Roguelike deckbuilders are like Steam sales these days; there’s always another one, they all look tempting, and before you know it, you’ve accidentally acquired twelve and have no memory of how they got there.
No? Just me? Moving right on then.
But in all fairness, we’ve been here before, and you know it.
The Slay the Spire-pocalypse brought us gems like Wildfrost, and now Diceomancer sidles into the tavern with a mischievous grin, a loaded D20, and a promise: “Any number you see? You can change it.”
And it means any number. Your health? Roll it. Enemy health? Roll it. Mana cost? Roll it. Gold? Reroll. Your current FPS? Okay, probably not, but the game has the kind of chaotic energy that makes you wonder if it’s just waiting for the chance.
The premise is deliciously dangerous, like handing the player a big red button labelled “Break Me” and then stepping back to watch the fireworks.
You can’t just spam it; you’ll need the right cards or a relic that recharges between battles.
But when the stars align, the chaos is glorious: pipe-wielding sewer rats with segmented health bars, angry geese taking buckshot to the beak, and a fishing minigame whose only job is to make the main menu cuter.
Its art style resembles a mischievous child’s doodle book sprung to life: quirky, scrappy, and bursting with personality.
Unfortunately, it’s also a sticking point.
While charming at first, the childlike visuals and repetitive music started to grate during longer runs, keeping the game from fully achieving that leap from wishlist curiosity to must-buy obsession.
That’s a shame, because the design really does invite clever play.
Relics wink at Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, class powers flip your idea of good and bad rolls, and sometimes the smartest move is downgrading your precious D20 into a D4 to turn terrifying enemy stats into laughably small ones.
In my time with the demo, I pulled off absurd combos, mana loops that never ended, and card draws that made Yu-Gi-Oh! look restrained, and one frog so furious it could have starred in its own Street Fighter DLC.
But even with all that spectacle, the early game forces you to think.
Coloured mana requirements turn hand management into a puzzle, and every turn walks the line between genius and oh no, I just discarded the only card that could save me.
And here’s where I have to be honest: as much fun as I had, I don’t see myself pouring dozens of hours into the full game.
The joy of breaking it wide open, that moment when your deck is a well-oiled, rule-shattering machine, might be hard to replicate run after run.
For some players, that’s the perfect sweet spot. For me, it means Diceomancer joins the “My Wallet Stays Shut (For Now)” category.
Still, this is not purgatory-wishlist territory. This is prime real estate, the “I’ll be watching for the next sale” list.
Diceomancer, from Ultra Piggy Studio, does something rare in an oversaturated genre: it makes the rules feel bendy, breakable, and fun to abuse.
If Slay the Spire was your gateway drug and Dicey Dungeons your party trick, Diceomancer is the weird cousin who shows up at the family reunion with a suitcase full of dice and says, “Wanna see something cool?” And honestly? Yeah, you probably do.
Bottom Line:
Diceomancer’s demo is chaotic, clever, and a whole lot of fun, the kind of game that hands you a shiny button marked “break the rules” and dares you to press it.
The childlike art style and looping music might keep it from becoming a forever favourite. Still, it’s earned a prime spot on my wishlist, and I’ll be watching closely for its next roll.
