They also might play into the second book, so I'm not dismissing that. By fa Overall, I liked it a lot. By far the biggest negative thing I noticed was a lack of characterization. There was a lot of focus on the surroundings, but not a lot on the characters themselves. Their reactions to things didn't seem proportional to what had happened; almost too dramatic.
They also seemed to draw conclusions on other characters based on things we as readers don't see; such as one character being praised when all I'd seen were reasons to dislike them. The writing style is third-person omniscient, though, and a lot of the interaction seems to be skipped over, so those are things I would have expected to see some of anyway.
Other than that, I enjoyed it a lot. The world itself is very well realized, and vividly described. There is also obviously a lot of history behind the events taking place, which, being a Tolkien fan-girl, I can appreciate. If Tolkien fans are looking for something in a similar style, this is a good one to try. Casey Vlastuin added it Jan 20, Jessica Erin is currently reading it Jul 21, There are no discussion topics on this book yet.
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Views Read Edit View history. In other projects Wikimedia Commons Wikipedia. Of the Darkest Dungeon. Ruin has come to our family. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. Gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor shadowed manor. Fattened by decadence and luxury.
And yet, I began to tire of conventional extravagance. Singular, unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnamable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last, in the salt-soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal and antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth but we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity.
Until consciousness failed me. It is a festering abomination! I beg you, return home, claim your birthright, and deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the Darkest Dungeon. You will arrive along the old road. It winds with a troubling, serpent-like suggestion through the corrupted countryside. Leading only, I fear, to ever more tenebrous places.
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There is a sickness in the ancient pitted cobbles of the old road and on its writhing path you will face viciousness, violence, and perhaps other damnably transcendent terrors. So steel yourself and remember: The old road will take you to hell, but in that gaping abyss we will find our redemption. Send these vermin a message: Welcome home, such as it is. This squalid hamlet, these corrupted lands, they are yours now, and you are bound to them.
Women and men; soldiers and outlaws; fools and corpses. All will find their way to us now that the road is clear.
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The degeneracy of the Hamlet is nothing, I fear, when compared to the condition of surrounding acres. My obsession caused this great foulness, and it is shameful that I must rely upon you to set it right. I can still see their angry faces as they stormed the manor, but I was dead before they found me, and the letter was on its way. There is a great horror beneath the manor: Trouble yourself not with the cost of this crusade - its noble end affords you broad tolerance in your choice of means.
Can you feel it? The walls between the sane world and that unplumbed dimension of delirium are tenuously thin here All my life, I could feel an insistent gnawing in the back of my mind. It was a yearning, a thirst for discovery that could be neither numbed, nor sated. All the decadent horrors I have seen pale in comparison with that final, crowning thing. I could not look, nor could I look away!
All manner of diversion and dalliance await those who cross the threshold with coin in hand. An increasing stockpile of curious trinkets , gathered from forbidden places. The raw strength of youth may be spent, but his eyes hold the secrets of a hundred campaigns. Excavations beneath the manor were well underway, when a particular ragged indigent arrived in the hamlet. This filthy, toothless miscreant boasted an uncanny knowledge of my ambitions and prognosticated publicly that left unchecked, I would soon unleash doom upon the world.
This raving creature had to be silenced, but, to my bafflement, doing so proved maddeningly impossible. How had he survived the stockades, the icy waters, and the knives I delivered so enthusiastically into his back? How had he returned time and time again to rouse the townsfolk with his wild speculations and prophecies? Finally, resigned to his uncommon corporeal resilience, I lured him to the dig. There, I showed him the Thing, and detailed the full extent of my plans. Triumphantly, I watched as he tore his eyes from their sockets, and ran shrieking into the shadows - wailing maniacally that the end was upon us all.
Mastery over life and death was chief among my early pursuits. I began in humility, but my ambition was limitless. Who could have divined the prophetic import of something as unremarkable as a twitch in the leg of a dead rat? I entertained a delegation of experts from overseas, eager to plumb the depths of their knowledge and share with them certain techniques and alchemical processes I had found to yield wondrous and terrifying results.