It is the little things that irritate, but my love for the game continues unabated. It's been quite a while since a game has captured not only my interest, but also my imagination to the extent that this game has. I think the last was Half-Life-2, but sadly, the game just doesn't have the same magic going back to it that it did when I first started, and it was a short game, as shooters tend to be.
Meanwhile, I'm probably cresting the 50 hour mark in DF, and still going strong. But I know what you are saying about the interface, I have a small story to relate that is related or at least will be related, once I relate it.
My current fort is my first "keeper", a fort that I have confidence in, that I have not ruined with thoughtless channelling and liquid use, poor planning, or glaring weaknesses. I like it. When I first embarked, I noticed that the map had a Giant Eagle. I was worried, but after a couple seasons of watching him stick to his perch in the mountain tops, not bothering anyone, I figured I'd be okay.
Fast forward to my first immigrant wave: I get a hunter. He quickly busies himself with cluttering my butchery, because he is much more competent at hunting than my peasant-trainee butcher/tanner is at Butcher/Tanning. I reallocate some jobs, and enjoy happily the steady supply of skull totems, bone bolts, leather bags, and meat and fat for cooking that he provides. The diet in my fortress expands in variety, and I feel proud that I'm able to provide better than my previous vegan-only menu.
Several seasons later, I get a message on my announcement page that takes my breath away:
'Ceilinggang' Hunter/Clothier cancels Hunt: Unconscious.
I already know what has happened before I make it to hit "u", scroll down, and use "c" to zoom to him. When my view centers on the scene, it's a horror show on the heights overlooking the valley my fort is in. Blood is everywhere, and spent crossbow ammo litters the ground. I see dwarf chunks, and can hardly bear to open the wounds menu. On initial inspection, my precious hunter lays prone at the feet of the Giant eagle, unconscious from the pain of a severely mangled right hand. The foul beast who looms over him menaces with all the menace that a capital "E" can muster, and with a heavy heart, I realize that my newbie millitary probably won't make it in time, they're still slow in their chainmail armor. I issue the orders anyway, and unpause the game.
A miracle happens: The eagle bleeds to death from it's wounds mere moments later. I didn't know old 'gangy had hurt him so bad. My spirits are only lifted further when even more impressively, Cielinggang wakes up momentarily and begins dragging himself down the mountainside toward the fortress, lapsing in and out of consciousness as he goes. I'm hopeful, as it appears that he is no longer bleeding.
I disable the entrance traps as a temporary measure, remembering the new "feature" in this version that would likely finish him off. He makes it, unaided, to the fort, then to his room, and plops down in his bed to rest.
And rest he does. For months. And months. The hand isn't getting better, it's still mangled, though fortunately it appears my fortress denizens are dutiful in bringing him water and food. He compliments the cooking, but bemoans the lack of alcohol, but is at least happy to be well tended to in his quarters, which though modest are quite well appointed for a common working dwarf in a fortress of 1 year. He remains in good spirits as he continues his convalescence.
1 year later, the fort is a bustling villiage of 52 dwarfs. 2 hunters came in last year's immigrant wave, and are working to fill the void left by Cielinggang's need of rest. I check up on him occasionally, to see how long it is before I have a third hunter. The local wildlife is populating fast enough to keep my hunters busy, and I need bags for my bustling farm industry that is making me a killing at the caravans. (The merchants always leave pleased, we're dwarves who know the value of our goods, and know the value of good relations with those who have what you want.)
One fine autumn day, I notice that the hand has healed some! It's still broken, but it's progress, and I'm quite pleased.
However, I suddenly notice something that I had not noticed in all this time: There is more content on the wounds menu that I can scroll down to see. A pang of fear shoots through me, and as I overcome my hesitation and reach for the "plus" key, my worst fears are confirmed.
Ceilinggang's wounds are much worse than I'd thought. He suffered moderate brain damage, and had lost both of his eyes. He's not going to recover. My heart sinks, after having maintained hope all this time, watching the young upstarts try to fill his shoes, patiently waiting for the day he'd be able to get up and show them how a REAL dwarf hunts. No pansy groundhogs foxes and deer for him; he'll tackle the real game! Giant Eagles, by the score! Yeti, Aligators, whole packs of wolves will flee before his unerring eye and deadly steel bolts.
I pause for a moment, realizing that I didn't have the heart to put him out of his misery. So, I put my best mason and best carpenter, and my legendary engraver to work. I expanded his quarters, and outfitted him with decorated high quality furniture, smoothed over and engraved the walls. Put up a statue depicting him aiming his crossbow at unseen game over the horizon. And I hunted through the stockpiles, and found the "Giant Eagle Skull Totem" that had been made from his kill.
Now we get to the part where the interface frustrates me: I can't seem to get the dwarfs to place the totem in his room. I set up a 1 tile stockpile that only accepts skull totems, forbade all the other totems, and made the stockpile take from the stockpile the Giant Eagle skull Totem was in.
Nothing.
I wish it was easier to move specific objects around. Tables and Chairs and Beds are cake, but I want to hang his last trophy, that he earned at such high price, in his room, for all to see and remember, and it seems I can't.
Author
Topic: Dwarven Dumbness (Read 1323 times)