Datanerith Entry 9: A Day of Drudgery and Dingoes at Datanerith

Meet Stakud Rithrithar, the Ranger of Datanerith. See him posed next to a dead dingo? We'll get to that.

Stakud is scrawny for a dwarf, and bald, with a long mustache and beard arranged in double braids. He is focused, impatient, and has a very undwarfy penchant for sleeping outside, on the grass. He was a member of the most recent migrant wave to the fortress; he contributes by hunting the local wild animals. Stakud is, in no small part, a reason why the fort didn't starve during the lean months.

A feral weasel was harassing Udil, the fisherdwarf, and what did Stakud do? He shot the weasel and dragged the carcass back to the butcher, Eral. Wasn't even ordered to. He's just doing his job.

Now, about those dingoes.

The "d" stands for "death." Also, "dingo."

The pack of dingoes that arrived was much larger than the one that showed up last year. Ten dingoes, instead of six. And, of course, they were on this side of the river. They immediately, and aggressively, started attacking poor Udil. He's fine, by the way, he just ran away a lot. Between weasels, alligators, and a pack of dingoes, he's actually getting pretty good at that.

I called for the militia. There were three left: Ral, Tirist, and Melbil. I double-checked to make sure that Tirist and Melbil both had their crossbows, and Ral Nerkadol, the militia commander, took her axe. She had a crossbow, too, but she really likes that axe. Whatever. All three warriors met at the fort's entrance, and as a team, they rushed the first dingo they saw. Well, I say "they." What I mean is, Ral buried her axe in the dingo's fucking skull while Tirist and Melbil sat around trying to figure out how to do a suplex with a crossbow.

When it comes to killing dingoes, a copper battle axe is actually better than a piledriver. Maybe someone will tell this to my dumbass soldiers?

So Ral is leading the charge, here. That works, I guess. As she leads her two cheerleaders to the next attack, they run into Stakud, reloading his crossbow over the bodies of four dead dingoes. The rest of the dingo pack, seeing that there was no easy prey to be found at Datanerith, beat a hasty retreat. Stakud didn't even know there had been a call to arms. He's just doing his job.

Datanerith Entry 8: Spring

I've been making some efforts to expand the fort's operations.

In the Agricultural Quarter, my sexy new name for the Food Level, I've finally got a decent kitchen, butchery, and brewery up and running. I have a new farm running, full of cave wheat so I can start making flour and beer. Still no quern yet, but I do have a pretty decent sized pantry filled with meat, eggs, prepared meals, and some of that cheese I bought from Katolvutok. Best yet, adjacent to my food stockpile, I've built a grand new dining room.

Not pictured: the weird dwarf eating lunch by himself.

I built a new wing, lower than any of the others and far away from where sleeping dwarves lie, dedicated entirely to workstations and labor. The Industrial Quarter is equal parts factory and warehouse; it's where I keep my stockpiles of raw materials (like wood and stone) as well as finished goods and furniture. It's designed in such a way to maximize efficiency, so my dwarves don't have to walk too far to go from material to workstation to finished products. I don't quite have the skilled labor needed for all the industry I want - blacksmiths, for example - but there's room for growth.

I hate perfect symmetry, by the way. Here's hoping nobody reading this has bad OCD. You're gonna go fucking nuts.

Minkot, the jeweler, emotional as always, fell into different mood: like Tirist, she took over a workshop and threw herself into her work. Like Tirist, she had everything she needed to craft her artifact. Unlike Tirist, however, her artifact is, like, super retarded. Lo, "Raspedink the Killer of Threatening," a bed made entirely out of semiprecious stone and camel bone:

Note how the bed has fucking spikes made out of gemstone. I don't see her volunteering to sleep in it.

To keep track of all these changes, I needed my ledger straight. Since my last clerk went and got himself killed by an Alligator, I had to find a dwarf with some relevant skills. One of my recent dwarf migrants, Asmel, had zero skills in any kind of actual labor... but he was an adequate record keeper. He was also skilled at flattery and lying, apparently. I converted the old dining room into an office and told Asmel to take the books in there for the rest of the year and get this place organized.

Oh, wait, there's the weird dwarf eating by himself.

Then the dingos came back. This time, on the wrong side of the river.

Datanerith Entry 7: Trader Mistem's

The death of Sibrek, hilarious though it was, has been a little depressing for Datanerith. Especially the rest of the militia, who will probably never be able to forgive themselves for laughing at their comrade's absurd death. So to quell any thoughts of mutiny or other angry thoughts, I told them to take the season off. It's not like I'd be needing their wrestling skills if those dingos ever came back.

Still, though, morale was low in Ironlabors. The lack of food was an ever-present problem, but there were other issues, too. The cramped dining room. The fact that every dwarf shares a room with the rest of the fort. The fact that every dwarf sleeps not ten paces away from the din of industry. The lack of a well (I'm working on that, though, promise!). It was only a matter of time before someone snapped.

Minkot Teshkadlimul, called Pricegolds, the jeweler of Datanerith, just couldn't handle the stress. She snapped and threw a tantrum.

Fortunately, she, like my four year old sister, quickly learned that tantrums don't accomplish much, and then calmed down without incident. But I was fortunate - tantrums can be downright deadly in Dwarf Fortress. One dwarf throws a tantrum and hits another unhappy dwarf, or destroys something valuable, or does something causing another dwarf to throw a tantrum, etc, etc. This is called a tantrum spiral, and I've lost many forts to such a phenomenon. Lucky for me that Minkot calmed down, but it was still a sign that things were bad. I needed to make some changes.

Thank Armok for the merchants of Kastolvutok!

Kastolvutok, the nearby Dwarven civilization, had heard legends of Datanerith's exploits, and a merchant caravan decided to make the voyage to my part of the world for a little trading. One of my dwarves, named Mistem, had some skill in intimidation, comedy, and as a judge of character, so she seemed like the best choice to be broker. I hastily gathered up all my chrysoprase, built a ramshackle trading depot, and called Mistem away from her party to do a little trading.

"Right there's a great place to meet up with emissaries of the Dwarven Queen of Kastolvutok! Right there between the pasture and the refuse pile."

So my earlier googling about chrysoprase failed to tell me everything about the gem. Including, for example, the fact that it's literally worth less than fucking lumber. Still, though, Minkot was so proud of her work, and I didn't want her to get all pouty again, so I traded all I had for some cheese, meat, and mushrooms. Food! Finally, precious sustenance! It's not an end to this fort's troubles, but it's a start. At least nobody's eating rats for the next few months.

Datanerith Entry 6: Passing by Poultry

In the latest migrant wave, I had a bunch of useless dwarves. Those who didn't have any skills to offer me got drafted. Sibrek Kibishudar, for example, was apparently a highly accomplished Milker where he came from. And that's fine. Back in his homeland, maybe that meant he was hot shit. But here in Datanerith, it meant he was drafted into the militia, had a crossbow slapped into his hand... and then started practicing his wrestling moves. I'm still figuring out the militia.

So, Sibrek.

Sibrek was practicing his wrestling with the other dwarves, right out there in the middle of the hallway (because for some reason they refuse to use the barracks which is RIGHT THERE) and he's honestly doing pretty badly. But that's ok, because he's new. Everyone starts somewhere. This is why I like to start training my militia early. As long as you're building up a decent martial skill (even, uh, wrestling), it doesn't really matter how bad you are to start. Right?

Let me explain these reports that I expertly stitched together in MS Paint.

During his sparring session, Sibrek (who is referred to both as "The Milker" and "The Recruit," because even the game is having a hard time calling him a military recruit with a straight face), accidentally ran into a stray hen. The hen, angry, pecked at his foot. Sibrek, agile as ever, jumped out of the way, tripped, and tore apart the nervous tissue around his spine. He paralyzed himself, and then suffocated to death before Rakust, the fort's doctor, even knew there was a problem.

You understand? Sibrek was so fucking clumsy, he tripped over a chicken and broke his back and fucking died.

"The Hall of Those Who Died Like a Bitch" grew a little more that day.

At least the fort's hunger problem is becoming less and less of a meaningful issue.

Datanerith Entry 5: Tirist Withdraws from Society

I organized the migrants best I could, but this fortress just isn't equipped for its seven new members. The dorm is starting to get cramped, the dining room is packed to the brim, and, still, the food shortage problem looms. I didn't have enough to feed the population before it went up by thirty percent. I ordered the slaughter of my camel - my last large animal - and hoped that my hens would start to lay eggs soon.

In the meantime, I put my migrants to task. Several of them went straight into the military. Maybe they'll die before they get a chance to grow too hungry. I increased production of crossbows and training axes so they'd all be equipped, but for some reason, they're not practicing shooting. I've got archery targets, I've got a shooting range, and I've set the militia up to equip crossbows and train, so I don't understand what I've got wrong. Why aren't they training? I fucking hate the military in this game. So complicated.

This is literally the flowchat I use to manage my army in Dwarf Fortress.

The problem was somewhat mitigated/exacerbated when one of my recruits, Tirist, fell into a strange mood. He took over a bowyer's workshop and, thank god, went straight to work. See, in dwarf fortress, an arbitrary dwarf might randomly enter "a mood," like a secretive mood or a macabre mood, and take over a workshop. Once they take over the workshop, they start to demand specific items, like stone, or gems, or cloth. They might demand items that can be hard to come by for some fortresses, like shells. If the dwarves don't get what they want, they go mad - sometimes they just lose their mind and run around naked, sometimes they go berserk and kill everything they can. Either way, it's bad.

Fortunately, Tirist had all the things he needed. Very soon, he had created his masterpiece: Berdanlosis, or "Walkfaint" in English, a crossbow made of palm wood and chrysoprase gems. The first artifact of Datanerith! Here's its description for those interested in such things:

"Remember that time a goblin wounded some random dwarf's thigh in a war that happened years ago? That was so fucking awesome I'm gonna carve it on my crossbow!"

It doesn't quite address the rampant starvation, but it's still pretty cool.

Datanerith Entry 4: Hunger Strikes

So I noticed that my dwarves were starting to run out of food. How did I notice that, you might ask? They stopped working entirely and started eating rats.

A bond formed between Ral and a kitten, though, which is nice.

OK, so, hunger kinda snuck up on me there. That's kind of a problem. I just now got my plump helmet farm up and running, and it may be a while before it bears fruit. And by fruit I mean mushrooms. I've actually been pretty irresponsible about food. On embark I did prepare adequately; I've got three or four hens to lay eggs, a bunch of plump helmet seeds, and I even brought a camel and a yak to slaughter when things got hairy. I waited pretty long to get my farm started, though, and I haven't even put the hens to pasture yet, let alone build them some nest boxes to lay eggs in.

As a quick stopgap, I immediately ordered the building of a kitchen and butchery. A few of my last migrants had some skill in cooking and butchery, so I queued up a couple easy meals and ordered my yak killed. Then I ordered some nest boxes built so we can start collecting eggs. Things are looking close, but barring any more food shortages or unexpected problems, we should be fine.

FUCK.

Datanerith Entry 3: The Beginnings of Home

The dingoes wandered away on their own after repeated attempts to cross the river. Lucky me, since my first wave of migrants came shortly afterwards. By then, I had gotten some work done in the fortress.

Click to see a larger picture.

This is my main entrance, on the same z-level as the river. Notice the long hallway; that's the only way to get in or out. I plan on laying down a bunch of traps there, and maybe chaining up some war dogs or building a few sniper's perches or something. Everything I've got right now is pretty temporary; a quick fix until I can get my miners to carve out something nicer. You can see, in the upper left, the dormitory filled with beds, adjacent to an already cramped dining room. Underneath are my stockpiles. Across the hallway from them are my workstations. It's not really fit for a booming industry just yet, but it's enough to build me the beds, tables, mechanisms, and other "start-up" items I need. A sharp eye might notice a barracks and shooting range above the workstations. Two of my unlucky new migrants, who didn't have anything substantial to offer me (I think one of them was a Cheesemaker) named Tirist and Ral, have been drafted volunteered to start training for my first actual militia.

So far, the only stone I've come across is chalk. I did get a little chrysoprase, which was a nice surprise. Well, it was after I actually googled "chrysoprase" and found out that it's a kind of gem. And wouldn't you know it, one of my migrants, Minkot, just happened to be a jeweler! I put her to work right away. I'm usually so focused on getting the fundamentals taken care of that I rarely have anything to offer the first trading caravan that comes, so I'm excited to be able to have some cut gems to trade.

The next level down doesn't have much to share. So far it's nothing but my Hall of the Honored Dead. I very rarely need to build a crypt this early in the game, but I really can't stress enough how quickly poor Endok died.

It should just be called the "Hall of Those Who Died Like A Bitch."

Down below, on the third floor (is it called the negative third floor when you don't build up?), are my farms. The first farm was built almost immediately, but I'm having my miners carve out a whole complex down there. I'd like to get a quern up, and turn the whole floor into a kitchen/brewery/food industry place. Right now it's just a bunch of empty rooms.

Irrigated pond water dumped on stone underground so I can grow mushrooms. Can you imagine the smell??

The first farm is, of course, a plump helmet mushroom farm. I hope the dwarves of Datanerith enjoy mushrooms, because it's soon to be all they eat. Except maybe the occasional alligator steak.

Hahaha, just kidding, Endok.