The crashes have all been of the personal kind. Catalyst cancels craft update: seeking drink. That sort of thing. Here goes:
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I did not return willingly.
Like shards of splintered rock embedded in my mind, the very walls of Hellcannon clung to the fragments of my consciousness, pulling me from the blissful oblivion of my madness. First the cats of the fortress took up a furious yowling. Next, three dwarves with no connection to one another all had the phrase "chorus of bones" become stuck in their heads, for no reason at all. Then the engravers, all at once, for no cause they could explain, all simultaneously engraved at different parts of the fortress perfectly identical images of cheese.
And suddenly I found myself in a body once again. I know it's owner was as surprised as I was, because he immediately went completely mad.
I can't say I blamed him. I wasn't too happy about the situation either. We spent the next week or so wandering the fortress aimlessly, chattering about... oh I believe it had something to do with flying kittens made of burning brass.
They said it would be a good year. What? They did.
When I finally collected myself a bit, and came to terms with being corporeal once more, for the first time in time without measure, I cast an eye to the heirarchy of the fort. It struck me as a bit... topheavy.
Poor fellow seemed burdened with so many responsibilities. Luckily with my talents it was all too easy to persuade the rest to vote me in to replace him, freeing him to focus on his other tasks - and I think I should make an adequate substitute!
The fortress itself paints a bleak picture... most of it seems to be one enormous mausoleum... perhaps even more so than Failcannon, at the end.
Other aspects were less depressing, and more simply bizarre. Here, there appears to be a platform, covered with cats, suspended over a row of hospital beds by a single support. I can only assume it is collapsed by one of the many unlabeled levers.
The scratching and bellowing of numerous forgotten beasts continue just outside our walls in many places, and the skeletal wildlife continually wander from above into our traps, but our defenses hold secure and the fort is in excellent shape. Meanwhile a vision lingers in my mind, an image I cannot shake from my earlier unexpected sojourn in the mind of queen Led. I can no longer tell if the impetus is my own or hers, but one thing is certain: I must build it.
The drafts are being laid as we speak.
Soon.
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Topic: Hellcannon (Succession: Battlefailed 3) (0.31.25) (DEAD) (Read 837944 times)