The Story Behind the Bloated Toad

I’ve written about the story behind The Bloated Toad before, but like many things in our world, it’s evolved since we first began working on it nearly a year ago.

In that time, the stories behind our other rooms have unfolded in new and surprising ways often influenced by player feedback. That feedback has become one of our greatest assets, helping shape not just individual games but the overarching meta-story that ties our universe together. As a result, that story has become more streamlined, more focused, and more fun to build knowing it's a world players like.

A Different Kind of Escape Room

The Bloated Toad is our class-based, replayable escape room, where players choose one of six unique character classes. Each class comes with its own story thread and puzzle line. As you solve puzzles, you earn coins which can be deposited into the Toadiebank: a central mechanic that increases your score and unlocks certain in-game events.

Unlike our more linear narrative rooms, The Bloated Toad doesn’t wear its story on its sleeve. Instead, the lore reveals itself as you explore characters, solve puzzles, and uncover the strange history behind the tavern itself.

Welcome to the Toad

The Bloated Toad is a tavern located in Catharsis, the capital city-state within the archipelago of Eldermark. Originally founded early in the millennium with little fanfare, the Toad has passed through many hands (some noble, others dubious) and much of its early history has been lost to time.

The royal family resides within Kingskeep, a castle perched on the highest peak of Catharsis. For generations, Kingskeep’s rulers remained largely uninterested in the affairs of this humble tavern. 

The Night the Toad Was Crowned

It was the year 470 L.E., during the height of the Brassmen Crisis. While sightings of Brassmen and their Instrumentii masters had been recorded for centuries, true conflict with these beings from the Realm of Patin had been rare until now.

Brassmen, living suits of metal, march into our world in search of rare materials they cannot produce themselves. Though some travel alone, they’re often flanked by Instrumentii: winged creatures that emit magical soundwaves, disorienting enemies and empowering their brass allies.

When the Brassmen launched a full-scale invasion of the region, panic spread like wildfire. Towns in the Prairies and Wildes were quickly overrun. Yet Kingskeep, preoccupied with threats from the Aristocracy of Gaven, dismissed the early warnings.

Only when the sounds of the invasion reached the very edge of the King’s Woods did King Bradengal Wierre II take notice.

A King’s Final March

Some hour past midnight, Wierre awoke to a strange, distant cacophony. His queen urged him to sleep, insisting she heard nothing. The king, burdened by a prophecy that he would one day perish while hearing "a cacophony that would reach him after in the heavens," couldn’t ignore it.

He slipped away from his guards as he often did, donned a dark cloak, and walked alone through the streets of Catharsis, heading toward the edge of the city. What he heard growing louder was wild and beyond his imagination as the wailing ensembled-blasts of the Instrumentii droned on, echoing from beyond the city walls.

Before he reached his goal of the Citywatch barracks, he stumbled upon a small tavern whose name has since been forgotten.

The Toad Appears

Why he entered remains unclear. Chroniclers debate whether he mistook it for the guardhouse, was invited in, or simply needed a drink before facing his death.

Inside, the tavern was eerily quiet as the outside chaos muffled completely. Patrons laughed and drank, unaware of the horrors just beyond the city gates. Wierre, disheveled and rambling about an oncoming apocalypse which no one else could hear, was taken for a madman.

The tavern’s owner, Ballard “Beetle” Breel, watched the cloaked stranger slump onto a stool near the hearth—mud on his boots, wildness in his eyes, and something heavy hanging from his belt. Without a word, Breel poured him a mug of Blackout Stout, the kind of drink meant to drown thoughts too loud to silence.

Near the fire sat a toad.
Large. Still. Watching.

No one knew where it had come from. Some said it had been following the spice cart from Eaddasia. Others claimed it had simply been there for days, croaking softly to itself, like it was waiting for something.

Wierre took his drink, but couldn’t shake the sound that rang in his ears—the rising wail of distant brass, unheard by any around him. The tavern’s thick stone walls seemed to muffle the chaos outside, and for the first time in hours, he felt calm. The fire was warm. The laughter was real. The toad blinked.

He stared at the creature for a long while. At first it was just a curiosity, but then something changed.

As the night wore on, the toad began to tremble. Its throat puffed, not with a croak, but a tremor—something it had never done before. The king watched as the creature stiffened and turned its head toward the tavern door, staring through it as though it, too, could now hear what lay beyond: the trumpet-blasts, the chaos in the woods, the call of the Instrumentii.

The king recognized the look. Fear.
Whatever magickal hush had protected this place, the toad could now hear what Wierre had been hearing all along. It had let him forget. For a moment. And now, it was no longer safe—not even for this little beast.

In a rare moment of grace, Wierre removed his crown and gently placed it atop the toad’s head.

“You gave me peace,” he whispered. “For that, you are royalty.”

The tavern hushed as he stood. Patrons looked on, bewildered, as the crown glinted atop the toad’s head like a joke no one dared laugh at.

Without another word, King Wierre turned and walked out in the early morning rays.
He left the crown behind on the bewildered creature.

A Legacy of Folly

At sunrise, Wierre staggered toward the ramparts and, still intoxicated, mistakenly led a doomed charge against the Brassmen. He was killed in the skirmish.

His legacy crumbled overnight. Rumors of a drunken king crowning a toad spread faster than news of his death. The absurdity of it all became legend.

Breel, ever the opportunist, renamed the tavern The Bloated Toad in honor of the incident. Many patrons continued to support the business ironically, and often loudly, in defiance of the Crown.

After the Crown

The Bloated Toad has changed hands many times since. It has served as a haven for smugglers, rogues, mercenaries, and misfits. Today, it is run by Mellow Mertle, a soft-spoken ogre with a knack for keeping the peace until recently.

A disgruntled, banned patron has returned. And with them, a forbidden Puzzlfy spell has been cast in the Toad’s backroom a spell that could threaten all of of the city.

That’s where the King's newest recruits come in: you!