Candied, crushed sago't gulaman
DUMPASS GOBLINS HAVE INTRODUCED THEIR LITTLE BITCH POISONS IN YOUR SYSTEM
HOLY SHIT YOU CANNOT BELIEVE HOW MAD THIS MAKES YOU
FUCK THIS DUNGEON
Genius title notwithstanding, this is a game with chest hairs and knuckle tats. Allow yourself to use the title as a mantra. Let those three words blanket your rage with a duvet of fuming incoherence. Those goblins deserve every bit of punishment you can dish out. The pissants stabbed you in the back! Let’s see them deal with you stabbing them from the front! CHEK YOSELF BEFO YO HURT YOSELF
Note that you are still poisoned and will most definitely die. You will need to leave a legacy–of severed claws and lacerated windpipes hidden in the rolling hills of goblin corpses. You know, for the children to remember you by.
This game is deceptively complex in its economy. In your vow of vengeance, you swore to kill an indeterminate number of goblins, taking them with you in a glorious conflagration of violent glory. In a minute, the poison will travel through your system (indicated by the lurid greeness of your wrist veins) and reward you with a game over. So get pumped! The speed metal commands you to! Stab faster than you’ve ever stabbed before!
You may be tempted to just punch the goblins to death with W and the UP arrow key. Why bother? When you can slap daggers out of their hands and catch them in mid-flight? While your puny human fists are sufficient in administering massive amounts of whupass, they have better use as death-dealing dagger catchers.
You can live on borrowed time by stealing antidote off your foes. Why are they even carrying antidote? Sometimes one in each hand? Shouldn’t they be wielding crude weaponry? And why are they lining up in a row to attack you one by one when they can easily overwhelm you with their numbers?
Because FUCK. That’s why.
Play Fuck This Dungeon here. Or click any of these 360noscope killshots.