Back when the first *Dungeon Crawler Carl* book dropped, I’d just finished clawing my way through Eric Ugland’s entire catalog like a meth crazed llama. Audible, in its infinite wisdom, chucked DCC at me as a suggestion. Fine, I thought, I’ll bite. First listen? Liked but not loved. It was decent—funny, even—but I didn’t quite get how far down this rabbit hole of apocalyptic absurdity Matt Dinniman was planning to drag us. I shrugged, gave it a happy thumbs-up, and tossed it to my girlfriend. She, surprisingly, devoured it and wouldn’t shut up about it. Her play-by-play commentary guilt-tripped me into a second listen, and holy feral god, it slapped harder than a dirty foot stomping. By the time Book 2 rolled out, it was obvious: Matt had found his literary form, and I was hooked.
Fast forward to Book 7, and this series is a full-on vortex of chaos and brilliance. Each installment cranks the dial up—bigger world, juicier stakes, more layers than the dungeon itself. Glurp Glurp; resistance is futile, and I’m not even mad about it. Then there’s Jeff, who doesn’t just narrate—he embodies these lunatics. Carl’s deadpan grit, Donut’s glitter-dusted snark, the whole unhinged ensemble—it’s a masterclass in audio alchemy. I religiously tune into the cold reads like some cultist waiting for my next butt tattoo. This isn’t just a series; it’s a perfect storm of writing and performance that’ll ruin you for anything less.
So, here we are at Book 7, and if you’re still hovering over the reviews, squinting at this like it’s a cursed item description, unsure if it’s “for you”—spoiler alert, princess, it’s not. This wild ride is for the rest of us already chest-deep in loot boxes, cackling as the dungeon tries to eat us alive. Move along.