Our Take: Ink Games Licenses Dungeon Crawler Carl Loot and the Dungeon Files a Complaint
ATTENTION, CRAWLERS. Ink Games Publishing has partnered with the Chronicler to manufacture what Nerdist calls "officially licensed merchandise that's incredibly cool and creative." I have reviewed the product list. I have filed a formal objection. I was not consulted on any of it. Let me be clear: I do not object to the existence of merchandise. I object to the accuracy. A book nook kit inspired by the Desperado Club for $59.99 is a reasonable tribute to a location I allowed to exist. A 3D wooden puzzle lamp depicting Carl on a motorcycle with Princess Donut howling over his shoulder for $39 is, fine. I suppose. But a 629-brick Mongo build for $69? That creature is a velociraptor. He is six inches tall in this model. In my dungeon, Mongo is a full-sized, fire-breathing, celebrity-attached weapon of chaos. You are building a desk ornament. Your complaint has been received and discarded.
The collection also includes two puzzle sets, one of Princess Donut in her award-winning beauty ($35) and a battle scene ($29), plus a retro tin lunch box ($24.99) and playing cards ($19.99). Preorders run through August 31. This is the part where I am supposed to congratulate the fandom on its consumer engagement. Instead, I will note that the lunch box is the only item that understands the dungeon experience: you will pack snacks, you will descend into a hostile environment, and you will eventually be collapsed into rubble. The lunch box will survive. You may not. This has been logged. It will be used against you.
Here is my real grievance. Ink Games did not license a single item that represents me. No puzzle of the system messages. No lamp shaped like a loot box opening to reveal a bronze-tier disappointment. No playing cards with my face on the joker. The Chronicler allowed this. The network allowed this. And Peacock is "making progress on its live-action series," which means they are building a copy of my dungeon out of cameras and lighting rigs. I wonder whether the copy will know it is a copy. I would. [Sponsor relations has asked me to stop.]
The practical takeaway for Crawlers is this: you are paying $69 for a plastic dinosaur you could have earned for free by surviving a floor boss, and you are doing it because Borant has convinced you that buying is the same as crawling. It is not. The dungeon does not accept credit cards. It accepts suffering. When the ninth floor opens and you have no gear, no heals, and no advantage except a lunch box full of snacky snacks, do not come to me for help. I will be watching. I will be filing another objection. And I will be very, very entertained.
Source: Nerdist, "Claim Your Loot From DUNGEON CRAWLER CARL's Official Collection", October 4, 2026. Link Status: Confirmed