Dungeon Dive Video Archive Update

The Prototype Table

There is a table near the loading door where the Keeper puts things that have not finished becoming themselves. Unbound proofs. Print-on-demand cards with the laser soot still on them. Boxes hand-packed by the people who designed them, one of which arrived wrapped in nothing but bubble wrap and optimism.

This crate is that table’s catalogue, and it is a strange one to file. Every exhibit here describes an object that did not, at the moment of description, exist — or existed only as a handful of copies, sent to a handful of people, to be posted back afterwards. The archivist is documenting something you cannot yet buy, sometimes something you will never be able to buy, and the document outlives the thing documented.

What the shelf preserves, then, is not games. It is the moment before a game hardens: when the rulebook still says adjacent where it means orthogonal, when the initiative track is ugly and somebody says so on camera, when a designer is still deciding whether to delete the last of his own flavour text. Some of these objects duly arrived. One arrives twice in this very catalogue, two years apart — and the second visit finds it thin-carded, crushed in the post, hand-packed with a thank-you note inside, and loved regardless. Others went quiet after their photograph was taken, which is its own kind of exhibit.

The Keeper is fond of this table for an unsentimental reason. A finished game tells you what it decided. A prototype tells you what it was still deciding, and these notes are frequently the only record anyone thought to keep of that.

The catalogue runs earliest to latest, March 2022 to January 2025. Two of these panels have hung here since the autumn; the rest went up this morning. The Keeper declines, as ever, to say which are which.

Exhibit Catalogue

754 transcripts • 833 posts archived

– The Keeper
Observes that this is the only shelf in the building where the label was written before the exhibit, and that several labels have now outlived the thing they were written for.