This book is so heavy on exposition, it makes you feel like you’re back in school, trapped in a never-ending lecture by that monotone teacher who could put coffee to sleep. The AI system in the story doesn’t just break the fourth wall; it bulldozes through it, sets up a PowerPoint presentation, and drones on until you’re begging for the sweet release of the final page.
The characters? Calling them two-dimensional would be an insult to paper. Beyond the main duo, the supporting cast is so underdeveloped, they make cardboard cutouts look like Oscar contenders. Investing emotionally in them is like trying to care about the extras in a low-budget infomercial.
Now, the humor. Imagine someone found a joke book from the ’90s at a garage sale and decided to sprinkle those gems throughout the narrative. It’s forced, outdated, and relies on tropes that should have been retired along with dial-up internet. If cringe had a literary form, this would be its magnum opus.
Let’s not overlook the problematic content. The instances of misogyny and sexism are so blatant, they make you wonder if the book was co-written by a time traveler from the 1950s. It’s off-putting and detracts from any potential enjoyment, leaving you questioning if you accidentally picked up a relic from a less enlightened era.
Finally, the prose is as repetitive as a pop song chorus. If I had a quarter for every time I read “what appeared to be,” I’d have enough to buy a better book ($3.50). The lack of narrative variety is mind-numbing, making each page feel like a déjà vu of the last.
In conclusion, “Dungeon Crawler Carl” is a masterclass in how NOT to write engaging fiction.
Save yourself the time and brain cells – 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦.