Year 100 of the 9th Eclipse
The campfire didn't crackle. It never did. The flames were a silent, hypnotic dance of orange and amber, a lie told so often that the survivors forgot it was a lie. Felix Richter stared into that lie, trying to remember the sound of wood popping.
He was old. Not in body—the Fog saw to that, healing his scars, restoring his worn joints each time he tumbled back from a trial—but in his eyes. A hundred years of running. A hundred years of watching friends forget their own names. A hundred years of the Hook.
The others called him "Richt." He’d stopped being Felix around year forty.
The group around the fire was small tonight. A young woman named Elara, taken from a burning spaceship in a future that didn't exist when Felix was born. An ancient warrior called Thrak, his fur matted with ash and his tusks chipped from chewing on the bars of a cage that wasn't there. And a man in a tattered business suit, his face a smooth, pleasant mask. Name: Adam. But not the Adam. That Adam had been lost in the Fog decades ago. This one had simply… appeared one day, wearing his face.
"District 7 sent two runners," Elara said, her voice flat. "Both made it to the gate. The Entity took the gate. Closed it right as they touched the switch."
Thrak grunted. "Then they are not runners. They are moths."
The campfire's silence deepened.
It was the hundredth year of what the survivors called "The Long Harvest." The Entity was no longer a spider in a web. It was a system. The trials had become assembly lines. Certain killers were retired—the Trapper had vanished around year fifty, his traps too predictable. The Nurse had been "decommissioned" after she glitched during a trial and nearly severed a realm. In their place were new things: silent, chrome-plated horrors that didn't laugh or grunt, just processed. They called them "Harvesters." No personality. No rage. Just efficiency.
And the survivors… the survivors had evolved too. dbd+100
Felix reached into his coat—a coat that had belonged to a man named Dwight, who had simply stopped waking up one day—and pulled out a thin, bone-carved token. It was a map. Not of the realms, but of the shifts. The Entity's attention had grown thin over a century. It was vast, but not infinite. Pockets of the Fog now lay fallow, forgotten. Survivors had built things there. Shelters. Gardens that grew pale, tasteless roots. A library of memories, transcribed before the Fog could eat them.
"The archives say the first ones had a word for this," Felix said. "Despair. They felt it."
"And now?" Adam asked, his pleasant smile never wavering.
Felix looked at the silent fire. "Now we have logistics. We have shifts. We have districts. We have a committee that decides who gets the fresh locker spawns and who has to bait the Huntress' new variant."
He didn't say what everyone knew: that the worst part wasn't the pain anymore. The worst part was the efficiency. The Entity had learned. It gave them just enough hope to keep struggling. Just enough rest to keep their minds sharp. It had turned suffering into a supply chain.
Last week, a survivor named Mei had refused to run. She stood still in the middle of the Macmillan estate, arms out, waiting for the Harvester to take her. It did. It walked up, inserted a spike into her spine without a word, and carried her to the hook. She was dead in seven seconds. The Entity punished the other survivors for her "non-compliance" by extending their next trial by twenty minutes.
No one had tried that again.
"Richt," Elara said, breaking his reverie. "The signal from District 12. They think they found a fracture. Not a gate. A crack."
Felix's heart—a muscle that had been hooked, torn, and healed more times than he could count—gave a dull thud. Fractures were rumors. Children's stories told by survivors who had only been in the Fog for twenty or thirty years. Fresh meat still believed in escape. Year 100 of the 9th Eclipse The campfire didn't crackle
But this was different. District 12 had been silent for five years. They'd been erased. If they were signaling…
"What kind of crack?" he asked.
Elara leaned in. "They say it doesn't lead to a trial. It leads to a memory. A real one. One the Entity hasn't fed on yet. If you go in, you can find the name you were born with."
Thrak snorted, a wet, ugly sound. "A name. What weapon is that against the Hook?"
Felix looked down at his own hands. He had forgotten his daughter's face forty years ago. He had forgotten the smell of rain on real grass sixty years ago. He had forgotten his own laugh seventy years ago.
He stood up.
"A name is the only weapon left," he said. "The Entity can't eat what we don't forget."
The campfire didn't crackle. But for the first time in a hundred years, Felix thought he heard something in the Fog. A whisper. Not the Entity's chittering hunger. Not the Harvester's silent hum.
It was a voice. A woman's voice. Calling a name he had buried so deep, the Fog had never found it. Phase 2: The Collapse (Events 81–100)
Felix.
He didn't know if it was a trap, a miracle, or just another loop in the endless machine.
He started walking toward District 12 anyway.
Behind him, the silent fire flickered. And somewhere in the dark, the Entity turned its attention—just slightly—toward a crack that should not exist.
Once you hit Prestige 90-100, the matchmaking changes. You will face tournament-level nurses and 10,000-hour survivors. You need a "closer" build.
Understanding what stacks with the incentive is crucial. The +100% bonus is additive, not multiplicative. Here is the hierarchy of Bloodpoint multipliers in DBD:
While the specifics can vary depending on if you are discussing a promotional event, a community challenge, or a specific boost code, the core promise of DBD+100 is simple: Immediate Impact.
Imagine logging in and not having to worry about the "default" perks. Imagine having the ability to instantly access Tier 3 versions of perks without spending a million Bloodpoints.
DBD+100 is essentially a massive injection of progression. It typically refers to a package that offers:
For the casual player, this is a lifesaver. It means you can finally play your way. You don’t have to suffer through a "Medic" build because you haven't unlocked the "Looping" perks yet. You can experiment. You can fail. You can learn.
