So I made my first custom param world, in rather unwise ways.
Firstly, it's hot.
Really hot.
Unbearably hot.
Behold, the world.
I would like to note that after a year or two, those years passed reeeeeeeeally fast...
In any case. I decided to make a fort, in one of the Southern, benign biomes.
This was not Squirtglisten. This was Houndcinders.
It was a bit too hot. No one could move, because it was so hot. The wagon couldn't even arrive at the center of the map, and died on the very edge, the instant my emissaries (from an extinct Triggat nation) arrived.
Not a good sign.
It was rather uneventful, but I was not to be demoralized! I retired the fort and tried to find a more suitable, hospitable location.
I managed to find a seemingly normal forest/jungle on the Northern side of the map, which was still Scorching, but it might have been able to sustain life. I decided to have my intrepid triggats create a settlement there.
Things were promising at first. With a flutter of confidence (at the lack of boiling milk upon arrival), I ordered a large number of trees to be murdered in celebration, and a single rope reed planted to test the soil.
Things were looking peachy.
And then the small animals dropped dead of silent blood loss...
And much to my horror, I found that the melting was a slow, yet silent and seemingly painless process taking place...
Yet thus far, the triggats looked unharmed. Nevertheless, I had the miners dig a tunnel down to the caverns as quickly as possible, for perhaps the damp fungi-ridden caves were yet safe from the silent bane of the world.
With this in mind, I had the miners dig a small side room to store all the food and- NO NO NO GOD NO WHY WHAT NO GOD NO THAT'S NOT RIGHT WE'RE IN A NICE AND WILDERNESS ENVIRONMENT THIS ISN'T AN EVIL PLACE WHY GOD WHY I DON'T EVEN HAVE A RAVEN STOCKPILE
The situation immediately became more dire. I ordered the five non-miner triggats to defend the fort from the ravens.
They lost. Mostly.
Oh. That's... I forgot that's what the local government was called. Ahem. Right, then. Carry on, miner.
Well, you're not melting yet, at least. But... MY GOD WHY ARE YOU NAKED
And additionally, why haven't your turban and shoes vanished...?
I disabled storing Lye in the Food Stockpile.
I was way too optimistic, even with two triggats (and a very pale yak) left alive.
YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME
An intense battle ensued, between the two miners, a giant toad in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the two last undead ravens wandering the battlefield.
The toad was grievously injured by the social coordinator herself, but she was cut and wounded lightly by a raven. The raven was successfully struck down.
The other miner managed to bring down the other raven, who had borne the most kills on its... wings? Talons? Beak? Anyhoo. She proceeded to move more food to the stockpile, but the social coordinator crawled into a field and laid there quietly...
And slowly, she began to melt...
...
And shortly afterward, still active in her duties, clinging onto the last sense of hope... Note: Triggats have pink blood.
And thus
It was inevitable.