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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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>> No.48781909 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, and-

>Horrifying screams come from the darkness below!

- you are the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, which makes you a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry, but Gamindustri just made you a scrawny little-

>Horrifying screams come from the darkness below!

- okay, this is getting absurd. You let Shovel Knight get on with tracking down Tiff and Thravar, and get Therapist up and running in no time at all. First things first, you get in touch with your surrogate little sister, and as always, she sounds pleased as punch to 'hear' your voice through the telepathic link.

>Oneechan! You're back! Is Nepgear okay?

Yeah, well- it's a long story. She's fine, but you gotta run off and unfuck some fucking bullshit.

>Oh, I know that fucking feeling, Oneechan!

You pause for a moment. Between this and Nepgear's worryingly foul language, you've been getting the distinct feeling that you've been rubbing off on these youngsters.

... but you shake off that feeling, because who the fuck cares. Alright, Mojang, how bad is it? How many unstoppable hell demons do we have crawling around in the basement?

>"Um... none, Oneechan!"

... 'scuse me?

>"None! I think Doomgirl's got it under control!"

(Cont.)

>> No.48661806 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, and you are a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. You're pretty much the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, with all the baggage that accompanies that horrific little title: you can bend reality's elbow behind its back, in exchange for being glitchy and prone to intricately simulated injuries.

Lately, you feel like you've constantly been on the verge of a particularly destructive tantrum, because you never signed up for all this insane potentially-world-ending-events bullshit and you're at your wits' end.

Seriously, the return of the dark goddess Arfoire would've been bad enough on its own. Same with accidentally getting banished to the hyperdimensional void, along with an uncertain number of other nation-less adventurers and/or personifications. And there was that time you accidentally swapped bodies with a divine being, which really scrapes the bottom of the fucking barrel when it comes to digging out depraved plot hooks.

ALL of that happened pretty much in sequence, and now, you're staring at the unnaturally powered-up form of CPU Black Heart. She's being puppeted by a fake Histoire, and they all want nothing more than to grab a great big fistful of your entrails and decorate their houses with 'em.

If Gamindustri was a dwarven fortress, this situation would be like... if its only manager/bookkeeper/broker suddenly turns out to be a demon, which immediately proceeds to transform a load-bearing noble into a megabeast that you can't kill because the entire fucking fortress would devolve into the sort of tantrum spiral that atom smashes its weapon lords, floods the surface world with magma, and deconstructs every piece of furniture in sight.

(Cont.)

>> No.44030732 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, and are a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. 'Course, since you're a Gamindustri native, you just look like a little beardless girl, rather than a proud bushy-bearded dwarf.

Sure, everyone ELSE who isn't an NPC also looks like a little girl, but that doesn't make you feel much better. Just the opposite, in fact; most everyone's used to being a little girl, so you just look all the weirder for refusing to succumb to the terrible fanservice shenanigans that seem to be part and parcel of the universe.

But that's the least of your concerns. Right now, you've got a goddess living in your head. Sure, she /means/ well, and you'd normally welcome being able to tap into her mind-boggling powers for a great big 'I WIN' button, but you'd like it better if it wasn't gradually eroding your personality. As if the prospect of figurative death wasn't enough, you're also trying not to /literally/ die while stuck in the endless void between dimensions.

Alright, fine. Correction: you're trying not to literally die while stuck with all the non-existent self-preservation instincts of a dwarf who's constantly bombarded with ideas as ingenious as they are messed up.

>[X] [COMBINE YOUR EXPLOSIVE ASTEROID VEHICLE WITH THRAVAR'S FLOATING ISLAND]

... yeah, it's an uphill battle.

"Run this by me again?" Tiff drawls, scratching her head beneath her Engineer's construction helmet. She's staying off to the side as you finish building the last of the Seganium floor panels. "This Thravar girl ain't coming with us since she's dead tired of fighting AND a scaredy-cat, so..."

(Cont.)

>> No.43680358 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress- of course you're a dwarf, which makes you a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. On the other hand, you live in Gamindustri, where everyone is either a cute girl or a Christmas cake, and beards and muscles are out of the question. You really have no reason to expect any better of a universe that enforces the mandatory use of Japanese phrases and mannerisms.

But anyway, enough about you! Let's talk about how absolutely fucked your party members and/or potential allies are right now.

"C'mon, sweet cheeks! I'm not scared of you!" Doomgirl grunts, punching the air a few times like the damn fool she is. "Take away your big destructive spells, and what've you got left? Nothing! Just some chick in a silly leotard, asking to be punched!"

Myrra stares down her nose at the doomed marine- the contrast between the delicately slender mage and the disheveled, bulky soldier is almost laughable, but you don't feel much like laughing. "Idiot. I will do you a favor and pretend I did not hear any of that." The Master of Magic is an arrogant prick, yeah, but all that sorcerous lightning crackling along the length of her arms gives her some damned good reasons to be one. "Standing in my way is tantamount to standing in the way of the one true goddess, Arfoire. Heed my warning, and-"

(Cont.)

>> No.43631493 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay. You are the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, and are a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry- in other words, a dwarf. You have the goddess of Planeptune and all things Sega bouncing around inside your braided noggin.

How's that one song go again? "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things will drive you absolutely batshit insane"?

So, yeah. So you had a particularly strange dream, followed by an unlikely string of coincidences: your telepathic Therapist ability just so happened to gain an untested upgrade, Neptune just so happened to be glitched out, and (as far as you know), this all just so happened to create some sort of cross-dimensional technobabble link. And thus, the wandering spirit of the scrawny purple-haired goddess known best for her air-headed unpredictability is now housed inside your head.

If you weren't at risk of getting annoyed to death, you'd laugh at how contrived this all is.

>[X] [UNDERSTOOD] Let Histoire focus on how to get Neptune out of your head- the sooner, the better.

You wipe away your tears and turn in Mojang's lap, giving Histoire the go-ahead. The floating Gamindustri Key Fragments bob in place, mimicking a curtsy or a nod or whatever.

>Mmhm. Don't worry, Urist and Neptune. I'll have something for you by tomorrow. Until then...

Histoire yawns again, cutting herself off; in this much-reduced and divvied-up form, she's fast running out of juice, and it'll be another day before she wakes up again. You're a little frustrated that you wasted so much of her awake time freaking out, and lost the chance to ask her more questions.

(Cont.)

>> No.43568654 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress and a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. "Dwarf" does not play well with "moe personification," so you're just an especially short girl without a proper beard.

Lately, that hasn't bugged you as much as it used to, because getting shunted outside the known universe AND sealed into your fortress by an entire ocean's worth of water has a way of putting things in perspective. Hell, your recent close call with alcohol deprivation is just the cherry on top.

Right now, you're just happy to be alive and dealing with relatively mundane stuff. Like dealing with an alleged monster inside the closet and under the bed.

Doomgirl circles you warily, bloodshot eyes twitching suspiciously. "The hell did you just do?" she growls, her hand straying dangerously close to her weapon.

... deconstructing furniture, dumbass. What's it look like?

"I don't know! Quantum stuff!" The marine paces back and forth, her eyes not once leaving the rock bed and cabinet. "Look, I know quantum stuff when I see it, and that's what it is! Quantum!"

(Cont.)

>> No.43511382 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress. Since you were born in Gamindustri, the realm of cutesy bullshit, you're both a dwarf (a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry) AND a cutesy girly thing.

Nothing in that description says "and she lives in a fortress under the sea," but here you fucking are, defying all sorts of scientific mumbo-jumbo about water pressure and air and all that tripe.

"You sure this's safe?" Doomgirl asks for the umpteenth time, still sulking a little because you kicked her in the shins over entirely justified reasons. She's eyeing the raised drawbridge that's the only thing standing between you and instantaneous watery death like it's... well, like it's the only thing standing between you and instantaneous watery death.

Honestly, you're less worried about the instantaneous watery death as you are about how the void between dimensions even HAS weather patterns best described as "everything is suddenly under the sea."

Rolling your eyes, you reassure her for the umpteenth-plus-one time: it'll damn well hold because you BUILT it to hold. An ocean of mere water won't cause your fine craftsdwarfship to crumple, and you don't see it turning into lava anytime soon.

Spotting movement, the twitchy marine's suddenly pointing some sort of pistol at the floor. "There's /water/ leaking in," she growls. "Water an' fish."

Well, of course it's bound to be a LITTLE damp, your one-block-thick walls are all bordered by tons and tons of seawater. You squat down, picking up the flopping fishy vermin. Seahorse. Hopefully, you won't be forced to start eating vermin, but you pocket it just in case it comes to that.

(Cont.)

>> No.43380412 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress and a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry- in other words, a dwarf, despite Gamindustri fighting you every goddamn step of the way. Eventually, the universe and your own internal coding came to a compromise, making you a short beardless girl rather than a stout bearded slab of muscle. To no one's surprise, you've cursed Gamindustri as many times as you've drawn breath.

Aaaand due to reasons, you're no longer IN the universe, and are currently stranded between dimensions. Maybe it's some kinda karmic justice.

Well, no time to ponder that, because you're desperately trying to hang onto this outcropping of rock and not, say, plummet an infinite distance into the abyss yawning beneath your feet- "beneath" being a relative term, given how gravity works here (or doesn't). Cursing under your breath (because fuck karma), you steady your grip and stretch your leg downward, trying to find the next ledge and GODDAMMIT your fingers slip and you slide down alarmingly fast, passing the ledge entirely and dropping-

(Cont.)

>> No.43322739 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, and a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. You're a dwarf, but at the same time, you're a beardless little girl because that's how the Gamindustri-verse likes its moe personifications (and you've long since established that the universe is batshit insane).

But you're not technically inside the universe anymore, are you? No, you're /outside/ the universe, in between dimensions. And that happened because, to no one's surprise, Leanbox's gigantic elaborate archeotech contraption fucked up and shunted you and a whole lot of other adventurers out of realspace, rather than just banishing the dark goddess Arfoire.

You're guessing some asshole forgot to carry the one. More likely, and in an analogy much closer to home, some asshole pulled the wrong lever entirely.

You can't really blame them, though; as a dwarf, you know full well that pulling forgotten levers is the fastest path to turning a fortress into a lake (whether it's of water, lava, or seething hordes of goblins), but there's something about Things You Shouldn't Pull that acts as an irresistible siren's call. In Gamindustri, you've spent your entire misbegotten life being told not to pull levers and press switches. Very important people have impressed upon you that you are, under no circumstances, ever to Touch The Thing, no matter how tempting the Thing or the Touching.

And right here, right now, in your fortress-slash-bastion-of-sanity, an authoritative disembodied voice claiming to be the all-knowing adviser of Gamindustri's goddesses, wants you to Touch The Thing.

(Cont.)

>> No.43043951 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress and a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. Regrettably, you're not some epitome of dwarven prowess worth of your title; instead, that just makes you a beardless little girl, because you live in Gamindustri (where EVERYONE of worth is a Japanese teenager). Still-

... oh. Right. You're not actually in Gamindustri anymore, now are you?

Another explosion rocks Mojang's little hidey-hole, and you duck your head reflexively. Grudgingly, you have to admit that your surrogate little sister chose a fairly good defensive position against those... those flying laser-shooting balls of light. The overhang above your heads protects you from bombing runs, you've got your backs to a hillock, and your positioning forces your opponents to angle their shots in a way that makes it easy for Mojang to block 'em with her sword.

Of course, the only way to counterattack from this hidey-hole WITHOUT getting blown the fuck up is to fire off crossbow bolts or rush at them faster than they can aim at you; Mojang's straight out of bolts and she's not exactly in stellar condition right now, so both options ain't gonna work. Granted, /you/ got in here by carving straight through those will-o'-wisps, but...

You peer up out of the hidey-hole. It's not your imagination: despite the fact that you'd carved through dozens of the things, more of those damned flying shining light balls are drifting in. If this keeps up, they'll replenish their numbers in, like, half a minute.

"It's- it's you! It's really you! I can't- I can't believe-"

(Cont.)

>> No.42984545 [View]

>Archive links:
>>http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry, blessed with a grab-bag of oddball abilities (and cursed with a whole host of crippling bugs, glitches, and drawbacks), a dwarf forced into the shape of a small girl from the very beginning (because Gamindustri is a terrible place to live), and...

... and you really, really don't want to get up and face reality right now.

You don't know how long you've been out. The last thing you remember is feeling like you were being torn apart from the inside out. While being disassembled, piece by piece, with each piece still transmitting pain to your already-battered mind. And, on top of that, squeezed into a straw, crushed and elongated, and then exploded out the other end. And-

Anyway, to sum it all up, you were having a pretty shitty time.

After what feels like either a few seconds or eternity, you crack open your eyes and immediately regret it as your senses immediately come under assault. Swirling extradimensional vistas flash by at impossibly high speeds, galaxies and stars all spinning off before your eyes can get a lock on them-

Vertigo clouds your mind and socks you in the stomach, and it's all you can do to avoid vomiting all over yourself. As if that wasn't bad enough, your ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton; after a moment, you realize that it's just a galactic cacophony thundering through your eardrums. It's like there's just- this constant bass thumping, like the universe is home to two drunk giants duking it out with on some titanic scale. With explosions.

You don't even feel like drinking, that's how fucked up you feel right now.

(Cont.)

>> No.42856593 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Souls, the unimaginatively-named moe personification of Dark Souls, and- well, you’ve never been one for complicated introductions. Life is too short for such things, and you don’t mean that figuratively: you’re facing down little miss Space Station 13, one of the most notorious outlaws that Gamindustri has to offer (and, bar none, the most broken in the head).

What’s particularly relevant to your interests is how Thirteen seems to be batting for the dark goddess Arfoire- and here you are, running around Leanbox and trying to ferret out evidence of Arfoire's corrupting presence.

You just /love/ it when you complete your mission without needing to die more than five times, tops.

"What's red and white and running all over?" she gibbers, a thin line of drool trailing down the side of her mouth. "Anyone who doesn't bow down to Arfoire! HONK!" That drool, plus the flat joke, would make anyone else seem less threatening; here, it just makes Thirteen look flat-out terrifying.

>[X] [GRILL FOR INFO] Thirteen doesn't have enough sanity to keep her lips sealed. Ask for more details: exactly who she's working for, what she's been doing, and ESPECIALLY how she "shut up a purple-haired goddess bitch."

“Hah,” you chortle jovially. “Ha, ha, ha, ha.” You’ve heard people describe your laugh as anywhere between off-putting and awkward- more than enough to defang all but the most potentially violent situations, or at least buy you enough time to get the hell out of dodge.

That... that doesn't prove to be necessary here.

(Cont.)

>> No.42805737 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress. You're a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry living in Gamindustri, which means you were tragically weeabooized into a beardless waif from day one.

... y'know, you're getting real nostalgic for those days when the most pressing thing on your to-do list was griping about how you're an anime girl living in a stupid world full of anime girls. Now it's all "oh shit dark goddesses are ruining everything, oh shit I'm gonna die, oh shit I gotta stop everyone from being /fucking idiots/."

Okay, so, good news: Estelle just burst through the roof of this abandoned warehouse (which're a dime a dozen in Leanbox), crushing the dark goddess Arfoire underneath the business end of a rainbow. The bad news is that instead of saving your asses by fighting the ACTUAL villain, the Dragon Warrior is trying to beat the unholy shit out of Ein, because /Ein/ apparently was dick enough to try and beat Estelle senseless a few hours ago, and-

Okay, you know what? You don't have time for this shit. You roughly shove Shovel Knight toward the back, growling at her to keep an eye on Blanc- yelling, more like, since NO one can hear a thing over Estelle and Ein's death battle and/or screaming match- and to her credit, Shovel Knight doesn't hesitate, grabbing the injured Lowee goddess before she can slide to the ground.

Not that you see it, since you're whirling toward the fight.

>[ ] [THERAPIST] Blast through to them with your semi-telepathic abilities, all while falling back. Get them to stop fighting each other and come with you, because there's no point in splitting up in the face of a dark goddess.

(Cont.)

>> No.42097516 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, and there's really no mincing words here: you are absolutely, royally, hilariously screwed right now.

Right. Well, there isn't much point in being all that specific, but here're the fucking facts: you're in a dungeon over in rural Leanbox, and you're facing down Arfoire. She's currently disguised as Estelle, your surrogate big sis, but that matters less than the fact that she's capable of fighting Gamindustri's four NOT-evil goddesses all at the same time. Arfoire is THE big bad dark goddamn evil shadowbad goddess, she's standing right in front of you, and you're commanding her full attention.

On the plus side, you figured out her true identity right off the bat by overloading the room with lag-inducing cats that don't actually affect goddesses, and working it out from there. Really, you probably dodged a bullet in that you're not gonna get stabbed in the back by some fucking doppelganger.

The bad news is that since you've overloaded the room with lag-inducing cats, anyone who could actually help you is wrestling with lag strong enough to pin them to the floor (except for Blanc, who's a goddess, and she's too busy being half-dead to help you out).

To be perfectly honest, you could really go for a goddamned drink right now.

The cause of all your troubles looks around, an uncharacteristically proud smirk touching her lips. "My, my. What's wrong?" Arfoire sneers, nudging Ein with the toe of her boot- the Warrior of Light doesn't even say a word, staring in abject horror at the thing wearing Estelle's skin.

(Cont.)

>> No.41981513 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress (read: small beardless girl): you're crippling alcoholism and reality-warping powers all wrapped up in one seething, cuteness-hating package. All those years thinking you've only got the powers of a glitchy dwarf, and it only took a few days' worth of life-threatening incidents to unlock your true potential- although here in Gamindustri, filled to the brim with superpowered personifications, you're still close to the bottom of the food chain.

That's not likely to matter in the long run. In the short run, you're liable to get horribly, brutally murdered, 'cause your ally just smashed one of the most powerful VIPs in the face with the business end of a shovel.

"Go, Urist!" Shovel Knight roars. The rookie adventurer's a goddamn idiot, that's what she is- she's all about JUSTICE and RIGHTFULNESS and HELPING FRIENDS. That's the sort of attitude that gets people turned into the sort of unfortunate incidents you read about in the news, usually under headlines like 'Adventurer Found Dead After Badmouthing Violence McShadowbad.' "I shall delay this charlatan! Go find the Dragon Warrior!"

Armok help you, Ein's not even fazed by the sudden attack. She doesn't even look /angry/ as she picks herself up off the wall; she just looks mildly irritated, like she can't be assed to give a fuck. "The heavens buckle under the weight of the lost and weary; their voices echo out, pleading for respite, but all is swallowed by the void," she intones gravely. She keeps that ridiculous bastard sword steady, holding the weapon in an impossible one-handed grip.

(Cont.)

>> No.41920737 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, and you’re-

“Watch out!”

- whirling to the side, lashing out with a gauntlet and deflecting a brightly-colored brick the size of your head. You don’t hesitate, plowing right into the Terits as it tries to regain its bearings; more blocks orbit around the incomprehensible monster, preparing to crush you, but a fist straight through those disembodied eyes is enough to put the damn thing out of commission. Dammit. If Shovel Knight hadn't called out that warning-

Where were you again? Right. So you’re the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress. Used to be that you’d thought that a particularly sick curse: you’d had all the weaknesses of a dwarf and absolutely none of the benefits, since you were stuck as a disgustingly cute little girl in a universe full of disgustingly cute little girls. Lately, you’ve been getting the hang of this shit, so you’re-

“Behind you!”

- ducking reflexively as Shovel Knight hurtles past. You needn’t have bothered: she’s got the agility of a master wrestler, and all that heavy armor just gives her the stopping power of a brick wall. Your ally sails high up over your head and comes down shovel-first, slamming into a writhing mass of shiny Super FX polygons with enough force to pulverize stone. As if that wasn’t enough, she /bounces/ like she’s made of springs, and it’s just enough to propel her on top of the dogoo with predictable results.

(Cont.)

>> No.41487361 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress. Once, you were nothing but a short, sturdy girl-creature fond of drink and industry. Now, you are more than that: you're a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry with a staggering amount of power at your fingertips, just waiting to be released upon the unsuspecting lands of Gamindustri!

... well, that's the idea, anyway. You're no longer a pushover, but you're not even going to pretend that your powers (such as they are) are enough to put you in the top fucking echelons of Gamindustri's hilariously overpowered adventurers. For one thing, the main thrust of your abilities are not /exactly/ combat-oriented, and for another, this world IS teeming with goddesses and veterans who've been around since at least the 8-bit era.

But that's neither here nor there. Right now, you're just clinging onto your seat and concentrating very, very hard on not depositing the contents of your stomach all over the cabin of this vertical take-off and landing aircraft. You're damn sure that it's NOT good fucking form to throw up in another moe personification's beloved ride. Dwarfkind's first step into an ultra-futuristic shuttle thing shouldn't be marred by your species' particularly nasty brand of pea-soup vomit.

It's a little galling that neither of your party members seem at all affected by gravity's nauseating pull-and-press combo. Shovel Knight's glued to the window, staring out at the forest passing by below you like a heavily-armored kid, and Rokko- well, okay, you're not sure she even HAS enough of a stomach to get sick.

(Cont.)

>> No.41290400 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay! After many long (and pain-filled) years as a disgustingly adorable beardless girl-thing, you're finally beginning to appreciate the upsides of being the moe personficiation of Dwarf Fortress, although that's only because your powers have finally started scaling up to Gamindustri standards. Given that you were previously limited to "what one single dwarf can do, give or take," it's a much-needed step away from your usual track record of getting your ass beaten into a pulp every single encounter.

It's about time. Hell, it couldn't have happened at a /better/ time, because the state of the world seems precariously balanced on the edge of going to shit. Two goddesses were just beating the stuffing out of each other live on television, which is the perfect excuse for their nations to go to war; the Red Ring of Death is counting down in the skies above Leanbox, and it's either going to solve all your problems or cause fifty trillion more; and on top of that, there's a big bad evil bitch skulking around and pulling strings through her squad of suspiciously powerful outcasts.

Okay. Anyway, you've got plot twists up the wazoo, and you can barely keep track of everything. Off the top of your head, you desperately need to save Mojang (surrogate little sister, and your longest-known friend), Estelle's probably got her hands full saving Blanc (former's your surrogate big sis and veteran adventurer, latter's the patron goddess of Lowee and all things Nintendo and if such a big fucking VIP gets compromised then Gamindustri's going to hell), and Maia apparently has some information too sensitive to share over the phone (a reasonably familiar acquaintance, but kinda intense about some things).

(Cont.)

>> No.40375624 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress and (of course!) a dwarf. Given the choice, you'd much rather stay a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry than become a broken waterlogged corpse at the bottom of the ocean.

You don't think you have any fucking choice in the matter, since the wagon's exploded and sent your semi-sorta-kinda-conscious body hurtling off a really tall bridge. Assuming you survive, you're gonna have to look into countermeasures against death by gravity; it's embarrassing that you're the only one in your little adventuring party who can't fly, float, or otherwise make gravity your bitch.

But that's something to deal with later. Right now, you've retreated into that strange dream-ish realm that came with one of your newer abilities, the DF Arena: time has little meaning here, you're free to build whatever the hell you want on this mostly-featureless expanse of grass and dirt, and, unlike in the real world, you're not in imminent danger of getting eaten, poisoned, crushed, shot, mulched, burned, melted, frozen, detonated, or groped to death!

If not for the ever-growing mob of dwarves (actual bearded muscle-slab dwarves, not the Gamindustri girly variety), the shadowy figures lurking on the edges of the dreamspace, and the fact that you're once again dressed in a goddamn frilly nightgown, you could get real used to this place.

Anyway, the first thing you did was reach out with your little convenient Therapist ability: sadly, it comes up blank. Last time, you bumped into Rokko, Estelle, and (of all things) Mojang in this place, but then again, that WAS caused by a certain fedora'd fearmonger who couldn't leave well enough alone.

(Cont.)

>> No.40289643 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. You're also the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, which means every day is an uphill struggle as you futilely attempt to reconcile the innate contradiction that is your tortured existence-

... well, that's the inane bullshit that Gnomoria tried to shove down your throat when she last spoke to you. You're pretty sure she'll never speak to you again, since you responded by trying to pry all the teeth out of her smug, pretty face. The memory of her furious, wounded expression will warm your heart until the day you die-

Anyway, your status as Dwarf Fortress's representative in Gamindustri means that you see no point in wacky anime shenanigans, you don't understand why you can never find any restaurants serving a good *cat meat roast*, and you dream of one day growing a long and luxurious beard- but since cute anime girls and facial hair don't mix, that dream will never be realized.

Well, if there's ever a time to put aside your constant bellyaching, it would be now. Because from where you're standing, it seems like Gamindustri is perilously close to getting embroiled in another goddamned Console War- not the usual jockeying for higher shares, but the widespread nation-versus-nation conflict that'll set adventurers at each others' throats, redraw borders using blood as ink, and violently reshape the landscape.

(Cont.)

>> No.39573263 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. No big surprise, given that you're the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress- of /course/ you're a dwarf. Even you can't imagine someone being sick enough to make a goblin or, Armok forbid, an /elf/ represent a game about short, bearded psychopaths whose idea of a good prank involves flooding the trade depot with magma and watching tree-huggers or child kidnappers burn alive. That'd be like a using a cow as a burger shop mascot.

'Course, there ARE consequences to being a dwarf in the horribly anime universe of Gamindustri, like an inability to grow beards or look like anything other than a cutesy little girl, and that's driven you half-mad from the moment you came into the world.

Even so, you're starting to find that you don't hate Gamindustri all that much anymore.

Sure, you hate /parts/ of it with an incandescent rage, like the beardlessness, the rampant Japanophilia, and the universe's tendency towards fanservice and cutesy anime shenanigans. But while all that goddamn baggage grinds your gears like nothing else, you're starting to find that you're... increasingly able to deal with it all. You won't ever /like/ it, and you're sure as hell never going to get USED to it, but honestly, as long as you're careful not to succumb to kyaa kyaa ufuun moe moe anime bullshit, Gamindustri isn't that bad a place to live.

(Cont.)

>> No.39535976 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay, and you're a dwarf- in other words, a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry. Currently, you're smack-dab in the middle of a bar, cradling a barrel of booze, and you're as happy as a clam- no, /happier/. Clams aren't smart enough to suffer from existential crises stemming from a tragic Gamindustri-enforced inability to grow beards and look properly dwarfy, but on the flip side, they also can't enjoy getting drunk enough to forget all that shit.

Not that you actually CAN get shitfaced to the point where you forget stuff, pass out, or start acting like a total ass. You're a dwarf and all, so that's not physically possible, for one thing. For another thing, you're increasingly certain that dwarves only suffer hangovers and shit like that when they start suffering alcohol WITHDRAWAL. From where you're standing, that makes a hell of a lot more sense: only drinking allows you to keep the good times comin' and withstand the bad times, so-

Okay, you're getting real off-track here- alcohol is one of the few things you can wax poetic about- so anyway, you're sitting in the bar cunningly called the Fighting Frog, which itself sits right on the bit of coast closest to the Leanbox nation's landmass. All sorts of strange characters seem to drink here, and you're FULLY aware that you and your party qualify under "strange."

You're here to rest and stock up and ride a boat there, ostensibly to go meet some of your friends (but most likely to go punch some assholes in the gut, though you don't say that out loud). Now, the question is, what the hell is /Ein/ doing here, drinking some sort of- sugary fruity cocktail drink with an umbrella in it? Really?

(Cont.)

>> No.39496191 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay. As a dwarf, you're a short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry; as the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress, you're still short and you're fond of drink in the same way that fish breathe water, but you're not particularly sturdy.

It's not (just) because you're a little girl- seriously, you live in Gamindustri, and the damn place's chock full of little girls capable of awe-inspiring amounts of collateral damage. The more likely reason for your lack of strength is that you embody a game that simulates the inner organs and bones of its dwarves, and then helpfully provides ways to violently wreck that shit and reduce it all to quivering masses of pain-wracked bloody fleshy bits.

What you're trying to say is that you'll never be a one-dwarf wrecking crew; where you're from, ten dwarves /minimum/ is a respectable fighting force (or has the potential to be one). Even in Adventurer Mode (ESPECIALLY in Adventurer Mode), one lone dwarf is a sad little punchline just waiting to happen.

Recently, you've been feeling like a good fucking example of a punchline. First time setting foot in the underground realm after who knows how long? Get jumped by two random encounters that kick your ass. Come face to face with your nemesis who throws minions at you? Immediately turn one of her minions into a nightmarish eldritch monstrosity and almost get your friends killed. Go spelunking for treasure? Gain one rock, and also get your lower half crushed by a monster (it was not worth the rock).

(Cont.)

>> No.39269846 [View]

>Archive links:
http://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest/type/op/order/asc/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Hyperdimension%20Dwarf%20Fortress%20Quest
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BlorpQuest

You are Urist Twelfthbay. You're a dwarf, which is a good way to sum up "short, sturdy creature fond of drink and industry," and you're the moe personification of Dwarf Fortress. In Gamindustri, though, you're not allowed to be anything but an adorable little girl; beards or muscles are out of the question.

While this means you get carded a lot, it sure as hell doesn't stop you from getting to your alcohol. You've learned to roll with it, because hard-won experience taught you that tantruming and thrashing the bartender doesn't get you your alcohol any faster. Neither does wrecking the furniture and/or anyone patronizing the bar.

... well, okay, so it got you SOME alcohol in the very short run, but it wasn't worth the trouble in the long run and- look. Look. The point is, you've learned enough to LEGALLY get alcohol, even if it meant submitting to a physical examination and getting a card proving that you physically require alcohol to stay reasonably sane.

Anyway, you and your little adventuring group are currently in the bowels of the mountain range that splits Gamindustri's main continent into thirds. It's the less-traveled road, but it's the fastest route to the island nation of Leanbox, where you've got a friend or two waiting for you to arrive. By unhappy coincidence, it's also the place responsible for outcast-ing the assholes who've tried to murder you.

(Cont.)



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