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[joeclark77]

I like to imagine my dwarfs smoking their pipes as they admire well-crafted furniture.  Has the dev considered implementing some form of tobacco into the game?  (I was just thinking, if pipes could only be made out of clay, this would have the added benefit of creating a meaningful purpose for the pottery industry.)

[NW_Kohaku]

Pipes and smoking have been suggested before, including some from a while back that I'm sure Toady became aware of.

http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=66467.msg1579898#msg1579898
http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=79352.msg2062732#msg2062732

There's also a lot on recreational drugs in general.

It's in the old devpages as a "bloat" item, so he's definitely given it some thought.  (And if you haven't read the old devpages yet, you probably should, it gives a much better idea of what the game might one day be like...)

Maybe when there's taverns you might get something for a recreational smoke, but I think that "mood" things like that are probably going to wait until the game has a much more complex social structure in place to actually make dwarves with hobbies and leisure pursuits and such.

[penguinofhonor]

Tulon snapped awake when he heard the scouts' horn. The caravan had finally arrived. He put on his clothes, wearing two pairs of socks for luck. He hoped he wouldn't need it.

Every dwarf he passed in the halls was tense, and he was sure they were staring at him when his back was turned. It was no matter, though. This would all be solved by the afternoon.

After getting a quick drink to help wake up, he made his way to the depot. The elves had spread out their wares, but Tulon's eyes passed over the stacks of plants and fabric.

He looked up at the elven trader. "What's in those bags, Inale?"

"Seeds, mostly. Rope reed, wild strawberries, just some stuff to resupply anything you guys are low on."

"How much spice-root?"

"Spice-root? You couldn't possibly need more of that. Not even if your entire kingdom started smoking the stuff."

Tulon huffed. "A dragon came last autumn. It torched all the fields before our soldiers could take it down. Even the granary went up in flame."

Inale's frowned. "That's tragic. How have things been?"

"Not so good." Tulon looked around him. A crowed had encircled the trading post, luckily out of earshot. "Everyone here smoked the stuff. We didn't realize we'd get dependent on't."

"With your species' booze problem, we thought you'd have predicted that."

Tulon grabbed the trader by the collar. "Don't poke fun at me, elf. Just give me all the spiceroot that ye've got. We'll pay you handsomely and just grow our supply from that."

"I, uh..." Inale gulped. "Of all places, we thought you'd have absolutely no use for more spiceroot."

"How little?"

"It's just, you know, you grow as much as the rest of the continent combined."

Tulon drew his knife and pressed it against the elf's chest. "How little?" he bellowed.

"None."

Tulon dropped Inale. "I'm dead." He turned to the crowd and shouted. "They don't have any!"

The crowd was agitated. Some of the dwarves drew weapons, some picked up nearby rocks. Half wanted to turn on the elves and half wanted to turn on anyone within reach.

Then, over the course of a few seconds, they all stopped. A familiar smell filled the tunnel as an elf with a leaf-rolled cigarette walked up to the trading post. "Hey Inale," he mumbled. "The pack-bears are getting antsy." A crossbow bolt whizzed past his face, cutting all but the butt off his cigarette and sending it flying.