You've entered the Gungeon.
You've entered this fortress to claim your prize and make what was done, undone.
You seek the gun that can kill the past.
I've seen others before you for so many centuries tread the path you take. I saw them enter this keep to undo their pasts. They were all the same; so full of courage but also of desperation. They knew they would die here in this keep long before they ever reached the gun. They had heard of the legends and the cultists that protect this fortress. But they would risk everything for even a chance to claim the gun.
And so they all descended down into the Keep Of The Lead Lord.
Many gungeoneers perished not long after falling into that keep. They were killed by Bullet Kin, the frailest and weakest enemies of this fortress. Shot right through their hearts by those living bullets. Those bullets that held guns that shot energy bullets. They perished because they didn't believe such adorable and ridiculous creatures could possibly harm them.
They thought they did, that is.
They never perished. They awoke at the Breach instead, whole and woundless. And though unable to understand why they had been spared death, they all tried to leave. They realized that the challenge was too great. They would never make it to the Gun.
But the Gungeon would not let them leave.
I refused to let them leave.
You've come to this fortress willing to risk everything. You threw away everything and got your hands on any weapon you could barter, purchase, or steal. You walked for miles and miles to reach this sacred keep. You did this all so that you might kill your past.
You're not allowed to leave until you see your goal to the end. You paid the ultimate price to come here. Now you must find the Gun and kill your past.
None of those gungeoneers took kindly to my blessing of eternal life. They failed to understand how much easier I made everything for them. They never understood how when I first came here, there was no eternal life. You died once, and that was it. There was no resurrection.
They should have been grateful for making this Gungeon all the more forgiving to them. Now they had endless chances to erase their past. They had endless opportunities to reach the very bottom of the Gungeon, learning after each and every death.
Many tried to kill themselves. They no longer wanted the Gun and shot themselves with their own weapons. But it was useless. They only revived moments later, just as if they had died while deep within the chambers. They could not leave the Gungeon until they killed their pasts.
They finally grew to appreciate my blessing after a while and then began their descent into the Gungeon once more.
Many of them died once more, but they were resilient. Driven to leave this keep, they would continue delving deep into the chambers, dying over and over. But eventually, they were able to kill all of the spawn that roam about and felt their hearts soar with pride. They knew they were so much closer to the Gun now. They could taste it on their tongues, and with such zeal, stepped into the final room to claim the Gun.
Oh how amusing it was to see their eyes when they were met not with a gun, but with a guardian. A behemoth that towered over them that billowed of smoke and smelt of gunpowder. It was always someone different depending on what I felt was fit to challenge the gungeoneers.
Sometimes it was The Trigger Twins, Shades and Smiley. Cast from the same mold, they have always stuck together. Fates intertwined, they fought against the gungeoneers with zest, firing bullets at once. So many thought they were simple to kill. All they did was avoid the bullets and then strike from afar. They always aimed for one brother and then watched him fall. They would cheer and they would wallop, thinking their fight was theirs for the taking. But alas, they were wrong, for the other twin would grow twice as strong at the sight of his fallen brother, and swiftly end the life of the gungeoneer.
Sometimes it was the Bullet King that sat upon his Lead Throne forged from various guns. He would scoff, and then flood the room with his myriad blast of guns from upon his throne. So few could roll beneath his bullets before they were to hit. So few could remain their distance from that metal king. So many perished not long after they saw him.
But perhaps the one that destroyed most was none other than the Gatling Gull. Once a simple bird, it became a fearsome beast once the Gungeon decided he would be its guardian. Armed with the Vulcan Cannon, it swept the floors with its power, or rained down a barrage of missiles from his great beak. His bullets so unpredictable to those naïve gungeoneers and his stature so mighty and strong, almost none could deliver their lethal strike before he delivered his own.
So many fell. So many perished when they reached these guardians. They had come so far, and it had all been for naught.
My challenges were too great, my tricks were too sly, my Gungeon too swift to reap their souls. They were trapped here in this Hell, never to reach the end.
Some gave up. Some resigned themselves to the Breach and accepted that they were to never leave this Gungeon. Others remained trapped deep in the chambers, locked behind gates.
But there were some who were persistent. There were some who refused to let the fire of their soul go out. And so, with their guns clutched tight in their hands, they went back to the Gungeon and faced the guardians once more.
So many times they died. So many times they perished because their reflexes were not quick, or because they rolled directly into a bullet. They never seemed to learn, all proclaiming that the trick was in relying on luck and finding weapons deep within the Gungeon that could obliterate these guardians.
And so they delved deep into the Keep, searching for chests and stores that held weapons that could aid them. And they did find them, locked away into rooms scattered through, and took whatever lay within. Then, with these newfound weapons in their hands, they marched onward to the guardians.
They fought with these weapons, using the power within them that the Gungeon provided, and lay waste to the guardians. With the RPG or Super Meat Gun, it didn't matter which. They used them all and slowly, bit by bit, the guardians dwindled in strength.
The guardians fought heroically with their last remaining strength, but in the end could stand no match against the Gungeon's weapons. Thus it was not long before the great guardians fell, collapsing before the gungeoneers in heavy metal heaps.
With cries of joy and triumph, the gungeoneers that found themselves victorious collected their reward from the remains of the fallen, and then made their way to the new room that had opened up before them. Then with gleeful smiles, they went inside of the elevator that awaited them, ready to claim the Gun so that they could kill their pasts and leave this fortress.
But they were fools. Those naïve gungeoneers did not reach the Gun as soon as the elevator brought them to their stop. They reached the Gungeon Proper, the second level of the great Gungeon.
The despair in those gungeoneers' hearts did not last long, for they were quickly put out of their misery by Cultists lurking nearby. And thus, they found themselves at the Breach once more, all of their progress erased.
Most of the gungeoneers gave up when they realized there was more than one level of the Gungeon. Some valiant few continued onward, trying again and again to reach the very bottom of the Gungeon. So many times they were slain by the sly Ammoconda whose patterns they could never predict. Or they met their demise by the Treadnaught destroying their precious cover and having his comrades surround them so tightly. I also distinctly remember many dying to the bullets of the High Priest, whose attacks would fly from all directions and make avoiding them impossible to gungeoneers. They'd waste their precious blanks on him, never learning how to properly evade those bullets, until they finally ran out and were promptly killed.
I've seen so many gungeoneers die here. So many of them have perished countless times on different levels. Some of them keep advancing, getting further and further down. Others start off strong, making it to the Forge, but then eventually only find themselves able to defeat the guardian of the Keep Of The Lead Lord before they fall to the Gungeon Proper's guardian.
And yet, there are some who make it to the Gun. They are few, but I see them deliver the final shot to the High Dragun of the Forge before retrieving the Gun that awaits them. They obtain that Gun, that precious gun that's been guarded by all of the denizens of this Gungeon, and have a horrifying realization.
There are no bullets in the Gun.
Their past still haunts them and they must go back into the Gungeon and gather supplies to create ammo for the gun.
Only then can they leave this Gungeon.
None have succeeded in doing this. None have been able to find the ammo needed in order to kill their pasts. All of them have remained in this Gungeon most unwillingly, clinging to some futile hope that they will find the ammo, but never do.
Long ago, the Gun had ammo and would allow anyone to kill their past as soon as they grabbed the Gun. I remember very clearly that Gun had bullets in it.
But that changed when I decided this Gungeon was mine.
I was the first Gungeoneer to ever reach the Gun. So many others tried before me, but none could ever get past the High Dragun. But I did. I slayed the fearsome beast that guarded the Forge within its lava pit and made my way to the gun. It was such a beautiful gun and I was ready to have it kill my past. There was much about my life that needed changing and this gun would be the answer to everything.
But just as I was to shoot the bullet into my head, I had a different idea.
I decided to rule over this great Gungeon and make it mine so I could watch the rest of you gungeoneers attempt to reach the Gun. So I took the bullets out of the Gun and hid them throughout the Gungeon.
There's great joy in watching each of you struggle, knowing that when you finally do reach the prize you long for, you're still stuck down here with me. I watch all of you from this Bullet Hell far down below the Forge, watching you cry and watching you scream every time you die from your mistakes. It's all so very satisfying. Nothing in life could ever fill me with this much bliss as watching each of you gungeoneers walk the thin line between despair and hope, shooting at everything in sight along the way.
So welcome, new gungeoneer.
Welcome to the Gungeon.
See if you can be the one gungeoneer who can actually kill their past. Though watching all of you desperately try to claim a prize that is far out of your grasp is quite amusing, it would be rather nice to see someone actually kill their past.
Because if you can do that, then you and I can meet face-to-face.
And I have been quite itching for a good fight after all these years.