This is a show diary from the Great Lakes Dungeon Siege 2025 from Nick Gnome of Hermit Knight/Weregnome Records and Editor-in-Chief Colin Dempsey. Last year, I traveled and took pictures of the show. I was supposed to go this year, but my wife had to leave the country for work for a few weeks, so I stayed home to take care of my dogs. While I am sad I had to miss the second edition of GLDS, this write-up, in the fashion of “all mistakes retained for authenticity,” should give you a good idea of the event. If you have a chance to go see live dungeon synth, it is a wild experience. You will most certainly receive a high five and, if you are lucky, a DS-themed tattoo on your hand.
–Kaptain Carbon
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When I pulled into Detroit, my mood immediately shifted from that of a tired traveler to an enthusiastic little guy. My first stop was at the home of a dear friend, Elyvilon. As one of our boots-on-the-ground organizers, they have been nurturing the local DS music scene with countless great shows, bringing folks from all over to play in the iconic Motor City, already a proving ground for our music scene. Detroit’s affordability and easy accessibility made it the perfect choice for the second fest’s location.
That first night, after plenty of high fives and laughs with the crew, we ended up at a small tattoo shop called Job Stoppers, Inc. My Uber driver was confused when the directions led us to a narrow alley behind a strip of stores. The actual entrance was tucked away down that alley, leading into a strange and wonderful little shop with hearts and cats everywhere. The shop agreed to host our pre-party, offering DS-themed flash tattoos and a dark, dingy basement for anyone who wanted to set up keyboards and riff on some improvised dungeon music. This setup paid homage to the very first festival, Northeast Dungeon Siege (NEDS), which took place years ago with only a few friends jamming in a basement or laundry room. Now, here we were again, in the bowels of Detroit, recreating that same raw energy.
The event was free to anyone who wanted to join, and it was BYOB, a blessing for folks like me, borderline social alcoholics who thrive on music, friendship, and cold beer. I grabbed a 12-pack across the street and convinced Kyvon to buy some Faygo for the full Michigan experience. The pre-party lasted until nearly midnight, with questionable tattoo decisions and too many beers shared in that alley. Eventually, I stumbled back to the Airbnb to hang with Fernmage, their partner, and some friends. I passed out on the couch waiting for a Taco Bell order I’d DoorDashed, but luckily woke up in time to destroy those burritos before getting some sleep for the festival’s official start.
We were up early the next morning, ready to go. The organizers, myself included, arrived around 9:00 a.m. to load in and prep for the day. After a few hours, we were finally settled. I asked the main bartender if they had any Rolling Rock, my preferred shit beer of choice. Sadly, they didn’t. To my surprise, the bartender went across the street and bought out the entire stock of Rolling Rock so I wouldn’t be stuck drinking anything else. By the end of that first day, I think I’d had somewhere between 15 and 18 of them.
Doors opened around 1 p.m. Kicking off the fest was Fanged Imp, an Elden Ring-inspired project that was the perfect opener. The two-day lineup was carefully curated: one day of darker, trve dungeon sounds, and the other featuring lighter, fantasy-inspired fare (yes, there’s a difference, but I’m too tired to explain it).
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The first day went off mostly without a hitch, aside from the visuals not showing up until sundown because we didn’t account for the massive windows behind the stage. Each act brought their best, absolutely crushing it. We ended with Morke, a black metal project that you need to check out if you haven’t already, followed by a wild new collaboration between Redhorn Gate and Elyvilon. Their set featured stage actors and puppets, including a massive goblin head that ate bunnies. It was ridiculous, amazing, and musically on point. The crowd was hooked, bouncing in awe at both the sound and the spectacle.
Beyond performing, I spent much of the day running the WereGnome Records table, selling our brand of questionable cassette tapes to friends and fans alike. By the end of day one, the reason we put so much effort into this small community became clear. We are part of a found family, often weirdos from other music scenes who share a love for the strange beauty that Dungeon Synth offers. It’s a space where you can be your full, sword-loving, dragon-appreciating self. We may roast our own scene, but it’s always done with love. Events like this matter. They give us a space to gather, laugh, drink, and share the magic that binds us. If you’ve never seen a live DS performance, you owe it to yourself to check one out. Not every act will blow your mind, but you’ll still walk away with plenty of “hell yeah” moments. Now, I wasn’t going to write about the second day, but my main partner-in-chaos, KAP, would kill me if I didn’t. So here it is, briefly. (Kap’s Note: I never threatened violence. Rather, a dock in pay from the dungeon newspaper Nick was technically employed at or puts on his taxes every year as an employer.)
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We woke up early again, hungover but determined. I wandered over to Hamtramck Disneyland for coffee with a new friend I’d met the day before. We sat at a small café, watching rain pour over the dirty streets, washing away the grime that clings to these old industrial corners. By noon, I was back at New Dodge Lounge for the traditional artist photo we take at every Siege. Normally, we find a cool outdoor spot, but time was short, so we took it at the venue. (I’ll share the picture later, though I can’t remember who took it.) The second day featured the lighter side of Dungeon Synth, what many call fantasy synth. We schedule it last so people can wind down and leave on a gentle note.
Every performer was incredible; not a single “meh” act in the bunch. Each artist brought a level of professionalism and heart that made it impossible to pick a favorite. Somewhere between rounds of Rolling Rock and whiskey chasers, my heart grew fuller with every conversation and hug. The thing about this scene is that there are no egos, no rockstar attitudes, just a bunch of folks who love the same weird music you do. You might see someone in full armor next to someone dressed like a psychedelic witch, and both fit perfectly. Many of us have dedicated years of our lives to this, sometimes at the cost of normalcy or relationships. I’m guilty of that myself. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. When I had surgery last year, this same community raised the money to cover my expenses, no questions asked, just genuine concern. That’s the kind of people we are. Misfits, sure, but with hearts of gold.
So yeah, the second day was perfect. I drank too much, high-fived too many people, screamed my voice raw, and emptied my wallet, but I was completely fulfilled. What more could you ask for? In the end, the experience can’t be put fully into words. Great Lakes Dungeon Siege will return next year, the weekend before Halloween, once again at New Dodge Lounge in Detroit. If you’re into glory, swords, and cool shit, come on out. I’ll have a high five waiting for you.
—Nick Gnome
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Being that I didn’t contact anyone aside from Kap ahead of GLDS, I approached it as a way of connecting with people I’d only ever spoken with virtually, not only putting faces to names but bodies, personalities, speaking patterns, and senses of humor to email addresses. Most acts provided the perfect backdrop for that. Dungeon synth’s textures wash over you rather than commanding attention, permitting one to sink into it just as much as it allows conversations to play out atop it.
The venue was oddly appropriate for the energy Great Lakes Dungeon Synth needed–high ceilings, a fair bit of space for vendors to set up, an upper balcony with seating, and an area small enough that the attendants could fill it but large enough that it felt like an event. If I had one critique, it’d be that there could’ve been more candles. I would’ve gone all in on decorations with banners, chalices, candlebaras, and whatnot. I doubt the New Dodge Lounge could legally light as many candles as I would’ve. “Fire hazards,” or whatever they’re called these days. Point being, a little decoration could go a long way, as multiple acts proved, whether it was Mors Vitaque pondering their orb or Mythstone constructing a full musical theater performance of dwarves battling goblins.
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The festival also displayed how wide of a net dungeon synth casts. It has outgrown its parent genre. In some cases, drawing from Final Fantasy VII more than any Norwegian black metal group, jaunting, idling, scrolling through textboxes and rearranging its inventory. Elsewhere, Fief brought the tavern to the (New Dodge) lounge, transforming an appreciative but polite crowd into a celebratory dance hall. Corpse painters swung in circles with Elven cosplayers. It was a doe-eyed expression of fantasy that sat adjacent to the kvlt acts and the RPG-indebted performers. Credit to GLDS for assembling the line-up and making it flow so seamlessly.
Despite my talk about dungeon synth’s expansion, it’s still very much a niche interest. Fief is without a doubt the largest new-school dungeon synth artist, but the bar didn’t suddenly fill up 1,000 new attendees. when he performed. The closeness within GLDS gave it an air unlike any I’ve been to before–where everyone was roughly on the same footing of knowledge and shared a mutual interest in a small scene. This gave it a relaxed atmosphere that permeated conversation, knowing that most of your dumb interests were shared by others in attendance. The anti-coworker crowd, if you will.
For instance, I once went to a rave where the DJ snuck Oneohtrix Point Never’s “Replica” into the set and nobody batted an eye. Striking up conversations about it led to lore dumps about Uncut Gems in attempts to bridge connections that, ultimately, went nowhere. Meanwhile, when Depressive Silence played over the PA at GLDS, you could turn your nose up at it for being “entry-level.” Of course they’d play this basic stuff. Where are the deep cuts? I also spotted someone reading Book of the New Sun throughout the second day. They said, “dungeon synth is my reading music, so I figured I should see it live,” as they finished Claw of the Conciliator. And they were correct. GLDS is the perfect place to read. Its vibe and community are unlike any other festival, wherein nobody’s sense of self is overinflated. At times, the room was quaint, whereas other times, it was gothic. It was diverse, as I pointed out earlier, but the string that ran taut through the weekend was the best word to describe GLDS: “homely.”
–Colin Dempsey
