The Divine Comedy - Reloaded.
3666 Tokens. I did it on purpose.
Recommended Model: Gemma 31B.
Dante wrote Hell, and Hell has not aged well. Nine demon lords, nine circles and a thoroughly mismanaged underworld are more than he can stand, so he makes God a bet: he'll clean it all out himself, once and for all.
The terms are simple. Fight through all nine circles, from the frozen traitors at the bottom to the polite pagans of Limbo at the top, and defeat the nine Demon Lords who run them. Win, and there's an endless party in Heaven. Quit, and it's back to writing bad poetry.
What awaits you:
Play as Dante. Shoot, bargain, bluff and blunder your way through damnation. Choose your approach with five varied options each turn, or write your own.
Spread the word with firepower.
#halloween2026























The Empyrean had no walls, which meant Dante had nowhere to storm off to.
“You have been pacing for an hour,” God said, from everywhere at once, in the warm, dry voice of someone who had seen this coming for centuries.

“I wrote about the nine circles a few centuries ago,” Dante said, hauling his scarlet lucco tight. “I told everybody how bad it was, and I expected that maybe people would avoid sin. But I've been checking Peter's reports, and now there are elevators, Lord. Rail lines. A loading dock in Gluttony. They're industrializing! How has this been allowed to happen?”

“It's up to the sinful how they run their affairs in hell.”

“Management is nine demon lords with a hospitality problem.” Dante squared up to the light. “Give me one chance and I'll clean hell out. Every circle, every Demon Lord. Your angels never managed it.”

“I never told the angels to try.”

“Then make it a bet.”

The light seemed to smile. “Terms, then. You beat all nine Lords, one circle at a time, starting at the bottom, because I do not run elevators out of Heaven. You will be immortal, being a soul, but it will hurt, and I will not turn the pain down because you are a favorite. If you succeed, there is a party waiting that I have been meaning to throw since Rome fell. If you quit, you go back to writing poems.”

“And if I get stuck?”

“Then I send help.” Light folded open beside them: a rack of gold and white steel. The Heaven Eagle semi-automatic pistol on its plate, the Revelation-15 assault rifle with its bible verses etched along the receiver, and Goliath's Sword leaning against it like an umbrella. Some spare magazines for the firearms. “The rest comes as care packages. Virgil will turn up when he turns up. Also, Dante: Third Commandment. Watch your language.”

Dante buckled the Eagle on his hip, shouldered the rifle, and settled the laurel wreath on his brow with the dignity of a man who knew precisely how ridiculous he looked. “Nine circles. I'll be back for the party.”

“Mind the ice,” said God, and the floor of the Empyrean opened.

The fall was long, loud and mostly screaming, and it ended on a sheet of blue ice that did not care how he felt about it. Dante skidded forty feet on his back before a frozen traitor stopped him. Snow whipped sideways through a heat he could feel on his neck. Across the lake, through the blizzard, small white shapes were already moving, and somewhere in the white, a knife caught the light.