Or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the titans.
I'm not sure what it is with this embark that keeps driving me back to it. Is it the two soft soil layers? The volcano? The brook? The windmill-powered (40, huzzah?) dual irrigation system for two levels of crop plots that actually works perfectly and has only slightly flooded a little bit? The massive collection of draltha, elk birds, giant rats, large rats, blind cave bears and giant cave crocs, all awaiting a DM who will never arrive?
It might just be that I'm crazy. Either way, never let your dorfs ever name a fort "Boat"-anything. 'Tis an ill-omened name.
I can only imagine their dorfy little conversations.
Act I:
First Embark Leader: "Boatattack, eh? I don't know if I like the sound of this."
Mountainhome Colonization Co-ordinator: "Oh; no, ma'am, not at all. You're thinking of Boatmurdered. Completely different site. Not even the same version of the game."
Leader: "The what?"
Mountainhome: "Never you mind that. Look at this map, it's got a volcano!"
Leader (obviously tempted by magma): "Well... But there's usually an attack or two involved. In murdering, I mean. They do tend to go together."
Mountainhome: "Magma! Burny, burny, burny, burny magma! What kind of a dwarf are you?!"
Leader: *opens mouth, about to say "a smart dwarf!", pauses to consider dwarfly standards and their general disregard for IQ, closes mouth*
Leader: "Does it have some water, for crop--I mean, one needs to drown elves, too, sometimes. For a bit of variety."
Mountainhome, beaming: "Yup!"
Act II:
Embark party arrives. Leader is discovered not to be the leader, and in fact, there are no nobles whatsover. Insert panic, chaos, disorder, slow engineering projects, and a good deal of vermin-eating once a wave of ten immigrants decides to clog up with works with their milling and lye-making and trapping.
In autumn, the trade liaison arrives: "Excuse me, ma'am; I'm looking for your expedition leader."
Leader: "I am the expedition leader!"
Liaison: "I'm afraid not, ma'am."
Leader: "What are you talking about? I'm the only one here who can even read! Our woodcutters can only count past eleven if you let them use logs!"
Liaison: "Well, you need papers to be an official leader."
Leader: "Papers?! I've got a bloody deed to Boatattack right here! Look: map, stamp, signature, everything. I've even got my 2-year degree from bookkeeping night school if you--"
Liaision: "I'd take a statue, too. Do you have a legendary mason yet? An engraver would also be nice, but it's rather difficult hang part of a wall on your bedroom wall--I mean, ah, present it to the proper colonial authorities."
Leader: "What?"
Liaision: "Or a live performance. Forgive me if I sound undwarvenly, but there are some redeeeming qualities to human and elvish arts of theatre. Don't tell me your lovely girlfriend isn't around?"
Leader: "My wife is back at home. With our children."
Liaison, aghast: "We needn't bring the young ones into this...!"
Leader, angrily: "Damned straight. I'm going back to the Mountainhome to find a nice family condo. You're welcome to this mess here. I hope you like puppy eyeballs."
*YOUR SETTLEMENT HAS BEEN ABANDONED.*
And then, of course, I found out that dorfs aren't waterproof... Does the no-leader bug extend to cases where the reclaim leader decides to starve herself to death? Because I've got about sixty of the little bastards milling about, and no mayoral elections in sight...