Dungeons Below

This Game is a Ludum Dare Jam Submission

This game began with a simple idea—curiosity leading someone into the unknown. In Dungeons Below, you play as someone who is stuck in a dungeon and there is no known way out, discovering a series of eerie, descending dungeons. There’s no clear reason why the door was locked… but something inside you makes you step forward anyway.

The game is short and atmospheric. Each level takes you deeper—starting with empty silence, then faint signs that something else might be down there, and finally… something that isn’t happy you came.

The progression is subtle. I didn’t want to rely on jump scares or heavy narrative—I wanted the atmosphere to do the talking. Every step into the unknown is a little slower, a little heavier. You’re meant to feel alone. Not terrified, but tense. Uncertain. Like you're walking into a place you were never meant to find.

Mechanics are kept simple—movement, attack, health—but behind the simplicity, the intention was to make it feel just challenging enough, while letting the environment build the tension.

I didn’t have time to make my own art, so I used free assets that captured the vibe I imagined—a cold, quiet dungeon echoing with the sound of your footsteps and distant creaks. I poured what I could into the feel, even if I couldn’t polish everything the way I wanted.

This isn’t a big game. But it’s a piece of my imagination and effort, built during a storm of emotions, pressure, and a lot of personal learning. If you play it, I hope it makes you feel something—even for a few minutes.

My First Ludum Dare. It was a journey through pressure and growth This was my very first Ludum Dare, and going into it, I didn’t know exactly what to expect—just that I wanted to push myself, build something from scratch, and see how far I could go in 72 hours.

When the theme “Depths” was revealed, I immediately thought of hidden spaces—basements, dungeons, eerie places buried under the surface. I settled on building a game about curiosity, darkness, and discovery. Originally, I imagined a multi-level basement, but due to time constraints and the need to use free assets, I shifted to dungeon environments.

From the start, things were intense. I struggled with setting up systems, tracking bugs, fixing lighting issues, managing collisions, and a hundred other small but crucial details. It was exhausting—mentally and physically. I lost track of time, skipped meals, and barely slept. At one point, the pressure felt like too much, and anxiety crept in. But somehow, I kept going.

I can’t say it was smooth or even that I enjoyed every moment of it—but I grew. A lot. I learned how to prioritize, when to stop tweaking things that weren’t critical, and how to build even when everything felt like it was falling apart.

At the end of it, I finished my game. It’s simple. It’s flawed. But it’s mine. And it was made during a time of emotional weight and uncertainty. Releasing it felt like a personal victory—because it represents not just a game, but a moment where I didn’t give up, even when I felt like I could.

To anyone else trying this for the first time—know that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. What matters is showing up, learning, and finishing something that matters to you.

I’m proud of what I made. Not because it’s perfect, but because I got through the process and learned so much more than just game dev.