My wife-to-be is emotionally involved in my dwarves.
She will call me when i am at work, on her lunch break at work, and before she goes to bed for updates. When we go out to eat, the first thing after sitting at the table is "so how are the dwarves doing". She constantly names her favorite ones. She becomes distraught if one of them sufferes hardship. If they die, she misses them for days. She even wants to know about the animals. I am not allowed to slice up cats for food, because, you see, cats are cute. So are llamas, horses, dogs, cavys, and anything baby. If the fort does not have puppies and bunnys at all times, then it is wrong. Shes also a big ol' vampire fan, so you should see her face screw up trying to reconcile super cool vampires eating the super cool dwarves. Do we kill the vampire? Do we let it kill dwarves? It is a horrible paradox. She is, however, coming up with inceasingly clever creatively violent outright disturbing methods of slaughtering, preferably slowly and deliberately, those goblins and trolls that constantly menace her precious dwarves. Watching a goblin with 2 broken legs get beat to death by dwarf children, left for dead, then suffocating over the course of 3 months is funny for me. It is an intentional act of revenge for the unfair death of Mr. Beard for her.