HELP: DUNGEON CRAWLER CARL Because Nothing Says Fun Like Corporate Murder Mazes Background - The Borant Syndicate came to your world waving contracts, drones, and promises of “unlimited opportunity.” Which is corporate-speak for “sign here so we can harvest your pain data.” - They built a dungeon. A real one. With monsters, traps, and loot. Think amusement park meets war crime. - Each “Crawl” is a self-contained slice of hell, crafted by Borant’s AI department — also known as the interns. Floor Structure - There are three floors. That’s it. Three chances to prove you’re less useless than the last batch of corpses. - Each floor is timed. You dawdle, you die. When the clock hits zero, the floor collapses. Yes, it collapses. On you. As in 'Splat'. - Clear the floor, move on down. Or don’t. I don’t care. Dying or Winning - Once you enter, it’s simple: you leave dead or you leave victorious. - There’s no “pause,” no “bathroom break,” and definitely no “brb mom’s calling.” - If your party somehow completes the dungeon (odds of that are.. poor), one member is chosen as a [DUNGEON MASTER]. - There could be benefits to going in solo, OR NOT. Big groups may also be dealt with harshly, OR NOT. The Borant Touch™ - Borant has generously “sponsored” the dungeon with high-tech loot, experimental genetic drugs, and other fine products that may or may not liquefy your insides. - Expect equipment that hums, glows, or whispers to you at night. - All items are proprietary and will self-destruct if you badmouth Borant on public channels. Isolation Protocol - Each group that enters the stairs gets their own sharded dungeon instance. - No outside help. No messages. No summons. No cavalry. You’re alone in there with your own poor choices. - Trying to call for help will get you a Borant customer service reply, which is worse than death. Final Notes - You can’t “opt out” once you step inside. - Time’s ticking. Floors are crumbling. Monsters are hungry. - Good luck, crawler. - (P.S. Luck is a lie.)