Pack a bag of dice and descend through eight layers of a branching underworld. Every die you carry is a wager, and every floor stacks the odds a little higher against you. Some bags fall apart in the shallows. A rare few hold together all the way down to a lich, a devouring god, or an ancient wyrm.
100+ artifacts
Dice are loot. You draw them from the bag, hone their edges, graft one die's trick onto another, and grow the bag until it can carry a run on its own. What you leave with is never what you walked in holding.
Each one rewrites the run. The paladin mends himself with every block, the witch fights beside a cat that grows with her, the gambler doubles the whole board or loses it to a single coin. Every class brings its own dice and its own spell.
Ten lie open from the start. The rest are sealed behind deeds you have to earn, their powers hidden until you do. Chasing the next one is half of why the runs keep pulling you back.
The forest forks six ways, and the road you take locks you into a themed descent to its own final boss, be it a lich, a devouring god, or an old dragon at the bottom of the world.
Nothing here loops. Every zone writes its own theme, bosses turn it darker, and the whole thing sinks into something mournful as your health runs low.
A dice vault, a level shop, talents for every class, a bestiary that fills as you hunt, and ascension tiers for when a clean win stops being enough.
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DICEBAG