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The trading “airlock” is almost finished. I just need to lay a few more traps. I also decided to add a 3rd drawbridge next to the depot that has no function other than to squish the crap out of invaders. You know, if the traps aren’t enough.

Then I’m attacked by more kobolds. Have I mentioned how much I hate kobolds?

I order the interior drawbridge closed. But there’s nobody around to pull the lever! It’s not going to close in time!

The kobolds gleefully make their way across the open drawbridge and towards my utterly defenseless fortress. I don’t even have any war dogs left. I guess I’ll have to gather together a little military once again. I draft ‘1′ and Vabak, both miners.

It works like a charm! The kobolds are struck down like the vermin they are. The rest flee. My two recruits give chase. I hate it when they chase things.

But the drawbridge is still open. And my recruits are running towards it. I don’t know how to make them stop.

“Wait! Don’t pull the lever!” I yell. I check the lever downstairs. A dwarf lingers nearby. It’s already been pulled.

I can only watch in horror as 1 and Vabak run after the kobolds. They step onto the drawbridge. It closes.

They are both crushed to death in the enormous hinge.

I pause the game. Because of my military-related incompetence, I just lost ‘1.’ And Vabak was being trained as a miner to replace ‘2,’ whom I also killed.

I check the list of all the dwarves who have been killed so far.

What!? Is that 5 on there? When was 5 killed?

In a previous raid. I didn’t even notice it. Crap.

At this point in the game, I’m completely taken aback by the fact that I actually care about the dwarves whom I’ve gotten to know. I was absolutely not expecting this. But there it is.

The remaining dwarves worthy of receiving a number are 3, 4, 6, and 7.

THEY SHALL NOT PERISH LIKE THE OTHERS.

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With my trading “airlock” finally complete, the dwarven caravan arrives, bearing wood and iron ore (There’s only silver and copper ore beneath the earth, I’ve searched everywhere!)

Before I shut the traders in completely, the Kobolds decide to attack.

Bad idea. This caravan came prepared.

I grin as I watch the kobold’s limbs fly, and their blood spatter and flow. They totally deserve it.

The bloodbath over, all dwarves but one return to the wagons. The final dwarf seems content to chase around a two-humped camel, part of the local wildlife. I let him have his fun, closing the external drawbridge and opening the internal one so I can trade. All is well.

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Now completely protected, and brimming with fresh supplies of wood, ore, and booze, my fortress is doing better than ever. And then I notice that my dwarves, having not seen the sun for too long, have been puking their guts out all the way to and from the trade depot. They’ve been walking on a path of puke. That’s really gross.

Rather than bemoan this, I embrace it! I order the path and part of the outside courtyard to be paved over with olivine – a stone well known for its rich, puke-green color.

But it raises a dilemma. I don’t want my dwarves to become cave-adapted… but I don’t want them going outside all the time either, even within the walls. They’d get in the way of more important operations, like farming.

I come up with a solution. I’ll dig a giant hole in the earth, leading 3 Z-levels down, to the dining level. At the bottom will be a new statue garden. Dwarves love their statue gardens and will surely want to hang out there, even though the nauseating sun will shine down upon them.

Look at those pathetic miners. Look at how little stone they leave behind, how slowly they work! Oh 1 and 2, how I miss you.

Unfortunately, the top of the hole must emerge OUTSIDE the protective walls of my fortress. I suppose I’m going to have to risk it.

With half the digging complete, I need to get miners and masons outside so that they can mine downward and construct a wall around the hole. It’s too risky to use the trader’s airlock, so I build a much smaller airlock consisting of 4 doors. Two doors can be locked manually, and the other two are locked by levers. I think it’s a pretty clever design.

Once again beset upon by goblins, I discover I am wrong.

I should mention at this point that I do now in fact have a military. But they are strictly marksdwarves. None of that risky injury-inducing melee combat! Here’s a shot of them training. This is just inside the fortress.

I once tried building fortified towers for them to shoot from, stationed atop my fortress walls, but that didn’t seem to work. So I have them stationed on the ground, instead.

Amazingly, despite harrasment from the goblins AND kobolds, I manage to get the entire hole dug, and walls built around it for extra protection. I’m pleased.

But all of a sudden, the announcements feed is spammed with these:

What? Someone was injured? Who? I hope it’s nobody important…

Shit. Another of the numbered dwarves.

‘6′ Rigòthothlest is a VERY important dwarf… just look at all the stuff she’s good at!

While normally a broken arm isn’t such a big deal, she’ll die for sure unless I find a way to get water.

Meanwhile, the barf statue garden is working spectacularly.

Those dwarves will lose their cave adaption in no time!

6 begins to die a slow and painful death. I try everything. Maybe beer will be good enough? Wait, I have milk! Will milk work? I stockpile both of them next to her bed. Nothing. Maybe I can I build a well somewhere? No, wells don’t just magically produce water…

I have no options. As 6’s condition worsens, I decide that the most humane (dwarfane?) thing would be to allow her to die a quick death. I begin construction on a magma pipeline, to fill her room and end her misery.

She dies of thirst before its completion.

I have her body laid to rest in a silver sarcophagus in her room. And then I flood the room with magma anyway. It seems like a dwarfy way to be buried.

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On a map without water, the decision to train a military was a tough one to make.

Ha ha, no it wasn’t. Not anymore. Just look at all these useless dwarves!

The number of useless dwarves started piling up after I increased the maximum allowable population to 50. I discovered that my computer can take it just so long as I have nothing else running.

I figure that if someone in the military is injured and dies, they’ll just be replaced later by another immigrant! So why have healthcare when you have immigration? Ah, I’m so coldhearted. Check out my ruthless barracks design:

See all the doors? If a military dwarf is injured, drags him/herself into a bed to rest, and starts complaining for water, I can simply lock the door and leave them to die.

It’s pretty much the equivalent of shooting a lame horse! But slower and more painful.

Oh, I added a zoo as well. (No skylight for the zoo, though.)

Here’s my new army-in-training, looking like a flock of birds. Silly dwarves, you aren’t birds!

They’re being trained in unarmed combat for now. I learned in my last fortress that if your new recruits spar with weapons, they’re quite likely to critically injure each other. Better that they learn other skills first.

So I’m training up my new army, and all of a sudden, the “dungeonmaster” dwarf appears at the edge of them map.

“Oh cool! I’ve never had a dungeonmaster before,” I exclaim.

I’ve heard that nobles can be a pain, but I decide to let him in anyway. However, because there’s no path into the fortress, he doesn’t enter the airlock, opting instead to mill about on the edge of the map. So I lower the main drawbridge for the first time in a while, and send my new military out to protect the entrance.

I am promptly assaulted by THREE SIMULTANEOUS GOBLIN AMBUSHES.

My military has no weapons equipped. The blood… oh dear Armok, the blood.

You see? You see why I NEVER open both drawbridges? Nothing but death awaits those that dare venture outside.

We win the battle, but 3 dwarves are killed by the goblins. Another 6 suffer critical injuries.

All because I let that dungeonmaster inside. He had better be worth it.

As I close the drawbridge, cries of thirst echo through the halls. The injured dwarves mostly go to their own bedrooms to recover, not the barracks. I start to lock the injured dwarves in their bedrooms. Not all of them are soldiers, but none of them are the numbered dwarves… whew!

Then I come to a room I cannot lock – there’s an uninjured dwarf inside. On the bed is a female recruit, broken and dying. Her husband, a weaponsmith, is lying in the bed with her… as if to comfort her. As if to stop me from locking the door. As if he knows this is the last time he will ever see her.

Passing this room by for now, I look across the hallway and see this: My off-duty dwarven army, gathered around the bed of a wounded, dying comrade.

What… what are they doing? Are they… paying their respects? Giving homage to their dying friend? Seriously? Because that’s what it looks like.

Earlier, I saw them do the same thing on the battlefield – they silently gathered around the body of a dead soldier until I ordered everyone inside.

I’m stunned. The dwarves in a computer game are exhibiting more respect and empathy for each other than I do for them. They are plainly suffering because of my mistakes and decisions.

I feel like a sociopath. A monster. I can almost feel the dwarves shaming me through the computer screen.

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