A5.
This is part of the #Dungeon23 challenge in which you make one room to a dungeon every day for a year. In an effort to link my memories to the creation, I am also writing a personal journal entry with each room that may or may not be related.
You don’t have to read that part.
A5.
Exiting to the North of A3 takes you up a long curving tunnel, the floor of which is noticeably inclined.
The echo of a river is more noticeable to further you go.
As you approach the end of the tunnel you can see the orange haze of fire reflecting on the tunnel walls.
Moving on you enter room A5.
Along the walls are stone basins filled with dead, dry organic material that gives off a sour smell. Each stone basin is covered in symbols carved in. Unlike other runes found in other locations so far, these are more contemporary and familiar to those who study the arcane arts. Such an individual may know that these basins would be used to further attune mages and sorcerers to the magical fabric of the universe. They would be useful for rituals or study in magic. Though they don’t seem to be properly used here.
One of astute observation would recognize that these basins clearly don’t belong here. They are made from a lighter stone, and appear to have come from a different location.
In the center of the room are more arcane symbols carved into the floor.
Disturbing this room carelessly will alert the Trogdar Shaman in A4. This is his sanctuary.
There are two other exits to this room.
To the north one can hear clearly the echo of a river.
The winding exit to the east one smells the rot of (human)meat and the faint whistle of wind.
1/5/23
As I mentioned in a previous journal entry, of which there are only 4, I could feel the imagination roller coaster about to crest that first hill, and I was right.
I’ve started to develop a strong idea of what this dungeon level is and its story.
Last night I really reflected on just how weird this location is going to get the deeper into this year we get. I’m trying to restrain myself but I don’t know how much longer I can hold off from putting something like a flying camel mech in a room and breaking whatever verisimilitude I’ve developed so far.
I want to slow cook the strange, you know what I mean? Like I want the players to naturally accept weirder and weirder shit as the game progresses, so that by the end they’re like, “Remember when this game was just run-of-the-mill bandits being murdered by trogdars? -Look how far we’ve come!”
…
Packing is still happening. Our living room is now being taken over by boxes. They’re eclipsing the windows, and we sit in their shadows. I need to go get more tomorrow.
…
We’re almost done with Season 5 of My Hero Academia. We fell behind. The last few episodes, which focus on the League of Villains vs. The Meta Liberation whatever whatever group have been really good stuff.
There was a pretty intense moment which showed a young boy discovering their powers and accidentally killing their family.
We watch this show with our 8 year old.
I remember looking at him, and he looked back and I said, “Are you okay?”
And he just nodded and said, “It’s okay. It’s sad, but it’s a story. I get it.”
Two feelings came over me. One was pride that my son had leveled up in his emotional development.
Two was sadness that he didn’t really need me to comfort him when something upsetting was on TV.
I’m already dealing with my oldest, a teenager on the verge of driving, is growing up so fast. Now this one.
Watching your kids grow up is both beautiful and torturous.
Remember that when you were kid and you realized puberty was going to start to hitting you or your friends? I don’t know about you, but I had this sad feeling that the playfulness of youth was about to die and be replaced with young adult shit. Like boyfriends and girlfriends. And hair. And pimples. And angst.
Raising kids, for me anyway, is like reliving that realization any time my kids grow or advance. Which is often because that’s all kids do. They level up all the time.
I do try to revel in it, knowing that I’m not failing as an adult and my kid’s are progressing, but that other feeling that I described is lurking there too, sometimes more prominently than I’d like to admit.
Usually I make it go away by reminding myself what their advancements mean.
Like, oh, they’re old enough that I don’t have to change their diaper. Awesome.
Or oh, they’re old enough that we can watch better movies than Despicable Me 2.
Or oh, they’re old enough that we can play Settlers of Catan instead of Chutes ‘n Ladders.
You know, Silver linings shit.
See you tomorrow.
-Jae
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