Scattered Maps

The majority of adventurers stop before they begin. They talk excitedly for a night or two about what they’ll do in the dungeon, then tell themselves ’later’, and return to their regular work. And in terms of pay-off, these people sit well above the average.

In the towns, people only hear about those that entered a dungeon and returned. Travel out, closer to an entrance, and the locals tell tales of the recent dead, or one meets maimed beggars, some still so full of fervour that they beg you to look at their map and listen to their plans for re-entry. Most people don’t understand the allure of a dungeon. It’s not about the chests of gold or volatile weapons. There are easier ways of acquiring gold than delving into monstrous pits.

The dream doesn’t start when some big-shot delver parades their gold about. It starts when they tell the story about the maze of identical doors then show everyone the blind-fold they used to stop the terrifying illusions guarding the horde, and the thought occurs, ‘why not simply ignore the illusions?’, or ‘why not throw water from afar, and dispel the illusions without blinding yourself?’. And then you’re hooked. You feel so certain. Your plan feels so perfect, but you can’t know for sure or show anyone unless you actually do it.

At this point a few of the rich-kids buy some expensive weapons, then immediately drop out once they start the workouts. No big loss - they get some flashy bling to remind them of the dream. But with or without fancy purchases, a good chunk stop at this point. The grind feels so dull, and takes so much time. Carrying massive rocks, climbing stacks of chairs in the dark, and squats, for months. Squats are the worst.

The next pit-fall comes with the team. Recently, many have chosen to go alone. And if they set their goals small enough, they sometimes succeed. A lone delver can make it a little while through the first level, and pick up a few trinkets. No much, just some glowing mosses or a couple of ancient coins. The coins have mostly symbolic value, but that’s still value.

Others become waylaid picking up a team, going though interviews, asking about past experience. Nobody talks much about the value of finding the right team, but I think it should account for half the time spent chatting about ‘how we plan to tackle that dungeon’. Instead, people drink with anyone else who’s drinking until a tiny group mutter and whisper to each other in the dark recesses of some tavern in some town near an entrance, ensuring nobody hears their ‘ingenious’ methods and tools.

And here’s where I tell you my own little theory about how we need to approach the levels below. We need to start working together, like the barons’ boys. The barons never mount small expeditions. They set their sights on a particular spot, gather good intel, then enter with fifty warriors - at least - all marching together. And they come back with some serious gold, and give most of it to the baron who waits at the door.

You’ll hear them talk about that ‘special’ gear they got and unique spells, and the secret strategies of their high-born leaders. But that’s all a distraction - in reality it’s simple numbers that keeps them safe. The last baron’s band had a complete air-head leading them down but with fifty warriors they couldn’t fail.

It’s scary business once you really enter and see all those abandoned books and half-drawn maps. The dungeon leaves no corpses. And it’s sad to see the scraps of paper people go down with, and sadder still to see them come back up, hiding their little doodle of three corridors. The maps these loners and little bands make are worth nothing. But if a bare five novice adventurers could share and compare their maps, they could trace a level or two, and every one would go in stronger.

We should put aside all ‘secret-methods’, ‘special spells’, and leadership. We just need to stick together.

But I’m contradicting myself. I’m going on about a good plan to go down, grab some loot, and return safely. I said earlier that’s not what people want. They move in to prove their special plan, not for the prize. What can you do with that situation? Well I’ve got another plan, or a ‘meta-plan’. I plan to share my map, even if I only saw those two corridors, and share my spells. I promise to listen when someone has an idea, and let them correct my map if they want, and we can start to plan together. We don’t just want people to feel ‘heard’, the plan must really work. But with enough experience pooled together, we can make a proper plan together.

So far, we’re a handful. So far we’re nothing greater than those small groups with a little funding. But we’ve gotten to this point with no funds at all - not a single copper piece spent on services and whatnot. We don’t depend on alchemists for scrolls with ancient secrets, because you can’t share those with anyone. We navigated to the dungeon’s door ourselves and only use spells we can cast ourselves and share with others. And so far we’ve explored a little way down, mostly just mapping quietly, and slowly.

If we can just stick together and spread the word, if the band can grow faster than it shrinks, then we can grow a party to rival the baron’s boys, and see how deep this dungeon goes. With barely fifty warriors, we could change how people approach dungeons forever.

We’re in the Last Tavern most days, mid-afternoon, when the light is good. And I won’t blow smoke up your arse - the training’s dull, the drills are worse. Fuckin’ squats! But you can leave before all that if you like. Just come along with a sober head and small expectations, share some ideas, and see what you think of the plan so far.

After we’ve paid our expenses, factored in the months of work, then grab whatever gold we can find, I doubt we’ll make much profit. I’ll be happy just to leave without debt. Because at the end of the day, nobody goes down just for the gold. It’s about moving down with a good band and a good plan.