I can see it now.
Urist cancels ride rollercoaster: too intense.
Urist cancels ride rollercoaster: not paying that much.
Urist cancels leave park: wants to go on rollercoaster again.
Urist admires rollercoasters for their intensity. He has recently ridden on a really good value ride. He has recently endured disgusting paths. He recently hoped that they have good maintenance.
Urist has created "Raperape The surprise sex of Goblinfaeces", an adamantine rollercoaster!
The VIP Urist has come! A short, sturdy creature fond of rollercoasters with high excitement levels.
The Forgotten Beast RapeFaeces has come! A faeces monsters which menaces with spikes of faeces. Beware his discount tickets for your rides!
In 1050, Urist became obsessed with building the perfect rollercoaster.
In 1051, the god Faecesmurder cursed Urist with riding a rollercoaster for all eternity in Faecesfaeces The Faeces of Faeces.
The ride Raperape The surprise sex of Goblinfaeces has broken down: exit destroyed by Troll.

Had a sweet statue garden in the middle of my fort, and I thought it would be awesome if I had rivers of water and magma making paths through the hall. I set the whole thing up, and then figure the coolest centerpiece would be an artifact statue surrounded by a ring of gold statues, surrounded by a moat of magma.
Awesome.
So I dig out the magma level, carefully set up a flood gate so I can turn it off, wait for the magma to fill up the level and then carve out the paths for the river.

Just had a WELL FUCK moment not two hours prior.
I had about a 100-dorf fort (at a 50-pop cap, mind you) running. Now, this fort was unlike most other dwarven expeditions you would hear about. Instead of tunneling underground and building vast structures just under the surface, this expeditionary party tunneled all the way to the first cavern they found and set up shop there.
It was looking to be successful; I had seven dwarves to start off with, and we just hit the floor of a plateau in the cavern. I immediately set my mason off to work, sealing off the entrances to the plateau, and my miner began to dig into the sheer wall that bordered half o' the cavernous outcrop. My woodcutter and my hunter, the sole dwarves of my militia, were tasked with the charge of the rest of the expedition. Their only task insofar was to ensure that none of the dwarves met their doom prematurely.

Ok. So I started a fortress, everything was going smoothly, but I hadn't built a farm yet. I only noticed this after my dwarves became unhappy. They didn't have food! So I tried to build a farm, started building, and it took a while to get done, but it did. Now I'm waiting for the food to grow, and my dwarves are throwing tantrums and dying. But, one of they had a fey, and he now makes awesome wooden things! So a caravan comes, and think, OFUCK MY CHANCE TO SURVIVE! ILL JUST TRADE THIS SUPER VALUABLE STUFF! One of my guys had just died, and his clothes were worth sooo much! So I bought a ton of food, and I press trade. 'Once a beautiful tree, now? etc.' and he refused to trade, even though there was over 1000$ worth of stuff. I removed the wooden things, and they refused to trade still. Now all my dwarves, 51 mind you, threw tantrums and died. Fuck. STUPID ELVES!

"v,"v".v",vvv",.@,.v"vv,v""
Doran floated disembodied above a scene of unimaginable carnage. They were everywhere, the cave voles, and not a plump helmet remained unscathed. Bits and pieces of their torn purple flesh lay in the mud -- no, these voles did not eat everything they killed! It is a dream, a dream! Doran thought, but he remained in that exact place, fixed in that posture, branded to the dank air as the massacre continued for what seemed like an age.
The dwarf awoke in a cold sweat. Casting aside his bedding, he ran out of his room without putting on his boots. He had to see it -- he had to see the farm!

kkkkss~~~c@~~~
The terrible sun baked the cracked earth below as Aliz staggered on. The caravan left him for dead after a skeletal bear attack. It must have been an ancient being, from when this dry land was once green and alive. Now the undead were all that crawled here. One foot in front of another, that was the only way. The dwarf wrapped a scarf around his beard to keep out the dust. Ahead was a steep dune.
As Aliz approached the mountain of sand, the tracks of the caravan disappeared. There was no wind to erase the tracks. No, some evil was at work here. He went down to inspect the tracks and jerked his hand back just in time. A cobra! It shouldn’t be here. Nothing lives in these wastes. He dove out of the way as a dozen scorpions flew through the air straight at him. This could mean only one thing.
Desert kobolds.