It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Fjord, a half-orc warlock . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, you is quickly rendered unconscious, but uses Relentless Endurance to pop back up to one hit point. He is almost immediately hit into unconsciousness again.
DM: All right. Well, you're going to be out in the open. Just so you're aware. All right. So you move over here. You can now see all three right there.
Player: 'Sup, fish-fucks!
DM: Yeah, that's as far as you can move there. They all turn, (growls). You see some of them holding what looks to be these large harpoon-trident things that are hooked on the end and they have some sort of thick cabling of some kind attached to the end of it.
Player: Aren't y'all pretty? I look. In the space in between them, I see this ripple start to form, and I reach out with my hand, and I'll grasp at the space and tear a rip in reality, and I'll cast Hunger of Hadar, ripping this 20-foot dome on the ground.
DM: 20-foot radius? Where do you want to place it?
Player: I'll put it right here, so it's-- Actually? No, I'll stick it right here. Yeah, because it halves it, makes it difficult terrain, so let's put it right there. Ish.
DM: You got it. So you watch suddenly as the back end of that chamber-- well, for those who can see, which Caleb currently-- it's mostly dark except for that faint, faint glow around the corner that you don't see the source. There's no light in here. That light goes out. You are blind at the moment, because what little bit of light there is has been consumed by this sphere of darkness that Fjord has summoned on the opposite side of the chamber. You watch as reality tears open in that space, and you see these strange, black-purple otherworldly tentacles whip out from the outside of it, and you hear this horrible slithering sound within the center of that chamber, with this faint underlying of whispers and chanting.
