LONDON – What began as a small but determined protest against the upcoming September 5th release of the controversial roleplaying game Dungeon Dunce ended in cabbage-flinging, accidental summoning, and at least one duck-related prophecy.
Dozens of parents, educators, clergy, and a handful of confused bystanders gathered outside Red Cape Publishing yesterday to demand the cancellation of Dungeon Dunce, a tabletop game critics have called “a danger to family values, attention spans, and the English language.”
“We will not sit idly by while our children are taught to worship talking ducks, barter with furniture, and legally marry goblins,” declared Brenda Collywobbles, chair of the activist group M.U.M.S. (Mothers United against Magical Shenanigans). “The release of this game on 5th September is a direct attack on bedtime routines across the nation.”
Protesters arrived armed with hand-painted signs reading “Dice Are Vice,” “Ban the Duck,” and “No Level Ups Before Tea.” Things remained mostly civil until a counter-protest emerged from the alley behind a nearby Greggs, led by fans of Dungeon Dunce dressed in cloaks, fingerless gloves, and suspiciously damp wizard hats.
Chants of “Save the Duck! Free the Goblins!” clashed with shouts of “Not in my pantry!”
Tensions reached a critical level when a protestor threw what was later confirmed to be a cabbage bearing a runic sigil.
“That’s when the chanting changed,” said eyewitness Carol Nibbles, who works in the Pret across the road. “The sky got darker, the wind picked up, and then someone summoned a bard who would not stop freestyle rapping about salad-based necromancy.”
Police arrived shortly after, only to be immediately distracted by a small group of rogue children playing a live-action version of Dungeon Dunce in the flower beds.
One constable reportedly failed a saving throw and began leading a spontaneous conga line that circled the building three times.
Red Cape Publishing released a brief and slightly singed statement:
“Red Cape Publishing does not technically release games. Red Cape Games, our publishing-adjacent… cousin… is responsible for the upcoming Dungeon Dunce launch. We would like to reiterate that no ducks were intentionally summoned, and all cabbages were free-range.”
Red Cape Publishing
Red Cape Games later tweeted:
“We regret nothing. See you September 5th.”
Clean-up crews spent the evening recovering glitter, confiscating scrolls labelled “Mildly Inconvenient Hex,” and attempting to reason with a goat claiming to be the new Overlord.
No arrests were made, although one protestor was briefly turned into a garden gnome and another left the scene convinced they had been knighted by a toaster.
SIDEBAR: INTERVIEW WITH THE OVERLORD
“The Game’s Not Dangerous. You Lot Are Just Squishy.”
We managed to corner one of Dungeon Dunce’s so-called “Overlords” during the chaos, an 11-year-old named Felix “Dreadfang” McCluskey, wearing a bin liner cape, a traffic cone helmet, and a badge that read “I Decide Who Lives.”
Here’s what he had to say:
“First off, yeah. I summoned the cabbage. You try running a dungeon with parents heckling you about sodium content. Secondly, Dungeon Dunce isn’t dangerous unless you’re a coward, a turnip, or Brenda from M.U.M.S.”
Overlord Felix
“It’s just a bit of fun. You roll dice, battle ducks, maybe combust spontaneously if your optimism’s too high. Standard Tuesday. We even included rules for hugging!”
“Honestly, I think the real danger is adults who don’t know how to play pretend without panicking. They fear what they don’t understand… mostly goblins.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to go. The goat’s in charge of initiative now.”
Felix then vanished into a swirl of glitter smoke after casting “Exit, Stage Left.”
“HE CALLED ME A TURNIP!” SAYS OUTRAGED MOTHER AS GOAT TAKES OVER LOCAL PROTEST
Brenda Collywobbles Responds to Overlord Felix’s ‘Hurtful Spellcasting and Immature Remarks’
Following the surprise interview with Dungeon Dunce Overlord Felix “Dreadfang” McCluskey, protest organiser Brenda Collywobbles has issued a strongly worded rebuttal, backed by a clipboard, three laminated charts, and one very damp Labrador named Muffin.
“I don’t care if he’s 11. I’ve been called many things in my life, uptight, dramatic, part-rhubarb, but never a turnip,”
Brenda fumed outside Red Cape headquarters while trying to scrape glitter off her Marks & Spencer trousers.
“That boy is a menace. That game is a menace. And the goat? Don’t even get me started on the goat. It bit Malcolm from choir and then rolled a nat 20 on ‘intimidate’.”
Brenda went on to demand a formal apology from Red Cape Games, a ban on vegetable summoning within 200 feet of any Waitrose, and the immediate removal of “that ridiculous Cosmic Duck” from all marketing materials.
“It’s not just a game. It’s indoctrination. My grandson was a perfectly ordinary child until Dungeon Dunce. Now he insists we call him Lord Crumpet and won’t eat dinner unless he gets initiative first.”
When asked if she’d actually read the game’s rulebook, Brenda narrowed her eyes and whispered:
“I tried. But the table of contents insulted me.”
She concluded the press conference by vowing to continue the protest “until this nonsense is cancelled, recalled, or turned into a BBC documentary about poor parenting.”
Meanwhile, the goat, now wearing a sash that reads “Acting Overlord (Interim)” was seen chewing a protest sign and headbutting a journalist.
Brenda’s final demand, a nationwide ban on what she described as “irresponsible dice and duck-based literature”, was promptly ignored when the protest goat urinated on her clipboard, declared itself “King of Croydon,” and wandered off with the vicar’s sleeve in its mouth.
Despite the mayhem, Red Cape Games remains unmoved.
“Dungeon Dunce releases 5th September,” said a tiny spokesperson (possibly a child) through a megaphone made of cardboard and regret. “We suggest the nation emotionally prepares itself. Or at least buys a mop.”
The game is expected to launch with full rules, optional chaos, and limited regard for parental approval. Lock up your vegetables. The duck is coming.
Red Cape Publishing 