地心啟示錄

When the surface of the Middle Ages was destroyed and humans were forced to flee to the center of the earth, how will you lead them to survive in the face of increasing core temperatures?

"Central Chaos: A Carnival of Mud and Sulfur"
When the sky above explodes into smithereens and the ground yawns a scalding yawn from its gaping maw—congratulations, you're now the new master of these subterranean rats.
Forget those gilded lord insignias; now all you have to prove your status is your lava-stained leather boots and the starving eyes of the survivors. In this hellhole of "Central Chaos," there's no strategy manual, only one iron rule: learn to nap amidst the sulfurous smell, or become a scorch mark on the stone wall.
[The world is a rotten apple, and we're biting the core.]
Don't expect some magical epic. All that remains of the Middle Ages here are half-broken lances and moldy prayer books. The surface? It's sun-melted butter. Now we're nestled in the Earth's armpit, where stones breathe, mushrooms curse, and even the water flowing isn't water. It's bone-softening acid. Worst of all, it's that damned geothermal heat. It's like a giant is simmering broth down there, and we're the beans in the pot.
You have to lead these whimpering, unfortunate souls to find food, dig holes to breathe, and, by the way, figure out: Who poked a hole in the sky? But let me be clear, the truth might be even more disgusting than the slugs underground.
[Every restart is a new way to live (or die)]
The map of this desolate place is like a madman's graffiti, changing every time you open your eyes. One moment you're picking up glowing rocks, the next you're falling into a pit filled with screaming vines. You might stumble upon a mad monk in a metal bucket helmet, who'll trade you a rusty cross for your bread. Or you might stumble into the territory of a certain faction— They look at you like a hungry wolf spotting a fat sheep.
Remember: Don't save your resources; you might not see them alive again. But don't waste them either. After all, a bite of food can keep someone alive for another day, or it can save you a few more blows when you're being clubbed to death.
[Survival? It's just a bargain with the mud and the devil.]
Surviving here requires some real skills:
Scrap-hunting: Crystals can start fires, stale bread can fill your stomach, and even a sharp stone can help you punch a hole in a night-raiding monster.
Build a shelter: Don't mind it being shabby, as long as it can block the lava-spewing fissure. Build a shabby workshop, tinker with it, and make