Love the entire album. There are not a lot of dungeon synth releases that keep me interested for more than 30 minutes and far beyond, a rare gem indeed. Much respect and thanks to Deorc Weg 🎧 🎶 🎼👍🍺 ❤ 💙
Great stuff. There’s a game I used to play at my sister’s house as a kid and it had music just like this. I’ve been searching for the name of it for years.
@@tradtke101 I've played Vermis. Certainly a unique experience but not for everyone, and you're right it has music very similar to this. Unfortunately the disk no longer works and I haven't been able to find any ports of it online. I still have the walkthrough guide, though, and I glance through it every now and again.
The old sword dragged behind me, the wide bronze blade pitted and pockmarked by a hundred battles, scraping across the frozen granite with an ominous grinding that echoed off ice and stone and hung in the misty chill with the same grim aimlessness that infiltrated everything in this dead place. My armor was in no kinder state; broken links of mail steadily cut my clothing to ribbons; one spaulder hung askew, tangled in the charcoal remnants of the gold cloak I had donned so proudly. And all of it spattered with my blood and flesh, and theirs, and worse things still. The stench of the Wastes was all upon me, and inside me, and I knew I'd never breathe clean air again no matter how far from this place I traveled in time or space or thought. A stiff wooden bench beside the massive black iron doors beckoned to my weary legs, and I settled on the cold slab of oak in the gentlest repose my miserable state could manage. I leaned the square ivory pommel of the great bronze sword against the wall beside me, and drew what remained of my cloak about me like a child much too old for the favored blanket of their infancy. The irony was not wasted on me. It alone was not wasted on me.
Another sin to be rectified; finally, soon. I breathed what little warmth existed within my breast into my frigid hands. The mail mittens warmed enough to release their grasp on my flesh, leaving the skin marked with a dazzling kaleidoscope of stinging white rings. Like the nettles of the swamps, I recalled bitterly. That pain and that poison lived in me still, too. It was all here, as it should be. I looked at the iron doors to my left, then to the enormous Grandfather clock on the wall across from it. Almost the appointed hour, and I am here. Sword in hand. All the hate and poison and blackness from across this land- I have gathered it to me, wearing it like filth on a sewer rat, returning to the source of the disease. It was killing me. She told me that years ago, when I left her. I did not understand then. Thought I would return to her one day. That the stiff embrace was her show of strength and solidarity, rather than the dispassionate farewell to a love long withered on the vine. Now I understood. I wielded the misery. Hefted hate in my swordarm and held up pain as my shield. The gold of the cloak had turned to ashen grey in her eyes before I ever stepped out the door. And I smiled at that thought. Through the tears that welled up and froze at the corners of my eyes.
Forgive me, my love. But I was right. This was the only way. And I the only one who could walk it. I breathed her out in a great cloud of steam, releasing the last bit of warmth inside me and watching it depart, perhaps reluctantly, perhaps eagerly, through a crumbled window, into the frigid darkness. The weakness banished from me, I felt my bones harden and the sinews of muscle twisted taut around them. Everything soft and warm and weak and good was gone and I was of the same ice and stone and hate that built this hell. Scraped and pitted like the old bronze greatsword. But likewise unbroken, unbent. And lethal. The only thing I need to be anymore. The clock struck three, and the black iron doors opened, carving through the ice with a deafening screech like the dying cry of a wretched and wounded animal. Appropriate.
I entered the great hall, sword rested on my shoulder. Confidence never failed to infuriate him. In the great chair it sat in a twisted facsimile of nobility. It wore the purple robes with the black and gold piping. Great holes gnawed by rats or gods-only-knows revealed pristine ivory bones and bits of pale blue flesh beneath the garb. "My good son," rasped the creature that wore my father's flesh. "My wicked father," I growled in retort. The wordplay came as reflexively as parrying aside a spear thrust. Meeting the steel in his words with my own steel never failed to provoke him. "Has insolence not cost you enough, child? I have run out of punishments. There is nothing left for me to take from you. Go to your bedchambers without supper." The creature choked in some grotesque pantomime of laughter.
"My father was many things... but never dull. You, though... so many crimes that demand account. But somehow the worst is that you're so boring. Uninspired. Predictable." "Look at you. All the unholy power, the forbidden knowledge, the longevity. And you sit on an uncomfortable throne in a frigid and ugly old keep, smelling of rat shit, wearing a tiara like some moldy corpse entered in a beauty pageant." "How. Fucking. Boring. Were you always a pathetic, derivative piece of shit? Or is that some sort of necromantic affectation?"
It growled and balled its fists. My words were under his skin like the worms that writhed visibly in the flesh clinging to his boney fingers. But then, it grinned. "Uninspired, am I? But I've given much thought to a suitable torment for you. What do give the child who has everything? What do you take from the man who has nothing? What is left, that you truly love?" "But of course... your beloved cloak of gold. Your reputation. I will wear your skin, and return to the Valley, and commit every crime anew in your name. And you will be here, shackled, seeing it all, for after I take your skin and pluck out your eyes, I will give you my own, so that every sin done by my hand, you will see and feel as your own." "You will see the crestfallen faces of everyone who has ever loved you or respected you shudder in terror and curse the evil wretch you've become. They'll know that the darkness within you has finally won. That their champion, their Prince of Light, has bent the knee before my throne. You will watch as hope dies, and the final flickering embers of light within them is extinguished." "And then... far worse. Unimaginable horrors I will inflict on them merely to twist the knife in your side." "Perhaps this final lesson will at last sink in. Perhaps you will repent and find absolution before every last person who knows your name dies shrieking and cursing you." "I doubt that even that shall move you. But I will do this, my son, for I still love you, and will leave no stone unturned in my quest to cure you of the perverted delusions that have warped your mind and turned you against your own father."
uploaded six days ago and 144 likes lol, is n't THIS the most loyal audience and popular music in the world? :D 145 likes now. Staring at female shieldmaiden photographs and black metal dark knight pics while playing this. Anyone wants to see a clip of that let me know.
This one really good, really ambient, not overbearing to the ears, not "dark" or whatever the crap some people call it... Just music, melodic music :) Sorry I have opinions...
it is somber, not joyous; maybe this is why people use the term 'dark' to describe it. for me it conjures ruined ancient buildings and the winter forest, much like the album cover. desolation, but not in a depressing way. it is like a strange nepenthe for many people.
@@vonjunzt4130 I like the word "Solitude"... It's like when you seek moments of Loneliness by your own choice, when you want to take a break and be alone for a while 🙏Nothing wrong with that
@@vonjunzt4130 "Solitude" reminds me of the time when I lived in an isolated rural area and I used to LOVE the lack of city noises, the absence of highway vehicle noise, and I loved to watch storms approach, the smell of the rain on the ground, etc. Full Moon provides plenty of light for night walks... Good shit... 🤘Cities fucking suck
This dark but fair sound of melancholy warms my heart!!! How can i get dungeon music like this? Is there a mailorder for music like Dungeon synth Dark Ambient and Neo classic Neo folk ?!?!
What makes a dungeon synth album considered "old school"? I know obviously they're playing a older style but what makes it considered an "old school" DS album from regular DS?
I think it is the sound aesthetics, the way the drums are equalized, I mean, I legit thought this was from the 1990's until I read the description and it said 2018.
i think they're going for that old sound, the "simplistic" midi sound with a bit of rough production. i see it as the closer it is to sounding like 90s mortiis and the less like erang the more old school
It mostly comes from the recording sounding relatively lo-fi. Most of these albums are recorded onto cassette tape, and that gives it a really nostalgic texture, almost slightly muffled and tinny. Synthesiser patch choice is also important as is the mood of the piece. Most of this stuff is heavily influenced by Tolkien, RPGs, and dark fantasy, so it is a legitimate genre with tangible and recognisable aesthetics.
I dont know when or where my obsession with dungeon synth began but I am glad it began, it is so much inspiring
it's also great because DS albums are incredibly varied, every album does something really different / has a different atmosphere (common themes ofc).
Perhaps it never began.
I had this album playing in one window and in another night forest sounds, best combo ever :)
thank you for the tip
Very good combo. Good idea, thanks for it.
I thought I was the only crazy bastard doing that kind of stuff, thanks for the validation xDDD
some rain sound on top of that to spice things up :D
My eyes have been opened by this. Thanks!
Writing poetry to this late at night. With low lamp light. With the sound of the night through an open window is very unsettling and epic.......
“Ruin has come to our family.”
I like you already! I hope your poetry is very unsettling, dark, and epic. This album is great. keyboards add coldness and night!
@@sirmount2636chill dad; I like boys it's nbd.
I can almost feel the bricks cold condensation again my hands when I listen to this album, great vibes for certain!
Love the entire album. There are not a lot of dungeon synth releases that keep me interested for more than 30 minutes and far beyond, a rare gem indeed. Much respect and thanks to Deorc Weg 🎧 🎶 🎼👍🍺 ❤ 💙
Starts with a nice way!
My favourite genre at the moment...and a good artist within it
This is so dark yet amazing and beautiful
Dungeon Synth is music of the magic worlds
Grato recorrido obscuro por un ambiente medieval. Me ha recordado a los trabajos instrumentales de Burzum.
asi es el genero ds
And just finished BURZUM then turned this on.
I love this music it's calming
designing medieval rpg mechanics - this popular playlist is great
Good ambience. Enjoyed the whole thing
Masterpiece
Untrammeled fire
Great stuff. There’s a game I used to play at my sister’s house as a kid and it had music just like this. I’ve been searching for the name of it for years.
Lands of Lore? Warlords? Fantasy Empires?
It's from the old game "Vermis". But do not share that information
@@tradtke101 I've played Vermis. Certainly a unique experience but not for everyone, and you're right it has music very similar to this. Unfortunately the disk no longer works and I haven't been able to find any ports of it online. I still have the walkthrough guide, though, and I glance through it every now and again.
The old sword dragged behind me, the wide bronze blade pitted and pockmarked by a hundred battles, scraping across the frozen granite with an ominous grinding that echoed off ice and stone and hung in the misty chill with the same grim aimlessness that infiltrated everything in this dead place.
My armor was in no kinder state; broken links of mail steadily cut my clothing to ribbons; one spaulder hung askew, tangled in the charcoal remnants of the gold cloak I had donned so proudly. And all of it spattered with my blood and flesh, and theirs, and worse things still. The stench of the Wastes was all upon me, and inside me, and I knew I'd never breathe clean air again no matter how far from this place I traveled in time or space or thought.
A stiff wooden bench beside the massive black iron doors beckoned to my weary legs, and I settled on the cold slab of oak in the gentlest repose my miserable state could manage. I leaned the square ivory pommel of the great bronze sword against the wall beside me, and drew what remained of my cloak about me like a child much too old for the favored blanket of their infancy. The irony was not wasted on me. It alone was not wasted on me.
Another sin to be rectified; finally, soon.
I breathed what little warmth existed within my breast into my frigid hands. The mail mittens warmed enough to release their grasp on my flesh, leaving the skin marked with a dazzling kaleidoscope of stinging white rings. Like the nettles of the swamps, I recalled bitterly. That pain and that poison lived in me still, too.
It was all here, as it should be.
I looked at the iron doors to my left, then to the enormous Grandfather clock on the wall across from it.
Almost the appointed hour, and I am here. Sword in hand. All the hate and poison and blackness from across this land- I have gathered it to me, wearing it like filth on a sewer rat, returning to the source of the disease.
It was killing me. She told me that years ago, when I left her. I did not understand then. Thought I would return to her one day. That the stiff embrace was her show of strength and solidarity, rather than the dispassionate farewell to a love long withered on the vine.
Now I understood. I wielded the misery. Hefted hate in my swordarm and held up pain as my shield. The gold of the cloak had turned to ashen grey in her eyes before I ever stepped out the door.
And I smiled at that thought. Through the tears that welled up and froze at the corners of my eyes.
Forgive me, my love. But I was right. This was the only way. And I the only one who could walk it.
I breathed her out in a great cloud of steam, releasing the last bit of warmth inside me and watching it depart, perhaps reluctantly, perhaps eagerly, through a crumbled window, into the frigid darkness.
The weakness banished from me, I felt my bones harden and the sinews of muscle twisted taut around them. Everything soft and warm and weak and good was gone and I was of the same ice and stone and hate that built this hell. Scraped and pitted like the old bronze greatsword. But likewise unbroken, unbent. And lethal.
The only thing I need to be anymore.
The clock struck three, and the black iron doors opened, carving through the ice with a deafening screech like the dying cry of a wretched and wounded animal.
Appropriate.
I entered the great hall, sword rested on my shoulder. Confidence never failed to infuriate him.
In the great chair it sat in a twisted facsimile of nobility. It wore the purple robes with the black and gold piping. Great holes gnawed by rats or gods-only-knows revealed pristine ivory bones and bits of pale blue flesh beneath the garb.
"My good son," rasped the creature that wore my father's flesh.
"My wicked father," I growled in retort. The wordplay came as reflexively as parrying aside a spear thrust. Meeting the steel in his words with my own steel never failed to provoke him.
"Has insolence not cost you enough, child? I have run out of punishments. There is nothing left for me to take from you. Go to your bedchambers without supper." The creature choked in some grotesque pantomime of laughter.
"My father was many things... but never dull. You, though... so many crimes that demand account. But somehow the worst is that you're so boring. Uninspired. Predictable."
"Look at you. All the unholy power, the forbidden knowledge, the longevity. And you sit on an uncomfortable throne in a frigid and ugly old keep, smelling of rat shit, wearing a tiara like some moldy corpse entered in a beauty pageant."
"How. Fucking. Boring. Were you always a pathetic, derivative piece of shit? Or is that some sort of necromantic affectation?"
It growled and balled its fists. My words were under his skin like the worms that writhed visibly in the flesh clinging to his boney fingers.
But then, it grinned. "Uninspired, am I? But I've given much thought to a suitable torment for you. What do give the child who has everything? What do you take from the man who has nothing? What is left, that you truly love?"
"But of course... your beloved cloak of gold. Your reputation. I will wear your skin, and return to the Valley, and commit every crime anew in your name. And you will be here, shackled, seeing it all, for after I take your skin and pluck out your eyes, I will give you my own, so that every sin done by my hand, you will see and feel as your own."
"You will see the crestfallen faces of everyone who has ever loved you or respected you shudder in terror and curse the evil wretch you've become. They'll know that the darkness within you has finally won. That their champion, their Prince of Light, has bent the knee before my throne. You will watch as hope dies, and the final flickering embers of light within them is extinguished."
"And then... far worse. Unimaginable horrors I will inflict on them merely to twist the knife in your side."
"Perhaps this final lesson will at last sink in. Perhaps you will repent and find absolution before every last person who knows your name dies shrieking and cursing you."
"I doubt that even that shall move you. But I will do this, my son, for I still love you, and will leave no stone unturned in my quest to cure you of the perverted delusions that have warped your mind and turned you against your own father."
This one is great.
uploaded six days ago and 144 likes lol, is n't THIS the most loyal audience and popular music in the world? :D 145 likes now. Staring at female shieldmaiden photographs and black metal dark knight pics while playing this. Anyone wants to see a clip of that let me know.
Really good stuff!
just amazing
Very good
This one really good, really ambient, not overbearing to the ears, not "dark" or whatever the crap some people call it... Just music, melodic music :) Sorry I have opinions...
it is somber, not joyous; maybe this is why people use the term 'dark' to describe it. for me it conjures ruined ancient buildings and the winter forest, much like the album cover. desolation, but not in a depressing way. it is like a strange nepenthe for many people.
@@vonjunzt4130 I like the word "Solitude"... It's like when you seek moments of Loneliness by your own choice, when you want to take a break and be alone for a while 🙏Nothing wrong with that
@@vonjunzt4130 "Solitude" reminds me of the time when I lived in an isolated rural area and I used to LOVE the lack of city noises, the absence of highway vehicle noise, and I loved to watch storms approach, the smell of the rain on the ground, etc. Full Moon provides plenty of light for night walks... Good shit... 🤘Cities fucking suck
@@FeelingShred Varg approves.
@@FeelingShred What makes the words and your so called description better then anyone elses?!
This dark but fair sound of melancholy warms my heart!!! How can i get dungeon music like this? Is there a mailorder for music like Dungeon synth Dark Ambient and Neo classic Neo folk ?!?!
Check out Ancient Meadow Records, Out of Season, forsaken relics and then whatever independent labels/distros put this kind of thing out.
If that image isn't prime wallpaper material, I don't know what is.
I loove the artwork on most of these Dark Dungeon type of musics
@@KingLich451 im pretty sure its a photograph not an artwork
I love the music from Elden Ring, but latley Ive been turning it off and playing dungeon synth while I explore caves and shit
What makes a dungeon synth album considered "old school"? I know obviously they're playing a older style but what makes it considered an "old school" DS album from regular DS?
I think it is the sound aesthetics, the way the drums are equalized, I mean, I legit thought this was from the 1990's until I read the description and it said 2018.
The chunkier, the more old-school.
i think they're going for that old sound, the "simplistic" midi sound with a bit of rough production. i see it as the closer it is to sounding like 90s mortiis and the less like erang the more old school
It mostly comes from the recording sounding relatively lo-fi. Most of these albums are recorded onto cassette tape, and that gives it a really nostalgic texture, almost slightly muffled and tinny. Synthesiser patch choice is also important as is the mood of the piece. Most of this stuff is heavily influenced by Tolkien, RPGs, and dark fantasy, so it is a legitimate genre with tangible and recognisable aesthetics.
Do you have a livestream? Would you consider one, if not?
504
-101
👎 👎 👎
Why?
What an expansive review
The pinnacle of internet reviews