- v50 information can now be added to pages in the main namespace. v0.47 information can still be found in the DF2014 namespace. See here for more details on the new versioning policy.
- Use this page to report any issues related to the migration.
User:Doomshifter/Survival
Squirreloid's Survival Challenge[edit]
So, a Bay12er by the name of Squirreloid offered a challenge to the Bay12 Forums. Using a no skill, no purchase embark, you are to survive with nothing and work from the ground up. I accepted his challenge. This wiki page shall be the log of my dwarves and their amazing works. Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Embarked[edit]
We have embarked to the outpost Ekurônor, "Mightydespair"with the group known only as The Mindful Machine, currently consisting of several completely unskilled migrants. Our wagon contains nothing but the wood it was made of and our only animal is a donkey who pulled the wagon for us. As an interesting side note, we have a worshipper of a god of muck who looks like a bat and two worshippers of a god of fish, oceans, rainbows, the rain and trees who looks like a cave spider. I have... *ahem* high hopes for those guys... yeah.
The area is fairly pleasant. The highest point is five z-levels above us and the lowest is two z-levels below. There's a lovely little brook, a bunch of mineral-laden chalk and more trees than you can shake a battle axe at.
1st Slate, 1051[edit]
A month has passed. A still and a fishery stand proudly next to a food stockpile and a small farm. Over to the west two dwarves are happily plucking turtles from the water and our bored expedition leader is off to the east engraving a small square of land for... some reason. I realised only moments ago that the single log that I turned into a barrel will mean that I will be unable to make a trade depot. This concerns me greatly and now I have no idea how I'm either going to get more wood or ANYTHING from the trade wagon. This... might be a problem... But, as the Mindful Machine at Mightydespair, we shall overcome these great odds. Somehow. probably just steal all their stuff...
15th Felsite, 1051[edit]
Another month and a half has passed in the wilderness. The dwarves are content so far to sleep on the ground, drink from the brook, get rained on constantly and eat berries to survive. The workshops are constantly pulled down and replaced with something else so as to use those two logs that we have. Seriously. Two. I feel almost like we're pretending to be elves out here! I'm not entirely regretting the decision to convert the third into a barrel, because it's constantly filled up with delicious booze. After the discovery of some Rope Reeds, we made a lovely cloth bag and put the other piece of cloth inside it. That's what we call, in the dwarven tongue, othob est hospitals. At least the ground is covered in pretty engravings! All in all, we're surviving. No dangerous creatures have come for us, no picks have struck the earth and no axes have cleft the trees in two. So, we're surviving uncomfortably.