Op het Video Games Open forum van RPG.net zijn we ondertussen ook met een succession game bezig, een fort in de woestijn, zombie carp on the prowl, met de naam Thunderlens. Hieronder mijn jaar.
We zoeken nog mensen die ook een jaar willen spelen, dus als je van RPGs houdt (table-top) of gewoon zin hebt om een jaar in een succession game mee te spelen: meld je aan (=gratis) en surf naar dit draadje:
2nd Granite, 52
Thunderlens. Wretched place. I have no idea why I ended up here instead of in the Forges of the palace, turning out ornate sables for the royal guard. Instead, I find myself under the desert sun, surrounded by foul-smelling wretches, toiling away at anything but my chosen profession.
I've been contemplating making a break for it, but the sounds of the zombie carp in the night have for now broken my resolve. There is no sound on earth that compares to the slithering of broken fins on sand, the squelching of rotten entrails as one of those fiends drags itself from the water into your fortress to claim another victim. The clickclack sounds of the jawbone silently opening and shutting...
I've started wetting the bed again.
Why am I telling you this?
Anyway, the guy in charge, Shadetree, has decided he wants to spend more time trading with the few loonies brave enough to haul their ass over to this cesspit. Fine with me, since it apparently means I'm now in charge of this dump. You wouldn't think that would appeal to me, but just let me say this: leaders don't haul garbage around.
So, I've been studying the regulations - yeah, apparently we have those and I should follow them - and the only official duty I have is burying all the stupid little fuckers that end up as zombie carp bait, so I'll do that. The rest of my duties I handed off to one of the others. I also noticed that the few useful dwarves in this fortress get little chance to do what they're good at. Mostly they just move furniture around, lug stones from A to B or throw away the rotting remains of their latest fine dining experience. I've instructed our miners, the carpenter and the stonecrafter to just stick to their job. We have the useless bunch to do all the crap jobs nobody wants to do. You know them, the lye makers, the soap makers. The special snowflakes.
Another thing I've noticed - and it's just a small thing - is that we don't have military presence. And since we don't have a military presence, we don't need weapons. I'm the goddamn weaponsmith! What the FUCK am I doing here if we don't need weapons?!? So, there was a simple solution to this dilemma. Either we draft some of these leftovers, or we at least start making the weapons for when the peasants turn up. Now, we're stretched thin as it is, so the draft option would seem to be unfeasible at this point. But I'll take the second option any day, if only to be actually doing my damn job. With that idea in mind, I've ordered the construction of a new layer in our underground fortress and a pipe to funnel the magma into a section of this new level. This section will not be joined to the other sections of our lovely layout, but will fill up with magma, allowing smelters and workshops to be built above. Hallelujah.
3rd Granite, 52
Well that's nice. Give these idiots a chance and they'll skip work to get married. Showed up of course, kissed the bride (at least, I think I did, with the beards it's kind of hard to tell with us) and left them to roll around in the muck with mugs ale.
NOW GET BACK TO WORK DAMMIT!
16th Granite, 52
Someone came to tell me the miners've struck alunite. I fell to my knees and thanked the gods for this fortunous...oh wait, I didn't. It's alunite? You want me to cream my pants for alunite? Bring me something I can melt down, then we do the happy dance. Morons.
24th Granite, 52
Elves. What the hell are elves doing in this hellhole? Is there some kind of trading company out there that harvests employees from mental hospitals or something? Anyway, let's see what they have and what they want. I swear to god, if they start whining about trees in the middle of the desert, I'll forcefeed them their own goddamn pointy ears.
Quickly I order all the crap we've made for trade up to the depot and yell at Shadetree to get up there to greet them. And smile, dammit! We want stuff from them!
Shadetree goes up there in a huff (apparently being ordered around is not his idea of being a trader *shrug*) and reports back about 30 minutes later. I'm thinking he either killed them all and took their stuff (nah) or was blown off, but no, he tells me they had wood with them (which we apparently need), some training swords and bucklers, a caged giant leopard (I smell a pet) and a shitload of cloth. He took all of it and we've even got a few mugs left over.
I still fail to see how this is all exciting, but I pretend and let him enjoy his victory. Somebody has too. Back to the mission at hand: get me a goddamn forge before I grab an axe or pick and save the zombie carp the trouble.
When I ask Shadetree how many picks we have in store he just shrugs and mumbles something unintelligible. When I ask him if he has an inventory list I can check, he mumbles something else, something I won't repeat here. Anyway, I kicked his ass out there, told the mason to partition off part of a level, shove a door, a table and a chair in there and set Shadetree to counting picks, seeds, meals and whatever else he comes across. If I want to train up more miners, it's kind of handy to know for sure there's actually picks for everyone to use. *sigh*
1st Slate, 52
Migrants. I say again, migrants. Or victims, depending on your point of view. They're coming here to find new adventures, a new life. They'll find dung shoveling and vomit scraping unless they've got something to contribute. We'll see.
Holy freaking crap! There's got to be more than 15 of the little buggers. I was planning on getting a suntan up top, but I'm shaking hands and smiling so hard my fillings'll fall out if I'm not careful.
First thing I do is draft a few recruits. I choose some of the worthless cretins that were here before and some of the newcomers and organise them in two squads of three. Then I kick them in the backside and send them to train. By the time I get around to creating actual weapons for them, hopefully they'll know a blade from a grip. If not, they'll be in pain a lot.
I've also designated a barracks, since the idiots I've chosen for our military apparently have difficulty sparring anywhere else. Yeah.
24th Slate, 52
Shadetree now apparently wants to addressed as clerk. I hope he doesn't think that gets him off trading duty. Next time a bunch of peddlers show up, he's getting shoved out into the sun again.
28th Slate, 52
I've laid out the plan for my own chambers. I want a place close to my magma smelters and the magma pool. I...I need it. *sobs*
WHAT?!?!
25th Felsite, 52
Work is progressing on my chambers and the magma flow channel. Soon we...well, I, will be smelting away. Maybe the metalsmith that was in the last bunch of migrants'll join me, but he seems to be more interested in poo shoveling. Don't know why really.
4th Hematite, 52
Oh dear. It seems dwarves are not flame retardant. Flaming retards, yes. Flame retardant, no. While preparing my magma funnel, our sacrificial lamb Momuz the Gem Setter apparently could not outrun magma. Ah well, at least our mason, who I conveniently had over for dinner at that time, is safe.
17th Hematite, 52
Well. Traders. Whaddayaknow. We got mugs for ya. Lotsa mugs. I order Shadetree to go down to the depot, but he refuses. Says he's too busy counting individual bones. I have to physically remove his chair from the room before he gets the hint. After about an hour Shadetree reports that he sold lots of souvenir mugs for more wood (yay!) as well as some metal swords, food, drink and other assorted crap. Not sure where we'll put it, but that's a matter for later consideration.
6th Malachite, 52
Goddammit! One of the miners decided to use the stairs down to the new magma tunnel for his daily workout right when they were covering over the entrances up top with floors. Now he's stuck there. And since I first channeled away the stairs under the floor (I'm thorough), it isn't simply a matter of removing the floor. I have to dig into the stairs from the side and the build a wall to make sure that, should the magma rise up through the stairs, it doesn't flood the level. These people are so damn dense it's a wonder they can figure out which end of their miserable bodies the food goes into and what it comes out of. *grumble*
Also, we have a fey mood!
Our carpenter has claimed a carpenter's workshop (how surprising!) and is making something. Probably an earring depicting a certain rather violent death by magma ingestion.
14th Malachite, 52
More migrants! What is it with these people? Ah well, as long as I'm at it, I might as well boss them around. I add 4 more of them to the guard. They can spar all they want. The rest is put to hauling duty.
16th Malachite, 52
My magma smelter and forge are ready. Now I need ore. I get Shadetree into my office and close the door. When posed a very simple question, namely: "Do you have any ore?", he begins stammering and mumbling about the cat having eaten it and it being a bit more runny than I'd like. A few slaps later I've got my answer: we don't have any.
Life hates me. The Gods hate me.
Shadetree runs out of my office as I rant and rave, face purple with rage. I immediately order the miners to start stripmining. *twitch*
19th Malachite, 52
COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER! COPPER!
It's no iron or adamantium, but hey. COPPER!
28th Galene, 52
ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM! ALUMINUM!
It's no iron or adamantium, but hey. ALUMINUM!
Also, the carpenter went insane. Apparently our little desert paradise didn't have what he wanted. I was wondering what all that muttering was about. At least he's gone melancholic. I've seen it happen before. Give him a few months and he'll be either right as rain or dead. Either way, I'm happy. Just in case, I'm moving up our resident - useless - wood cutter up to carpenter status. Go for it, boy.
16th Limestone, 52
God, more traders. SHADETREE!!!
At least this bunch brought more wood again, so it's finally looking like we can do something woody.
16th Sandstone, 52
It is with great sadness I've been chosen to bury our former carpenter who spent the last weeks of his life sobbing in a corner. You will be missed. No one made uncomfortable beds like you.
Just as I'm burying the guy, someone yells "MIGRANTS!" from somewhere on the fortress walls. This is really getting silly. We don't have the beds! *sighs*
19th Sandstone, 52
We have our first legendary champion. All hail Meng somethingsomething. I can never remember these guys' names. Ah well, he gets a pat on the back and...well...nothing else.
20th Sandstone, 52
Ehhh...oh dear. Another mood, this time the little fella says he's possessed. Let's watch him a bit more closely this time. *grins nervously*
6th Timber, 52
The little bastard's just standing there, not moving an inch from the spot near his bunk. Dammit! Maybe he doesn't like the Craftdwarf's Workshop we built a few levels down, so I have one of the guys build him another one right next to the damn barracks. But no, he stands there, mesmerized, drooling. So I think a little harder. In a feat of inspired imagination I have them build a Leather Works, a Loom and a Clothier's Workshop. STILL HE DOESN'T MOVE. I grind my teeth till the fillings drop to the ground and finally come up with one last idea. I build a glass furnace near my own station. THAT MUST BE IT.
IT MUST.
IT MU...FUCK! Still no movement.
You know what, rot in hell.
At least the Clothier's Workshop is seeing use. As is the Leather Works. I can't be bothered to tear the lot down, someone else'll have to deal with it.
24th Timber, 52
Yeah baby, my guards have been beefing up and two more have joined the ranks of the legendary champions. Welcome guys, here's a mug of ale. Yeah, a Felsite mug, why? Now go train some more.
18th Moonstone, 52
And another marriage! The clothier and some random peasant have decided to join forces. I go over there, say a few words (well, mutter and belch mostly) and everybody dances the night away. Except for me. I hate dancing.
On my way back from the wedding, I came across our possessed Craftsdwarf. He took one look at me, said something about having to put a sheep in the oven and his monkey contracting syphilis from a dancing fairy and dashed off.
We need an asylum.
19th Moonstone, 52
Dear diary. SHOCKER! Shadetree wasn't there for our monthly stocks and budget meeting, so I went looking for him. Well, looking for HER! Apparently Shadetree's been a woman all this time. Not convinced? She pooped out a baby during the night. THAT'S WHY SHE WASN'T THERE FOR THE MEETING. Gah.
Anyway, after the initial embarassment I sent a fine meal and a mug of ale down there with a little card that has popup goblins in it. I tried to make sure my handwriting was legible, but I can never tell if someone'll be able to figure out what I wrote. If I get slapped, I'll have my answer.
28th Moonstone, 52
I've made myself a nice copper platemail, engraved with interesting scenes of people burning to death, going insane and mugs. Lots of goddamn mugs. Everywhere.
I fear for my sanity. But it's shiny. It's shiiiiinnnnnyyyyyyyyyy...teeheeeheeeheee...
7th Opal, 52
We have far too many useless dogs and puppies running around, so I'm having kennels built. In the future, we'll have a lot more dogs chained up outside to ward off intruders. Which I haven't seen yet.
Let's be honest, you'd have to be pretty damn braindamaged to try and assault this piece of crap fortress.
18th Opal, 52
Another baby. Sheesh, you'd think they were happy in this fortress. And Shadetree seems to be collecting clothes. On the floor. Of her office. If her stock records weren't phenomenal, I'd have her put away.
23rd Opal, 52
The Craftsdwarf guy is dead. I heard him slamming his head against the walls all night last night and when it suddenly stopped this morning I knew enough. Time to get out the shovel.
26th Opal, 52
I'm starting work on flooring over the first level of the aboveground tower. Also, I got a letter from the King telling me someone else'll be by soon to take over operations here. Tells me I'm too valuable as a weaponsmith to manage the place.
Yeah, right. If you ask me, some courtier's sister's nephew's second inbred cousin's bastard needed a job faaaaaaaarrrrr away from society and now he's being sent here. We'll see.
23rd Obsidian, 52
Well, more aluminum, so I'm hoping I get to forge another statue for my chambers in time for my relief from command. Not counting on it though...
26th Obsidian, 52
OH GODS! Another one. Now the armorer withdraws from society. Why? What have I done to deserve this? *screams*
27th Obsidian, 52
Phew! At least this little piggy started his construction. I'm kind of curious what he'll make, it'll be made from copper, that I know. Well, looks like the military's gonna have an artifact to wear.
1st Granite, 53
I knew it! The new guy's here and boy does he have inbred royal bastard written all over him. Anyway, I'm throwing off the mantle of command. He can have it. It smells anyway. I'll be in the smithy, churning out...ehh...copper stuff mostly. We need to find us some iron ore...