrivals were ushered into our meeting room, which is the same sandy pit it’s been since we dug it out back in spring. Jobs were assigned according to their abilities and/or our needs. Mostly our needs. Two of our new Citizens were assigned to threshing and spinning, and the remaining three joined Thufir and ddtibbs on the screw pumps.

Alas for the ambitions of our bone carver, Paintsplattered suffers from a shortage of carvable bones. Thus far they’re either mangled to the point of uselessness, or clattering about in the fescue grass trying to kills us. In hopes of producing some bones between these two extremes, then, Wyndwraith has been placed in charge of the moderately deadly traps.

Nunok Bumal-Ish, as you may well know, is (by mutual declaration) the brother of Zikath Bumal-Ish. He’s also (by birth) Lantz’s cousin and Marquac’s uncle. The common workerdwarf weaves a tangled web. As clothier, Nunok will eventually be responsible for turning our newly woven pig tail cloth into garments of all sorts. For now it’s just mittens from dawn until dusk. If he’s lucky, one of our three beds will be available by the time he’s too exhausted to sew another stitch. He’s an inspiration to the common workerdwarf, our Nunok is.

And his labor keeps the fingers of the Management toasty warm

While most of this season’s developments occurred in the storage and workshop levels of Paintsplattered, Zursul Durad dug deeper. After his stairway into the uncharted depths failed to reveal anything exciting, unpleasant, or made of too many teeth, he shifted his efforts to our future dining room. His delvings have yielded a surplus of stone, a few semiprecious gems, and a vein of limonite. Precious limonite! When we’re finally able to begin a large-scale smelting operation, this ore will be a vital source of raw materials.

There's iron in them thar halls

Jord was quick to take advantage of the surplus of stone. He carved an armor stand out of quartzite and installed it in the far west corner of the workshops, where we’ve established our first barracks. Thufir was appointed militia commander and we are eager to see him in battle. We may have little choice in this matter. Wyndwraith’s deadly traps are not yet operational, and a flock of giant zombie keas roams the southern bank. Our lives may well be in Thufir’s hands. His wife ddtibbs will be joining him, but she’s been given a temporary reassignment to our woodburning and weaponsmithing division. The happy couple will soon be smashing each other with a pair of copper and silver war hammers. For training purposes, we assume, but it is not our place to question.

Wait a few more months for Zursul to carve one from the bones of the earth and then get a room, you two

We’d hoped to one day employ Nunok’s talented wife, anonymgeist, as a bard in the grandest of our temples. To say that this has already been accomplished is, we believe, technically correct. Credit for our swift success rests firmly on Lantz’s shoulders:

While we were welcoming our migrant dwarves, the stress of it all (honestly, everything, as far as we’re aware) began to tell upon poor Lantz. Quite aside from narrowly escaping giant zombie magpies and witnessing the end of poor Thob Delethcog at the beaks of the same, Lantz has been missing the comforts of home. No goblets, no tables or chairs, still not enough beds (although, as carpenter, we feel he has only himself to blame for this particular woe). He’s also been caught in the rain somewhat regularly, he has nowhere to pray to any of his half-dozen deities, and he misses his favorite nephew.

It’s a lengthy list, and the Management is nothing if not sympathetic to the common workerdwarf’s travails. We scheduled a meeting with Lantz, the duration of which he spent crying. He came back the next week for a followup, during which he yelled a bit. It seemed to help.

Imagine if he didn't have an iron will and a deep well of patience

Not pictured: Lantz apparently brought Rith to tears

We also set aside an unused corner of the workshops as a nondenominational temple, open to all visitors and permanently staffed by anonymgeist. We’re hopeful that her musical talents will make up for the somewhat drab furnishings. (And by “somewhat drab” we mean “complete lack of.” It’s half a room carved out of silty clay.) Just as our sandy pit of a library was named the Silvery Vault, so too shall our temple in the far east corner be known as the West Convent. Rest assured, our maps shall be updated accordingly.

Now our bard just needs an instrument

It was at this point–our fortunes tinged with ever-present danger, but ever on the rise–that we became aware of our impending alcohol shortage. Between the temples and the tantrums and the mittens, we hope, one can easily understand why our attention was elsewhere when the rum ran out. More difficult to understand is how the scholars drank all our beer. On Spokk’s watch, no less. Did they talk too much, and grow too thirsty? Or did they not talk enough, and turn to drink in their boredom? A formal complaint will be filed at the conclusion of our investigation.

Rest assured, however, that every step shall be taken to ensure that we do not have to rely upon Torturechannel to quench our thirst. Healthsome and refreshing though our elf-friends hold water to be, it simply seems unwise to drift through life in a fog of sobriety. How would our thinkers think? How would our common workerdwarf work? And how–we ask you!–would the Management continue to make the solid, level-headed decisions we can only assume we’re known for?

Do elves like raking leaves? Because we have a lot

–The Management, 500/10/01

Attached you will find:

One formal inquiry regarding the correct identity of belouski.

One formal request for a set of maps correctly identifying the location of the grandest of our temples.

One formal inquiry regarding the frequency and duration of scholarly discussion required for minimum thirstiness.

One formal inquiry regarding Jon Danger Gerigeral’s middle name. We’re strongly considering sending someone out in search of brewable surface plants, and if Danger is her middle name, it would be a shame not to take advantage of this bit of serendipity.

Recent arrivals to Paintsplattered, Late Autumn 500

'Wyndwraith' Logemrutod

Legendary bone carver and part-time mechanic. Not fond of any food in particular, but makes up for it with wine.

'Nunok Bumal-Ish' Nacuuzin

Once lived the leisurely life of a peasant. Now makes mittens and sleeps in the dirt. Temporarily, we hope. Married to anonymgeist. Eats stoats, when he can catch them.

'anonymgeist' Galsekhal

Great musician and bard of the West Convent. Married to Nunok Bumal-Ish. Likes cherries and bayberry wine.

'Citizen #500-2-04' Sengcerol

Pump operator and future hammerdwarf. Potential competitor in the inaugural “Giant zombie keas vs. the herbalists” race for life, death, and beer. Married to Citizen #500-2-05. Likes ducks for their quacks (not for their flavor). Might be belouski.

'Citizen #500-2-05' Limuleddud

Weaver. Married to Citizen #500-2-04. Dines principally on gibbons and hemp seed. Might be belouski.

'Citizen #500-2-06' Olinabir

Pump operator and future hammerdwarf. Potential competitor in the inaugural “Giant zombie keas vs. the herbalists” race for life, death, and beer. Eats harp seals. Might be belouski.

'Citizen #500-2-07' Itonuker

Thresher. Married to Citizen #500-2-08. Eats giant wombats and cuttlefish. Drinks rambutan wine. Might be belouski.

'Citizen #500-2-08' Belomo

Pump operator and future hammerdwarf. Potential competitor in the inaugural “Giant zombie keas vs. the herbalists” race for life, death, and beer. Married to Citizen #500-2-07. Prefers giant eagle meat and sweet potato wine. Might be belouski.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

I realize, somewhat belatedly, that you weren’t necessarily asking to have a dwarf named after you. If you’d like one, we’ll find one for you. And if not, sorry about that! The Management will simply have to review its recordkeeping practices.

They have dash buttons for everything these days, and it’s dangerous, I tell you!

Citizen @500-2-04 sounds like a perfect match to me. I’ll wait for my future misadventures with bated breath.

Ha! If you had only listened to my beer-rationing advice!

Just wait til they host their first academic conference. Not only will you need more beer, but you’ll need more burly bouncer-dwarves.

I am suprised there haven’t been any run-ins with the elves and the zombified songbirds.

Great thread! Thank you for making it. Feel free to name a nerdly dwarf after me.

I’d happily have a digital dwarf named after me as well. If you’re running out of names, that is.

The People’s Report to the Mountainhomes, Early Winter 500

Is it inspiration or madness that drives our expedition leader onward?

We ask because he moves as one possessed. He seized control of our mason’s workshop, and while he did not explicitly say “I am the mason now”, we all felt it was strongly implied. (Jord, in particular, found this a bit hurtful, and went to drown his sorrows in one of our few remaining casks of wine. We did not stop him.) It would seem, then, that Rith Irerush, legendary miner, adequate crutch walker, second of his name, has decided to add masonry to his repertoire.

It's madness

So it would seem, and yet we have questions. Questions like “Who or what is Sulusarak?” and “How much coal can one dwarf need?” After claiming Jord’s workshop for his own, Rith gathered up great armloads of coal. Over and over again, and muttering of Sulusarak all the while. (We’re unfamiliar with this term, but perhaps Spokk, in her wisdom, will know more.) There was a brief time, after his coal-gathering, when he spoke of shining gems. We offered him some glass from the autumn caravan, but he was not to be placated. With no cut gems, and in the absence of a proper gemcutter, O’Malley was the dwarf for the job. Raw amethyst is clearly not his preferred medium, but we all think he did very well, given the circumstances. No sooner had he finished than Rith was there, grabbing it from O’Malley’s skilled hands. (This, and no word of thanks. Rude.)

What about what the people need?

And so our expedition leader sits whispering to himself and working obsessively. Working, but toward what? We’re almost certain that this sort of thing is a severe breach of one or more regulations, and that he would file a fat sheaf of formal complaints were he feeling his usual self. If he’s truly inspired, though, who are we to stand in his way? We look forward to seeing the subtle artistic flourishes he can bring to a big heap of coal.

Best regards,
The industrious people of Paintsplattered, 500-10-09

Addendum to the People’s Report to the Mountainhomes, Early Winter 500

It was an armor stand. He made an armor stand out of coal. It menaces with spikes of amethyst.

Maybe this means he'll keep it to himself?

Coal-spiked, coal-encrusted coal, encircled by coal. With an amethyst on top?

In Rith’s defense, however, this is more impressive than it sounds. When O’Malley set to work on his first amethyst, he opted for a baguette cut. We are altogether ignorant of the jeweler’s art, but we’re pretty sure that’s about as far as you can get from spikes of any sort. At least until you throw cabochons into the mix.

Somehow, then, Rith managed to restore, and even improve upon, the inherent spikiness of the amethyst. We’ve been heaping lavish praise upon this feat lest O’Malley be the subject of another formal complaint.

Best regards,
The industrious people of Paintsplattered, 500-10-13

Attached you will find:

One formal inquiry as to how menacingly spiky Sulusarak is.

One formal declaration of “So menacingly spiky.”

One formal declaration of “Rather spikily menacing, too”

The Management’s Report to the Mountainhomes, Late Winter 500

[The report is 39 pages long and contains 5 appendices and an index. It is labeled, rather ominously, “Part 1 of 12”. It speaks of nothing but Sulusarak, its construction, and strategies for monetizing the huge boost in tourism it will surely create.]

–The Management (creator, curator, and boon companion of Sulusarak), 501-01-01

The People’s Addendum to the Management’s Report to the Mountainhomes, Late Winter 500

While Rith is busy admiring Sulusarak, most bituminous of armor stands, it falls to us to report our doings in these final months of our first year. In the absence of the wise and just leadership to which we’ve grown accustomed, the people of Paintsplattered have enjoyed a season of unprecedented peace and prosperity. Complete coincidence, we’re sure.

As a delightful change of pace, no one fell into a stream and bled to death while drowning. No one died at all, in fact. We barely even went thirsty. Wyndwraith did resort to drinking from Torturechannel, and found it very foul indeed, but we’re hopeful that his ordeal was a one-time affair. Three of our burliest and most daring dwarves (belouski, Godzilla_Blitz, and Citizen #500-02-06) ventured upward and out into the soft green grass, looking for anything that Gendal might brew. They returned with quinoa, kaniwa, and spelt, and they spoke in hushed tones of the enormous dead birds hidden among the last of the autumn leaves. They were quick about their business, though, and they won’t be making a second trip. Jon Danger’s harvest has come in, and the beer and wine flow freely through our halls again. (Not literally, of course. When Lantz builds barrels, he builds them to last.)

Marquac, meanwhile, has employed all her culinary wiles in keeping us well fed. Her style is best described, perhaps, as a brilliant fusion between all the comforts of home and certain of the grim necessities of a rugged frontier life: cheesy roasted leeks with asparagus and bitter vetch leaves; skunk meat and possum liver served two ways (stuffed in fox intestines and stuffed in mule intestines); and just a whole bunch of quarry leaves, roasted to a crackly crisp, to name but a few.

Brains, spleens, and sweetbread, with cheese

Our dining room and tavern will be well stocked, then, just as soon as they’re complete. Zursul Durad did a fine job digging out the spaces for them, but we’ve struggled with their furnishings. Jord’s vision for a matching set of quartzite chairs and tables has not been compromised, but has nevertheless been held back by managerial delays and coal dust. Jord has reclaimed his mason’s workshop, however, and seems likely to maintain possession of it for the foreseeable future. Unless it turns out that Sulusarak is only one of a matching pair.

Lantz dines alone; this is the happiest he's been in months

(We’re strongly considering asking anonymgeist to relocate from her temple to the tavern, once it’s open. She’s spent the whole season in prayer and meditation, and we’re very happy for her, but we crave music.)

With eating and drinking well in hand, we turned our eye to sleeping. And because the eye of the Management was elsewhere, we saw no need to push ourselves toward ever more ruthless efficiency. Instead, we asked Zursul to work on some proper bedrooms. Great big ones for everyone, with room for plenty of furniture and lots of floor space to show off all our socks. The socks are the weak link in this plan, because we’re currently running low. With the next crop of pig tails, though, HighPlainsDrifter and Nunok Bumal-Ish will surely provide for us. Lantz has finished work on a few dozen cherrywood beds. All we need now are some doors. Jord will provide in due time, but some properly placed stockpiles would undoubtedly speed his work. We shall have to aim for a grand reorganization of our workspaces with the coming of spring.

Privacy at last (but we'll smelt the walls if we run short on iron)

Elsewhere, Thufir and ddtibbs have been hammering our military into shape. Like the beer that floods our fort, this is only a metaphor. For now. Despite having access to hammers, they’ve chosen (wisely, we hope) to work on their defensive skills first. Maybe we can forge some armor before they get to the literal hammering. In the meantime, belouski joined their ranks (along with fellow burly and daring dwarves Godzilla_Blitz and Citizen #500-02-06) and has begun leading dodging demonstrations. When the giant bird corpses finally batter down our doors, we might not be able to hit them, but a least some of us will dodge the first few strikes of their murderous beaks.

(We should mention, at this point, that belouski, HighPlainsDrifter, and Godzilla_Blitz were formerly known to us as Citizens #500-02-04, -05, and -08 respectively. It turns out identifying belouski was as simple as asking–no formal inquiries needed–and we’ll admit to just guessing on the others at the last minute. The ink’s not dry in our records, though. We could still smudge them–accidentally!–and present a different version to the Management when they’re done admiring their own handiwork.)

In this time of peace and prosperity, however, even the giant bird corpses have been curiously subdued. They’re out there somewhere, waiting, but we’ve had no incidents all season. No bird-related incidents, we should say. There was the curious case of the kangaroo corpses some weeks ago. It’s difficult to say exactly what happened. One of them either fell out of a tree, or–perhaps in the midst of polite disagreement–got its nose kicked off by a friend or rival. In either case, the nose, as we are told by those who saw it, sailed off in a graceful arc and landed in a clump of leeks at the base of a pecan tree.

Not tree kangaroos, but kangaroos in trees

Accident or amateur boxing gone wrong?

This does not strike us as an apt metaphor for anything, let alone the coming of spring. And yet spring has come, severed by winter’s well-aimed kick and sent to land among a new year’s worth of tragedies and triumphs. We’ll just… leave that line for Rith to clean up, and prepare for the coming of our elf-friends… Leave the decaying kangaroo buck nose cartilage for the Management, we say, and let the people of Paintsplattered look forward to sun berries, rope reed, and large, exotic animals.

Hopefully not an indication of the year to come

Best regards,
The industrious people of Paintsplattered, 501-01-01

This week’s delay brought to you by the 4.4 update to Final Fantasy XIV, reckless pursuit of entirely necessary new mounts, and “Quick, Brother, how do I red mage?”

Turns out the answer is “Not like that.”

Only half the party died.

I’m going to be so sad if the current flock of zombie magpies kills the elven merchants before they get safely inside.

There’s always room for more dwarves! I’ll upload screenshots of the updated profiles soon, but for now, rest content in the knowledge that you’ve given names to a weaver who craves more excitement, and a recruit in desperate need of a hammer.

Again, my skills are crucial. Or, non-skills in this case.

…baguette cut, huh? Maybe I’ll be a baker, next!

Rith likes spikes.

But if the dandelion-eaters happen to die (on their way out) after safely depositing their goods, does that mean we get a refund?

I’m very proud of the barrels that @Lantz built. There was more than one reason for the marriage.

Enforced sobriety? Does the Management’s depravity know no bounds??