Okay, fine, I read Dungeon Crawler Carl. With its bright, splashy cover art and dedication of a full end cap to the series at my local Barnes & Noble, this LitRPG series by Matt Dinniman has exploded onto the scene seemingly out of nowhere for me. That’s when you know the hype momentum has built to a head, when I finally take notice. I tend to resist jumping on hype trains, because last time the hype didn’t disappoint me was with the release of The Hunger Games, and that’s because I’d already read Suzanne Collins’s previous series a billion times and got in on the ground floor of that one.

With regard to LitRPGs, I am staunchly not an enjoyer of stats. I dislike building new D&D characters and have in fact asked other players to make mine. If a video game demands I choose skills based on maximizing percentages, I put it down. And if a book wants me to do more than read and try not to notice editing errors or plot holes—to do math—then I’m out. I’m a words person. The only symbols I care about are punctuation.

But the mentions of Dungeon Crawler Carl online. The features in the newsletters hitting my inbox. The bookstore end cap. The literal strangers recommending the books directly to my face. And my reading-buddy nephew, the one person in the world who shares most of my reading tastes, adoring the series…all that added up to my buying the book less than a week ago.

I loved it. It’s violent and bloody and sweary and funny and irreverent and full of heart. Exactly how I like my fiction.

Reader be warned, I’m not kidding when I say it’s violent and bloody and sweary and irreverent. None of that pinged on my radar as too much, but as a Millennial survivor of multiple economic recessions, several international wars, the digital boom, and social change the like the world has never known before, I’m thoroughly broken inside, so your mileage may vary.

I’m not planning on talking about the basics of this book. I must be waaaay behind at this point, with many a review surely more lovingly crafted than mine already out there. But very briefly:

Carl winds up in an intergalactic dungeon crawl for his life and the fate of Earth with only his fists and his ex-girlfriend’s prize-winning Persian cat as allies. He doesn’t have pants. He doesn’t even have shoes. And between the complexities of the dungeon AI versus the debt-riddled corporation running this intergalactic reality television show, he’s not likely to get either anytime soon as he fights his way to the 18th floor, which no one has ever reached before.

Fortunately, this LitRPG is on the smoother side of stats crunchiness, choosing instead to focus on the social issues and the clever exploitations players tend to utilize in both TTRPGs and video games that the creators could never have anticipated. Mostly as a giant middle finger to the game makers, in this case. Beyond hilarious and irreverent item descriptions that take the boring out of reading item descriptions, this book manages to balance the fine line between readers who adore tracking stats (for some reason) and readers who just want to read a book (me) with designated times for when to expect them. Also, surprisingly, built in anticipation with the restriction on when those new items can come into play, but, primarily, a lot of smoothing the moments in between with sustained character development, interaction between the main characters, plot intrigue, and twists for days.

As I described it to my nephew about halfway through reading the book, this is a deeply thoughtful story masquerading as trash. Absurdity abounds, but in a way that absurdity only comes from attempts to invoke limitations on reality, such as in ultra-complex game rules for killing monsters, looting desperately needed items, and surviving to the next floor of the dungeon. This isn’t life, it’s a game, and it’s both ridiculous and awful in that the game must be played or else death follows.

Kind of like holding down a job.

I noted the obvious theme of corporate manipulation for wealth and prestige while an uncaring universe watches atrocities visited on other living beings for entertainment. There’s also significant and immediate critique of the black-and-white morality in “monsters = bad guys, humans = good guys.” And there’s the virtue of wit, of figuring out what makes reality tick and crafting unusual and unlikely solutions with just nearby resources. I adore a good clever-fox storyline, especially in a character one might expect to just punch his way through problems.

I also noticed literary DNA in this book from many a familiar source: The Hunger Games, John Dies at the End, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Ready Player One, and possibly Delicious in Dungeon. Those last two might simply happen to also fall in the LitRPG category for all I know. Like I said, I don’t seek out LitRPGs—I just happen to trip over them sometimes.

And, in the development of Carl’s character, I traced out a trope I’d thought long dead: that of a sad, noble hero whose rage and recklessness activates in the face of injustices. I’m talking Martin the Warrior. I’m talking Alanna of Trebond. I’m talking Katniss Everdeen. Someone who stands up to bullies on behalf of the small and weak. Someone who doesn’t drink the “survival of the fittest” Kool-Aid. Someone who puts their strength on the line to prove that everyone is worth protecting and fighting for, even those who don’t offer an immediate reward or benefit in return. Who may never. Who merit life and liberty and peace because they’re people.

In fact, the opposite of your typical game mechanics.

So, uh, here’s my rec, added to the hype pile of recommendations. Go read Dungeon Crawler Carl. Embarrassing, really. This guy does not need my voice in the cacophonous roar of his supporters at this point.

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