Dungeons and Geese

Dungeons and Geese is a side-scrolling action platformer set in a surreal version of 19th century Victorian England. Players control an old man stripped of his fortune, who embarks on a desperate quest to hunt for valuable resources and uncover a mysterious truth. The game features old-school platforming gameplay, a wide choice of ‘Spears of Satan’ weapons, consumable food and elixirs, suspenseful dialog, plot twists, and testosterone-overloaded bosses, all set against a unique artistic concept and original musical score.

Dungeons and Geese: Review

Introduction

In the vast, often impenetrable catacombs of the Steam marketplace, where thousands of titles are born and vanish into obscurity each year, a select few achieve a certain kind of legendary status. They are not legends of unparalleled quality or commercial triumph, but rather legends of enigmatic ambition, of a concept so bizarre it demands investigation. Dungeons and Geese, a 2017 release from the cryptic developer The Bratans and publisher Dagestan Technology, is one such artifact. It is a game that presents itself with the solemnity of a Victorian gothic tragedy yet is armed with “Spears of Satan” and promises “testosterone overloaded bosses.” This review posits that Dungeons and Geese is a fascinating, flawed, and almost archeological piece of indie game development—a title whose overwhelming ambition and surreal premise are perpetually at odds with its execution, creating a experience that is less a game to be mastered and more a curious relic to be deciphered.

Development History & Context

To understand Dungeons and Geese, one must first understand the landscape from which it emerged. By 2017, the digital distribution platform Steam had fully transformed from a curated storefront into a sprawling, open marketplace. The gates were open, and a tidal wave of indie developers, hobbyists, and… well, The Bratans… flooded in. This was the era of the micro-budget game, often developed by small teams or individuals leveraging accessible engines like Unity or GameMaker.

The studio behind this endeavor, “The Bratans,” remains shrouded in mystery. The name itself, a slang term in Russian and other Slavic languages conveying a sense of brotherhood or comradeship (often with a tough, street-wise connotation), hints at a specific cultural perspective. Their publisher, “Dagestan Technology,” further deepens the intrigue, suggesting roots in the Russian republic of Dagestan. This origin is crucial; it frames Dungeons and Geese not as a product of the Western indie scene but as an outsider’s interpretation of it, filtered through a distinctly different cultural and creative lens.

The technological constraints were likely self-imposed, a choice to work within the familiar, comfortable confines of a 2D side-scrolling platformer. This was not a game attempting to push graphical boundaries but one seeking to tell a specific, albeit utterly bizarre, story. The gaming landscape of 2017 was dominated by massive, open-world epics and highly polished AAA sequels. Dungeons and Geese stood in stark opposition to this—a defiantly odd, low-cost, and conceptually dense title that seemed to ask not for mass appeal, but for a very specific, niche audience that could appreciate its unique, surreal vision.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The official description from its Steam page provides the only coherent glimpse into the game’s narrative, and it is a rich tapestry of absurdity and intrigue. The player assumes the role of an elderly protagonist who has been “stripped of his former fortune by a mysterious event.” This setup is pure Charles Dickens, a tale of a fallen man in a harsh, industrial society. His quest? To “seek out the truth as he hunts for one of the most valuable resources known to man.”

The genius, and the comedy, of Dungeons and Geese is that this priceless resource is never explicitly named. The title, however, screams its answer: geese. The game brilliantly subverts the high fantasy of its titular cousin, Dungeons and Dragons, by replacing dragons with waterfowl. This is not a epic quest for gold or glory, but a desperate, likely undignified scramble for geese in a world that seems to have decided they are the ultimate currency. This creates a potent thematic throughline of surreal capitalism and mundane absurdity, set against a backdrop of “XIXth century Victorian England atmosphere full of old ladies and churches.”

The promise of “dialogs full of suspense” and “fabulous plot twists” suggests a narrative ambition that far exceeds what one might expect from a budget platformer. What truths could our elderly hero uncover? Is there a goose cartel controlling the economy? A feathered conspiracy lurking within those very churches? The game positions itself as a suspense thriller where the macguffin is livestock, a premise ripe with satirical potential. The characters are described as “deep characters with strong personality and motivation,” which, in the context of a goose-hunting simulator, promises a world of uniquely driven individuals, all consumed by the avian-based economy.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

According to the available specifications, Dungeons and Geese is fundamentally an “Action” “Platform” game with a “Side view” perspective and “2D scrolling” visuals. The interface is “Direct control,” presumably through keyboard and mouse. This places it firmly in the tradition of classic run-and-jump games, but the Steam description hints at a more complex, if idiosyncratic, system.

The core gameplay loop appears to involve navigating Victorian-era environments, platforming across rooftops or through dungeons (presumably goose-infested ones), and combating enemies. The combat system is where the game’s flavor truly emerges. The player has a “Wide choice of Spears of Satan to launch against your enemies.” This phrase is magnificent. It suggests a weapon system that is both mundane (a spear) and utterly apocalyptic (“of Satan”). Are these literal spears blessed by dark forces to better hunt waterfowl? Or are they a metaphorical name for a particularly aggressive brand of goose-catching tool?

Survival is managed through “Food and elixirs to keep main character alive,” indicating a resource management aspect, likely essential for enduring the game’s promised “challenging and addictive” difficulty. And then, of course, there are the bosses: “Testosterone overloaded bosses.” This is perhaps the most evocative piece of design information available. It promises confrontations not with giant dragons or evil wizards, but with hyper-masculine, perhaps roid-raged, antagonists. One can only imagine a final boss fight against the Goose King, a sculpted, rage-filled man-bird hybrid, a perfect culmination of the game’s bizarre tonal clash.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The setting is explicitly defined: “XIXth century Victorian England.” This is a world of cobblestone streets, gaslit alleyways, Gothic architecture, and a society governed by strict propriety. To inject this atmosphere with “old ladies and churches” and then populate it with goose-hunting and Satanic spears is a stroke of surreal genius. The art direction, as implied, would need to walk a tightrope between grim, realistic Dickensian gloom and the absurdist comedy of its premise. One envisions a visual style where detailed, somber backgrounds are suddenly interrupted by the frantic flapping of a high-value goose.

The sound design is touted as featuring a “unique musical score.” What does a unique score for a Victorian goose-hunting simulator sound like? Perhaps it employs solemn, period-appropriate chamber music that swells dramatically during a goose chase, or maybe it leans into the absurdity with comedic, frantic carnival music. The atmosphere is described as “surreal,” confirming that the art and sound are intended to disorient and amuse, to sell the player on the reality of a world where waterfowl are the central pillar of the economy and conflict.

Reception & Legacy

Here, the historical record, as provided by the source material, grows exceptionally thin. The MobyScore is listed as “n/a.” It has been “Collected By” only 9 players on the MobyGames database, a telling metric indicating its niche status. Most strikingly, there are zero critic reviews and zero player reviews documented. This absence is, in itself, a powerful statement.

Dungeons and Geese was not a commercial or critical success. It did not set the world on fire. It was released, sold for a mere $0.49 on Steam, and seemingly vanished into the digital ether. Its legacy is not one of direct influence on blockbuster game design, but one of cult obscurity. It exists as a footnote, a curious example of the sheer unpredictable variety the indie game explosion enabled. It is a game talked about in hushed tones on obscure forums, a “have you heard of this?” title shared for its wonderfully weird premise rather than its polished execution.

Its true legacy may be as a precursor to other absurdist, meme-friendly games that found slightly more traction. It fits neatly into a genre of games that are “so bad they’re good” or simply too conceptually odd to ignore, a testament to the unbridled, often unfiltered creativity that can flourish in the digital marketplace’s darkest corners.

Conclusion

Dungeons and Geese is not a good game in any traditional sense. There is no evidence to suggest it is a competently designed, polished, or satisfying experience. Yet, to dismiss it on those grounds would be to miss its entire point. It is a work of art whose primary value lies not in its function as a game, but as a concept.

It is a beautifully absurdist satire, a cultural artifact from a specific time and place in game development history. It is the video game equivalent of a outsider art painting—technically crude but bursting with a unique, unfiltered, and captivating vision. The promise of its world, a Victorian dystopia fueled by goose-based economics and battled with Spears of Satan against testosterone-crazed bosses, is arguably more compelling than the game itself could ever hope to be. Dungeons and Geese is a glorious, fascinating failure, a testament to the fact that in the world of video games, ideas—no matter how bizarre—can sometimes be their own reward. It earns its place in history not as a masterpiece of design, but as a masterpiece of imagination.