I've looked about ever since I first played DF back in 2007, and I have still never found a game attempting anything close to what DF is. The copycats fall to the wayside after a few hours of diversion, but nothing quite hooks me like DF. This is why I always end up drunkenly ranting about how emergent storytelling is the most important feature of this game.
I mean, getting down to the philosophy of games, most end up as weird simluation-but-not-really-when-you-get-down-to-the-nitty-gritty skinner boxes that serve to keep you interested (or rather, distracted) from the unreality of their mechanics. They promise you the experience of commanding an army or living in a fantasy world or fighting space aliens aboard some abandoned ship, but due to the nature of the video game concessions are made to the technological capabilities of your average consumer desktop. True simulation is impossible, they say. Starcraft doesn't simulate individual marine bullets, nor does Fallout come close to accurately depicting the sort of social relationships that might develop after an apocalyptic disaster. One uses a series of predictable mathematical interactions between units to
symbolize the fight between a space marine and a horde of zerglings, while the other throws a mature sense of reality out the window and replaces it with ridiculous, trope-ified 'encounters' that read like summer-break fanfiction. Some games fall into a gross spectacle of explosions and overdone tropes, and I'm no hipster when I say they pander to the masses (looking at you battlefront).
So back when I found out about DF I was too young to verbalize all these thoughts but I knew immediately it was different, because
it promised that simulated reality no one else had done. Instead of making the simulation less complete, Toady dared to make the graphical depiction of that simulation absolutely un-appealing to the 3-d stimulated eye. And, ultimately, it's still impossible. He isn't simulating atoms.
he fucking thought about it though lol
Yet, he's already changing the way people think about video games and the purpose of their creation. DF is one of the most influential games of the past ten years, you only have to look at the smorgasbord of indie colony-em-ups available on Steam.
I remember, I almost gave up when I started playing, because who in their right mind would play a game where you have to imagine everything? How could I ever learn to appreciate a "d" as a dog? Why would I struggle in lonely frustration with a game that my friends would never play, when I can just spend $50 bucks on some 3-dimensional, exquisitely shader-ed and absolutely unthinking soldier-simulator? I mean, 300 code-lackeys sweat their little hineys off making this thing and it's gorgeous! You can even shoot terrorists!
I spent the first few years playing to win, so to speak. New versions came out, and I felt the same way as many posters here. The game lacked that completeness that came with other, more popular games. The feeling that my actions had "true" purpose, or contextual purpose. You know what I mean if you've ever talked to a serious starcraft (or MOBA) player. They talk the meta like no other, and since every little bit of advantage in needed to win there is an absolute purpose to every little mechanic.
It just isn't the same for DF. I've seen this time and time again: new player reads wiki and learns the ropes of the game. Finds that when push comes to shove, the game's meta can be easily broken by playing carefully. Sieges aren't really threatening with a drawbridge. Farms can produce indefinitely. Legendary soliders are OP, ballistae "aren't good," and why would I
not equip my dwarfs with 3 chainmail hauberks, 2 shields, and 5 cloaks?
DF has none of that meaty game-iness so popular with my generation, and this is a turn off for many. It just isn't ready for that sort of mechanical balance right now, and should it come I imagine it won't take care of every little crack in the meta.
I'll leave you with an analogy. There is a mountain near where I live, named Mt. Constitution. Rather piddling when it comes to these sorts of things, this mountain has two ways to the top: you can hike for about four hours up grueling switchbacks and forested hillsides, occasionally sneaking a peek at the absurdly beautiful San Juan Islands. You're sweaty and sore, perhaps more tired than anyone has a right to be, but then you've made it! You're at the top! The shining Puget Sound waters look like a storybook, and you seriously consider forgetting everything and living the rest of your days at the top of this earthen remnant. Somehow, the glaciers failed to grind this chuck of rock like the rest of the land and here you are, thankful that grating ice was particularly lazy those last few thousand years. You've lived a little, used up some of your short existence (count out your probably decades on just two hands!) in a rather pointless endeavor considering society at large, and yet you're happy. You know it was worth it.
You know. Or, you can drive. It takes less than twenty minutes, and the parking lot at the top of the mountain accommodates all sorts of vehicles. Step out of your japanese-made contraption, then tromp the slightly-too-low wall at the edge of the bluff and look out at the same beautiful island chain the hiker sees. Perhaps you exchange a glance with one of those silly hikers, in their silly shoes and wearing their silly packs.
"What a load of nonsense. It was just so easy my way! What's so great about this place anyways? Last time I listen to that damned travel guide. Hey, lets go, I'm hungry again. . ."