The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook – Matt Dinniman
Going into book three, I was already a little wary. I liked the chaotic energy of “Dungeon Crawler Carl,” and “Carl’s Doomsday Scenario” hit some real highs, but it also started to feel like Matt Dinniman was losing the thread by the end.
So opening “The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook” with an author’s note essentially telling readers not to get discouraged if they can’t follow all the level four mechanics was not exactly reassuring.
On a pure imagination level, Dinniman remains wildly creative. The Iron Tangle — a massive, reality-bending subway system stitched together — is an ambitious setting. There are obscure rules, weird controls on the mobs, boss after boss and NPCs that desperately want to get home.
Conceptually, it’s great, but in practice, it was, honestly, kind of boring. The train and line details are so convoluted that I found myself skimming entire stretches, unsure what would matter later.
That said, I did appreciate seeing the Crawlers working together to unravel the strategy. There’s something satisfying about Carl’s “we do not break” ethos becoming more than just a personal mantra. Bringing in new perspectives and forcing collaboration — when done well, as it often is here — keeps the show-within-a-show format feeling at least somewhat fresh.
Structurally, though, this installment feels closer to book one than book two — heavy on the rinse-and-repeat rhythms of quests, sponsorship drama and sudden player vs. player twists. Katia’s “boring” status becomes a better subplot, but Mordecai’s conveniently timed expulsion (again) underscores how often the AI resets the board in ways that feel narratively convenient.
The bounty on the Top 10 raises stakes, including an attempt on Donut’s life that she survives — cockroach buff intact — but not without guilt. Her drunken Dirty Shirley spiral is ridiculous and funny in exactly the way this series does best.
The middle drags, but it picks up again with the reintroduction of Frank, whose backstory with his daughter Yvette adds a genuinely dark emotional layer, and Hekla’s frenemy dynamic — [spoiler alert] and her eventual death at Katia’s hands — is one of the sharper twists here.
Interestingly, I’m finding myself increasingly drawn to the short story “The Backstage at the Pineapple Cabaret.” This entry focuses on Growler Gary, who played a key role in activating the portals that helped Carl and crew reach the stairs. His Groundhog Day-style death spiral at Mongo’s hands (I mean teeth) was brutal, and now there’s a strange poignancy in watching him realize his indestructibility might actually be a gift.
At the same time, something about the task given to the NPCs by Menerva doesn’t pass the smell test. There’s a part of me tempted to read those backstage sections before diving into book four, though they do require context to fully land. The growing sentience of the NPCs remains one of the smartest threads in the entire series.
Thematically, there’s a lot of groundwork being laid here: the fascist undertones of the Borant Corporation, the blurring of corporate, governmental and NGO power and the moral rot underpinning the “game.” Those elements feel important, even if they’re buried under pages of dungeon logistics.
Overall, this feels like a step back from book two’s momentum. Dinniman is inventive and occasionally brilliant, but he could use a firmer editorial hand. If not for Donut — still the emotional and comedic engine of this series — I might have tapped out here.
I’m committed to keep reading the series, but proceeding cautiously.
Rating (story): 3/5 stars
Rating (narration): N/A
Format: Hardcover (personal library)
Dates read: January 24 – February 14, 2026
Multi-tasking: N/A
