The season opens in a cooperage haunted by peat ghosts and gueuze gargoyles. Vendors argue kvass vs. tepache while our host mislabels kumis as “horse latte” and maps the dungeon with a coaster. Objective: retrieve the Holy Bar Spoon.
A cursed ale replaces itself hop by hop until identity dissolves like a label in a puddle of malört. Skeleton sommeliers grade your palate in Latin and spill your notes on purpose. Reward: +2 Resistance to Bitterness (temporary).
Dash through mezquite gusts; leave citrus shrub footprints. Mid-boss “Señor Pechuga” sings an herbaceous aria and throws limes.
Monks chant in Brettanomyces. Ring the mash-tun bells in ABV-major. Wrong hymn summons the Sommelier Lich with a decanter mace.
Unlocks the Long Spoon of Social Distance and the Peat Vision shader.
Level up by surviving tasting notes. Boss: The Bitter Angel.
Ballroom tactics RPG; mash bill unlocks dialogue trees.
Foam-based stealth; sober aim optional.
Party wipes if your culture gets neglected.
Fermented drift tracks; curd shells; moo boost.
Cinnamon cavalry gets +2 vs. sour spirits.
Only tiny green bottles and mysterious assassins in your pulls.
Craft the ultimate orange-twist limit break.
Windy river town, heroic statue that looks like a mailbox, snack shack selling “medium-large small fries,” and a trout mural nobody has seen since 1998. The family are decent folks with earnest hobbies (gardening, yelling at the radio) and they do not endorse Season 2, the catchphrases, the merch, or the incident with the blender and the controller.
Despite allowing them to live in his basement, the family still does not endorse what he does. Holidays remain a respectful blur of casseroles and carefully changed subjects. He cares; he just doesn’t really remember them in chronological order. Progress: 13%.
LIVE: “right now im not doing that bad, ive only had one drink, ive only had one drink, youre welcome live”