Dwarf Fortress can be very demanding of CPU cycles (Large fortresses can sllllooooow doooowwwwnnnn, if haven't got plenty of megahertz) and the save files are sometimes pretty massive (up to 100MBs), but thanks to the miracle of ASCII graphics, it doesn't ask for any sort of special graphics hardware.
It even runs under Vista, and there's a Mac OSX version.
It's downloadable donation-ware from Bay 12 games. Google Bay 12 or Dwarf Fortress and it'll be at the top. The whole game is coded by one guy who lives on donations and has attempted to replace sleep with caffeine and code.
The help file is pretty sketchy, but there's a wiki with almost everything you'll want to know.
Anyway, It's time to get in character:
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Log entry, 1st Felsite, start of spring:
For my impertinence to his Majesty, I have been sentenced to govern some forgotten colony known as "WeaselSplatter" in the local dialect, whatever that could possibly mean.
It seems an expedition named the Lost Portals struck the earth about a year ago here, in the name of our glorious nation, The Crazy Treaty, founding the colony that is properly called Bamguskekim.
In the time since, they, and the other convicts sentenced to work in this hole (I'm certain there can be no other reason to come to such a place!) have been wallowing in dirty burrows like worms. They have plenty of serviceable rock beneath them, and yet they choose to carve their homes in the sort sands.
My first order of business will be to correct this injustice. Impertinence or no, they can't possibly expect me to live in the dirt!
Entry 2, early spring: I've been given some notes by the previous mayor, regarding his inability to locate the magma pipe from whence the obsidian we're digging in came. One wonders if he was a dwarf or a short human!
At least these notes on the trade treaties with the capitol will be useful.
Entry 3, midspring:
We've dug a new set of apartments in the deeper rock, but there's some difficulty furnishing them. My new focus is on making our economy flow smoothly. good raw material transport is the key.
Entry 4, end of spring: Elves are without a doubt, the most worthless trading partners possible. They honestly expect to be able to carry away the preposterously inflated value of their offerings in their pockets! Have they never heard of the cart, or even the pack animal?!
Thankfully, some craftsdwarves recently arrived, to take advantage of the quality housing now available. I got them to sign for the property before explaining the lack of beds or doors. They are presently renting some dirt spaces, until their more permanent facilities can be finished.
My miners now begin clearing space for their workshops, where they will produce furniture and small but expensive tradecrafts for our neighbors.
In less fortunate news, one of the convicts, a brewer named Shem Thobthosbnt, has commandeered a workshop near the refuse heap, and begun demanding bones that she may carve. I fear she's been taken by the crafting sickness, and with the copious supply of bones near the butcher's shop, it may be that only dwarf bones will appease her.
Worse yet, without a brewer, I fear we are all undone. A dwarven city with no brewery is like a roach with no head. It may survive in an unnatural torment for a time, but death always comes in the end.
Entry 5, early summer:
Shem has her bones, but refuses to begin work without gemstones. Worse still she hasn't left her table to eat or even drink. It's clearly the madness, and we must provide what she need, a'fore the final stages come.
There's not a single gem in this prison camp, and I've set every able hand to making or swinging picks. I've mapped out a system of exploratory tunnels, but we can only hope we'll strike gemstones in time.
More craftsdwarves arrived, but I sent them to the lower mines as well.
Entry 6,early summer: We struck red zircons, but the madwoman refused them! I've assigned a man to cut them for her, but her eyes are already losing the light. I fear we are too late.
Addendum: MY worst fears are confirmed! the starvation and madness have destroyed Shem utterly! She's rolling about in that awful dirt even now, and shucking her clothes.
On the upside, we've reached warm obsidian, so we've got a good idea where the magma is. Now there's just getting at it, without burning ourselves alive. No trouble for a real dwarf.
I've assigned a layabout to learn the art of brewing, he's done naught but fish in empty holes since he arrived, and it's time for him to earn his keep.
Entry 7, Midsummer:
I've approved a bridge, which shall be known as the Bamguskekim Bridge. Anyone caught calling it the "Weselsplatter" will be flogged, that is, if I ever manage to put together a proper city guard.
I had to have a full survey of the site, to ensure that the river contained no deadly carp, before building could begin. A goldfish that has tasted dwarven blood is a fearsome thing to behold, and I'll not see my engineers die needlessly, convicts or no.
Now that the need is no longer urgent, our remaining miners have turned up several types of gems in the mountain. Clearly, shem's soul was fated to fall into the hand of Armok. May we be so fortunate as to die, ere the blood god comes for us!
Entry 8, late summer:
We managed to get Shem locked up in her room before she reached the final stage. She'll die of thirst in that mud chamber, but we can't risk her hurting anyone when the bloodfrenzy takes over. Still, it's not a fit fate for a Dwarf, to die in hole like that.
The exploratory tunnels turned up a wealth of ore and marble flux, that we didn't take advantage of at the time. I hope to correct this, ere my sentence ends.
Entry 9, start of Fall:
We can still hear Shem howling in her mud tomb. Only the madness can have kept her alive in there so long. Her fortitude is only outmatched by her misfortune.
8th Limestone: Shem's shrieks have finally gone silent, and I've ordered a team to retrieve the corpse and give it a proper burial in a stone coffin. Alas, a glassmaker named Eram has taken up the madness. Is this truly the Crafting Sickness? -or could it be the doings of the red hand? -or is some demon at work, leaving one host to take another? I shudder.
Glass furnaces are being built, and there is volcanic sand here. We should only be able to make a crude green glass, but I pray to the crafting gods that it is enough.
Mid Fall: The supply caravan from the capitol is here. My predecessor ordered mostly food supplies in case the crops failed. This proved unnecessary, and I have requested that the next caravan contain raw materials for my craftsmen, instead of stale mushrooms. We did take opportunity to diversify our supply of seeds.
I have chosen to sell only the poorest of our coffins, which are a major export, here. With this madness staking the fortress, we may want the finer craftsdwarfship for ourselves.
Two goblin snatchers attacked our hamlet, intent on stealing children for their nefarious demon king. Fortunately our brethren in the caravan spotted them and drove them back, one was killed by a steel crossbow bolt, through his chest.
2nd Sandstone:
Tossid, the glassblower, has begun building an enormous object from our entire stock of green glass. If this is the crafting sickness, completing the device should be enough to cure him.
Addendum:
It is a toy boat, of unusual radiance. That such a work could be made from such crude materials... It is a true artifact of Dwarven Artifice. I am thankful that our worst fears proved unfounded.
Mid-fall: more migrants have arrived, including a dwarf with a plan to build a soap factory. The potential for profit is high, and we have most of the necessary skills and resources. Only construction will pose an obstacle. He and his team will provide the labor, and the colony will reap the profits.
8th Timber: One of the prisoners, a new arrival who answered only to "Boots", was killed by a wounded muskox he was hunting in the forests. His funeral was short, for he had no friends in the hamlet, and I thought it appropriate to record his passing, so his sentence's end could at least be known.
Start of Winter:
I still haven't managed to tap the heat of the magma, and the amount of wood we fuel to drive our industries is growing out of hand. His Majesty demands a sustainable system of production. We need that power source.
11th Moonstone:
Tossid's assistant, who cooked the green glass for his boat, a boy named Eral Zustash, has been possessed. It is clearly very different from the crafting sickness we observed previously. The spirit inside him, whatever it's origins, is secretive and it moves him like some form of grotesque marionette. It also demands green glass. Perhaps it's intent is to recreate the glory of Tossid's success?
12th Moonstone:
The creature completed it's horrible work and departed , leaving young Eral unharmed, but perturbed.
It's creation, is, if anything, more sublime than the boat, but it is a fearful sort of beauty. The thing is a bed called Amular, but I daresay no mortal dares sleep in it's presence. The thing menaces with spikes of green glass, and the images etched into it are cryptic.
They are clearly dwarves, toiling or traveling, I can't be sure which, but who they are and what they seek to accomplish is beyond me. I am governor, not an anthropologist, and there is no written script to aid the understanding.
Still, it is wonderfully well wrought.
Perhaps, I'll make it my own.
Yes, it will be mine.
It is a precious thing.
11th Opal: we caught some goblin child snatchers on our own, today.
My troops crushed one, in the main entryhall. Bax Zemkonkut, if the wallet in his pocket is his, which I doubt.
A creature calling herself "Ngom Snargaspuz, Master Thief" was beaten to death by a mob of angry parents, before the military could arrive.
It will take weeks to get young Bax cleaned out from under the furniture.
1st of Felsite (start of spring):
I've compiled some useful notes for my replacement, and now take my leave. With my sentence complete, it is my intention to return to the capitol and resume my crusade to protect our proud traditions, from the ravages of time and chaos.
--Fin.
