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Author Topic: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)  (Read 87828 times)

Baleur

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #165 on: June 20, 2014, 01:59:55 pm »

Haha that is amazing.
Their wrestling goes on throughout history, many migrants take up residence in the fort, their civilization falls, new migrants take over.
The wrestling never ends.
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Eric Blank

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #166 on: June 20, 2014, 02:17:42 pm »

Well, unfortunately the cave fish man will die of old age. And that will end the battle.
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I have no idea where anything is. I have no idea what anything does. This is not merely a madhouse designed by a madman, but a madhouse designed by many madmen, each with an intense hatred for the previous madman's unique flavour of madness.

Dirst

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #167 on: June 20, 2014, 02:19:47 pm »

Haha that is amazing.
Their wrestling goes on throughout history, many migrants take up residence in the fort, their civilization falls, new migrants take over.
The wrestling never ends.
The elite cave fish man wrestler strangles the forgotten beast!                                  x4294967296
The elite cave fish man wrestler collapses!
The elite cave fish man wrestler has died of old age.
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Just got back, updating:
(0.42 & 0.43) The Earth Strikes Back! v2.15 - Pay attention...  It's a mine!  It's-a not yours!
(0.42 & 0.43) Appearance Tweaks v1.03 - Tease those hippies about their pointy ears.
(0.42 & 0.43) Accessibility Utility v1.04 - Console tools to navigate the map

Shaggard

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #168 on: June 20, 2014, 09:28:11 pm »

Well, unfortunately the cave fish man will die of old age. And that will end the battle.

I figure that's the only equivalent to a "no contest" in Dwarf logic.

(Edit)
« Last Edit: June 20, 2014, 09:46:00 pm by Shaggard »
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Oris Mador

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #169 on: June 26, 2014, 07:48:51 am »

This little excerpt is from my first fortress Dangerpages (Kezatmorul).
It was a very odd experience I think.


In 252 The Mirror of Razors of The Basement of Dashing founded Dangerpages

In 253 I passed over all kinds of cloth in an elven caravan in favour of a Giant Echidna. One of my 2 miners then went into a strange mood demanding yarn and silk cloth. After discovering in a frantic rush how to make these things he created my first artifact: Claspreleased the Sculpted Silk, a shale throne.
In the winter of that year another dwarf created Growlgleam the Library of Armories, the single most epicly titled larch grate I've ever seen. Then someone died of thirst because I forgot to brew alcohol and water apparently freezes in winter.

In 254 Swallowedhollow the Magical Strikes was created by a bone carver. They were puppy bone pants that menaced with spikes of puppy bone. Bloody comfortable by all accounts too.
I was haunted by the dwarf who died of thirst whose corpse I never found and thus learned my lesson about memorial slabs. She vandalised the first one before it could be engraved.
A kobold thief was accidentally crushed by a drawbridge in the middle of a theft.
The population flourished with over 110 members. Only thieves and snatchers ever turned up. My military was entirely composed of wrestlers handpicked from the finest fisherdwarves and haphazardly equipped with piecemeal bone armour. They succeeded in apprehending (brutally disassembled with bare hands) a single goblin snatcher before she could reach the edge of the map. Immediately after that my fort was besieged.
I raised my drawbridge and waited. The siege ended with a few unfortunate merchants and their guards from the mountainhomes dead. I pledged to honour their memory by making the best possible use of their worldly possessions.

In 255 Dangerpages once again faced an alcohol shortage, this time due to available barrels being taken due to overzealous meal production. Masterpiece roasts though.
Then began The rampage of Ngoplex Lowpears the Loyal Meadow-scrap of Mongrels.
My army of wrestlers and marksdwarves (with no bolts because I forgot quivers) leapt into the fray.
Of note about this particular titan: he breathed poison and was immune to pain.
14 Dwarves 12 War Dogs and at least a few chickens later he bled to death, killed by Kikrost Theatershock, an animal trainer I'd hurriedly conscripted after one of my squads was wiped out. This after he'd lost enough blood to fill a small pond, and accrued a laundry list of injuries and scars long enough to require scrolling on more body parts than I even realised he had.
Then my fort descended into chaos.
Miasma everywhere.  Coffin production nonexistent.
People dying of thirst. Parties at the shale table.
One dwarf recovering in the hospital in a bed with 2 corpses on it.
A new mother threw a tantrum, destroyed my entrance bridge while standing on it, fell into the defensive ditch, calmed down then straight away went berserk and tore apart her child.
As there was no end in sight to the constant stream of stark raving madness, melancholy, parties, and berserk fury I abandoned the settlement to reclaim it in the future.

That was my first encounter with FUN in Dwarf Fortress. My only regret was not striking magma and dying horribly that way.
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TD1

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #170 on: June 26, 2014, 09:42:17 am »

In 253 I passed over all kinds of cloth in an elven caravan in favour of a Giant Echidna. One of my 2 miners then went into a strange mood demanding yarn and silk cloth. After discovering in a frantic rush how to make these things he created my first artifact: Claspreleased the Sculpted Silk, a shale throne.
In the winter of that year another dwarf created Growlgleam the Library of Armories, the single most epicly titled larch grate I've ever seen. Then someone died of thirst because I forgot to brew alcohol and water apparently freezes in winter.
Then someone died of thirst because I forgot to brew alcohol and water apparently freezes in winter.
Then someone died of thirst because I forgot to brew alcohol
I forgot to brew alcohol
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nimbus25

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #171 on: June 26, 2014, 01:07:44 pm »


I forgot to brew alcohol
Hey, forgetting to brew alcohol isn't TOO bad, as long as you make enough of it, and check Z Status every now and then.
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Oris Mador

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #172 on: June 26, 2014, 06:12:40 pm »


I forgot to brew alcohol
Hey, forgetting to brew alcohol isn't TOO bad, as long as you make enough of it, and check Z Status every now and then.
I blame migrants with children and my own general ineptitude. And parties.
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Uncertain

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #173 on: June 30, 2014, 01:23:38 am »

My latest fort, The Dungeon of Dumplings, was my longest-running, wealthiest, most adventure-ridden and catastrophe-stricken fort yet. About six years in I'd decided to build my first-ever pump stack to see if I might be able to construct a magma moat, "waterfall" and specialised smelting reservoir.

Windmills were constructed and walled off above a system of connected gears, and the shaft meant to house the pump stack had largely been mined out. Unfortunately, despite having played DF on and off for years, I hadn't seen enough sieges to realise that wealth attracts them, so my fort was poorly defended and intricately engraved. The pump stack ended up being postponed for four years or so while I scraped through the inevitable and relentless goblin onslaught and set up a military of any worth.

Eventually I found that my military had become tough enough to take on minotaurs, squads of goblin riders and the like, so I decided to get back to work on the stack. Only the last couple of floors around the middle of the stack still needed mining, so the dwarves got to it, only to reveal that an open expanse on the third cavern layer had been wedged in the middle of the stack's design the entire time.

Seeing as a decade or so had passed since my fort was founded, my vampire King had died in the caverns long ago, and insects still picked at his marrow somewhere in those depths. Those layers had been sealed off immediately afterward, but somewhere in the region of eight forgotten beasts had accumulated down there over the years. Now that the layer had been breached again, my military immediately disregarded their burrow assignment and instead charged heartily into the subterranean labyrinths in search of precious, precious bolts.

Most of the forgotten beasts were fairly run-of-the-mill, and none sounded deeply threatening, but for one: Tig, an enormous earthworm made of kunzite, a type of gem, and exuding a noxious gas. I wasn't sure I could crack kunzite, and hoped that Tig would be satisfied to wallow in the thick pools he'd been spotted in.

I'd never attempted to control the caverns before, and my recent martial victories had made me brave, so I decided to remove the burrow restriction, let my greedy dwarves run amok and if they wound up impaled on each other then be it on their own heads. I constructed walls and doors before my new breach point to dwarven the place up a bit, and awaited the approaching battle-wails of the caverns' terrible promise.

Every few minutes, a new forgotten beast charged toward the breach with its utmost fury, and was put to death with deft ease. The outlook was surprisingly good, and although we were under perpetual siege, we now had as much forgotten beast meat, bone and silk as we could eat, three cavern layers of fresh water and native gold, and we'd finally put the vampire King to rest in his stupendous tomb. As the flow of beasts steadily reduced to nothing, I ordered the last cavern walls erected, the doors replaced and the military back to the fort proper.

The final beast, Tig, came barrelling down from an unsurveyed hill North of the breach, skimmed straight over the cavern wall in a shimmering frenzy of purple gas and immediately set about savaging every dwarf within reach of the entrance. I'd hoped he'd gone home. I set the military on him immediately, and without a second thought they barged toward the monster from both sides. The area was engulfed in great gusts of excreted gas behind which the foray was soon hidden, but V seemed to show that the gas didn't have any immediate effect aside from numbness.

After a minute or so, the smog began to clear slightly, revealing the smashed carcass of the kunzite earthworm and a few incapacitated dwarven victors. My medics dragged them back up the pump shaft to rest in fine hospitals, but as I followed them I noticed that the worm's gas seemed to have risen from the caverns all the way up the shaft and through the rest of the fort.

Eventually I realised that this was the dreaded necrotic gas, that half my military was rotting alive in their beds, and that the purple mist wafting throughout my fort was the miasmatic stench of the warriors' rotten bodies being dragged around. One of the surgeons braved the purple fog of his hospital to diagnose one of them, finding that every part of his body, inside and out, was in an advanced stage of rot, but had nevertheless set out to save his life by scheduling major surgery on every piece of the guy from eyeballs to innards. Upon checking the diagnosed dwarf more thoroughly, I discovered that he was also the very macedwarf who had struck the killing blow to Tig.

Years later, after most of the gas victims had suffocated in their own stinking mire, I happened to notice one of my old masons wandering around. I hadn't seen him in ages, and had assumed he was dead, so I looked him over. He turned out to have been another victim of the gas attack, but the surgeon had actually gone ahead and done the daft amount of surgery necessary to save him, presumably over the course of 2-3 years. He had full-body scarring, permanently mutilated, but he was alive, he could finally walk around, and now could be a mason again. I was so pleased.

Later in the same fort, one dwarf lying in hospital with a broken leg woke up and decided he was going to make an artifact, leg be damned. He commenced to slowly hobble back and forth between the sprawling stockpile layer and the tannery, gathering one bone at a time from the refuse pile in the corner and dragging it back as the other dwarves milled past his open agony in polite ignorance. It was painful to watch the poor fool, every time he'd finally make it back to the workshop, sweating and groaning, he'd immediately set out again for just one more bone. He almost passed out from the effort.

I spent ages trying desperately to get this legend what he needed, even weaving silk cloth from forgotten beast webs just for him, but he insisted on yarn thread, and my other dwarves absolutely refused to shear the llama. In the end, after I'd given up, locked the tannery door and hadn't heard from him for a while, I tried to find him to see if he was still sane, but he wasn't on the units list. I checked the locked tannery, and nobody was there. He'd completely disappeared.
« Last Edit: June 30, 2014, 01:57:00 am by Uncertain »
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The next dwarf grabbed the goblin thief, by the eyeball with his eyeball, (blinding the goblin in the process)

EinsteinSatDown

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #174 on: July 05, 2014, 07:25:31 pm »

Found an entertaining tale while perusing the legends of my new world.
I do not recall all the names, so I'll stick to the basics.

The first king of The Sepia Daggers(Most prominent dwarven civ), marries in year 1. His wife becomes the high priestess(or something) of the Temple(of something).
Seven years later, the king profanes the temple, and is cursed to become a were-pangolin.

For the next ten years the former king butchers and devours a menargy of animals(A whole moose included).He also attacks humans and dwarves, without them sustaining injuries.
Three times his curse is passed on.

He is finally struck down by another dwarf, ending his torment.

His wife, meanwhile, decides to learn the secrets of immortality.
She becomes a full fledged necromancer, claiming a tower and writing books like a fiend.

The year is 250. The first king lies dead, a failure to his people.
His wife, whose temple he has profaned, is 355 years old, and still alive.

An amusing tale it was.

EDIT: After viewing the OP, more substance may be needed in my story. Will include details and alter the format once I get the chance to do so.
« Last Edit: July 05, 2014, 07:30:56 pm by EinsteinSatDown »
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de5me7

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #175 on: July 08, 2014, 07:24:15 pm »

The Weremongoose Child Oma Betaktkesmel has come!

It is muscular

It is thirsty for Blood and Flesh!

year one, so i recruit everyone into the militia and order the charge. Some seem to just run away scared.

Tulon Durmthkat the wrestler has been struck down! Iral Itonudesh has been struck down! etc

and then..

Oma Bekatkesmel, Weremongoose Child has transformed in to a human!

A human child no less, that ran away.

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TD1

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #176 on: July 09, 2014, 12:40:17 pm »

Is this the new version?

You should totally chase that thing as an adventurer
:P
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Julien Brightside

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #177 on: July 15, 2014, 04:22:23 am »

My latest fort, The Dungeon of Dumplings, was my longest-running, wealthiest, most adventure-ridden and catastrophe-stricken fort yet. About six years in I'd decided to build my first-ever pump stack to see if I might be able to construct a magma moat, "waterfall" and specialised smelting reservoir.

I really liked the part where the surgeoon operated on every part of the poor dwarfs body.

Gojira1000

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #178 on: July 16, 2014, 10:28:20 pm »

Dorfs never forget.

My original embarkation broker, a sad little sack named Zuglar Bootlocked, was never much good at her job. Nor ever on time at the trade depot. In the second migrant wave a new, shiny, businesslike dwarf arrived, with better skills and a habit of arriving on time for work.

Guess who got the job?

Three years later the stonemasons are engraving the new, expansive dining hall. One mason, in a fit of epic schadenfreud, produces the following:

Engraved on the floor is a masterfully designed image of Zuglar Bootlocked the dwarf and dwarves by Fikod Ducimalus. The dwarves are refusing Zuglar Bootlocked. Zuglar Bootlocked looks dejected. The artwork relates to the removal of the dwarf Zuglar Bootlocked from the position of broker of the Purple Lashes in the midspring of 77.

Best part? Zuglar gets to stare at that every mealtime as she chokes down another plump helmet.
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mate888

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Re: Share Your Funny Stories With Me! (Help DF Talk)
« Reply #179 on: July 20, 2014, 12:19:57 pm »

Dorfs never forget.

My original embarkation broker, a sad little sack named Zuglar Bootlocked, was never much good at her job. Nor ever on time at the trade depot. In the second migrant wave a new, shiny, businesslike dwarf arrived, with better skills and a habit of arriving on time for work.

Guess who got the job?

Three years later the stonemasons are engraving the new, expansive dining hall. One mason, in a fit of epic schadenfreud, produces the following:

Engraved on the floor is a masterfully designed image of Zuglar Bootlocked the dwarf and dwarves by Fikod Ducimalus. The dwarves are refusing Zuglar Bootlocked. Zuglar Bootlocked looks dejected. The artwork relates to the removal of the dwarf Zuglar Bootlocked from the position of broker of the Purple Lashes in the midspring of 77.

Best part? Zuglar gets to stare at that every mealtime as she chokes down another plump helmet.
Hey, that is not funny, that's sad.
Altough, fun and other person's sadness are not very easy to differenciate to us, is it?
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My second turn's unnoficial goal was to turn everyone into vampires, and it backfired so bad, I ended up making the fort a more efficient, safer and friendlier place.
Apparently they evolved a taste for everything I love and care about
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