Crawl into a dungeon to kill monsters and grab their loot? Select a character, like a thief, wizard, warrior or cleric. Arm yourself with the "+3" Mace of Smiting. Buy a shield, rope, some food and torches. Enjoy below ground, venting out your frustration, slaying beasties. Get tons of heroic accomplishments, earning fame, gold coins, sparkling gems and the love of a saved damsel in distress. Emerge, a few hours later, with great piles of treasure and the new improved "+4" Blessed Mace of Smiting. That's not it!
No, dungeon dwellers have their rights. In Dungeonyte, you play a Dark Lord. You are a deep entity from the bottom of the earth, incorporeal, mystic. Your physical manifestation is only an elusive Throne Room. The dark throne itself blinks seemingly randomly and appears in a different location every second, in the darkness of a large squarish chamber, your Throne Room. Your spirit surges in a medieval fantasy world, inhabited with strange creatures like Goblins, Trolls, Dwarves and Elves. As Dark Lord, you just emerged from a deep slumber.
You are woken up by the tingling of gold coins, the chants of a choir sisterhood, sudden human baby cries, Church bells, cookies smell, and the man-made rich-nutrients sipping through your cave ceiling. Their noise, excitement and swirl of tension, emotion, fear, greed is what pulls you out of your sleep. You feel them, the Sun-lovers. Periodically, they come down from the village, blundering through a bush-overgrown ancient water well. Those Hooligans lack any form of respect for the noble history of the land. They rampage all on their way, desecrating the catacombs, wounding secular Saurus guardians, destroying artefacts like the very first ring in this world, disturbing the remnants Gorlblug, taking the key of the prison of Magdroob. Mishaps after mishaps, they spread "good" all around, unconscious, hypocrit, authors of dubious deeds like engraving "John was here" on the temple sacred wall. These “heroes” of the Sunland were the last drop of spiritual essence you needed to fill to the rim the cup of your re-birthing soul: they gave you life again. This time, no more demi-gods, catapults, druids, ring, horseback charges, rally of kingdoms or pesky lucky merlinesque archmages. You are back for good. They are only humans, after all. And those fools despise "the ancient way" and "old magic" which banished you. They are weak, ripe for harvesting.
In the name of ancient subterranean civilizations, forgotten cities of the deeps, abandoned dungeons left in ruins, pre-diluvian demons, continent-making entities, gargantuan beings from another time, gods who shaped the mountains, Salamanders who snaked through the primal Lava rivers, magmatic bubbles who tunnelled and fed underground lakes... by respect of how this world came to be, now you can rebalance the state of the Surface affairs. Be the tidal wave of hope for all underground creatures. You just managed to attract a couple of minion Imps. Let's put them to work.
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