I don't think any implementation of psychology in DF would be trivial. Let's look an an example:
Physical Health.
Dwarves not only get wounded easily and realistically, but it is next to impossible to heal them again (as it might have been 800 years ago) and they often die of infection. A few survive, sure, but it takes years. If anything, the problem has been anti-trivialised. (word?)
I think a psychologist would be a valid dwarven profession, as, when you have entire cities going mad, someone is going to be forced to specialise in it. I expect that, in human civs, it would be a priest who would look after the mad. If you read the Saragossa Manuscripts, there is a mad turned mad by spirits who is in the care of a priest on the mountainside. I see dwarves as being a little techier than other civilisations, but more prone to 'digging too deep'. They're better organised, but, as a race, suicidal. Does not every fortress they make end up costing a good hundred lives, net? Due to the fortress nature of the dwarf, and the extreme organisation demonstrated there, I think they would have certainly figured out psychology by now... or at least, have an institution in which to isolate the nutjobs.
Perhaps if your fortress grew large, and didn't have a psychology dept., you could start attracting wierdos in your immigrations.
*** Cult ***
Nut McJob: Yeah, I've been hearing things about that place across the mountains. Here, we're not believed. The devil has pulled the wool over these dwarves' eyes, and I can't take it any longer! God has been telling me that I need to do something, to kill these disbelievers. Do you see where I'm going, Luna?
Lune A. Tick: Yes. I understand what you mean. Look, if we go... there... how the heck are we going to bring this fortress back into the air of god? We won't have any of our contacts, we won't have our families, or our congregation.
Nut McJob: But we can! We'll just buy some supplies, and walk out of this glowing pit. We'll take our converts. Our supplies. I know a guy who can knock together a rough wooden wagon in an hour or two, if we carry everything out on our backs we can pack heavy and make a wagon or two at night. We only need to be over the Sweet Cup Ridge, that's not far, and then we can make camp and build the wagons. We'll have no fire, the smoke would show. I'm sure we can pull this one off, Luna.
Lune A. Tick: Blessed you are, Brother, that God has shown you all this. Shall I spread the word? Where would you have us meet?
Nut McJob: Don't gather the congregation. We don't want to tip off the guards, do we? They'd be sure to commit us to the funny farm if they heard us. I've been there, it's damn scary. You aren't allowed to think for yourself there. I did exactly what they wanted me to, and in a few weeks they let me go. I'm telling you, the people there don't know shit... uh, where was I? ... ... Ah, right - just tell the people one at a time, and tell them to keep it quiet. We'll go tomorrow, I don't think they'll have had time to figure it out by then.
Lune A. Tick: Sounds like a plan! Get a shopping list ready, I'd like to run up some debt. These fools might as well finance their own salvation, I'm not paying for it.
Nut McJob: *snorts* Just go tell the others, I'll ready the goods.
*** Urist McSane ***
McSane: Rundut, you're telling me that Nut McJob bought 30 -*high leather boots*- from you, on credit, two days ago? Damn! ...
Rundut: What? Are the goods defective? I tell you, I sell only the finest!
McSane: Oh, quiet. Everyone knows you jack the quality on your stuff. I'm not an idiot, you know. Those mugs came from not but a dabbler, and I've got one with with the shellac still in the bumps. Where is McJob? And be truthful, or I'll turn you over to the guards. You know what the dungeon master thinks of people messing with the value of his hoard...
Rundut: Armok! I don't know where he is... he owes me $165.00, for the boots, though. Tell me if you find him, I'd rather like to have them back if he's going away for good.
McSane: Lies. I'm telling the guards.
Rundt: No, please! No! I swear, I don't know anything!
McSane: GUARD! Hey, mcGuardy, over here. This young chap's been selling shellacked goods. Here. *tosses mcGuardy the ?mug?*
McGuardy: You'll be coming with me. It'll be 100 years for you, you scum.
*Rundut leaps up and overturns the table, which spills booze on the ground. The candle ignites the distilled spirits, and mcGuardy frantically extinguishes the fire. When he looks up, he finds Urist McSane putting out his shirt and Rundut nowhere in sight. þhe old tavern is in chaos as dwarves flee the smoke.
*** The Arrival ***
http://www.wordpress.dwarfblog12.com/chokedplanks16granite1063/index.php:
Dear Blog:
Lots has happened since my last entry, an hour ago. I finished my magma pump stack, so I now have the ability to burn out whatever invaders come my way. Ah, what a joy it is to pour magma onto unsuspecting elfin ambushers. We got two new migrant batches (bless dwarf therapist) who have been quite useful. A few trap testers, but there were some high level dwarves. A glassmaker, a butcher, and a legendary carpenter came last month! I put them straight to work, as always. There has been a new cult founded in my fortress, and they've been petitioning my mayor for a nice big two-level chapel. There's only a few of them, so I don't think it will matter if I don't oblige. Another dwarf went all moody and cut a swath through my fortress guard, but he was finally stopped by a kid with a glass mandolin. I'm not sure how that works... maybe it's like a broken beer bottle at a barfight? *snip*
*** The New Home ***
Nut McJob: Well, this wasn't as good as I had hoped, Luna. These people are within help, but they refuse the basic tenants of God. We can continue holding meetings in the Hall, I suppose. It has a nice door, lovely scrollwork. Very godly. Luna, how is our flock? It seems to be growing, but I'm not sure. It's so hard to tell without a chapel.
Lune A. Tick: No one cares about the work of god, here. It has made it easy to convert people, who have been without misleading forces in their life. I think we're growing. Soon, we will be able to venture back to that little one-wambler cave we came from. Gods, how did we ever survive back there? We were treated like criminals! Here, we are allowed to actually get out of the room and preach the Word. I think we'll be ready in about a year, my Nut.
*** One Year Passes ***
http://www.wordpress.dwarfblog12.com/chokedplanks20granite1064/index.php:
Dear Blog:
An odd occurrence has occurred! I got a message saying that 'The bloody amulets has started a crusade and raised an army! They will march on the Mountain Home of Cleariron in one week.' Then, when I checked the military screen, I found they had conscripted twenty of my dwarves! No one important, It'll actually be rather nice to get rid of them, but I'm... annoyed. Toady One, maybe you could make it so you get to pick the twenty dwarves?
This just in: They actually left my screen. I checked the civilisations list, and it seems Cleariron is actually a city in _my_ civilisation. I'll submit a bug, I don't think you should be able to invade your own civilisation.
*** Invasion! ***
Nut McJob: Fine work, lads. The streets run red with blood, and the few poor wretches who have not yet been enlightened will be soon. We've brought the air to these foul dungeons, and now we'll settle them and spread the good Word! I name these mines Cartlove, and we shall be the civilisation Viewedopal! To victory! *hoists a keg of sewer brew*
*** Chokedplanks ***
Urist McEnvoy: Chokedplanks, we of the civilisation of the Waves of Gathering declare war on you, for you have attacked Cleariron and slaughtered it's inhabitants. You are a cesspool of filth, unchecked madness, crime, corruption. You have caused nothing but trouble for the Mountainhomes! Good riddance to you.
The End
Analysis:
Nut flees his city because of religious repression - he has been possessed by a demon or a ghost, or was maybe just sick, and has started his own religion. Some religions should be repressed, and his city has both police and a psychiatrist. However, the psychiatrist was only dabbling, and failed to recognise the threat he posed. With time, there is no way Nut could have gotten out when he was still ill. Nut then took some of the population, and arrived as immigrants to the player's fort. The player, having no police or psychologists, could not stop the militant religion. He could not even see what the religion's values were, having no chapel for them. When the religion matured, they attacked another city. This caused both the newly-inhabited city and the player's fort to be branded enemies of the civilisation - a challenge, true, but not an unconquerable one. This story involves religion, but it could very well be any sort of group or dwarf - it was just an example.
Does anyone have any comments? I think Proteus' suggestion of a chief psychologist and a mental health screen are rather interesting, and could be fun to play with.