So, I haven't actually unpaused the game yet but here's the first update anyway.
Diary of 'Nob Totmon' (Two Flower), 14th Hematite
I wake up, in my tiny tiny room, at the sound of someone knocking on my door. Nobody is outside when I check, but a piece of paper has been left under a small rock outside.
"You're up now." it says.
'Er, what?' I think, before noticing the small 'P.T.O.' on the bottom of the sheet. I turn it over.
"Nob Totmon, you are now the semi-secret overseer of Carnagecrafts for the next year. Try not to kill everyone."
"Hold on, what the ..." I say out loud before noticing the small 'P.T.O.' on the bottom of the second side of the sheet. Hesitating a moment, I turn it over again.
"Just go with it, OK?" the writing now states.
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I check in with Dishmab first. "How's the whole free power thing going?"
"Absolutely fine!" he replies. "And certainly not going to flood the fortress with all devouring magma if we forget to pull a switch." He continues, looking shiftily around. "Er, I've just remembered somewhere I have to be! See you."
I later hear that work has begun on a pressure-regulating diagonal filter for the lava feed. Nice to know that people are on top of things around here.
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PsychoAngel bumps into me later in the day, I give him a suitable greeting Head Dorf-like greeting, but he waves it off. "None of that, now," he says. "After all you're the semi-secret overseer for the year!"
"Does everybody know about that?" I inquire.
"Eh, whatever. I'm just looking forwards to the glorious battle."
"Glorious battle?" I repeat.
"You know, when the vile goblins slink into our fortress and we destroy them with our superior dwarven know-how."
"Oh right! Good job on training our soldiers and war dogs then. If they can even get past the numerous traps that await them." I congratulate him.
"Ah, right." he replies, scribbling something on a bit of paper while mumbling under his breath ... 'traps ... war dogs .... soldiers ...'".
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I notice two dwarves are making rock chairs and tables while perched precariously on top of hundreds of other chairs and tables. "Good job guys! Which charity are you raising money for with this stunt?" I call out, but they seem too busy to reply.
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Suddenly a human caravan has arrived. Everybody and his mother-in-law is hauling sub-standard tables to the trade depot to get rid of them. I quickly join in. I estimate well over 200 items of furniture were dumped outside that day. With that done we put the nice furniture to use in the meeting room.
The spare furniture is traded for drink, food, cloth and leather.
Udil Idestil is taken by a fey mood!
I also spot a couple of interesting pieces that end up being kept in the fortress.
Trading leaves us with lots of tacky metal toys and stuff that seemed like a goody buy at the time. It's all thrown into the magma smelter as soon as the traders leave.