⚔ a dark descent awaits ⚔
Dungeon
Descent
by Leo Productions
🔥 Day 1 Streak
🎂 Happy Birthday, Dungeon Descent!
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"Not all who enter are lost — most are."
v10.8 · Release
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Choose a warrior to continue, or forge a new legend.
Five waves of heroes are coming to defeat you. They carry torches and hope. They will find neither. As the Void Commander you have 500 HP and three abilities. Survive all five waves and your legend will be encoded into a shareable reward code.
Only the strongest survive.
The dungeon remembers what you forget.
Characters you have deleted or lost to the dark.
Every fall. Every run. Every moment the dungeon won.
Step 1 of 12
Your class defines how you fight and survive.
Step 2 of 12
Blood and bone shape destiny.
Step 3 of 12
Your past grants you a hidden edge.
Step 4 of 12
A name carved into dungeon walls endures longer than the flesh.
Name must be between 2 and 24 characters.
Step 5 of 12
Seven dungeons await. Complete each one to unlock the next. Each dungeon has unique enemies, atmosphere, and a final boss.
Step 6 of 12
Your chosen fate cannot be altered once you descend.
Your Legend — Review Before You Descend
Step 7 of 12
How do you want to play? This shapes your entire experience.
Step 8 of 12 — Spirit Companion
A spirit companion fights alongside you. You keep the same spirit for this entire character's life. Rare and elite spirits you've unlocked appear here too.
Step 9 of 12 — Optional
Every time you die, your character gains corruption. At 25% enemies begin to whisper. At 50% a Corrupted hunter stalks you. At 75% your skills backfire. At 100% you enter a legendary Corruption Run with massive rewards. This is for hardcore players.
Step 10 of 12 — Optional
A relentless hunter stalks you through the dungeon. Every move you make, it moves too. Every turn you waste, it gets closer. If it reaches you — instant death. No second chances.
Step 11 of 12 — Optional
She will walk with you through every dungeon. Give her a name and choose her personality.
Step 12 of 12 — Optional
Where did you come from? Grants a small bonus and writes your first journal entry. Skip to descend immediately.
You stand at the entrance.
A record of the creatures you have faced in the dark.
Enemies revealed: 0 of 0
Creatures encountered in The Spire. Discovered as you climb.
Defend your fortress against 10 waves of enemies. Your base has durability — if it falls to zero you lose. Upgrade your base before battle. Earn Wave Points by dealing heavy damage.
Once there was a kingdom that built too deep. Its kings wanted more — more gold, more stone, more of the dark things that waited below the earth. They found what they were looking for. They found things that were not gold and not stone and did not want to be found. The kingdom is gone now. What it left behind are the three great descents — places where the boundary between the living world and what lies beneath it has grown thin enough to walk through. Brave people go down. Not all of them come back. The ones who do are changed.
Malachar was a warlord who believed that death was a problem to be solved. He spent fifty years searching for the answer. He found it in a burial vault beneath the eastern mountains — an ancient magic that could anchor a soul to the world of the living. He used it on himself. He did not read the fine print. The magic worked. Malachar did not die. He also did not live. He has been in the Crypt for a thousand years, perfectly preserved, perfectly aware, perfectly still, waiting for someone to arrive who is worth the effort of moving. His generals, his soldiers, and everything else that died in his wars is down there with him. They remember their oaths. They do not know why. They follow them anyway.
The city of Vel Ashara was the greatest trading hub in the old world. It sat at the base of a dormant volcano that had not erupted in four hundred years. The city grew rich. Its people grew comfortable. The volcano was not dormant. It was thinking. On the night of the Burning, every fire in Vel Ashara went out at the same moment — and then everything caught fire at once. The city was swallowed in six hours. Something in the fire that consumed Vel Ashara was different from ordinary fire. It did not go out when there was nothing left to burn. It is still there now, three centuries later, burning the same ash it has been burning since the collapse. Explorers call the ruins the Ashbound Wastes. The locals, the few who remain in the hills above, call it by its older name: The Place The Fire Remembers.
No one built the Frosthold Abyss. It was discovered by a mining expedition four hundred years ago when a shaft broke through the floor of the deepest tunnel and opened into a cavern so large that torchlight could not reach the far wall. The expedition descended. Their journals were returned to the surface three weeks later by unknown means. The expedition was not. The journals describe the cold — not as temperature, but as a presence. Something that waits at the bottom of the Abyss and is aware of the warmth of living things the way a drowning person is aware of air. Expeditions have been sent down every generation since. The journals always come back. The explorers never do. What is at the bottom of the Frosthold Abyss, no one who has seen it has survived to report. The journals stop before they get that far.
There is a fourth place. It does not have a location. It is not beneath the earth or buried under ash or frozen in ice. It is the space between all three — the dark that exists between the dark things. Explorers who have descended far enough into any of the three dungeons sometimes report a moment where the dungeon changes. The walls breathe. The enemies are wrong. The silence sounds different. Most believe this is exhaustion or fear. A small number believe they have crossed into something the dungeons share — a deeper layer where the three places touch. If they are right, what lives there has never been named. The dungeon refuses to name it. So do the people who came back.
The Archives were not always underwater. There was a time — scholars argue about exactly when, because the Archives kept meticulous records of everything except the most important things — when the greatest library in the known world sat above ground, in a city whose name has been deliberately removed from every surviving document. The city was prosperous. The Archives were magnificent. Then the water came.
No one agrees on where the water came from. The leading theory involves the thing that was already living beneath the site when the foundations were laid. The architects knew it was there. They built around it. This was considered acceptable at the time. It was not acceptable for long. The thing below the Archives had been patient for a very long time. It simply had to wait until the library was complete. Until there was enough knowledge in one place to be worth consuming. Then it flooded the city from underneath and kept everything that drowned.
The books are perfectly preserved. The archivists who stayed are perfectly preserved. The thing that caused all of this is still down there, in the deepest chamber, surrounded by the collected knowledge of a civilization it ended. Explorers who descend report that the water is perfectly still. That the candles are still lit. That something has been marking certain pages. That the marks are in a language that did not exist before the flooding and has not been seen anywhere since. The Archives are still cataloguing. They have simply changed what they consider worth keeping.
Nobody knows who built the house. This is unusual. Houses have builders. Houses have records. Deeds and blueprints and names on documents. The Hollow has none of these. The oldest maps of the region show the house already standing. The cartographers of the time noted this and moved on. Cartographers are practical people.
What is known is that families have lived there. Census records show occupants across several centuries, different names, different generations, all listing the same address. The records stop abruptly for each family. Not death records. Not moving records. Just a gap, and then new names, and then another gap. Nobody seems to have asked why.
The house is not haunted in the traditional sense. Haunted implies that something from outside came in and stayed. The Hollow is different. The Hollow is the kind of place where things that enter do not leave, but the house does not take them. They simply find, after a while, that they no longer want to go. The difference matters. The house has never forced anyone to stay. It has simply made staying feel more reasonable than leaving. One room at a time. One day at a time. Until leaving is a thing that happens to other people.
The Weeping Child has been there longest. Long enough that nobody remembers what she was called before she became what she is. The Weeping Mother arrived later, looking for something she lost. She has not found it. She has been there long enough now that she is not sure she would know what to do if she did. The house is patient. The house has always been patient. It has nowhere to be.
The forest has always been there. This is the first thing the people who live near its edge will tell you, and they will say it with a particular tone — not pride, not fear, but the flat certainty of someone describing a fact they have long since stopped trying to explain. The forest was there before the villages. Before the roads. Before anyone thought to draw a map of this region. The trees are old in a way that old trees are not usually old. They do not look ancient. They look permanent.
The whispering started, as best anyone can document, about three hundred years ago. Or rather — that is when people began writing it down. The villagers suggest it has always been there too, that it is simply a thing you learn not to mention after a certain age, the way you learn not to mention other things. The whispers are not voices exactly. They are the shape of voices. The suggestion of words in a language that exists just outside the range of comprehension. Travelers who spend more than one night at the forest's edge report that the whispers begin to sound familiar. That they begin to sound like people they know. That they begin to sound like themselves.
The creatures inside the forest did not come from anywhere. They grew there. This distinction matters to the scholars who study the forest from a very safe distance. Things that come from somewhere can be driven back. Things that grew somewhere are a different problem. The forest is not a place where dangerous things live. The forest is a place that produces dangerous things the way other forests produce leaves, continuously and without particular intention. It is not malicious. It is simply what it is. It has been what it is for a very long time. It will continue to be what it is long after everyone who has ever entered it has been forgotten.
There is a theology, practiced by a small number of scholars who do not advertise their beliefs, that holds that the underworld is not a place the dead go. It is a place that already exists, below the living world, and that the living world sits on top of it the way a house sits on a foundation. The foundation was there first. The house is temporary. The foundation is not.
The Infernal Descent is the place where this theory stops being theology and starts being geography. It is not a dungeon that was built or discovered or accidentally uncovered. It is a seam — a place where the surface of the living world has worn thin enough that what is underneath is visible. The heat that rises from the Descent is not heat from the earth. The earth does not produce heat like this. This heat has intent. It rises toward living things specifically. It has been rising for longer than the mountains above it have existed.
The Trial exists because the Descent must be earned. This is not a rule that anyone made. It is simply a property of the place. Explorers who have attempted to enter without preparation report that the entrance was not there. That they walked past it repeatedly and could not find it. That they only found it when they stopped looking and simply walked forward. The Descent chooses who descends. The criteria are not known. The results speak for themselves. One hundred trophies. One gate. What lies below the gate has no name that has survived the journey back to the surface. The explorers who returned said the words but the words were wrong by the time they arrived. The Descent keeps the real names for itself.
The ocean above the Abyssal Deep has no name on any map. Sailors who have crossed it do not speak of it afterward. Not from trauma — they simply find, on returning to port, that they have nothing to say. The crossing was uneventful. The water was dark. Something large moved beneath the surface at a distance that made estimation impossible. They arrived. This is the complete account of every sailor who has crossed those waters. The absence of detail is itself the detail.
The Deep is not underwater. This confuses people who have not been there. It is below the ocean floor — a space that should not exist, a cavern of impossible size beneath the weight of an ocean that has no awareness it is sitting on top of something alive. The water that fills the Deep is not ocean water. It is older than the ocean. It predates the concept of water having a surface. Things live in it that have never seen light and have developed, over an incomprehensible span of time, an extremely detailed understanding of the dark.
The Leviathan was not created. It was not born. It accumulated. Over millions of years, the Deep collected — pressure, cold, darkness, the memory of everything that sank and did not return — and at some point the collection became aware of itself. The Leviathan is not a creature that lives in the Deep. The Leviathan is what the Deep became when it had been alone long enough. Its four phases are not stages of a fight. They are layers of what it is — curiosity, recognition, fury, and finally the thing underneath all of those, which has no name, which the Leviathan saves for last, which it has shown to every explorer who made it to floor ten. None of them have found a word for it that works in any language. They all agree on what it felt like. It felt like being seen completely. For the first time. By something that had always been there.
Stories from the world of Dungeon Descent. Written by the creators and submitted by players.
An auto-written record of each character's descent. Updates after every run.
Everything you need to know about Dungeon Descent. Use your screen reader heading navigation to jump between sections.
Face every boss from every dungeon back to back. A small healing window between each fight. Defeat 3 for a Mystery Coin. Defeat 6 for 3 coins. Defeat all 9 for 6 coins. It has never been done.
Choose Your Champion
You fought well.
Every kill, every achievement, every dungeon cleared earns points. This is your legacy.
Special events change the dungeon. Active events apply automatically when you play.
A fully accessible dungeon crawler built for screen reader users everywhere.
Survive five waves of enemies. Complete the raid without dying to earn gold and a Mystery Coin.
Choose Your Champion
Raid Difficulty
You survived.
WORLD EVENT
Choose Your Champion
The Void Reaper has been defeated. The dungeons are safe.
For now.
+3 Mystery Coins awarded.
The Void Reaper endures. But your damage carries over.
Return in 2 hours to continue the fight.
Choose Your Champion
Choose a category to customize your experience.
These features are experimental and still being tested. Turn them on to try them out. They may change or be removed in future updates.
Enter a promo code or birthday code to unlock exclusive rewards. Each code can only be redeemed once per device.
Play your own music instead of the game soundtrack. Use a file for testing or a URL to save it permanently.
The dungeon has no end. Leave it running. See how far you fall.
1800 floors. One final enemy at the top.
Your progress is never lost. Death only sends you back one floor.
You have climbed all 1800 floors. The thing at the top did not expect you.
It has consumed centuries of time. It did not consume you.
You were not supposed to find this.
This place exists between the dungeon floors — a rift where shadow entities drift endlessly, waiting for something strong enough to fight.
There are no floors here. No exits. Only waves. They will not stop. Neither will you — until you fall.
Who faces the shadow?
