Let's Cover the Lands in Progress: Gold Release Community Colony

Ah, and we have more Science! Wonderful!



AHHHH, THEY ARE HERE! THEY ARE FINALLY HERE! MY NIGHMA-

Airship you say? Ah, ignore that bit. Ahem. You sure it's an airship? No... purple? Well then, that's fine. Yes. That's... fine.

... This is going to cause a diplomatic incident and we don't have a foreign office. I AM A TERRIBLE BUREAUCRAT.



What's this? The number of overseers OUTNUMBERS the number of laborers!? What kind of backwards colony is this!? I MUST rectify this at once! Augh!



My last day here before I am called off to deal with another problem colony- something about mushroom hats? While saddened at my imminent departure,I

BANDITS

AHHHHH



Go forth, brave soldiers! Fight and try not to die IN THE NAME OF THE EMPIRE, THE QUEEN, AND THE HOLY COG, NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER



Ah, he is making off with our... clay. Why did they attack us again?



Our soldiers are at wits end! We are almost defeated, but at least we have Hurt the Enemy!



We uh, well everyone survived. Somehow. I am kind of disappointed honestly. We do need a barbershop, as all of our soldiers are horrible, horribly maimed and wounded.



...I will leave that for the next Colonial Bureaucrat to figure out.


For now, I must leave, and deal with these mushroom hoodlums, or whatever the problem is. Fare thee well!

Notes: Get more laborers, put them to work in the Farms and in the Kitchen. Then expand. They also demanded a church, get that to them as soon as possible.

 

So we have colonists besieged mentally by inhuman sigils and physically by mass bandits and bloodloss. I can only hope Alephred can save us all.

 

I'm not dead! First edit!
(I'll delete this message afterwards, I'm posting this just to give a sign of life... )

 

No worries, thanks for putting the work in!

Speaking of people needing to put in work, @Alephred looks like he's checked out. Over to you, @Noratoxin !

 

I've had a very busy week, but now I'm back. I don't know if @Noratoxin has begun their turn, but I'm ready now (or I can wait).

 

Go ahead and take your turn. I've done nothing yet.

 

Okay, I'm on it!

 

Praise gawd. Save us all, Alephred!

 

Colony report incoming, watch this space!

 

Ok, I finally managed to finish the past report! I had to edit two posts, because there is 10k cap to characters per single post... well, now I know it!

P.S. Puzzlemaker, you have The Gift of Synthesis, a really enjoyable report

 

Aww, thanks Cthulhu, I appreciate it.

 

I am enjoying your stories very much, you all write colorful tales of colony life and it is always nice to see how someone else plays the game. Can't wait to read next installment.

 

YOU TOO can join the Community Colony! Spots are still open to add fuel to the coming fire!

 

Yeah, you should really give it a shot, it's fun. More is better, and half of us have time problems when our turn comes up anyway.

 

Perhaps I will give it at try, I am on the experimental branch, would this be a problem?

 

The C.C. is on the stable branch, but you can revert back and forth, the download time is small. That's what I do, at least

 

On this day, the 24th of November, I Alephred, Royal Archivist and humble servant of the Clockwork Empire, travel to one of the Empire's far-flung colonies to 'serve' a term as Administrator. I was 'given' this 'decoration' in recognition for a dinner at my estate in honour of the Ambassador to Le Republique Mechanique, who was the guest of honour. I thought my guest would enjoy a dish from the Continent; I didn't know gazpacho soup was meant to be served cold.

Well, time to make the best of a bad situation. Let's take stock of the situation; I am greeted by a bustling but disorganized town of crowded shacks. Our workforce consists of twenty-three souls: ten labourers and thirteen overseers. The food situation seems very precarious, as we have only two maize plots, and both are half-staffed. The kitchen is also curiously small - only two ovens have been installed. My predecessor must have liked his food very well seasoned, however, because there are five spice racks. Between the weedy vegetable patches and the curious kitchen, the colony is just barely feeding the population each day, with essentially no excess capacity for new immigrants. Still, the mood of the colony is generally quite good, and most of the complaints are about working and sleep conditions, both of which can be remedied with time and construction. For some reason, there is a dodo bird living in the Ceramics Workshop. He makes no effort to leave, so I conclude he is a pet or mascot.

My task is relatively straightforward: I will stabilize the food situation with a larger kitchen facilities and more farms. Once the colony is on a better footing for food, I will be able to expand the Carpentry Workshop. If time and resources permit, I will then break ground on the long-awaited Metalworks, and Barbershop. As all available Overseers and Labourers are occupied with the duties of the colony, I can start no new projects until I expand available housing.

Day 24



There's something wrong with one of the maize fields, it's an eyesore, and it appears to be sinking into the ground, so I have it plowed over. A small price to pay for aesthetic harmony. Large scale clear-cutting of the surrounding forest continues, as the colony consumes wood at a fearsome rate. I notice several buildings are awaiting the installation of cots, but we have none in stock, and none in production, so I re-assign the Carpentry Workshop to cot production for the foreseeable future - this should alleviate our labourer capacity shortage.

At this time, I notice an area of craters, flattened trunks, and burnt stumps on the outskirts of town. There are also scattered metal parts, and at least one crate full of gold. What happened out here? Nobody in the colony is forthcoming with information, so decide not to press the issue.


I commission the construction of a new Middle Class house for the Overseer class; step one of my plans for the colony. So far so good. The Overseer of the Carpentry, one Eugenia Steelthatch, is so pleased by my arrival that she renames the Carpentry Workshop in my honor: The Fond Workshop. In retrospect, this was an early warning sign. More on that later.



After a fruitful day, night falls. Unfortunately, a small school of Fishmen chooses that time to attack the Ceramics Workshop, and in the ensuing bloody skirmish, the entire standing Military is slain, including NCO Nellie Crimleelm.



I quickly conscript Barston Mudhooke, formerly an unassigned Overseer with a noted predilection for shooting things, and the hastily assembled militia kill the remaining Fishmen.



Eugenia Steelthatch tells me that her workbench is whispering secrets to her; I'm not quite sure what to make of this, but she is taken by a strange mood and insists on building - something.

Day 25

Apparently someone foolishly promised the colonists a chapel - we have no Chemical Works, and thus no way to produce the required Lacquered Planks, so I do what my predecessors did and promise to build a chapel at some vague time in the future. Having worked through the night, Eugenia Steelthatch has completed her Great Work. She left her construction in the disorganized central stockpile, however, and has recovered from her fugue with no memory of the preceding night, so she does not know what it is she built, and we cannot find anything unusual in the inventory; I speculate she may have built a standing desk.

The new Middle Class House is ready, and the colony awaits another boatload of workers.

This night, our friend Eugenia Steelthatch has been maddened by despair, and has renamed the Carpentry Workshop to The Petrifying Stumpery. I am growing concerned with her mental health, but we have nobody to replace her.

Day 26

The new day begins with the arrival of two Overseers and seven Labourers, a welcome addition, although they have now pushed our food production into a deficit. Never fear, I'll now zone a new farm and assign the new arrivals to tend it. This may be an issue - growth is hampered because a portion of our new arrivals are required to grow and cook food for themselves, so our labour pool increases very slowly. I take perverse pleasure in assigning Benedict Carnifex (latin, lit. 'Benedict Meat-Eater') to farm the new maize field.

Eugenia Steelthatch claims she has recovered from her Madness, but my opinion is still guarded.



Bandit attack! Our doughty redcoats successfully repel the ruffians without any colonist deaths, but NCO Barston Mudhooke is grievously wounded. Our military desperately need the services of a Barber, but we have no manpower to spare. At least we have a functioning Public House were they can drown their sorrows.

Day 27, morning of my departure



There's some kind of disturbance at the Ceramics Workshop again. I pay the screams of alarm no mind; my return ship to the Empire has just come in. Good luck! And keep an eye on that Eugenia Steelthatch.

 

That carpenter! She getting out of control!
And poor militia... My hope for Mudhooke were too optimistic...

Now, I don't want to be the grammar nazi of the situation, but I will be grammar nazi of the situation

Carnifex as Meat-eater sounds new to me...
...to be honest I don't know where my Latin dictionary is, but from what I can find is a term derived from caro, carnis + facio, is, feci, factum, ere and in English is something like meat + do/make/fabricate, so you can literally think of as "making someone into meat" or " (cutting) making someone to pieces". In fact, the Carnefix was the executioner in the ancient Rome. And the term has survived in Italian, with a similar, but more wide meaning.
Now, let me put away my grammar-nazi uniform together with my annoying pedantry

 

Fear not, he has survived! And soon you will find out how, but for now, I need to re-read the text for errors.

 

The Empire Has Called for You to Test Your Avarice in Colonial Management

You still remember your father’s words. He’d been before that furnace for the entire evening, pondering, thinking something. He had let no one near unless they came with a class of whiskey. You were about to go to bed when a servant came into your room with a note in her hands. You recognized your father’s horrible handwriting. He could not steady his hands for the life of him. He had, though, perfected the art of signing his name.

That father of yours, how you hate him still, but at least his words act as anchor for you, who you are about to be cast into the stormy sea of the colonies. You’ve done your research, you are aware that most colonies don’t make it past their tenth day. This one has. Surely, it can mean nothing but good.



“Don’t bring shame to your family.” That’s what your father had left you with, never a man for many words, never very emotional. “He’s and officer, he has killed many bad men,” your mother had once said to your nine-year-old crying snotty-nosed self. You hope to follow his advice. You wouldn’t dare dishonour your father.


Day 27

The walking fish:

You arrive in the colony in the middle of a battle between fishpeople and the men, the fate of whose souls now rests on your shoulders. The newly promoted NCO, Mudhooke, has already been fatally wounded. He limps about, trying to hold his aim. You’ve heard of these creatures during late nights in the parlours of some of your friends. These fishcreatures are vicious things, who don’t flinch at a bullet wound. Still they can be overcome if they are surrounded and confused by gunfire. Your father’s teachings of strategy now come into use. Indeed, there are but two military men in his squad to help him, but any man can aim, if they really want to. And who wouldn’t want to send these abominations, these walking fish, back to the depths of hell! You take two farmers from Benedict Carnifex’s work crew by the wrist and give them ceramic pistols, which had been stocked in the barracks, just waiting to be used. They look at the weapons you have bestowed upon them and then break into a run. You ascertain that it is fishpeople that they are chasing after. The battles in confusing and a fishperson comes dangerously close to giving Mudhooke, who is at death’s door, the final blow. His men shoot the thing’s claws as it raises them and its mind breaks, deciding to chance to run. It seems that it values survival over destruction. Perhaps they are still creatures of Cog’s clockwork. As Mudhooke retreat to safety, the farmers, whose ploughs haven’t even been lifted from the ground where they left them, have charged on the enemy and slammed enough pellets into their brows to make them flee. Their attack thus halted, the military launches a counterattack. To the sound of rattling gunfire, the last of them fall. The threat has been ended. Mudhooke grins to you deviously. He knows you, but you choose to ignore him and not acknowledge the connection. He’s older than you, one of your father’s pupils, who told you stories when he wasn’t present.



Logistics:

You take a moment to breathe and relax. Of course, your life had never been endangered. Your honour had.

You know that your colonists need to relax just as you do. They need to rest and then work hard. Indeed, not many Colonial Bureaucrats would care about the life of their colonists. But you do. For you are no ordinary bureaucrat, babbling into the uncogly hours of night about the unreadable tax law. You are the son of your father, a military man, who takes into account the morale of his men. So you have to skip rest for now so your souls wouldn’t have to. You cancel orders and focus on what’s important. Deciding that in such cases, food is less important than survival, you remove one of the three farm plots and construct a barbershop instead. The limping NCO Mudhooke needs medical assistance. You’ve heard the capitalist friends of yours speak of a thing called the conveyor method. You decide to apply it now. A soldier will put their weapon away in the barracks and then go straight through the back door into the alley before the barbershop. Benedict Carnifex no longer works with plants, but the flesh of humans. Hopefully he can learn to use sharp-edged tools for other purposes besides reaping. When you approach him, he doesn’t seem to notice you, instead being amused by the swirling barbershop pole.


Having this planned out, you wonder how to solve the nutritional deficiency situation you’ve created. You inspect the orders in the kitchen and see that what’s halting food production, is the hogging of maize. Most of the maize goes to making booze, leaving little for making pots of farmer’s stew. Also, the labourers are eating farmer’s stew! You decide to fix that and order up fifteen pots of boiled fungus. What about the booze? You’ve never been much of a drinker. They can drink tea for all you care! Zora Steelgrass tries to fight you back at first, but you remind her about the Tax Law book, which she found. The investigation is still ongoing and in case the enquiry turns sour, wouldn’t she want to have got a friend in the Capital? She agrees to change her mind about booze if you send for more spice from overseas. “At least then the food won’t taste like those rotten potatoes, which the commoners eat,” she says. You nod and write a letter to a friend requesting vaguely for her to ‘send any spice’.


The night:

As the darkness falls, you peer off into the distance. No more are before you the lantern-lit streets of the Capital, those streets which had been your haunts in your younger years. Such blackness as you now see among the foliage, far off at the edge of colony, you have never seen before. It will be lit up, you say out loud, and stand up to begin planning the streets.


At midnight, you are informed that a previous bureaucrat had promised a chapel to the people of the colony. A complaint about your failure to build such a thing apparently appeared in the Empire Times. You hope that your father doesn’t see the letter. You hope that no one does.