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Introduction

Greetings, dungeon dwellers and mop-slingers!
The name’s Stray—senior maid, adventurer extraordinaire, and proud veteran of the Dark Lord’s housekeeping corps. I’ve scrubbed more bloodstains off stone floors than most goblins have hairs on their heads, and I figured it was high time someone wrote down the real tricks of the trade.

See, being a goblin maid isn’t all feather dusters and fancy uniforms—it’s a brutal, slime-slinging business. The trainers will show you how to hold a mop, sure, but they leave out the good stuff: how to befriend a mimic (at least temporarily), how to ignite a slime without singeing your eyebrows, and how to clock out without dragging gore on your boots. That knowledge only comes from long shifts, short breaks, and a lot of trial and error.

So that’s what this guide is about: the hard-earned lessons, shortcuts, and occasional bits of chaos that make our work smoother—or at least more entertaining. I’ll be updating it when I can (cleaning duty waits for no goblin), and if the mage ever sorts out her library, she’ll help me slap in some proper pictures.

And hey—if you’ve got tips of your own, leave me a note. No promises I won’t use it in my next shift to impress the boss and take all the credit. ;P

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TLDR = Thank you @ VoTToN for this suggestion!

Introduction

Ever thought about cleaning a dungeon without a mimic? Heresy. Pure, unwashed heresy. These all-consuming crustacean trash bins are the beating heart of our work, the true mascots of the Dark Lord’s cleaning staff. Honestly, we’d be lost without them. That being said, I, Stray, have been chewed up and spat out (well, just chewed) more times than I can count, and the necromancer’s probably sick of patching me back together.

Here’s the golden rule: always know where your mimic is, and how close you are to its mouth. Sure, our health plan lets us come back from death an unlimited number of times, but trust me—dying in a mimic’s jaws is only fun the first three or four times. After that it’s just embarrassing.

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On Mimics and Meat

Mimics are living dumpsters with teeth. If it’s organic, it’s food. If you’re in the way, you’re food too. Simple as that. They don’t move on their own—probably because their motivation got eaten by their own stomachs—but they’ll happily snap at anything tossed in their direction.

Want to cozy up to your mimic? Feed it. A happy mimic is a useful mimic. And if you can manage it, grease those hinges once in a while. Nothing’s worse than hearing one screech every time it opens. I’ve filed requests with management about it for years, but apparently “mimic comfort” isn’t high on the budget.

Mimics are one option to get rid of meat (others will be explored later), but it is the earliest available option.

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Position, Position, Position

This one’s survival 101: never stand in front of a mimic unless you’re offering it food. Always approach from behind to pick it up, and when you put it down, face it toward a wall. Facing the room is just asking to become its next snack. Yes, it’s funny to give them a “scenic view” of the battlefield—but not when you’re the scenery.

I highly suggest making the mimic face the wall, this way you don't absent-mindly walk past the mimic and get eaten.

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Heavy Carry

At some point, you’ll get eaten by a mimic thanks to a “funny” coworker chasing you toward its jaws. Consider it a rite of passage. The Goblin Scouts even give a badge for it, mostly because the Scoutmaster thinks watching green limbs flail is hilarious.

That said, mimics are incredibly useful as portable cleaners. If you’re holding one, point it at a mess (Left Click), and it’ll snap up everything in range—like a bloodthirsty, unhinged cheese wheel missing a few slices. Much faster than setting it down every two seconds.

When holding a mimic if you left click it can eat meat on the ground (sometimes it glitches if the meat is in a corner or semi-concealed) or other players. You can get an achievement for having a mimic eat another player.

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Fetch?

Don’t feel like hauling your mimic everywhere? Good news: they play fetch. Toss a chunk of meat their way (Right Click while levitating), and they’ll snatch it mid-air. Great for feeding from a distance, like across a spike trap or from a balcony. And yes, this works whether they’re above you, below you, or glaring at you from across the room. Just aim straight. If you miss, that’s a you problem.

If you have meat but can't get to a mimic, but can see it, throw it. If it passes through its area it will eat it.

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Dungeon Symbiosis

Mimics have… strange relationships with the dungeon’s other residents. For instance:

• Shadow cats? They vanish right out of the mimic’s mouth. Hilarious to watch, very confusing for the mimic.
  
• Dragons? Don’t fit. They try, but it’s like watching a lizard curl up in a teacup.
  
• Necromancer? Untouchable. I had to help clean up after a mimic tried, and I don’t recommend removing loose bones from between teeth.
  
• Spider babies? Off limits. Their mother webbed the mimic shut last time, and it took a mage three hours to pry it open.

The only dungeon critter they do snack on willingly are slimes, and that’s more like a business partnership. Don’t worry—the slime doesn’t die, it just gets a free ride.

Mimics will only eats slimes, adventurers, or goblins.

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The Way to Their Heart is… Through Their Stomach

Mimics adore cooked meat. Toss them a roast, and they’ll even sprout little hearts over their heads while chewing. It’s the only time you’ll see one look “cute.” More importantly, it buys you a few seconds of safety—long enough to slip past if it’s blocking your path.

No fire handy? Raw meat works too, but you’ll need timing. Throw it, run like your life depends on it (because it does), and hope you make it before the jaws snap shut. Worst case, you wake up at the altar with your coworkers laughing at you.

If you need to get past a mimic throw it meat; cooked meat lasts longer, but regular meat works.

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On Treasure Covered in Meat

Every adventurer knows the sinking feeling: you’ve braved the dungeon, slain the beast, and uncovered a golden chest—only to find it’s smeared in some unholy combination of grease, sinew, and yesterday’s adventurers. What’s a goblin to do?

Simple: feed it to a mimic.

Mimics, despite their reputation, are natural polishers. Toss them a treasure caked in meat and they’ll gnash, chew, and slobber until every last scrap is gone. Then—like a good dishwasher—they’ll spit the item back out, shiny and spotless (and, technically, still moist).

[ Word of warning ] don’t try this with enchanted items unless you want the mimic glowing, floating, or developing a sudden personality crisis.

If you encounter golden treasure that is covered in meat, feed it to your mimic and it will clean it and spit it out. You can tell if this is the case by the typical golden treasure design covered in meat/gore, or if meat has golden sparkles.

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Introduction

Listen up, whelps. Slimes are your best little helpers in this job, though they don’t come with instructions stamped on their gooey hides. That’s why I, a goblin maid with more dungeon hours than you’ve had hot meals, am laying out the basics. Learn how to read your slime, care for it, and use it right, and your mop time will be cut in half. Misuse them, and you’ll spend the night scrubbing extra splatters with your bare claws while your supervisor laughs.

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Generic Slimes

Every new hire starts with the plain ol’ generic slime. Don’t underestimate them—they’re reliable blobs, but they’ve got a limit. Overfeed ‘em blood, and you’ll trigger what we in the business call “blood poisoning.” That’s when instead of soaking up the mess, they ooze it right back out their pores. Nothing’s worse than thinking you’ve cleaned a hallway only to find it dripping red again five minutes later.

Thankfully, your slime will always tell you how it’s doing—if you know how to read its face.

Blood Poisoning as I call it, means your slime will paint the walls red instead of removing the blood.

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Expression Chart

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A slime with a normal face is safe to keep working. Teary face? That’s your warning—time to rotate it out unless you want more splatter on the floor. Dead face means you’ve gone too far, and now you’ve doubled your workload. Watch their expressions like a hawk, or you’ll regret it.

Watch expressions to see how long before you need to change out your slime; Normal is good; Tear is halfway; Dead is don't use.

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Fire Slimes

Now here’s where things get good. Fire slimes are the cream of the crop—the Dark Lord’s own blessing on janitorial science. Once you evolve a plain slime into a fire slime, you’ll never want to go back. They clean 10–20% more than the generics, cover wider splatter fields, and can torch a mess in just two sweeps. Best of all? They don’t die the way the plain ones do. You can reignite them at a heat source, and after a short rest they’re back to their chipper selves.

Take it from me: always ignite a slime when you can. I’ve yet to see a dungeon stage where it wasn’t possible.

In my opinion, these are the slimes you want to clean with. They clean bigger areas of gore, last a tad bit longer, clean faster, etc. You can also rekindle a dead fire slime (or even a dead generic slime). This is how I got the golden goblin for cleaning with one slime!

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Lighting a Fire Slime

Goblin Scouts hand out a badge for your first ignition, and for good reason. If you can’t light a slime, you won’t last long in this job. There are a few reliable methods:

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Fire Slimes and Blood Poisoning

Unlike the generic slimes that like to *express themselves artistically* all over the walls, floors, ceilings, and your freshly scrubbed armor when they catch a case of blood poisoning, Fire Slimes are far more… refined. Their inner flames sear their membranes shut, keeping all the blood neatly contained inside. No splatter, no stains, no unpaid overtime cleaning up after the cleanup crew. Truly a superior specimen in both temperament and hygiene.

Fire slimes do not seep out blood if you use them after they have blood poisoning.

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Don’t think fire slimes are just for cleaning. With the right finesse, they double as weapons. Levitate one, lob it like a fireball (Throw – Right Click), and boom—everything nearby is toast. Creatures, blood, coworkers, the boss’s rug. Just don’t say I told you that.

[ Warning ] Fireball cleaning method is deadly and officially “frowned upon.” Off the record, it works.

I call this the fireball method. If you throw (while levitating) a fire slime, it will explode.
This can kill creatures and players, but fireball cleaning will remove blood. I haven't tried it, but I do highly suspect it will break fragile items!

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Using Fire Slimes as Torches

Another perk of fire slimes (besides their cleaning skills and explosive personalities) is their glow. Freshly ignited slimes give off a fair bit of light—enough to guide you through dark corridors, cursed crypts, or the boss’s moldy wine cellar. If you need better visibility, just hold one out on your Slimop or levitate it ahead of you.

But mind yourself: fire slimes are not stable lanterns. Shake them too much when levitating, or let one get startled, and they don’t just sputter out—they explode. That means an unwanted pause in your shift, along with anyone foolish enough to be standing nearby. Nothing clears a hallway faster than a goblin lighting the way and suddenly going supernova.

If you have a fully charged fire slime, you can use it as a torch if you are going through a particularly dark stretch of the dungeon. However, if you are using the slime via levitate and it bumps into something or a player, it can explode.

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Ice Slimes

If Fire Slimes are our little walking torches, then Ice Slimes are our emergency bridges. Ever found yourself staring down a lake colder than the necromancer’s personality? Just drop (left click while levitating) or toss (right click while levitating) an Ice Slime into the water and watch as it freezes a neat little platform beneath itself. It’s the goblin equivalent of a ferry—cheap, reliable, and only slightly alive.

Now, Ice Slimes are not fond of swimming. If you want to keep them around, be quick with your levitation (left click again) before they sink or slide off into the abyss. When timed right, you can chain these little chillers across a body of water like stepping stones. Just remember, once they start to melt, your boots and pride will be the first casualties.

Ice slimes' current use that I can see is making ice platforms across (freezing) water.

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Finishing Up With Slimes

At the end of your shift, you’ve got a few options for slime disposal:

• Leave them on the dungeon floor—they’ll slither home to the slime machine eventually.
  
• Feed them to the mimics. The mimic gets tooth-brushing, the slime is not longer poisoned. Win-win. No Slimes Are Harmed in this Process!
  
• Toss them into a void portal so the Dark Lord’s soldiers can “adopt” them.

And no, before you ask, you can’t sneak one home. Management caught on to that trick ages ago. Company policy says no slime leaves the dungeon. Not on your mop, not in your pocket, not in your lunchbox. Don’t test it.

You cannot leave a dungeon if you have a slime on your mop, or are carrying one. However, you can get an achievement for trying.

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Introduction

Picking up loot and putting it back where it belongs might not sound like much, but trust me, it’s half our job—and half our hazard. Adventurers have this terrible habit of thinking everything is a weapon if they swing it hard enough, and that leaves us chasing swords, chairs, and sometimes entire chandeliers halfway across the dungeon. The higher-ups don’t appreciate their precious layout being disrupted, especially the self-righteous nobles in the Dining Room (don’t get me started).

On the bright side, it gives us plenty of practice with our assigned spell, Levitate. It’s complicated, dramatic, and apparently required to be learned before you can handle silverware. But hey—it means we don’t have to touch the gore-soaked blades with our hands. And while I’ll admit running down the hallway swinging a halberd does sound fun, apparently that’s “against policy.”

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The Basics

You know the drill. Cast or mutter the Levitate spell (left click to pick up or drop; right click to throw). It’s finicky but it works—most of the time. The dungeon magic recognizes where each item belongs, so you just have to guide it home. There are three main ways to do it:

• Hold and Wait: Hover the item where it’s supposed to go and wait for the dungeon’s magic to pull it back in. Slow, but safe.
  
• Drop and Dash: Let go as soon as you see the magic spark around it—this speeds things up and makes you look like you know what you’re doing.
  
• Yeet and Pray: Aim well, throw it, and hope it lands where it should. Fast, efficient, and deeply satisfying—right up until you have to explain why there’s a chair wedged in the ceiling.

Of the three, the second and third methods are fastest. The first is just for those who value job security.

There are three ways to restore items, I highly suggest the drop and dash for faster results, but everyone has their own cleaning methods. Besides,the Yeet and Pray method is quite fun!

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Arch and Throw

If you’re throwing something, remember—straight lines are for mages, not maids. Always aim upward and let gravity do the work. The higher the arc, the farther the throw, and the fewer bruises you’ll have from hauling heavy junk.

That said, keep your eyes open for the dungeon’s quirks. Magic walls, hanging vines, arches, chandeliers, statues—anything with a surface can and will catch what you throw. If you’ve ever spent your lunch break trying to unstick a bench from a tree in Druid’s Grove, you’ll understand. So, take a breath, aim smart, and maybe—just maybe—don’t throw the fancy things indoors.

If you want things to go farther, aim upwards, they go farther. However, items can get stuck and you do have to get them down, if possible.

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Warning: Fragile!

Some items are fragile: ancient pottery, dragon eggs, enchanted mirrors, and the feelings of an overworked goblin. When you lift one, listen closely. The levitation spell carries echoes of what the item’s been through—if it hums sadly, sounds like breaking glass, or whispers something about “revenge,” maybe set it down gently.

Handle with care. If a fragile item shatters, it’ll reset to where it was when the dungeon last stabilized, and you’ll be the one trekking back through traps and mimics to fetch it. Do it enough times and management will start assigning you “character-building” shifts. Spoiler: they aren’t fun.

When you pick up an item and it sounds like breaking pottery or sounds like cracking, it is fragile and will break. Fragile items have a certain amount of times or damage it can take before shattering. If it shatters you will have to go back to where you found it and try again.

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Inside to Outside

When you’re restoring a heaps of junk—or as management calls it, “valuable dungeon décor”—always start from the inside and work your way out. It’s not a fancy magic theory, just common sense. Fix the tangled mess in the middle first, then move outward toward the strays. This keeps you from bumping, scraping, or accidentally launching something out of the restoration zone (again).

Working inside to outside also helps you keep track of what’s already handled and what’s missing (because we don't have a thousand and one things to do). Think of it like untangling a pile of cursed necklaces: start with the knot, not the edges. The fewer things knocking into each other, the fewer things end up shattered, possessed, or trying to eat you. Simple rule, but trust me—your future self will thank you.

Work from the inner most part of item piles, this will allow you to effectively replace items that are missing without risking any breaking or misplacement. This is especially vital for the Dining Room, and allowed me to get all golden slimes the first time I did the level.

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Bloody = Mess

Here’s a simple equation for you: bloody thing + throw = bloody mess. Every. Single. Time. It doesn’t matter how strong your throw is or how clever your angle looks—if it’s dripping, it’s decorating.

Goblin Scouts might give you a sarcastic medal for “Creative Interior Reimagining,” but the Dark Lord’s cleaning metrics don’t lie. Too much splatter means your progress bar plummets and your mop time doubles. So if you must throw something covered in blood, aim for containment zones, not the walls. We’re cleaners, not abstract artists.

If you pick up a bloody slime or uncooked meat, it will make blood splatters that you will have to clean up. You will get an achievement for adding more blood/organic bits to a dungeon that it started with, but if you are aiming for the 85-100% I would try to be careful with the meat and dead slimes.

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ALERT: This section is currently running on fumes and faint hopes. The goblin responsible has drained their mana reserves and is awaiting a refill (or a nap, whichever comes first). Once the spark stops sputtering and the room quits humming ominously, this section will be properly written and enchanted for your viewing pleasure.

NOTICE: This section is currently under goblin construction. Expect loud noises, questionable craftsmanship, and the occasional explosion. Please stand by until the guide has been properly patched up (or at least duct-taped).

WARNING: Authorized goblins only. This section has not yet been approved for public consumption. Any goblin caught sneaking tips out of this half-written page will be reassigned to latrine duty.

NOTICE: This part of the manual is still being scrubbed clean. Please do not lick, poke, or otherwise tamper with this unfinished section. Content will be provided once senior maid Stray gets off her next shift (or survives it).