Cascadia Calling 2026.6.30

"god damnit, Donut"

I’ve long held the opinion that popular works of art that we dislike are a rare and precious opportunity. When I started Dungeon Crawler Carl, I assumed that it offered such an opportunity. As a book, it seemed poorly edited and badly written. It took me a long time to realize that the problem was that I was misunderstanding what kind of art it was.

I’m surprised, honestly, by how little I cared for it at first. Many people whose taste I admire are fans of the series. The people who love it are so passionate that one of them insisted that I read their signed, hardback copy of the book, as if it were an artifact that would give me +3 to the “Enjoying DCC” skill. My partner, who is not the typical audience for DCC’s brand of nerd bait, loves the series, particularly the audiobooks.

I started reading it in book form and was immediately struck by the fact that Matt Dinniman desperately needed an editor. His writing style on the page is clunky and often redundant. He regularly inserts distracting asides that don’t serve the plot or the characters but seem to just be an excuse for Dinniman to tell the reader a joke he’s had rattling around his brain. He gets bogged down in minutiae about the gaming system of the world and exhaustively talks about the inventory and stats of the characters. He structures the entire plot in so rigid and episodic a fashion that almost any tension, danger, or mystery is resolved within the same chapter or the next.

All of this gets in the way of us actually getting to know the characters, some of who (especially Princess Donut, the Cat) end up being quite charming, if left to their own devices. It also prevents the plot from having as much punch as it might otherwise. An editor could have helped Dinniman tighten up the language, cut out his asides (which are clearly his darlings), draw some through-lines, and focus more on the people and tensions that are the heart of the story.

All of these sins, I suspect, get better as the series go on. I’ve been told as much from people I’ve confided my dislike of the first book with. As with the characters in his book, apparently as Dinniman exercised his skills more, they improved, and as he got more resources (time, money, editorial services), his game improved.¹

My assessment of DCC change as soon as I decided to switch to the audiobook. The first thing I noticed was that the relentless pace and propulsive action of the story flowed more easily when they were narrated to me. The fact that it was plotted in bite-sized chunks of problem, callback, solution meant that I got a little episodic hit every time I put it on during a walk or while puttering around the house. It gave a consistent cadence of action that meant I was never bored.

Relatedly, there’s the constant march of “number go up” game design, but applied to a novel. Even the sections of the book in which the characters are resting are given over to filling their inventory with random ephemera that will no doubt come back to solve some problem down the line. This works in literature for the same reason it works in game design: it feels like progress. When the characters get a new piece of armor or a new mechanic is introduced via a status message, there’s a sense that something important has happened. It gives the illusion of plot or character development.

Of course, much of the credit for the power of the audiobook goes to the narrator, Jeff Hays. He does an amazing job imbuing the characters with life via their voices, and helping the listener make sense of the frenetic prose. With a less-talented narrator, I’m not sure even the advantages of the audiobook version could have overcome my initial skepticism.

Maybe this is the first book series ever designed for audiobook. In a way, Dinniman is serving not as author, but as dungeon master. And the role of dungeon master is one best done with speech. The DM’s goal is to ensure that every player at the table feels like they have agency and a place in the story. Without characters, Dinniman’s DM role becomes just about ensure a relentless, constant pace of action. At this, he succeeds.

Few things ruin a good D&D² table more than characters getting bogged down in ephemera buried in item descriptions or bickering over what to do next or constantly taking time out to try and invent their own sidequests. DCC’s pacing ensures that this never happens. Even as I rolled my eyes at the litany of item descriptions and lists of loot boxes, I was confident that the items or skills would come around to good use. While the setup can be tedious, Dinniman is generally good about making sure there’s a payoff somewhere down the line.

DCC works because it strips all the messiness out of a tabletop RPG game. You have no other players to ruin your plans. Hell, you have no choice in your own actions in the game. Rather you just get to watch the DM play through the session himself, always ensuring the maximally dramatic events occur. At its best, it’s a good DM running you through a fun, lighthearted adventure. At its worst, it’s hearing a recap of an adventure you’re not part of, from a rando at a game shop selling you on a TTRPG system you’re unfamiliar with.

I don’t think that I’ll read another volume of DCC in book form. But if I ever decide to devote more time to audiobooks, DCC will be high on my list to start that adventure.

1. I also hope the later books make good on the anti-Capitalist critique that he seems to be clearly telegraphing every time we get a peek behind the scenes of the world.

2. Or other tabletop role playing game (TTRPG).