A Hole in the Woods (Dungeon23, Incomplete)

My swing at Sean McCoy's Dungeon23. (A dungeon room a day for a year.) 

Incomplete and unmapped, but still a sizable dungeon, and I'm happy with the scribblings.

It's been a minute since I've done much dungeon-writing, which is kind of where I started in the hobby, so it was a good skill to revisit. Lots to learn! 

Useful exercise in the "just get it written" department, but I'm not sure how playable my results actually are. Certainly missing some connective tissue in terms of faction goals and big picture consequences, and well short of the sprawling near-depthless megadungeon feel I was hoping I might get to. Leaned hard into flavor and non-combat encounters in a way I haven't previously. 

I wonder if a shorter, more intense sprint would be easier to manage.

Gave it a little spit-polish here, removde some dead-end connections, and tacked on a few rooms to round out the latest section. Might do some work later to organize and map this out (or continue into the depths!), but I'm not sure.

DUNGEON 23

A hole in the woods.

Some Forces-at-Work

• Jackboots
• The Blind Goddess
• The Fetid Emperor
• Tufa
• The Mechanic
• The Spiritual Conference
• The Fattened Queen
  

A Fistful of Items

1. Box of files, sticky with coffee stains
2. Steel wheel, full of worms
3. M16, 2 magazines
4. Stack of Porn Magazines, soft-core
5. Polygraph, in suitcase
6. Bag of marbles
7. Charred wood pole, engraved with geological history
8. Dowsing rod (lies)
9. Stuffed jackalope
10. Wand vibrator
11. Earrings, drip with sludge when worn
12. Cube, filled with awful meat eagles (very hungry)
13. Hubcap, painted with sunset scene 
14.  Stormproof matches
15. Disposable razor blades, 12ct.
16. Ammo can, contains waterlogged diary and teeth.
17. Ceramic jar, shiny black
18. Obsidian spike
19. Package of donut holes
20. Framed photo of someone's children
    

A. Ancient

A1. Jan 1st. ENTRY: Volcanic outcrop, dashed with graffiti. Rusted metal hatchway tops narrow shaft, little more than shoulder wide, lined with painted eyes. A smell of woodsmoke.  Descends 100’ into the earth in a spiral.

A2. Jan 2nd. Bell chamber. 6’ deep pool of cold mountain water, crust of pine needles. Chains hang from the ceiling. Embankment on north side runs for 200’ before disappearing into tunnel mouth. Colorful minerals encrust the side. In the pool: fragments of human bone, narrow tunnel leading 10’ underwater to A4.

A3. Jan 3rd. Ancient stone wall at the end of a passage, 6’ up, a window leads to floor level inside a round chamber with roaring fire-pit, walls slick with rust, the remnants of a massive oil drum, three ghosts rest around the pit. They are Bix, Pinion, and Splinters. They pass a burning stick around their mouths. They don’t say much. Each remembers bits of different lives as victims, thieves, and miners. They are not, in fact, individuals, but the composite remains of buried travelers. An X on the wall marks the place their bones were lost, with a pristine pickaxe. They long to be laid to rest, but are too tired to care. They will offer unintentionally shoddy information about the underground, but are easily distracted. (Ahead: a comb of volcanic chambers.)

A4. Jan 4th. Low ceiling. Stash of pottery, charms, a lever-action rifle (5 rounds), and a cold metal ingot, etched with a mountain range. Holding it brings you strength, and visions of calamitous change. Carved shaft in the floor leads down to H3. Passage leads to B2.

A5. Jan 5th. Maze of volcanic chambers. Several exits. Sap-slick six-legged crawling monster stalks the ceiling, attacks with vicious head-spike. 10 minutes searching uncovers a cache of recent exploring supplies: 200’ climbing rope, bag of dehydrated meals, a flashlight with extra batteries.

A6. Jan 6th. Tall vertical shaft. Brittle handholds. 6’ water at the bottom. Mineral smell. Arrives in: 

A7. Jan 7th. Temple. Carved stone blocks, vaulted ceiling, dried herbs hanging on strings, woodrat nests, animal bones. Antlion-like creature at the center of the temple complex; golden nugget lure, serrated mouthparts, explodes from the dirt when touched.

B. Death

B1. Jan 8th. Tall fungal strands. Difficult to breathe. Floor thin in places (moving quickly risks a fall into C3. Lots of entrances/exits. Encrusted filing cabinet contains a dossier on the Core Drilling Project. 

B2. Jan 9th. Dark water rushes down from overhead, holes in the ceiling (soaks gear). Long passage, sloped down to sub level. Bitter moss grows on the floor, padding the stone. Strange bodies are heaped in the middle of the passage; the waterlogged corpses of ancient fauna.

B3. Jan 10th. SUBLEVEL Iron door, rusted shut, eyehole. Bunker room, floor lined with three rows of coal-black body bags. Inside, near-liquified corpses, scraps of clothing, bugs upon bugs. Searching the body bags reveals a necklace (looped around decomposing throat) with the password to The Blind Goddess Speakeasy: LORRAINE. Flickering overhead light. Security camera in the corner, sends data to <1/12.>

B4. Jan 11th. SUBLEVEL Armory. Rotting riot gear, helmets, shields, clubs. About two of each in usable state. Beneath a pile of gear underneath a fallen rack is a blubbery militarized humanoid that attempts to strangle anyone who disturbs it.

B5. Jan 12th. SUBLEVEL Recording room. Devours information from all over the Underground. Fat, dribbling cables, clunky monitors, a morass of magnetic tape and film reels. Flickering with white light. Video feed from all of Empire. Safe containing blackmail material on The Trickling Prince. (Sex tape, on tape no less!) Door opens into a deep stairwell to Empire. 

B6. Jan 13th. Large cavern. Rushing water running down channel the middle, into a hole in the wall (leads to C3. underwater for 20’) Bones floating in the air, tied together with string. They are the trap system of a mouth in the ceiling, and are very adhesive; struggling while stuck to a bone will cause the mouth to retract the “web.” The mouth has swallowed a number of explorers and is full of half-digested equipment. D6 pieces of intact gear inside. Giant centipedes come down the walls before long, sensing heat.

B7. Jan 14th. A ledge over a hole. Perfectly round. Very smooth. Passages branch out 300' below, where there is a tangle of bodies and bones, heaped on each other, the carrion-hoard of a suffocated Gathering Beast, its massive grabbing limbs now resting among its spoils. Eye sockets; a slime left behind from its eyes which makes whatever its smeared upon irresistible. The smell rises.

C. Sunken

C1. Jan 15th. Drainpipe. Long and corrugated. In the center: coarse, many-limbed, coveralled Drainpipe Guard demanding a toll for entry into his District, paid in memories, blood, or guns. (When mapping: this should not be the only way in.) 

C2. Jan 16th. Concrete pool ringed with walkways. Deep. Trainwreck sunk inside it, filled with scraps of clothing, luggage, glasses and so on. A safe in the middle of the train contains a Seeing Stone; reveals mythical patterns in the weave of the tunnels. Also in the pool: many lampreys, dormant but attracted to blood. Semi-submerged valve wheel controls outflow. If opened; empties pool revealing train and fills <Jan 17th>.

C3. Jan 17th. Storage tank. Full of dormant larvae, waiting for water. Drains to Jan 19th.

C4. Jan 18th. Boiler room. Many pipes and valves, full of steam. Water to the ankle. Roll for an encounter. Connects to D1. via access ladder.

C5. Jan 19th. Deep channel. Concrete walls, thick with sludge. Dribbling water from above. Rusty ladder with missing rungs along one wall. Doorway halfway up the far end, accessible if room is flooded, leads to rusted out control chamber: abandoned jacket: storage keys. Ledges on the walls where ghosts gather, drifting shapes, lanterns, endless card games. They’ll supply some rumors, if you ask. Passage to K6. beneath pile of rusted metal and curling fence-wire.

C6. Jan 20th. Storage room. Sprayer pack, currently filled with liquid pesticide. Three shovels. Heavy chain. Map of the area on the wall. 

C7. Jan 21st. Cone-shaped room. Hatch in the bottom to D3. Crouched on that hatch is a congealed god of pollution, Phleg who demands to be fed an innocent life in exchange for passage.

SUNKEN ENCOUNTERS

1. Something slithers beneath the water, then out of sight. 
2. Giant rotting frog hunting in a nearby room.
3. Rubberized merchant (charges literal arms and legs for powerful artifacts, armed with a harpoon gun)
4. 1d6 troopers in hazmat suits, behind their visors a slick of mineral runoff, armed with man catchers and cattle prods.
5. Room begins to fill with water.
6. Puddle of strangling worms.

D. Love

D1. Jan 22nd. Tufa’s Bath-house. Steaming tubs, wooden floors, hanging flags, mineralized attendants; the bathhouse-keeper a large pile of over-friendly salt and mineral, grin splitting like an eroded crack. Doors do not betray its contents except for a faint sighing outside and a small sticker of a root vegetable god really enjoying itself by the door handle. Requires a password: “can I come in?” 30% chance of Jackboots at the door, trying to get the place shut down. Without intervention, they’ll succeed within the week: trashing the place and driving its occupants into the tunnels.

D2. Jan 23rd. Bathhouse Office. Wooden filing cabinets, overflowing. Spare scents, salts, minerals, beer, tea, towels, etc. Good chance Tufa is here, or a newt-like assistant, balancing the books. Dangling lamp overhead. Secret hatch covered by the rug: staircase down two levels H1.

D3. Jan 24th. Orchard. Grove of cherry trees. Ground birds browsing. Book paper buried six inches deep. A time capsule, stuffed with nostalgic artifacts. Painted ceiling.

D4. Jan 25th. Cavern. Soft with fungus. 30% chance filled with stultifying pheromones (cause drowsiness if breathed in). Dead lumber spirit already tangled in the floor. Twelve-limbed bug descends when victims collapse.

D5. Jan 26th. Long tunnel, leading in to the Impossible Pine Forest (E1.) Flickering neon. Pair of Jackboot Sentries in the middle, crouched behind sandbags and banners. Deny passage. (Can be bribed.) Collapsed wall leads to:

D6. Jan 27th. Burned-out love nest. Charred couch, curtains, half-melted photo album, showing The Blind Goddess before the wicked scarring. Bright shell-casings scattered in the mess. Hidden behind a ceiling tile is a message: Find me under the pines. Door opens into:

D7. Jan 28th. Motel hallway. All other doors lead into seemingly endless concrete passages. 2 hr walking leads into E1.

E. Empire

E1. Jan 29th. Impossible pine forest, trunks extend into inky ceiling. Miles wide and hard to navigate. Needle-covered hatch opens to long ladder, leading to J7.

E2. Jan 30th. Jackboot Camp. 20 of them sitting around, guns and militaria, loudspeaker system wired to the headquarters tent. Set up at the bottom of a slashed sandstone cavern, heavily graffitied. Officer has a key to the Emergency Stairwell (E4.). 

E3. Jan 31st. Bunker, shattered monitors, dusty control surfaces, maps of other countries. Slumped bodies of Jackboot deserters that were caught. Spraypainted: “Cowards.” Occupied by The General, who sits in a folding chair, waiting to be fed by the Jackboots. Hates hesitation, prone to flying into a rage. Will pay in ammunition for raw meat and intel. 

E4. Feb 1st. ENTRY: Emergency stairwell to the surface. Locked. Emerges in a junkyard, amid a pile of scrapped cars, thirty miles from Last Pine, in scrubland. Exhausting climb takes about an hour.

E5. Feb 2nd. Ratfucked theatre. Seats torn up. Mannikins onstage wearing crude imitations of bras, panties. A strange tableau. A couch. Projection room full of film reels. Posters on the walls. A Murderous Ghost backstage, begins following any who disturb it. Backstage also is a heap of jewelry and a fine suit. 

E6. Feb 3rd. Lobby, industrial company. Reception desk, shattered glass case full of awards, a stone hand on the floor (belongs to The Mechanic). Locked door leads into F1.

E7. Feb 4th. Combat arena. Plus annex, armory, balcony seats. Jackboot Guards at the entrances. Deep monsters dragged up to fight condemned prisoners. The Fetid Emperor can be seen here on tournament days, accompanied by a dozen armed guards and three Plastic Concubines.

EMPIRE ENCOUNTERS:

1. Jackboot patrol. Assault rifles. Orders to detain anyone acting suspicious and escort tournament visitors to the arena. Brutal.
2. Security turret. Blinking red light, vocoded warnings “stay back, stay back.” Fifty cal.
3. Lone jackboot operator, lost. Sidearm.
4. Ghostly refugees, holding dolls, need help getting past a checkpoint.
5. Jackboot sentries, smoking. Shotguns nearby. Pass-phrase is “beans.”
6. Lightless hunter, massive maw, bulging muscles, devours messily with a mouthful of stolen human teeth.

F. Heavy

F1. Feb 5th. Welcome hallway, lined with plaques. 0 days since last incident. Automated foreman at the end of the hallway encourages you to board The Elevator, offers rumors if asked.

F2. Feb 6th.  Bathroom with shattered stalls, floor slick with water, stash in ventilation: newspapers from a hundred years ago, wrapped around a lump of sea-glass; rapidly floods a room with seawater if shattered, sounds like the ocean.

F3. Feb 7th. Conveyor belt into incinerator, lifting all kinds of trash from below, converting to slag. Huge mechanical spider, sticky petroleum web across conveyor, snatches fragments — is building a child from the pieces.

F4. Feb 8th. Control room. Lever that stops the conveyor belts, redirects trolley tracks. Locker: hard-hat, The Mechanic’s old ID card, unshelled peanuts, sage leaves, and photographs of small boy with a toy truck spill out. Map on the wall shows East Track is out. Along the East track, a scribble: FEAST!

F5. Feb 9th. Trolley station. Dusty trolley, one dim headlight. In the tunnel: forgotten ghosts; desperate for a ride and terrifying if they get aboard. East track: dumps trolly into a broken canyon, tracks on the other side lead to G1. West track: leads to H6, light flickers out.

F6. Feb 10th. Canyon, a slash of carved concrete, impossibly deep. Bridge across is out. 10’ gap. Bubble window of executive office (desk, chair, romance movies on projector, shriveled body in suit, map of the area on wall) visible 60’ away from the bridge.

F7. Feb 11th. Elevator. Creaking and encaged, descends to J2. after a long time. Collapses during the 3rd use.

G. Rural

G1. Feb 12th. Trolley track here. Field of plastic corn, carved out by the trolley. Ceiling hidden by curling smoke. Homestead: Harold, stringless puppet, offers dinner and rest, afeared of a beast within the cornfield, emerges from the soil monthly, has taken his entire family. Painted tears on his cheeks. Fatalistically accepts he will be next.

G2. Feb 13th. Grain silos, in triplicate. Walkway above the grain. Giant weevils in the grain, frenzy if disturbed.

G3. Feb 14th. Empty room. Dirty concrete floor. Thousands of discarded sewing needles.

G4. Feb 15th. Tunnel lined with mycological fruiting body, if disturbed rain spores down.

G5. Feb 16th. Gas station. Staffed by a Leathery Attendant. Gas is expensive, a handful of withered snacks on the shelving. Attendant will give access to a “SHORTCUT” if they bring him Harold’s severed head to use as a security system.

G6. Feb 17th. “Shortcut” to J3. Cramped metal pipe.

G7. Feb 18th. Lair of the Cornfield Beast. Beneath the soil, maze of tunnels. Collection of memorabilia, rotten crops, wooden bones (chewed). The beast is papery and toothsome, fast moving and frightened.

H. Darkness

H1. Feb 19th. Abbey. Horrifying wallpaper, hollow in one place: inside are the bodies of robed figures mummified (dry). Each has a belt of keys to locked doors in the area. Central altar: dripping candles, prayer scrolls, charcoal.

H2. Feb 20th. Carved burial chamber, connects to A4 via thin and sloping passage. Sarcophagus containing Many Limbed King and his Seven Blades (3 knives, 2 swords, a machete, an ax), as well as huge sleeping Corpse Beetles.

H3. Feb 21st. Huge cavern, sloping floor. Hungry ameba reaching in the dark — totally without pigment. Thin cilia. Able to stay totally still.

H4. Feb 22nd. Spiral staircase down to J2. Smell of compost. Steps scattered with dirt, carved by a giant hammer. Bones of a giant.

H5. Feb 23rds. Bat roost. Guano 6ft deep, horrible smell, covered in bugs. Swarm if disturbed. Huge centipede. Armored fighting vehicle buried in the guano, painted with eyes: inside are the skeletons of a crew, draped with wooden beads and cigarettes.

H6. Feb 24th. Bridge over flooded chamber. Mineralized at the edges. Dangling chimes are silent in the still air — provide a warning if anything crawls down from above. 2-in-6 chance scavengers on the bridge (Bric and Brac), muddy gloves, rack of torches, unsavory objects traded happily, available for hire (skilled but unloyal).

H7. Feb 25th. Brick hall. Line of slabs. Two columns and twenty rows. On 1d10 lie withered flower petals in the shape of gods not yet brought into the world. Charcoal and ash in stripes across the floor. The Spiritual Conference intended a summoning here, but was unsuccessful. If summoned now, the gods are withered, thin, and desperate to pollinate with one another; they will hug, laugh, fight, form alliances and rivalries. (Names: Adamant, Rockway, Bend, Lupin, Shellmond, Stamen, Asteria, Yevala, Brick; personalities as appropriate.)

I. Bloom

I1. Feb 26th. Nectar-carrying strands cross the middle of the room, flowing from gaping holes in the wall. If cut, they spill red nectar, and the hive will slowly starve. Guarded by a huddle of Segmented Warriors.

I2. Feb 27th. The Hive. Many birthing chambers. Storage sacks for nectar dangle from the ceiling, adhere to the walls. Faint glow. Segmented workers pull nectar from tubules coming in the walls and floor, these are fed down into the Royal Chamber (I3.)

I3. Feb 28th. Royal Chamber. Fattened Queen rests, intubated with strands of nectar, bare-chested and wreathed in homespun cloth, a crown of barbed wire upon her head. Gathering a military for conquest of the levels Above. The chamber already contains the spoils of prior expeditions (2d10 items.) The Queen offers rewards for intelligence, participation in reconnaissance, or the procurement of concubines.

I4. March 1st. Empty room, dry wildflowers on gritty floor. Perfectly rectangular.

I5. March 2nd. Entombing vats. Cylindrical plunges in the floor, filled with hardening sap; contain the bodies of legendary Segmented Warriors. Murals recount their deeds. Can be returned to life with dark means. Guarded by a thin Meat Archivist, its face obscured by a colander-like mask, its waist jingling with keys, its fingernails sharpened.

I6. March 3rd. Floating pool. Circular pool, not too deep. Glows yellow. Always warm. Contested ground.

I7. March 4th. Dangling vines, a jungle expanse, thick with pollen. Grave markers: buried there are stone eggs, waiting to hatch into wrigling flesh-hungry boneworms.

J. Rust

J1. March 5th. Railway dining car preposterously embedded in the stone. Once-fine wallpaper and decoration chipping apart. Luggage compartments packed with mundane items. Blank spirits chatter in the seats. Upchuck VonBullshit, a gambling god, reclines at a table smoking a long pipe and offers to bet against all comers. Upchuck is also terrifically in debt to some nasty folks and needs protection.

J2. March 6th. Pipeworks. Algae smell. Water rushes from massive pipe in the wall, flowing down a fatally churning outlet. Flow can be shut off in J3.

J3. March 7th. Circular chamber, 60’ across. Valve sitting beneath a long airshaft. Patchy rusted-out panels in the floor. Fresh air flows down. Birdsong. If turned, the valve shuts off the flow in 10:2, and the room begins to collapse. Telegraphed by groaning gurgling when the valve begins to turn. Collapses into 100' deep chasm if not escaped in time.

J4. March 8th. Huge pipe organ, sputtering. Yellowmaze the Musician is bent over the keys. Has a jangling keyring at his belt, hotel keys for any hotels. Constantly itinerant. Will try to swindle you out of belongings in return for made-up information. Warns of the Machine Beast. Trades the belongings for Corn Wine. Friendly otherwise. In need of new instruments.

J5. March 9th. Tangled cable crisscrosses a narrow passage. Difficult to pass through, disturbs the Nest on all but the gentlest traversal. Rotting half-eaten deer hung up in knots.

J6. March 10th. The Nest. A collapsing hangar, shrouded by concrete. Massive curling Machine Beast, limbs of articulated pipe in brutal geometric patterns; at its core a mass of sliced and decaying flesh which gives it life, a mouthful of hypodermic teeth that pour poison into the first thing it bites. Slow moving body, wickedly fast limbs, unending stamina, and totally without fear or remorse. In the back, a small heap of uneaten belongings: a double-barreled shotgun and bandolier of 10 shells, penny-whistle, water purification tablets (x7).

J7. March 11th. Crossroads. Arch-roofed tunnel, huge fat glowworms hanging from dead streetlight frames, casting murky pools of light. An Agent of the Fattened Queen leans beneath one, pretending to be a wanderer on hard times. Armed with a very sharp switchblade.

K. Noise


K1. March 12th. Bandstand. Faded yellow bunting surrounds the stage. William Conrad Watershed gives a fiery speech to a handful of spectral listeners. He is, himself, a ghost, manifest in the tattered rags of campaign pamphlets, shredded newspaper, and uncounted ballots. The election is soon. His opponents are Molly Pox (undying nurse, drifting mask atop a pile of bandages) and Harvey Galveston (music hall magnate, his original flesh still tottering inside a tailcoat). 

K2. Hallway, empty. Sap drips from the walls. 1-in-6 chance a Splitbody Ghost is here, moving in two-pieces, ectoplasmic flesh bitterly cold and acidic.

K3. The Blind Goddess Speakeasy. The "goddess" here is a strong hooch that induces rapid sightlessness for a few hours. Password's "LORRAINE." Salt-encrusted counter. Pitch torches on the walls. Clientele is almost exclusivey Torchheart Automotons, creaking and mathematical. 

K4. ENTRY: Mineshaft. Punches into the tunnel complex. Sloshes with foamy wastewater, first ankle deep and rising with the downslope to a 60' sump, after which weak sunlight glimmers at the end of the tunnel. 

K5. Huge Fan, rotates slowly and heavily in a vertical shaft. At the bottom a mess of fungal spaghetti, cushions the fall, but smells awful. Excreted by wall barnacles. 

K6. Volcanic Scrape, a gashed passage, leads a long way up to C5. Steep and narrow. Won't accomidate large objects.

K7. Watershed Hall, the leaning face of a colonial mansion is grafted into a natural cave. Within, William Conrad Watershed's wrinkled corpse is intererred in wax in the master bedroom closet, if destroyed he'll shuffle off this mortal coil for good and drop out of the election.