If there's any classic PC game that seems tailor-made for mobile play, surely it's 1997’s Dungeon Keeper. Designer Peter Molyneux's early masterpiece might’ve even been better on a touch-screen device, in fact; the dance of fingers on glass adds a dose of dungeon-master roleplay previously didn't exist. I point my finger here, and imps scurry to dig out tunnels. I point it there, and fire shoots from my fingers. The tools fit this new take on the beloved top-down strategy game and its devilishly fun concept of playing as an evil lord of an underground fantasy lair, but a highly inappropriate free-to-play model keeps the fun chained in dungeons of its own.

You can almost hear Dungeon Keeper trying to claw out of its own trap. Sift past a questionable art and sound style that suggests a union of Brutal Legend and Disney, shatter the chains of the payment model, and you'll find glimpses of a good game buried under the rubble. It shows up most prominently in the tutorial, where a crimson demon breaks down the rules with groan-inducing quips and tips on how to slap imps around for speed bonuses. Deep-voiced and reeking of twirly mustached evil, he's a satisfactory narrator for the experience of designing tower-defense-style dungeons that make life miserable for invading do-gooders. For a time I was lured in, and I was eager to finish his thorough tutorial so I could jump in and enjoy it for myself.

When I did, it was shocking how quickly Dungeon Keeper's strong foundations began to rot away. Commanding imps to dig out the main dungeon encased by four corridors takes a short amount of time, and the same goes for the construction of rooms like dark libraries for spells to help you guard your dungeon's all-important heart. But before I'd even reached the point where I could upgrade rooms or units, I found my diabolical plans interrupted. I commanded my imps to start chipping at the walls leading beyond our four-hallway enclosure to find out what awaited at the edge, and suddenly their work time shot up from a few seconds to four hours. I canceled that order almost as soon as I'd started it – ain't nobody got time for that.

If you've played a lot of free-to-play games, particularly on a mobile device or Facebook, you can probably guess where Dungeon Keeper goes horribly wrong. The idea, of course, is to get me to spend 49 premium gems to speed up the process, with each one representing roughly one cent. You can get 500 for $4.99, so it’s not outrageous until you consider this: that was the cost for just one square. To reach to the point on the map that compelled me to start digging in the first place in any reasonable amount of time, I would have had to repeat the process 14 times, for a cost of seven dollars. And that's just to clear an imp-wide path. Then there’s the extra squares I'd have to carve out for 3x3 rooms and traps. Perhaps a dumber version of myself would think that means I should get the $100 pack instead, so I could score the sweet discount and get 14,000 gems. After all, and the menu lets me know with a triumphant green banner that this is Dungeon Keeper's "best value."

What hogwash. Games like Impire and Dungeons have tried to fill the Dungeon Keeper-shaped hole left by the series’ 15-year absence, and neither asked for no more than 40 bucks all told. Both did it with more style and humor than this, even in their weakest moments. Those games made me feel like the dungeon master; Dungeon Keeper, with its insistence on slapping us with ever more gem payments to speed up common tasks, makes me feel more like a lowly imp.

The burden grows worse when you try to upgrade the dungeon heart and workshops that spit out poison traps and freeze traps, especially when the latter cost piles of stone (and associated hours) that number far more the reasonable limits of your mine's capabilities. Pay up, Dungeon Keeper beckons, and all the waits will end.

Waits that shouldn't even exist, save in the smallest of doses. The original Dungeon Keeper thrives on speed and the frantic rush to build your dungeons and set up traps before heroes arrive; under this model, clicking on the campaign maps that unleash the adventurers to face their doom feels more like a pulling the string on a wind-up toy and watching it until it slows down and dies all too quickly. Attempt to play Dungeon Keeper at the pace of the 1997 version, and you'd find that your bank account drains faster than your dungeon's gold hoards after heroes reach them. Having any fun in this game would cost a fortune.