Twinklebanner - Languish Dwarf Fortress succession game

[sbr]

The booze stockpile looks very low but otherwise very well done and a great AAR.

[Jaron]

We ran out of alcohol a couple times. The workshop area really confuses me.

[Habbaku]

Running out of alcohol isn't good at all.  The last thing we need is a group of depressed Dwarves on top of all the other problems mentioned.

I won't be able to do my turn of this until the weekend, so if someone else wants to step in and take a swing before Friday, feel free.  Otherwise, I'll do my best to finish by Friday afternoon.

[HisMajestyBOB]

I'm not getting anything done till Sunday, I think. Next week though I can play a turn with no problem.

[Jaron]

I'll be out of town til Sunday. Good luck you all.

[Solmyr]

Water does flow diagonally, AFAIK.

Did the named dwarves do anything noteworthy?

[Jaron]

If that be the case, then there is a possible flooding risk 1-2 levels down. I hastily put a door there to keep the water out (there was no time to make a flood gate) but if that door was removed or destroyed, I believe all the lower levels of the fort would be flooded out. Maybe someone should build a wall there.

[Razgovory]

If that be the case, then there is a possible flooding risk 1-2 levels down. I hastily put a door there to keep the water out (there was no time to make a flood gate) but if that door was removed or destroyed, I believe all the lower levels of the fort would be flooded out. Maybe someone should build a wall there.

Well so long as nobody opens the door you'll be fine.

[Habbaku]

The new administrator's Forward Inspection Team has arrived to assess the...odd peculiarities of previous taskmasters of this outpost.

Their first assessment?  Whoever sited the living quarters so near the workshops (several beds are one floor beneath the workstations) needs to be locked in a cage.  Several of the Dwarves are unhappy about having to sleep with the constant clanging of metal above, below and around them.

[Solmyr]

The new administrator's Forward Inspection Team has arrived to assess the...odd peculiarities of previous taskmasters of this outpost.

Their first assessment?  Whoever sited the living quarters so near the workshops (several beds are one floor beneath the workstations) needs to be locked in a cage.  Several of the Dwarves are unhappy about having to sleep with the constant clanging of metal above, below and around them.

Just let them eat on some nice tables and they'll be happy.

[Habbaku]

Forward Inquisition--er, Inspection Team Report, Part 2 :

The alcohol shortage has been mercilessly rooted out.  Apparently, the fortress is so short-staffed on miners (hint : we aren't), that one of the previous taskmasters felt the need to commit our lone, skilled brewer to the task of digging.  Realizing the obvious--that proper brewing of booze is vastly more important than digging our next tunnel slightly faster--the Dwarf has been set to taking care of his alcohol-manufacturing only.

More reports to come as these fuck-ups are dealt with.  This is going to take longer than I thought...

[sbr]

Wasn't me.  He was already like that, I changed his profession to Miner/Brewer so I could keep track of him.  :innocent:

[Habbaku]

After hearing the case of various Dwarf complaints throughout the fortress, the new Mayor has taken steps to rectify one of the other deficiencies in this hole-in-the-wall outpost.  Specifically, the production of meat.  The Mayor, Habbaku the Irate, brings certain, strange practices from the Far East, but, thus far, no grumbling has been heard about the type of the mystery meat being served up--merely happiness that it is available in the first place.

[Habbaku]

Well, that was...interesting.  I had a crash and thought I had just lost a couple hours of playtime.  Or at least I thought I did.  But then I closed everything and was heading to bed and the game popped up, paused right where I had it paused at.

Updates and such to follow tomorrow.

[Habbaku]

Twinklebanner, The Fourth Year

Upon the forced-retirement of the previous administrator Jaron for reasons of insanity and personal hubris unbecoming of Dwarfkind, a new overseer has been elected in his stead :




(Merely a novice liar?  This will have to be fixed)

With the fine, Dwarven tradition of selecting their own leadership when fortress-steading properly cemented with the re-election of the outpost's first mayor, Habbaku immediately set about enacting much-needed reforms. Specifically, in the dire shortage of meat and beer, both solved under the benevolent reign thanks to the specialization of tasks to those best-suited, as mentioned in an earlier missive.

In the process, of course, it was deemed suitable that the First Mayor and current overseer should also have a proper room and tomb associated with his gloried name :



In addition, several complaints were made about the...gaudy and self-serving statue set up in the primary courtyard.  The new administration has, naturally, sited and improved upon the old position by replacing the statue with one of our First Mayor, as well as further outfitting the courtyard with additional weaponry (and beginning a training regimen for the siege equipment there--something our predecessor neglected in his, er, 'wisdom') :



While surveying the grounds for the proper reform of the grounds, however, our Dear Mayor was actually assaulted by a wayward Goblin!  Of course, the fearless Mayor proved himself more than capable of the task of dispatching such a nuisance, though it got his old heart pumping quite quickly, to be sure :



Mercifully (or perhaps prudently for the vile races of our enemies), the fortress was actually quiet other than the lone assailant and one thief who was driven away later on.  What was not silent, however, was the hammer and anvil of Dwarven industry churning out wonders which the world can but marvel at.  Here, we see a previous administrator's lover engaging in some fine craftdwarfship :



Eventually producing a wonder--a true wonder!--which all will tell their children tales about.  Tales about its fine, circular constitution and its containment properties of even the most noxious of fish :



Ah, but the world is not all legendary barrels.  No, sometimes even the weaponsmiths get wind of inspiration :



Alas, our scribes lost the end-result, which turned out to be a blowgun for the elephants that will surely flock to our fortress to be shot down.  Soon...

But not all is industry--some of the world is finance!  This is exactly what our Dear Mayor was elected to accomplish of course; trade and friendship with the settlements around us and, in addition, lucrative importation of a variety of wondrous goods :



Both the Humans and the pointy-eared Elven sorts were effectively brought to heel with all manner of goods.  In exchange for the mass of Kobold and Goblin equipment that previous administrations left lying around, our people were able to taste the fruits of above-ground farm, importing strawberries, horse meat, Elven wine, a plethora of bags, some human weaponry of fine quality and a multitude of other items.  Prosperity at last!

In closing, the last task that our Dear Mayor engaged upon was priming Twinklebanner for inevitable war.  Though his period of running things was peaceful, it cannot be said that he has left any subsequent rulers without forces at his disposal.  The ranks of the military more than doubled and eight fine, young immigrants were appointed to the task of being our new cadre of Fortress Guards.  Their training, along with the previous ranks already in the military has proceeded apace, not least of which would be the marksdwarfs, who were, for the first time, furnished with plenty of ammunition to practice with (something the previous administration no doubt considered a nuisance).  In fact, the stock of everything was greatly improved over the incompetence of the previous trio, as noted in our year-end (-beginning?) stocks :



Lastly, we highly recommend that the follow-on administrator give the humans what they wish next season.  Their list of requests are as follows :



On that note, our Dear Mayor relinquishes the chains of command to the next in the line of annual succession, with hopes that his firm establishment of prosperity will be continued.

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