KNIGHT-MARE MEDICS™ The Realm’s Premier Emergency Resurrection Service!
(Serving all major kingdoms, minor baronies, and suspiciously damp dungeon corridors)
"Did your Cleric get flattened by a boulder trap?
Did your Barbarian mistake a mimic for a massage chair?
Did your Wizard utter the words ‘trust me’ before the explosion?"
NEVER FEAR!
KNIGHT-MARE MEDICS™ are just a Sending Stone away!
Our Services Include:
Resurrection-on-the-Go™ We bring the diamonds, you bring the corpse!
Portable Potions & Plasters. Because a +2 bandage is still better than that bard’s “healing song.”
Deluxe Death Denial™ Includes CPR (Cleric-Powered Resurrection), stern looks, and holy water enema (optional, but encouraged).
Armour Extraction Unit. Got impaled? We’ll extract you and your dignity… well, one of the two.
Dragonfire Aftercare Package™ Soothing balm, emergency eyebrows, and emotional support kobold.
WHY CHOOSE US OVER A LOCAL GRAVEYARD?
3-Minute Response Time (plus or minus one long rest)
87% Revival Rate!*
Only mildly cursed stretchers
Goblin-proofed wagons (Now with extra spikes)
All healers certified by the Temple of Questionable Medicine
*Disclaimer: Revival success may vary depending on body parts retrieved. We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone already undead, on fire, or carrying more than three cursed items.
TESTIMONIALS FROM (MOSTLY) SATISFIED ADVENTURERS:
“I was mostly dead. Now I’m just emotionally unavailable!” – Gnorman the Necromancer
“Arrow to the spleen? More like arrow to the minor inconvenience!” – Sir Missalot
“They even reversed my frog curse… briefly.” – Ribberta the Sorceress
So next time your party forgets to look for traps, gets too flirty with a banshee, or casts Fireball indoors, don’t crawl to the temple.
Call KNIGHT-MARE MEDICS™.
We put the “Ow” in “Wow, you survived!”**
Ring now using code “MAYBEDEAD” for a free holy symbol polishing!
Because in this party, the only thing dying… is the vibe.
Knight-Mare Medics™ is not liable for spontaneous re-death, soul displacement, or summoning mishaps. Use of services may attract the attention of vengeful gods, angry tax collectors, or your mother.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
with Reverend Dungeon Master
High Cleric of Chaos. Once canonised by mistake during a misunderstanding involving a mimic, a bishop, and a fondue set.
Dear Reverend Dungeon Master,
My wizard insists on using Mage Hand to slap people. Constantly. Villains, allies, shopkeepers, once even the king’s horse. He says it’s “the most versatile cantrip.” We’re about to be exiled again. Help?
– Fiona, Leeds
RDM:
Ah yes, the age-old misuse of arcane etiquette. I've answered this question before but let's see what I can come up with here… Ah! Your wizard is clearly one flick away from becoming a public menace. If diplomacy fails, let consequences cast the next spell. Introduce an ancient court wizard who considers Mage Hand slaps a magical insult punishable by enchanted duel. One failed Concentration check later and your wizard’s learning respect from inside a gelatinous cube named Kevin. How's that?
Dear Reverend Dungeon Master,
Our barbarian thinks “rage” is a lifestyle. He screams at doors, table legs, clouds, even his own reflection. We can’t get through a tavern without a blood feud starting over how someone looked at his ale. Is this normal?
– Martin, Cornwall
RDM:
Only if his barbarian tribe was raised by angry kettles. Look, rage is meant for battle, not brunch. Next time he yells at a mirror, have it shout back, in Abyssal, then challenge him to an existential staring contest. Or give him a magical hat that suppresses rage, but only while he's complimenting furniture. Either he learns restraint, or you get the world’s politest murder hobo. Win-win.
Dear Reverend Dungeon Master,
My party has started charging NPCs for “heroic services rendered” before doing anything. They call it “adventure insurance.” The bard’s made a business card. Should I allow this?
– Jessica, Nottingham
RDM:
Congratulations, you’re DMing a fantasy pyramid scheme. Soon they’ll be selling loot futures and demanding royalties from rescued peasants. The fix? Introduce a Guild of Actual Heroes™ who offer better rates and come with dental. Let your players taste competition, and perhaps a court summons for fraud. Nothing humbles a bard like being sued by a paladin in small claims dungeon.
Write to Reverend Dungeon Master
C/O Dungeon Dunce Weekly
rcgdungeondunce@gmail.com
Or whisper your woes to a passing raven, then apologise when it sues you for emotional damage.
Feature Story (because yes, it's a really real story)
"LOOK FABULOUS WHILE FAILING YOUR SAVING THROWS!"
New Official D&D Fashion Line from BlackMilk Casts Fireball on Your Wardrobe
Fashion and fantasy have finally formed a party, and no, it’s not that LARP meetup behind the Tesco. Introducing the latest couture catastrophe from BlackMilk, the Aussie brand best known for combining geek chic with "Can I actually walk in this?" practicality.
In collaboration with Wizards of the Coast, BlackMilk has just unleashed their second wave of magical garments, hot off the teleportation circle and into your closet (if your closet accepts items with +3 charisma and mild static cling).
This time, they’re not messing about. We’re talking wizard robes you can strut in, t-shirts that scream “ask me about my hit dice,” and a belt shaped like a D20, because nothing says style like a fashion accessory that can accidentally trigger a gelatinous cube encounter.
WHAT’S IN THE LOOT CHEST?
Among the treasure hoard:
A Ravenloft top for when you want your clothing to match your brooding backstory
A Lady of Pain shirt, perfect for those days you feel stabby and fabulous
A mind flayer tee, ideal for brunching with the in-laws or interrogating lesser lifeforms
The designs pull directly from Wizards of the Coast’s 2024 Player’s Handbook, so you’ll be literally wearing the rules, finally, an excuse to point at your shirt and yell “Page 112!” during arguments about sneak attack.
Prices hover around $100 USD (roughly 73 £), or the equivalent in dragon scales, and are available online and possibly from any wizard with a retail kiosk in a pocket dimension. Just beware of knock-offs made by kobolds.
WHO CAST THIS GLAMOUR?
BlackMilk, founded by the late James Lillis (fashion visionary, lycra enthusiast, and rumoured half-elf), is no stranger to slapping pop culture onto your body. They’ve worked with the likes of Harry Potter, Star Wars, Stranger Things, and now the ultimate crossover nobody asked for but everyone wants: fashion and Dungeons & Dragons.
The brand's aesthetic falls somewhere between “fierce warrior queen” and “just rolled out of a tavern after drinking a potion labelled ‘YOLO’.”
FINAL THOUGHTS FROM THE TREASURE PILE
Sure, it’s not the first time D&D has wandered into your wardrobe. We’ve already had D&D Hawaiian shirts (for those casting Fireball from the beach) and Converse trainers (for outrunning your responsibilities). But BlackMilk’s take is a bit more high-end, like a bard who charges extra for singing in key.
Is it practical for dungeon delving? Not unless you like tripping over your own fashion sense. Will it make you feel like a level 20 icon ready to seduce a beholder? Absolutely. If you've recently bonked your noggin.
You can summon the full line now via BlackMilk’s website, or wait for your local cleric to wear it first so you can pretend you found it in a loot drop.
Still want more D&D trinkets and tat?
Visit our Accessories page, where we review things you didn’t know you needed until now. Like a dice roller shaped like an orb. Or a cursed hoodie that whispers cryptic insults. Probably.
ENCOUNTER OF THE WEEK: The Gob Squad on Tea Break
You crest the hill, sword gleaming, muscles flexed, ready to vanquish whatever unspeakable horrors lie ahead. Instead, you find… them.
Five goblins lounging about like it's a Sunday picnic. One is using a rusty spear to toast a rat on a stick. Another's reading a suspiciously soggy magazine titled Stab Monthly. One is having an argument with a log (which, to be fair, is winning), and two more are napping under a hand-painted sign that reads:
“DO NOT DISTURB. UNIONISED BREAK. HEROES WILL BE MAULED AFTER TEA.”
They see you.
They sigh.
They groan.
They mutter something about unpaid overtime and reach lazily for their weapons. You're not sure whether to laugh or stab.
Lazy Goblins (5)
Chaotic Neutral / Mildly Annoyed
AC: 11 (or 13 if they can be bothered to stand up)
HP: 7 each (except Gary, who stubbed his toe and has 3)
ATTACK:
Pointy Thing: +2 to hit, 1d6 damage, 50% chance of missing due to slouching
Insult Barrage: 1d4 psychic damage (only works if you speak Goblin or have low self-esteem)
ABILITIES:
Nap Reflex: At the start of each round, roll a d6. On a 1, the goblin decides it’s all too much and takes a nap instead of acting.
Tea Break Union Clause: Once per encounter, they can all simultaneously declare “We’re on break!” and become immune to damage for 1 round while sipping cold mushroom tea and glaring at you.
Poor Hygiene Aura: Creatures within 5 feet must pass a DC 10 CON save or become mildly offended. No mechanical effect. Just gross.
Do you attack? Try negotiating with biscuits? Or join them on the log and wait for their “supervisor” (rumoured to be a kobold with a clipboard and a bad attitude)?
DM’s Note: If the party tries to bribe them with tea, socks, or anything edible, the goblins may offer helpful “advice” about traps ahead, half of which is wrong, but always enthusiastically delivered.
A Better Class Department
The Lazy Git’s Guide to Druid Feats
By the Editors of Leaf Me Alone Weekly
So you’ve decided to play a druid. Congratulations! You now possess the mystical ability to turn into an angry badger, chat with trees, and smell like compost all at once. But what if that’s not enough? What if you want more power, more nature, and more smug eco-druid superiority at the table?
Well then, grab your staff, put on your mossiest robes, and check out these highly questionable but technically legal feats guaranteed to make your druid even more insufferable.
Circle-Touched
Also known as “Teacher’s Pet”
Prerequisite: Druid, 4th level
You’ve been spending far too much time communing with ancient spirits and not enough time showering. The Circle likes you. They like you too much.
Choose a Druid Circle feature you got at level 2. You may now use it one more time per long rest. That’s right: more nature juice for your bark-loving brain.
You now speak Druidic and one other fancy-pants mystical language that no one else at the table understands (Sylvan? Primordial? Esperanto?).
You gain one additional Druid cantrip. Impress your friends. Confuse your enemies. Irritate your DM.
Primal Hide
Or: How to Not Die When You’re a Badger
Prerequisite: Druid, Wild Shape feature
Being a raccoon in combat sounds cute until someone drop-kicks you across the dungeon. Not anymore. Now your beast form comes with optional body armour and the fury of a minor woodland god.
+1 AC while in Wild Shape. Congratulations, you’re now the least squishy raccoon in Faerûn.
Spend a spell slot to gain temporary hit points equal to 3 × the level of the slot. It’s like spiritual bark mulch for your face.
Your beastie punches now count as magical. Smack that ghost bear with your squirrel claws.
Lunar Shifter
Prerequisite: Circle of the Moon
Also known as “Werewolf Lite”
You’re so attuned to the moon, you weep during werewolf documentaries. Now you can bend twilight to your will and annoy your friends with vague prophecies.
You can cast Misty Step once per short rest, but only at night. No moon? No go.
At night, your Wild Shape can break the usual CR limit, letting you become a bigger beastie for one glorious, feral minute. Do try not to waste it tripping over a trap.
Verdant Resilience
“What doesn’t kill me makes me leafier.”
You’ve been chewing bark and bathing in bogs so long, your immune system now thinks tetanus is a party trick.
Gain resistance to poison and advantage on saving throws against being poisoned. That dodgy stew? Child’s play.
You can cast Barkskin once per long rest without materials. No bat guano, no fiddly twigs. Just pure barky brilliance.
Whenever you heal someone, they become temporarily poison-resistant. That’s right, your hugs are medicinal now.
Symbiotic Shape
Prerequisite: Druid level 8, Wild Shape
Also known as “Just a Little Bit Feral”
Full transformations are so passé. Why go full bear when you can go bear-lite and still make everyone uncomfortable?
As a bonus action, enter a “symbiotic shape” for 1 minute. Choose one of the following effects:
Eyes of the Hawk: You can now spot a mouse sneezing in the dark.
Fangs of the Viper: Your melee attacks do an extra 1d6 poison damage. Tasty.
Paws of the Panther: Move faster and ignore difficult terrain. Finally, your druid can moonwalk through mud.
Use this a number of times equal to your Wisdom modifier. Try not to burn them all pretending to be a jungle cat at dinner.
Nature’s Emissary
“Sir Barkalot, Ambassador of Leaves”
You’ve been voted “Most Likely to Hug a Tree and Hear It Hug Back.” Beasts respect you. Plants don’t try to eat you. Your conversations with squirrels are legally binding.
Gain proficiency in Persuasion or Animal Handling. If you already have it, congratulations, you now have double smug.
Cast Speak with Animals and Speak with Plants at will. Finally, a way to make small talk with moss.
Plants and beasts won’t be hostile to you unless magically forced to be. So unless someone casts Compel Foliage, you’re free to frolic.
So there you have it. Six feats to turn your druid from “mildly inconvenient moss-slinger” to “full-blown avatar of the green apocalypse.”
Use them wisely. Or irresponsibly. We won’t judge. (Well, the trees might.)
Monster Mashup
The Gelanichidna
Half Gelatinous Cube. Half Giant Echidna. All Sticky Nightmare.
“It rolls. It quills. It absorbs your dignity.”
Monster Type
Ooze (with Identity Issues)
Basic Stats
Armour Class: 14 (gel coating plus spiky bits)
Hit Points: 112 (it regenerates via snacks)
Speed: 30 ft., burrow 10 ft., roll 40 ft. downhill only
ATTACKS
Absorb & Jab
Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 2d8 acid damage + 2d6 piercing.
Target must succeed on a DC 15 STR save or become stuck halfway in the goo. Congratulations, you are now a hat.Quill Launch (Recharge 4–6)
It violently contracts and fires digestive spines in all directions like a vengeful beanbag.
Creatures within 15 feet must make a DC 14 DEX save or take 3d6 piercing damage and get one quill lodged somewhere deeply inconvenient (DM’s discretion, elbow, nose, dignity, etc.).Sticky Roll (1/day)
The Gelanichidna tucks into a spiny sphere and barrels forward in a straight line for up to 60 feet. Any creature in its path must make a DC 16 DEX save or take 4d10 acid-piercing combo damage and be carried along like a meatball in a clingfilm cannon.
ABILITIES
Transparentish
It’s partially see-through, which makes it terrifying when hiding behind furniture, curtains, or other party members. Creatures have disadvantage on Perception checks to spot it unless it’s moving or giggling.Digestive Memory
It absorbs not only your body, but your personality. Every time it successfully absorbs a creature, it gains fragments of their vocabulary. You may hear it burble “mummy?” or “tax evasion!” mid-battle.Ooze Brain, Echidna Soul
Immune to charm, fear, and shame. Can smell fear through stone. Cannot speak but communicates through weird squelchy quill Morse code.
Description
Imagine a gelatinous cube ate a spiny mammal and got ideas. The result? A semi-transparent blob of digestive spite, covered in twitching poisonous quills and vaguely humming with menace. It doesn’t know where it’s going. It doesn’t know who you are. But it will absorb your paladin’s boots, spit out the laces, and then chase the cleric through a hedge maze for two hours.
CR: 6
XP: Depends on how much of the rogue it eats.
STAT BLOCK (OSR STYLE)
Armour Class: 4 [15] (gelatinous resistance + nature’s caltrops)
Hit Dice: 7 (31 hp average, plus emotional baggage)
Move: 90’ (30’) walking, 120’ (40’) when rolling downhill, 30’ burrow (but only when no one's looking)
Attacks: 1 slurp & stab (see below), or spine explosion
Damage: 2d6 acid + 1d6 piercing
No. Appearing: 1 (thank all the gods)
Save As: Fighter 6 (it's dumb, not defenceless)
Morale: 9 (but only because it doesn't understand danger)
Treasure Type: U (mostly pocket lint, one still-screaming magic ring)
XP Value: 600
Alignment: Chaotic (with hints of petty)
Size: Large, round, and judgmental
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Sticky Slurp:
If it hits in melee, the target must Save vs Paralysis or get stuck halfway inside the goo. Movement is halved, dignity is quartered. Anyone trying to free them must Save or also get partially digested. It’s a party now.
Quill Eruption (1/day):
Fires semi-digested spines in a 15’ radius. All within must Save vs Breath or take 2d6 damage and spend 1 round removing spines from their underpants.
Transparentish:
Surprise on 1–3 on d6. It’s nearly invisible until you’re already halfway through a monologue.
Rolling Menace (once per hour):
Can roll in a straight line 60’, bowling over up to 3 targets. Each must Save vs Wands or take 3d6 damage and be stuck to the front like a fly on a jelly windscreen.
Digestive Memory:
Each creature it absorbs leaves behind fragments of language. It mumbles phrases like “buy low, sell high” and “where’s Brenda?” between belches.
DESCRIPTION
Some wizard (probably named “Thaddeus the Ill-Advised”) decided to create a stealth ooze with natural defences. Instead, he got a mobile digestive accident covered in venomous knitting needles. It has the IQ of lukewarm porridge and the emotional depth of a sack of turnips, but it knows how to ruin a camping trip.
It lives in caves, sewers, and abandoned bathhouses. It collects shiny things and crunchy adventurers. If you hear a squelch followed by a confused "hoo?", it's either this thing or something worse.
Table of Terrible Tables
Downtime Disasters & Diversions Table
By the Guild of Poor Decisions and Unpaid Bar Tabs
(1d20)
1. Got Rich Quick… Then Got Robbed
You invest in “dragonproof insurance.” It isn’t. Lose 3d10 gold and gain a very persistent halfling debt collector.
2. Amateur Alchemy
You spend a week brewing “potions” in your flat. Roll a d6:
1–2: Explodes
3–4: Turns hair green
5–6: Actually works (DM’s choice)
3. Spontaneous Cult Membership
You attend one meeting for the free biscuits. Now you’re High Fangbearer of the Velvet Moon. The cloak’s lovely. The sacrifices? Less so.
4. Ate Something Questionable
You tried the local stew. You now speak fluent Ferret for 1d4 days.
5. Accidental Fame
A bard misheard your story and turned you into a folk hero. Everyone thinks you slayed a dragon with a spoon. You now sign autographs… with your real name. Oops.
6. Animal Companion Drama
Your pet owl/badger/snake gets jealous of your horse. A dramatic feud unfolds. The rogue gets bitten. Twice.
7. Magic Item Pawn Shop
You trade your mysterious amulet for “a talking dagger and a bag of crisps.” The dagger insults you constantly. The crisps were stale.
8. Romantic Entanglement
You fall for a local. They’re charming, attractive, and may or may not be a vampire accountant. Roll for heartbreak, marriage, or bloodletting.
9. Street Performance Debut
You form a lute-juggling act with a goblin named Clive. Onlookers are horrified. You earn 1d4 silver and a boot to the head.
10. Wrong Tavern, Right Fight
You spend the week drinking in a rival adventuring guild’s bar. Gain +1 to Intimidation for a week and one black eye.
11. Masterclass in Uselessness
You take a class titled “Advanced Sword Polishing and Interpretive Combat.” It was expensive, you failed it, and now you have a certificate you can’t read.
12. Failed Gambling Empire
You open a back-alley dice game. You win big. Then you lose bigger. End result: no gold, mild bruising, and an orc named Beryl wants her money back.
13. Petty Wizard Duel
You correct a wizard’s grammar in public. Now it’s magical pistols at dawn. Win or lose, your eyebrows won’t grow back for 1d6 days.
14. Local Hero, Local Problems
You rescue a kitten from a tree. Town hails you as a saint. Children won’t stop following you. One of them stole your wand.
15. Awkward Guild Training
You attend a professional adventuring seminar. It’s mostly PowerPoint slides and a kobold handing out name tags. Gain inspiration from boredom alone.
16. Haunted Flatshare
You rent a room for cheap. It’s haunted. The ghost won’t stop rearranging your socks and telling sad war stories. Gain a ghostly roommate with strong opinions on curtains.
17. Got Mugged by a Gnome
He was 3 feet tall and full of rage. He took your boots and called you “Susan.” You don’t even know what happened.
18. Hobby That Got Out of Hand
You take up knitting. You make a scarf. Then a cloak. Then a full-size magical knitted wyvern. Now it lives with you and eats your socks.
19. Joined a Pub League
You join the town’s Gnomeball team. You’re rubbish. You break three benches and a bard’s shin. But you earn 5gp and mild local fame.
20. Invented a New Spell
It’s called “Melf’s Moist Elbow.” No one knows what it does. Least of all you. Roll a d20 when cast: on a 20, something brilliant. On a 1, local disaster.
Introducing… The Badger Battalion!
Fur. Fury. And Foul-Mouthed Ferocity.
Tired of your usual ragtag band of sword-wielding, spell-casting, chaotically incompetent heroes? Want something a bit… different?
Meet the Badger Battalion, a fearsome gang of mercenary badgers with attitude, armour made of stolen bottle caps, and a combined IQ just slightly above a dung beetle on a hot day.
Features include:
Claws of Chaos: Swipe first, apologise never. These badgers don’t do subtle.
Tunnel Vision: Literally. They dig like maniacs and will pop up under your feet just to say “Oi! What’s all this then?”
Grim Determination: Nothing stops them. Not fire. Not magic. Not that weird smell that made the wizard faint.
Territorial Tantrums: If you cross their turf, expect a barrage of angry growls, sideways glances, and possibly an unexpected headbutt.
Snack Time Specialist: They’re as likely to fight you as to steal your lunch. Keep your rations close, and your cheese closer.
Perfect For:
Adventurers tired of being saved by humans, elves, or dwarves.
DMs looking to watch their players descend into delightful mayhem.
Anyone who’s ever thought, “What if my heroes were just really angry woodland creatures?”
Includes:
Fully illustrated character sheets for Badger Berserker, Scout, and the mysterious, terrifying Shaman (who may or may not be a slightly mad mole).
Rules for digging, snarling, and chewing through leather armour (because why not?).
An expansion pack: The Great Badger War, when they take on the local rats and lose all sense of diplomacy.
So gather your dice, sharpen your claws, and get ready to unleash a stampede of fury wrapped in fluff.
The Badger Battalion, Because Who Needs Knights When You Have Nasty Little Furballs?
Available wherever dubious tabletop accessories are sold. Warning: May cause excessive laughter and occasional squeals of horror.
COMING NEXT WEEK IN DUNGEON DUNCE WEEKLY!
Hold onto your helmets, knuckle-draggers, because next week’s issue is about to blow the dungeon doors off!
Exclusive Interview: The Gelanichidna speaks (sort of). We decode its baffling squelches and discover it might just be looking for love. Or your boots. No one’s quite sure.
Top 10 Ways to Survive a Kobold Ambush (Hint: Running Really Fast Helps)
DM’s Guide to “That One Player”: You know, the one who insists their character can talk to furniture and will try to negotiate with the gelatinous cube. Learn how to politely remind them it’s not actually a chatty typewriter.
New Spell Review: Melf’s Moist Elbow. Does it heal, hurt, or just make your elbow soggy? We put it to the test with mixed results and one mild flood.
Trap of the Month: The “Oops, Wrong Lever!” Pit. Guaranteed to make players question your friendship and their life choices.
Dungeon Dunce’s Disaster Diary: A real-life tale of a party that accidentally summoned a gelatinous cube inside the tavern’s wine cellar. Spoiler alert: No one got free drinks that night.
Reader Letters: “Dear Dunce, my rogue keeps stealing the bard’s lute. What do?” Plus other fan favourites like “Help! My wizard’s familiar is a sarcastic raven.”
Adventure Spotlight: The Curse of the Cursed Cursed Curse. Because one curse just isn’t enough.
Make sure your grog’s topped up and your dice are ready to roll… next week, only in Dungeon Dunce Weekly, where the monsters are real and the common sense is not.
COMING SEPTEMBER 5th from RED CAPE GAMES!
DUNGEON DUNCE is the family-friendly TTRPG misadventure perfect for parents brave enough to introduce their kids to tabletop chaos. Designed for players who top out at Level 9 (because anything higher requires a nap), this game blends old-school dungeon hijinks with laugh-out-loud rules, low-stakes monster mayhem, and a levelling system that turns every victory into a new problem.
Inside you’ll find:
A Monster Rank System where even a Giant Rat can ruin family dinner.
New creatures like the Cabbage Lich and Cosmic Duck*, designed to delight kids and mildly confuse adults.
Dunce Levels with powers and side effects like spontaneous glitter or sudden karaoke.
The Overlord’s Toolkit, with all the chaos you need to GM your household into glorious disarray.
A tutorial dungeon where someone will lose to a door.
With your first adventure already included (and already a disaster), Dungeon Dunce is the TTRPG family farce you didn’t know you needed, but your kids will never forget.
*Some claims may not be factual.
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