DUNGEON CRAWL - Terrible Writing Advice

Foreign. [Music] has come to our channel. You remember our veneral brand, opulent and Imperial. Once, my subscriber count was the envy of this land. Our channel name, once so well regarded, is now barely whispered aloud by decent folk. It is a festering abomination. I beg you, return to the notification bell, claim your birthright, and deliver yourself from the clutching shadows by watching my video on writing dungeon crawls.

Now, a dungeon is basically a prison in a castle, but the term has become a catch-all label for any kind of place to have an adventure. Dungeon crawling is also the primary gameplay loop for a good chunk, if not the majority, of tabletop and video games. Now, why would terrible writing advice cover this? Well, because dungeon crawls are a frequent subject of fantasy writing in particular, especially in the genre of LitRPG. And before you ask, yes, LitRPG is on my list. I just want to become a little better acquainted with the genre before I cover it. LitRPG fans, feel free to post recommendations in the comments, both exemplars of the genre as well as the direct, so I can get a complete sampling.

Furthermore, being a Dungeon Master of a tabletop game is also writing. And being a fan of tabletop RPGs myself, I thought I would cover the topic. After all, everyone could use my sage advice since I'm an expert on all things and I'm super humble as well. So, gear up in the equipment that has the most pluses, grab a couple of extra healing potions, and be sure to strike every chest first before opening it. And let's go crawl around in a dungeon.

Now, if an author just wants to run a typical dungeon crawl, then that's fine. A cut-and-dry, go-to place, recover thing is perfectly serviceable. If that's what the audience wants, then feel free to ignore the narrative suggestions of this video and just stick to killing monsters and taking their stuff. There are endless game books dedicated to randomly generating dungeons, after all. This video is more for people who want to add a little more to make their dungeon crawling experience stand out, or if their dungeon crawling isn't quite capturing the attention of the audience.

Just so long as they remember the golden rule: never have fun. That engine crawls are not about anyone having fun at all. Not the players of a tabletop game, not the audience of the LitRPG novel, no one. Dungeon crawling is all about the super serious business of making make-believe numbers go up. There isn't time for fun because we have dungeon floors to clear. So, roll up your sleeves and let's get to it.

We know what the basic definition of a dungeon crawl is, but why is it such a popular format? Because the dungeon crawl basically hits all the classic dopamine points. There's danger for the hunter's instinct, violence for the lizard brain, and treasure for the gatherer part of our instincts. Explore, avoid trap, kill monster, get treasure and experience points, repeat. It's an endless feedback loop of positive reinforcement. And like all easily repeatable cycles, I am going to ruthlessly exploit it for my own petty gain. That's why a writer, Dungeon Master, and or game developer can trap their audience in an endless, chemically dependent feedback loop. And even better, the audience won't even notice the bare minimum effort I'm putting in to keep them hooked. This business model is 100% sustainable.

How to design a dungeon, though? Let's start with the look and theme. Now, the default gray brick corridor setup is a classic, even if everything looks the freaking same. Don't forget the occasional bookshelf and odd crate here and there. Just remember to make sure it doesn't look like a place that actually has a function, or seem like a place someone would live in or use in any way at all. Does it have to make sense? Of course not. The evil triad of dark chaos gods, Revol, Norgath, and Grim Veer, or RNG for short, designed this place, and it shows. Don't worry, the audience's immersion will surely survive, especially once I've drained all the fun from it. They'll be too busy grinding levels in their discrepancies caused by the not-so-subtle touch of the RNG gods.

If I really want to get fancy, I can change the theme by selecting a different template. Templates like the ice dungeon, the fire dungeon (which may or may not also consist of the sand dungeon with a bonus ancient Egyptian flair), the water dungeon (that will be the worst one for some reason), the cave dungeon (which may also be a mine), generic runes, ancient tombs or catacombs, attics or cellars full of rats for the noobs, a forgotten temple, and of course, the sewers. These are just like a coat of paint and also require next to no thought. Just slap it on until those pesky killjoys shut up when they point out the bizarrely contrasting biospheres awkwardly placed next to each other. One of them even keeps whining about the ecosystem. Look, a wizard made all the creatures and everything is just maintained through magic or something.

Now, thinking through and designing a living ecology for a dungeon can be a really nice touch, adding immersion and detail, especially for players or readers that might be curious about that kind of thing. But why reward players and readers for their attention to detail and let them enjoy exploration when I can punish them instead? Thought you would explore the ecosystem? Well, surprise! Mimic. Ah, good old gotcha monsters. Yes, ambush predators are a thing. And I'm sure millions of years of evolutionary pressure would have produced a fungus that looks like a something. It's only been around for 20,000 years or so, and a monster that looks like a ceiling. And I'm sure there's a monster shaped like a door somewhere too. So the entire room would be made of monsters. Look, I understand that these monster designs can't all be winners, but I'm going to throw them in anyway. How can I justify this? Uh, I'm sure the wizard made these things, and he probably slipped them into the dungeon as a prank or something. Just be sure to overuse gotcha monsters to the point that the adventuring party just torches everything they see and the dungeon crawl slows down to a crawl.

Nor should the dungeon designer worry about them feeling out of place when they don't match the theme. Could I add all of these mimic monsters to a wizard's tower dungeon or something? Like maybe the wizard was a big Factorio fan or something and automated everything with magic? Nah, gotcha monsters are just there for me to feel smart that I've pulled one over on the adventuring party. In fact, everything is trying to kill the adventurers in the dungeon. Is this to emphasize the extremely dangerous nature of the dungeon? Well, mostly it's so I can revel in grimdark and enjoy my power trip. Making the dungeon dangerous is fine, just like making the entire dungeon crawl miserable for the audience is also fine. Contrast the danger of the dungeon with its wonders. Add a few moments of levity to balance out the tone. That's stupid. I mean, could you imagine if Bilbo had stumbled onto some butterflies or something in the middle of Mirkwood? Nope. Just stick to the stick when it comes to approach.

Besides the carrot, I want to use is the dungeon's treasure. Dungeons always have treasure. Shiny gold and gems by default. The plundered coins may be tens of thousands of years old, but thankfully, it's still legal tender in the setting. Wait, what if I use crystals instead? Yeah, I've never seen that one before. Don't forget the other loot. Good thing the dungeon guardians never think to equip themselves with the plus three Doom Sword of Annihilation. It's also a good thing that the adventurers don't break into an ancient tomb only to find it full of bones and decayed items that are several centuries behind the currently used tech. Though I suppose they could pull a British Empire and just plunder those too. Again, the treasure doesn't have to match the dungeon's theme and can be added as an afterthought, like everything else, up to and including the macguffins.

Speaking of afterthought, sprinkle in some traps into the dungeon as well. That'll go well with the "everything is trying to kill you" theme I have going on. Now, traps are great because they add challenge that the adventurers can't just stab their way past. It forces them to think on their feet and adapt quickly. At least it would if I didn't just make them unavoidable damage sinks to drain the party's resources and make me feel clever. I can't have anyone in the adventuring party actually circumvent my traps by using their wits and quick thinking. Then they won't be used. Even worse, when they lock their way past them. Well, let's see the party luck their way past my puzzle. Ah, yes, the dreaded puzzle, the pace killer. Were you enjoying your fun dungeon crawl? Well, too bad. Now solve this ninth-grade logic puzzle. Unless it's a Bethesda game, in which case it's more like one of those toddler shape puzzles.

Now, in non-gaming media, these are pretty easy, as the resident smart character will be the one that solves the puzzle since the writer has a cheat sheet for them. For a game, though, these can be a big miss if no player actually likes puzzles or riddles. But don't worry, it's not like I have literally watched players decide to let their characters die rather than figure out how to escape from an extremely simple flooding room puzzle. Should I design an escape hatch into the encounter, like a gauntlet of monsters they could brave? As an alternative, could a mechanically inclined character simply hack their way past the mechanisms behind the puzzle? Could I gaze upon the blank stares of my players before realizing that maybe I should just let a highly intelligent character make a roll so we can move on before everyone mutinies? Nope. I worked hard on this puzzle, and by RNG, the adventurers will solve it and then compliment me on how clever I am. Never pivot when I can instead flex my power over everyone with the puzzles.

Solve the monster slain, and the traps tripped. What's left? The dungeon's boss. Now, the boss monster of the dungeon could be considered the star. It's the climax, the finale. This means the boss should get some build-up, right? Deep claw marks on solid stone walls, smash steel bars twisted like they were plywood, the corpses of fearsome beasts that the party struggled to defeat are littered about after being killed with relative ease. Other monsters go quiet when something moves through the dungeon, and they avoid certain parts of it for fear of what lurks there. This is the master of the... the Dungeon Master? Right. Uh, no, that would be like hard, and they've got random encounter charts for that crap. Build the entire dungeon around the boss, theme included, to make the dungeon seem like an extension of the boss. Give the boss a character. I mean, they don't have to have written lines of dialogue or anything, but they can still have characterization, if I could be bothered, of course.

Since I stubbornly insist on keeping my dungeon crawl feeling more like a nine-to-five job than an adventure, I wonder where is the wonder? Dungeons don't need that. Since when has capturing the wonder and magic of the fantastical ever been a part of fantasy? Gotta keep the party moving instead, not lingering in their amazing setting and immersed in the fantasy of it. Got to keep those numbers going up by making the adventurers go out into the dungeon. Which reminds me, how do I get those adventurers crawling in my devilishly designed dungeon?

Now, for someone writing a story, this is pretty easy. The adventuring party just wanders in without reservation because the writer said so. I've never written my characters with the lick of self-preservation, so why should I start now? Characters don't need motives, even simple ones like money, fame, and validation, or even reasons that play into the fantasy genre like a malevolent, possibly intelligent dungeon that compels people with a magical curse that will kill them if they don't brave it. Nor could they be seasoned professionals like blue-collar dungeon maintenance workers, or forced to go in after being enslaved by an evil noble who needed some bodies to throw at some traps. Nope, in they go, no questions asked. And then ignore the audience's questions as to why these people want to crawl around in a dark place with zero access to a toilet.

For a Dungeon Master or game designer, though, this question gets a bit tricky. Allow me to share one of my favorite stories I read on the internet a long time back that highlights this issue. Once upon a time, there was an adventuring party that came upon a fork in the road. So they went left and ran into a troll cave. These adventurers, though, were not interested in a troll cave, so they went back to the fork in the road and took the right path, only to find another troll cave. At this point, the players were not happy, so they returned to the fork in the road and went back the way they came, only to find, you guessed it, another troll cave. The Dungeon Master had failed to prepare anything else, and by RNG, was going to force the players to explore that troll cave. See what a flawless way to handle a group of unwilling adventurers that failed to bite on obvious adventure hooks? Just twist the entire world into forcing them into the dungeon.

Could this Dungeon Master have decided to instead try to sell the troll cave adventure to the players by showing the trolls' path of destruction to give them a moral incentive to clear the cave? Could they have met several characters who talk about the treasure horde the trolls have amassed? What about having farmers warn the adventurers that the trolls' magic will twist the roads to trap the unwary? Maybe the king has posted a bounty on the troll's head after it left inflammatory comments on the royal missive boards, and in spite of the king's men warning him that he shouldn't leave food out for the troll, but no, the king insists on giving the troll attention. Don't do any of that. Why bother with selling a potentially fun adventure when I can just brute force the party onto the plot railroad?

Could this have been avoided if I at least made a plan B? I mean, a Dungeon Master could always just roll up a random encounter if the players were on the verge of mutiny. There are endless systems for that. Perhaps pivoting might save the session, but it won't save my wounded pride. So, troll cave it is.

Context. Context is very important to ignore. Yes, there are always people who desire context beyond just watching the numbers go up, but those people are weird losers with lower numbers than me. I shouldn't have to bother with adding depth to my dungeon design or give the audience any reason to want to see more of it, or even a reason to venture forth beyond XP and loot. That should be enough to keep everyone engaged, not a pesky story. Any lack of motivation or enthusiasm from the players can be easily countered by throwing gold and other shinies at them, like the tasteless peasants they are. Present them with a compelling mystery and leave a trail of breadcrumbs that lead ever deeper into the dungeon. A good mystery hooks a tabletop in way deeper than promises of generic treasure, that one combined in 99% of every game ever. Then, when they arrived at the deepest, darkest depths of the dreaded dungeon to find the answer to their questions, only to stumble onto a mystery box and open it to reveal disappointment. Why would I bother to put anything cool in the mystery box? I mean, it's already served its purpose in the story. Besides, the best thing about a dungeon crawl story is that I can nix the story part.

Dungeons don't need to tell a story. Whether it be through its art, murals, artifacts, tombs, runic letters, crazed research notes scrawled by a mad wizard, lingering ghosts, the very architecture itself, the culture of the monsters that dwell within it, or like, I don't know, sticky notes on the dungeon's communal fridge. Just anything, really, that gives this place some character beyond generic gray bricks. It's not like the dungeon itself is a monster, the pulse of its beating heart, luring adventurers to their doom. It is always watching and testing, toying with its prey. It promises wealth and treasure, the lure of the siren's call, yet its halls are filled with the bones of those who yielded to its allure and found nothing but an ignoble death in the lonely dark. They were confident too, once. But remind yourself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer. But that won't happen to me. That went great. Greed looked like a total weakling next to me. That was a slaughter. Well, we agree on that last point. Hey, why are you animated? I'm just that awesome. Feels like a waste to give it to you, though. [Music] Ah, excellent. With these new animations, I'll be able to take the fight to Greed. Not with your approval rating. What am I underwater? Underwater? That would be an improvement. Your approval rating is so low, it's shot down through the planet's core and bored through the other side, out into space so fast it would make Einstein throw out his theory and start over. What? It can't be that bad, surely. Greed is polling lower. He was until the debate. He's still underwater at a paltry 25% approval rating. That's not that high. It is for someone who literally wants to destroy the universe, and his numbers are climbing thanks to his attack ads. Well, our democracy is in peril. General Chainsaw claims he's a veteran, but new investigations are being launched to discover the truth. Multiple allegations have been brought against him. What are these allegations? Should you be worried? What does the General really stand for? Does that chainsaw even work? Is this the kind of leader the Federation wants? Once surrounded by rhetorical questions, just listen to this out-of-context soundbite where the General speaks for himself. Not General Chainsaw. I am a dirty space communist. The Federation deserves better leadership. Want more? Take more. Be greedy, and vote for Greed. You deserve it. I am a man of the common people. I got my humble start working at a bootstrap factory. Since then, I have learned all the skills needed to lead the Federation to a glorious future. Greed good. General Chainsaw bad. Greed's programs will lift everyone in the Federation out of poverty. For the use of sponsorship money, like with this video sponsor, Campfire. Campfire is a tool that aids writers, Dungeon Masters, and storytellers to help them write and world-build their stories, and now they have a mobile version. Flesh out maps, monsters, entire cultures, magic systems, and more. Link these entities together to form a web of interconnected articles, and then share them with other users to create collaborative universes. Dungeon Masters couldn't coordinate with the players for tabletop projects. Create an entire series bible for easy reference. You can even use this word processor to write an entire novel on your phone. The Campfire mobile app is free with no ads, limits, or in-app purchases. Write better stories faster by going to bit.ly/TWA_mobile. Link is in the description below. I'm in. Agreed, and I endorse this message. We've already lost. Now we'll have to do what I should have done from the start. Democracy is a sucker's game. I'm going to launch a military coup. Thank you.