Some of our braver Castle residents have reported the existence of a small but deeply unstable dungeon beneath the Castle. So far, reports include: - emotionally difficult transformations - soup incidents - items of questionable sense - at least one disappointing spoon Dungeon posts are marked with a green circle:🟢 They are part of an interactive adventure and should not be read in numerical order. Instead, follow the links and choices within each post as you explore. Those entering the dungeon are advised that: - not every route leads somewhere sensible - some objects may become important later - the Castle surgeons will do their best for you if you make unwise choices You are encouraged to: - explore - collect treasure - interact with unusual residents and creatures - report strange after-effects upon your return 🚨 Please avoid posting direct spoilers, specific routes or complete solutions in the main feed. The dungeon functions best when rumours, cryptic warnings and partial recollections spread naturally through the Castle. There is no known final objective within the dungeon at this time. Residents typically explore until they become too wealthy, too injured or too spinach-related to continue. When you are ready, click here to descend the ladder into the stupid depths

Gingerly... Ever so gingerly... ...you remove the pea from the cushion. Somewhere, a tiny bell rings. Behind you, the enormous ogre-goose stops snoring. The kitchen falls all too silent. Slowly, the creature opens one enormous eye to stare directly at you. Then, with a deafening HONK, it launches itself from the chair. The beast charges across the kitchen, pecking at you with astonishing speed and personal hostility. You flee blindly through the corridors while the enraged honking echoes behind you. Several minutes later, bleeding slightly and smelling strongly of peas, you burst back into the circular chamber. Without hesitation, you scramble desperately up the ladder and out of the dungeon entirely. 💀 Your adventure ends here. 💡 Residents returning from the dungeon are encouraged to report any unusual conditions, transformations or lingering effects in the Castle community. 🚨 Please avoid revealing specific routes, procedures or pea-related details.

You shuffle towards the tall wooden cupboard beneath the flickering lantern. The ogre-goose continues to snore heavily behind you. The cupboard doors creak softly as you open them. Inside, you find: - several chipped bowls - a photograph of disgraced UK Masterchef judge Gregg Wallace - a satsuma, wearing what appears to be a tiny hat Behind the bowls sits a single pea upon a small velvet cushion. A handwritten label beside it reads: RESERVED FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS The pea appears completely ordinary. And yet... You can't stop looking at it. Behind you, the ogre-goose loudly breaks wind and shifts in its chair. Choices: - Take the pea - Leave through the eastern exit - Leave through the south-eastern exit

You sidle up to the large wooden barrel beside the slug. The enormous creature watches you silently from the rocking chair. Its medals clink softly in the candlelight. Slowly, carefully, you place both hands on the barrel and begin attempting to drag it away. The slug says nothing. This somehow makes the situation worse. The barrel moves perhaps two inches. Then stops completely. There is a deep internal noise from within the barrel. Not a mechanical noise. More the sort of noise a building might make if it became unhappy. The slug closes all visible eyes. Every candle in the chamber goes out. Something damp and extremely fast moves across the room towards you. Later, it takes the Castle surgeons 27 hours to sew your legs back on. 💀 Your adventure ends here. 💡 Residents returning from the dungeon are encouraged to report any unusual conditions, transformations or lingering effects in the Castle community. 🚨 Please avoid revealing specific routes, procedures or barrel-related details.

The passage opens into a hexagonal chamber filled with hundreds of tiny wooden chairs. Most are no larger than teacups. The room reeks of prawns and liquorice. At its centre, occupying the largest chair, is a creature composed almost entirely of eyebrows. The creature watches you silently. Its countless eyebrows rearrange themselves constantly into expressions of suspicion, disappointment, confusion and what may briefly be pride. After several uncomfortable seconds, the creature speaks in a high-pitched voice. “You look exactly like someone who would trust the soup shelves.” One particularly thick eyebrow curls judgementally in your direction. If you would like to ask the eyebrow creature a question, write it in the comments, then await a response. Otherwise you can only leave the way you came