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Treasure · Potion
The Sketchy Energy Shot From the Vending Machine
+5 either side; that side -2 next combat
See the whole deck first.
One email when the launch opens.
One email when it launches.
+5 either side; that side -2 next combat
One email when the launch opens.
One email when it launches.
A satirical dungeon crawl through a bathhouse. You cruise the hallway, open a door, and find a man. Manhandle him for Daddy's Favor, or talk your way past him and take his twunks back to The Pen. First to Favor 10 holding three twunks walks into the sauna.
246 cards. 212 illustrations, all drawn in one style. Eight player boards, each a dating profile whose score track is Daddy's DM thread. 3–8 players, 60–120 minutes, 18+.
It isn't for sale yet. Leave an email and you'll hear first when it launches — one message, nothing else, ever.
How it playsForty-five men behind forty-five doors. Here are eight of them. Pick one.
Eight player boards, each one a dating profile. Six of them are below.
Every room holds someone. You can fight him or flirt your way past. One attempt each.
Balance figures are from simulation only until the human playtest report is published.
One email when the launch opens.
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A card game for 3 to 8 players. On your turn you open a door, meet a man, and either fight him or flirt with him. Win and you move up. The first player to reach Favor 10 wins. Follow the steps below in order.
You cruise the hallway — draw a Door card and meet whoever's behind it. Then you choose.
Manhandle him. Your Favor plus your gear against his Level. Beat him and you earn Daddy's Favor and whatever he was carrying. Ties go to him; he was there first.
Or seduce him. Roll a die against a target that gets harder the bigger he is. Succeed and you leave with his twunks — no fight, no treasure, no Bad Stuff. Fail and the Bad Stuff lands anyway.
Favor is how you climb. Twunks are how you win — you need three of them in front of you to cross the Threshold. But a twunk is also worth +3 in a fight, and burning one is often the difference between winning tonight and winning at all. Every twunk you spend is one you have to replace before you can claim the game.
Your tribe and your position come out of the deck like everything else. Until you find them you're a Walk-In — no bonuses, no restrictions, no respect. And you can be cursed straight back out of who you are.
The Pen holds forty-eight cards and only fourteen men. Sacrifice one and he never comes back. The moment it empties it's Last Call: the lights flick twice, every man in the building gets harder, and nobody new is walking in. Recruit faster.
Take enough Bad Stuff and you're Thrown Out — the room picks over your things from poorest to richest, you lose the lot, and you come back at Favor 1 with a fresh towel. It is not losing. It is the only thing that stops a runaway leader.
First man to Favor 10 by beating a monster, holding three twunks, walks into the sauna. Nobody walks in there alone.
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What's in the box. 111 Door cards, 87 Treasure cards, 48 Twunk cards — 246 in all, from 212 individual illustrations. Eight player boards. Ten Favor flame tiles, a Last Call marker, one die, and a 16-page rulebook. 3–8 players. 60–120 minutes. 18+.
Balance figures are from simulation only until the human playtest report is published.
One email when the launch opens.
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The building is the game. Every man you meet is standing in a room, and the room is why he's lit the way he is. Ten of them, from the door you walk in through to the one nobody walks through alone. Pick a room on the map to see who's in it.
The street corner. A bouncer, a queue that isn't a queue, and the decision to go in. Nothing has happened yet.
The lobby. Plexiglass check-in window, a wall of key hooks, a vending machine and a vinyl bench. Amber lamplight. This is where you find out what you cost.
The lockers. Cold fluorescent, hard shadows, everyone pretending not to look. Where things get taken and where they get found again.
The showers. Dim cool white and haze. Brief, and busier than it looks.
The steam room. Tile, not wood — a deep blue dark you can't see three feet into. The oldest arguments in the building happen here.
The hot tub and pool. Lit from below by underwater lamps, caustics crawling across the ceiling. Nobody looks good in this light. Everybody stays anyway.
The Pen. The dance floor. Fourteen men, forty-eight cards, and a DJ. You come here to recruit and you leave with whoever you got.
The bar. He's three drinks in and he has a theory about you.
The hallway. The darkest part of the building — a narrow maroon corridor of cheap louvered doors and wet rubber tile, lit by sconces. Every door is a card. This is what "cruise the hallway" means.
The private rooms. One lamp, one bed, one door that's either open or it isn't.
The dark room. A bare red bulb and not much else.
The sauna. The end of the path. Daddy is in there. You need Favor 10 and three twunks to cross the Threshold, and you don't get to see him until you do.
One email when the launch opens. Bring friends.
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Your player board is a dating profile. The score track down the side is Daddy's DM thread — one message unlocked per Favor you earn, ending on a photo of him in the sauna. Eight of them, and the joke is recognition, not mockery. You know all of these men. You have been at least two of them.
Five questions. Be honest, or don't; the game will find out.
One message per Favor. It ends on a photo of Daddy in the sauna.
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Three decks, one visual language: heavy black ink over painted colour, every man lit by the room he's standing in. Nothing here is stock, nothing is reused, and nothing is a placeholder — the box is finished.
Every design in the box, in one hand. Forty-five men, the rooms they're in, and everything you'll find on the floor. Open any card for the full text.
One email when the launch opens.
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Indie board game developer, sauna enthusiast, and avid gaymer.
Growing up in Idaho, you don't get the thrill of a men's bathhouse. So I decided to make my own, in a box, out of 246 cards. Daddy's Dungeon started as a joke about a game night and turned into a finished deck, a rulebook, and the launching pad for a gaming company.
Running it from here is the funniest part. Idaho isn't a pro-gay state by any measure, so making this here is either brave or unhinged depending on who you ask. But people around here have been more into it than I expected, and they keep reaching out wanting to help. That's most of why I'm ready to just be myself about it and maybe make it a little easier for a few other gay entrepreneurs around here to do the same.
Seeing the girl's face at the print shop was priceless. She was a bit embarrassed, I wasn't. Her cubicle said "Love Wins," but I don't think she's been exposed to anything like this.
It's made by one person who wanted this to exist. Every joke is written, every rule has been argued about. Daddy is waiting.
Swole Gaming LLC · Boise, Idaho
One email when the launch opens.
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Daddy's Dungeon: Bathhouse is a satirical dungeon-crawl card game for 3–8 players, set in a gay bathhouse. Players cruise a hallway, meet the man behind each door, and either manhandle him for Daddy's Favor or talk their way past him and take his twunks. First to Favor 10 holding three twunks crosses the Threshold into the sauna.
Press pack. Box mock, both lid views, three cards, the wordmark on transparent, the 212 contact sheet and the fact sheet — one zip, 21 MB, or open any file on its own below and save it from there.
swole.inc.gaming@gmail.com · Swole Gaming LLC, Boise, Idaho. Interview and review-copy requests welcome.
One email when the launch opens.
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