User:RomeoFalling

Carving an empire out of Sand and Cat Bone

My current load-out, inspired by finding a nice thickly-forested, heavily populated space of Black Sand with a magma pipe in it, and then discovering that the randomly-chosen name for the group was The Infamous Cat-Sacks.

Clearly, I've been playing for far too long.

The Dwarves

1. The Guy With The Bright Idea

• Novice Miner
• Novice Judge of Intent
• Novice Appraisal
• Competent Consoler
• Skilled Pacifier

Since the top couple of layers are sand, anyway, he'll have plenty of time to level up in his actual trade skill. Ideally, he ought to be proficient in Persuader, but then I thought to myself, "No, that's going too far."

2. Cat-Into-Sack Stuffer

• Novice Butcher
• Novice Tanner
• Proficient Leatherworker
• Competent Mechanics

Hey, he can't kill cats all the time. He also spends a lot of time devising cruel torture implements and death traps. Uh.....why do we want him along, again? Oh yeah, he's the whole reason we're The Infamous Cat-Sacks.

3. Three Words: Cat Bone Armor

• Proficient Bone Carver
• Skilled Stonecrafter
• Novice Record Keeper

Need I say any more?

4. Not The Weaponsmith You Were Looking For

• Proficient Bowyer
• Average Glassmaker
• Average Cook
• Novice Organizer

If we didn't have magma somewhere on the map, I'd probably trade a point of Bowyer for Furnace Op. He's an essential part of my plans for an army of cat-bone clad marksdwarves armed with cat bone crossbows, shooting cat bone bolts at our enemies! He also makes a pretty nice cat meat biscuit.

5. Outdoor Dwarf

• Novice Wood Cutter
• Proficient Carpenter
• Novice Herbalism
• Novice Hunter
• Novice Axe
• Novice Armor

He still thinks we're just going camping for the weekend. Don't tell him!

6. Farmer

• Proficient Grower
• Competent Brewer
• Novice Miller
• Novice Thresher

Because you can't make beer out of cats. Yet.

7. Chief Architect

• Proficient Mason
• Proficient Architect

I figure this is somebody's kid brother. Maybe I'll call him Junior.

Their Stuff

• 4 Copper Picks
• 1 Steel Axe
• 2 War Dogs
• 1 pig tail rope (for the sentry cat)
• 1 Lead cage (for the rest of the cats)
• 41 units each of the 4 kinds of alcohol
• 43 Seeds of Plump Helmet and Pig Tail
• 29 Seeds of the others
• 11 turtles still in their shell
• 1 each of all the food we can get

Which should leave us enough for nearly 40 cats! If we end up with anything left over, we can spend it on cat leather, cat meat, or seeds.

Vaboksholid, The Clutched Orb

Warning: Heavy Artistic License

First, I should admit that the above Embark Profile is not the one I'm using. Rather, the Sand and Bone profile is a modification based on my current game. I was given a group named The Infamous Cat Sacks, but at the time I was way too literal, and just bought a bunch of cat leather bags. This way is much more fun, and probably a more intelligent plan in the end.

Also, my current fortress is not named The Clutched Orb. Vaboksholid is actually Orbclutched. But this one sounds better. Neither name is the one in the computer files, which is calling my home Ushilducim, or Iceworks. But in the journal, I'm calling it Vaboksholid, which is the randomly generated name I got while streamlining the Sand and Bone embark profile, and rings quite nicely with events already in progress.

Since I'm using so much artistic license already, I figure I should come clean and invite anyone still reading this to join me for the fun. If any named character in these journals strikes some kind of resemblance to someone from your games that you remember, chime in on my talk page and we'll figure out if we can link the two together somehow. Or just shout out suggestions.

Maybe this kind of cross-pollination will encourage me to play the game past my first goblin ambush, which is where I keep stopping in the four or five weeks that I've been playing so far.

--RomeoFalling 00:21, 8 November 2008 (EST)

1st Hematite, 204 Early Summer

Reloading from an earlier savepoint.

I awoke from a nightmare like none I had ever known. I can only call it a prophetic vision of blood and death. I realized then that I, Edzul Cryptpaddles, called The Old Cat-Sack Himself, having been leading my fortress to its certain ruin.

I shuddered again at the dream-memory of 'Gutgear' Standardbrush fleeing from the carnage only to fall into the river north of us, eaten by carp while he drowned. Ast Blockpaged on her knees, wailing over the goblin-mangled corpse of her baby as Vobuksholid fell around her. The human caravan guard falling one after the other off the bridge and into our empty moat. These things had not yet come to pass, but surely would if I did not change my ways, and soon.

I lingered for a moment over the real tragedies which had befallen Vobuksholid in the three years since its founding. The poor unloved kitten who pounced on a fire snake and perished in flames for his curiosity. The horrible sparring accident which took the lives of our first two militia men, just as Eral was telling them that obsidian makes a surprisingly sharp sword.

But nothing was worse than the bear that snuck into our larder during the second year, and tore out half Nomal Atrildok's throat before he felled the beast. Nomal lived, but the accident had disillusioned Nil, the outdoorsdwarf who had first led us through the wilderness and to our new home. He'd thought we were just going camping. Now it dawned on him that we were responsible for the lives of others, and I suppose that was what prompted him to try to wrestle a two-humped camel bare-handed.

There had been such promise in those early days! So many reasons to hope. The elves had heard of The Infamous Cat-Sacks, and on their first visit brought a Giant Jaguar for us to admire. We took that beast in, and chained him at the front gate for all to see our glory.

Then, too, came Vabok Vabokotung, son of Vabok (I believe his name translates to Orb Orbshock). Though he claimed to be little more than a Hardbodied pump operator, he brought with him many strange ideas which seemed so wise. I'd ordered the "gym," as he called it, built, but never let any of my dwarves actually use it.

I'd started so many projects, and none of them yet finished. My inability to focus will be our doom if I do not change my ways. For the prophecy I'd seen had told me without question that goblins will come. I have but one season to stop my idle ways and act like a real Mayor. I have but one season to save the 50 dwarves under my command from my own folly.

Enough with this melancholy nostalgia! I shall put a halt to everything, and reconsider our situation anew.