Dungeon Cook vs Skarvik

The dungeon is alive — and it is hungry. It baits you with treasure. When delvers fall, it digests them. That meal becomes bigger halls, denser layers, and more beasts. The glitter is bait. The monsters are the farm. Dungeon Cook is a first-person dungeon crawler with a kitchen at its heart. You walk living corridors, fight with a cook’s cards, harvest what drops on the knife, and time the fire for a clean cook or a perfect one. Pip, a village kitchen apprentice, wakes in the Verdant Threshold with only the Living Cookbook. The rest of the kitchen line is still being swallowed. Cook their signature dishes, set the offering on the altar, and pull them free before they become the next course. EIGHT KITCHENS Each one is its own ecology — not a coat of paint. • Verdant Threshold — eight layers of one fungal forest. Routes shift. Fauna evolves. The Threshold Guardian waits at the heart. • Boiling Brine Depths — eight layers of steam, salt, and pressure. The Brine Sovereign waits in the boiling heart. • Crystalline Meat Gardens — eight layers of singing lattice and jewelled flesh. The Crystal Gardener tends the heart orchard. • Ashen Ember Fields — eight layers of banked heat and patient ash. The Ember Warden keeps the fields from fully dying — or fully waking. • Whispering Root Labyrinth — vines that listen, flesh that borrows, tunnels that finish your sentences. • Hollow Feast Halls — leftover hospitality, unfinished courses that still remember the cook. • The Last Dessert — one frosting-court layer under the last kitchen, and a cupcake who thinks a crown is godhood. • The Final Course — the kitchen that dreamed the dungeon into being. Living gold ink. The Last Table. The first recipe, unfinished. EIGHT COOKS. EIGHT HANDS. Rescue the line and you inherit their deck. • Pip — line cook. Honest knives, block, and small heals. The way in. • Miravelle — range archivist. Bow volleys that grow the more you fire. • Torren — stone butcher. Heavy cleaves, hard block. Slow and costly. • Sable — ember smoker. Smolder, banked heat, recovery between burns. • Rook — root forager. Draw, energy, soft control. • Lira — feast host. Heals and the table. • Vespera — shadow sous. Setup, discard, burst. Fragile if the combo fails. • Sage — first recipe. Grows with every meal you have ever cooked. THE TABLE Treasure is bait. Digestion is growth. Broth’s stall restocks the line. Artifacts and meals rewrite the next fight. The Living Cookbook keeps what the party lost. AFTER THE LAST PLATE Clear the Final Course and a harder table opens. Beasts hit harder. Waves run thicker. Coin and essence come hungrier. Finish a tier to unlock the next. Not infinite — hungrier. TASTE FIRST The first two layers of the Verdant Threshold are free. Unlock the full kitchen with a one-time purchase. No ads. Restore Purchases anytime. One cook. One book. A kitchen that refuses to die. Cook what you kill.

Skarvik, northern Norway. Eighteen hundred people, a ferry five times a day, and a salmon farm that feeds them all. Saturday, six in the morning. A body at pile 14 in the harbor. Jonas Wik, fisherman. The one who swam across the fjord three times. The station chief will write "accident" before lunch, and the town will agree. You are in your first week on the job, with a case file, a board, and five days to read the papers more carefully than everyone else. A DETECTIVE GAME ABOUT READING No hidden-object hunts, no timers. You talk to people, collect reports, statements, receipts, logs, and notes into the case file, and read them as real documents: Norwegian police forms with the hero's handwritten translation, a bar's register tape, a tide table, the ferry terminal's camera log, pages from a notebook. The key line is never the first one. THE BOARD Highlight the lines that seem important, then set two documents against each other on the board. If the highlighted lines contradict each other, that's a deduction. Deductions can be shown to people, and conversations change. The board doesn't read for you: with nothing highlighted, it stays silent. FIVE DAYS, FIVE GATES Every day ends in a conversation with the station chief, and he has a real objection to every point you make. To close the day, you need deductions he can't argue away. Witnesses lie, but a lie is always caught by a document, never by pressure. PUZZLES Fifteen puzzles built from the documents: work out a blood alcohol level from a register tape and a memo, use the tide table to find where a man fell in, reconcile a farm's weekly reports, rebuild the night minute by minute from a camera log and a neighbor's statement. A hint after the first miss, a full explanation after the third. You can't skip them, and you can't get stuck. A TOWN THAT KNOWS EVERYTHING BY EVENING A station chief who has watched drunks fall off piers for thirty years. A sergeant married to the sister of the farm owner's wife. A bartender who takes keys away from drunks. An old fisherman with a tide table on his wall and a paper he'll only hand to the one who asks the right way. A neighbor who doesn't sleep at night. Forty-two jobs, and every one of them has a family. ALSO • Eleven locations, fifteen characters, forty-three documents. • A hiding place not everyone finds. • The accusation: with five deductions on the board, the chief asks "Who?", and a wrong name costs you composure. • A hundred-point rating and four ranks, from rookie fresh out of the academy to the one who asked the right way. A "what you missed" screen for a second playthrough. • English and Russian.