At bottom, Dwarf Fortress mounts an argument about play. Many video games mimic the look and structure of films: there’s a story line, more or less fixed, that progresses only when you complete required tasks. This can make for gripping fun, but also the constrictive sense that you are a mouse in a tricked-out maze, chasing chunks of cheese. Tarn envisions Dwarf Fortress, by contrast, as an open-ended “story generator.” He and Zach grew up playing computer games with notebooks in hand, drawing their own renditions of the randomly generated creatures they encountered and logging their journeys in detail. Dwarf Fortress, which never unfolds the same way twice, takes that spirit of supple, fully engaged play to the extreme.
From a pretty spiffing article on Dwarf Fortress, one of the best — and also one of the least approachable — games of the last decade. It’s been around for several years, flying largely under the radar because it (a) has no fancy graphics, (b) has no marketing budget, and (c) it’s a labor of love — and it’s free.
Calling it a “story generator” is no idle boast, either. Here are a few of the tales that people have written up:
The saga of Oilfurnace. The story of Bronzemurder. The tragedy of Boatmurdered.
