[This is a blog I wrote in 2010 for a short-lived tumblr.]
I am running through the sewers in panties, my pants but a memory. Rats swarm and bite my ankles while slimes blow chunder in my face. I chug healing potions as if... well, actually my life does depend on it. Soon a mob of leering goblins joins the chase; if I stop, I'm dead. That’s when I notice my boots have gone missing, too. There’s a word for this scenario: absurd.
A strangely vivid dream? No, I am playing 2005’s Dungeon Lords, a third-person action/RPG that got dumped into retail long before it was ready. It was widely regarded as a disaster, and rightfully so. Zillions of spells and skills that didn't work, quest bugs galore, glitchy everything... there wasn't even furniture in the NPCs' houses. Several patches addressed the worst deficiencies, but publisher Dreamcatcher added insult to injury by reserving the final, most sweeping patch for Dungeon Lords: Collector's Edition, a new $40 product (which also didn't fix the game). If ever there was a reason for Gamers to take to forums and rage, that was it.
So why am I playing a five year-old game with a Metacritic rating of 45? Because it's the brainchild of a guy named D.W. Bradley. He was the creative force behind the very strange, dark, compelling scenario of Wizardry VII: Crusaders of the Dark Savant. My father's friend pirated that for us when I was 13, and I spent many a basement hour puzzling through the dusky world of Lost Guardia. I was so intrigued by it I bought the hint book, and read it more as an interesting narrative than as a guide through that notoriously difficult game. I never even got to Wiz 7's halfway point, but have a lingering fondness for its incredibly dense, oddball atmosphere.
In the late '90s Bradley founded a developer called Heuristic Park, which resulted in the 2000 Wiz clone Wizards & Warriors. Buggy but worthwhile by some accounts, I haven't gotten around to trying it yet. Then Dungeon Lords came in 2005, and despite some brave words about a 2009 sequel (whoa, screenshots!), that was it for Heuristic Park.
I can't believe how big this fucking dungeon is; first one in the damn game and it's massive. Three times now I've thought that “this must be it, this has to be the exit to the town.” Nope. More sewers. More rambling, constantly spawning mobs of goblins, slimes, and rats. This is harsh. I'm glad I frickin' power-leveled for a few hours in the starting area. If I'm barely dealing with it now, I can't imagine the mess it would have been if I'd plunged in at level two... yikes.
The starting zone teaches me many things.
One, I am the most popular person in this world, a celebrity of unfathomable proportions—how else to explain the endless stream of creatures that come running directly at me every 30-60 seconds?
Two, my questionably animated heroine can jump like Beast from X-Men. Hilarious.
Three, the AI is completely busted. More often than not it can't find a valid path for shit, so even an obstacle as simple as a tree can prove a formidable defensive fortification in the hands of a wily player. Sometimes enemies can't even negotiate apparently open ground. This makes ranged weapons very handy.
Four, my only chance of survival comes in exploiting the hell out of the mobs' deficient AI. There are a lot more of them, and they don't have to contend with the game's clumsy combat controls. It's a cool metagame: the human brain and its knowledge of the engine's limitations versus an unrelenting onslaught of aggressive, fly-brained monsters. Seems fair.
The game starts next to a little stone ruin, and I spend the first few levels just strategically hanging around such that monsters run up and get stuck on its walls. Once in a while a monster glitches up to my safety pedestal and gets some attacks in. When this happens I spill my tea and scream, "Fuck you goblin, you're cheating!" and run away to the next convenient, AI-bedeviling obstacle. You know, like a small rock.
That was before I found the goblin shacks. Once liberated, these two structures prove to be the ultimate anti-mob fortifications. I stand just inside the doorway as zombies, giant scorpions, wolves, goblins, rats, bats, thieves, pit vipers, and the biggest, fastest, scariest fucking spiders outside of Earth Defense Force swarm right up to the invisible line I stand behind, eager to donate their XP to my heroic cause. My partner likens it to a drive-through.
After a few hours powering-up amid that madness I'm level 6, and getting bored. Level 7 would require exactly twice as much XP as I've gathered to date, so it’s time to tackle the sewers that lead to the first town.
The enemies never stop spawning, even indoors. If you go 60 seconds without then you're lucky. This adds real intensity to the typical dungeon exploration, resulting in some memorably epic confrontations.
Fairly early on I dispatch a huge group of a dozen slimes and prepare to open the nearby chest. But before I can begin I hear the telltale hoots and laughs of goblins, and sure enough seven of 'em promptly round the corner, with one highly dangerous Goblin Ballista bringing up the rear. The battle takes me through three rooms and 10 health potions, but finally the last one slumps to the ground. I notice, idly, that my pants got destroyed at some point. Time to open that... oh shit, is something squealing?
10 giant rats leap down the stairs, directly at my head. I beat a measured retreat back to the chest, constantly slashing at my pursuers. Just as the last rat dies... more laughing? The goblins are back. Oh, and they've brought a few slimes.
Five minutes and a lot of experience later I finally manage to lockpick that chest and run back to the main path, exasperated but happy.
That was fun.
I've escaped the sewers and emerged into... a Victorian theater? This is not a town. Some kind of ogre-troll boss blocks the way, and to escape to the town (I am assuming the town exists) I probably need to kill it. Unfortunately, the goblins and rats won't stop spawning long enough for me to do any serious damage to the ogre-troll-thing.
Enter the exploits.
The mobs are too much to handle in the open, so I retreat to the rafters, high above the stage. And... hey, do I have line of sight to the boss? I fire an arrow, which hits a wall. I adjust my stance a little, same result. Yet again, and... thunk! The ogre loses three hitpoints.
It's a long 10 minutes, but I emerge victorious.
Finally, after some six hours of gaming, I've arrived in the first goddamn town of the game, only reachable after conquering the most epic fucking newbie dungeon ever featured in an RPG. The town square stretches before me and...
Do I hear something squealing? And is something... hissing? Wait...
Fuck you, Dungeon Lords. Just, fuck you.
Current impression: Fun, but I wish I could find some pants.
Postscript, 12 (let's be honest, hell) years later: I never did manage to see Dungeon Lords through; my final save game is dated five days after this blog post originally went up. I recall that the town lead to a vast forest, which was quite a chore to navigate what with the mist, lack of landmarks, and endless packs of wolves. I met NPCs in treehouses, and noted their austere lack of furnishings. Some sort of buy/sell system existed, but I think everything was expensive or of unclear usefulness. At least half the skills I could level up seemed useless. Ultimately the endless combat outstripped both my character’s offensive capabilities and my own ability to hold out for the next pebble of amusement.
I do not recall if, by the time I dropped away, she had secured a good, sturdy pair of pants. But I like to think she did.