Ratings and Reviews by Passerine

In many ways, Quirky Test reminds me of the other spoonerism-based wordplay games I’ve played by this author, but this one is different. This one feels more like a love letter to parser games. The author is present, giving commentary: about the point of games, the history of parser IF, the differences between Inform and Adventuron, the process of making the game and the reasons for certain design choices. Even without the tutorial on, I still felt the author acting as a tour guide as I walked around the world they created. This is a really unique and interesting approach.

It almost goes without saying that a wordplay game must also be a lighthearted comedy. But this one felt more like a drama to me, with abstract riddles leading to poignant reflections on self-growth. There were certainly light moments, but also strife. Sometimes solving a problem was narratively satisfying, but other times the recipient of our help wasn’t all that grateful. Unlike the goofy wordplay romps I remember from the olden days of parser games, this one takes the situation seriously. Like when you gain confidence as a status change, to solve a later puzzle. Even in abstractness, the proceedings feel connected to the real world, much unlike a more escapist adventure.

I JUST GOT THE TITLE, I wrote in my notes halfway through the game.

I also appreciated the visual design choices. The art is quirky and fun, and despite all the text I alluded to above, it doesn’t feel like a ton of reading because of the thoughtful use of color to emphasize different elements of the text. I tend to get impatient with large chunks of text, but I didn’t even notice how much I was reading here. The checkmarks on paths that are already completed also make the game easier to navigate.

So this game has a lot of affordances for people new to parser games, but it also presumes you’re not a wholly inexperienced gamer: there are references to the larger gaming world, and something like RNG might not be spelled out. The sheer amount of information might also be overwhelming for some beginners. But a lot of it (including Graham Nelson’s entire bill of players’ rights, plus commentary) is optional, so people can explore at their whim.

In fact the game feels designed to be explored in leisurely fashion, with added replay value from all the bonus points and achievements as well as a New Game+ with extra footnotes and the ability to skip rooms that aren’t required. As for me, I’m happy with the time I spent in this world, and I got something else from my playthrough too:

Most of the time, I’m not thinking about the level of remove between the game I’m playing and the author who created it. We expect that the author will create a separate little world, then let go of it. This game made me think about that unspoken rule and reminded me that rules are sometimes meant to be broken.

Trench Line is a stealthy/actiony/parsery vignette that takes place on an active battlefield, a setting I’m not at all familiar with, either in life or in games. But it felt very real, both in the sense where a story immerses you in a life-threatening situation and also in the sense where you’re in an escape room being tasked with disarming a bomb when you have no idea how to do that in real life. But even though I needed a nudge to figure out how to use the radio, it was satisfying to get the hang of the protocol and make my way out of danger.

The writing was straightforward yet evocative. Even though it mostly just described the pertinent information for the current moment, it painted a larger picture of what must have happened to lead to this point. The random per-turn events and descriptions of the transitions between rooms added a lot of flavor. Occasional use of bold and italics commanded my attention (at least at first—once I realized the italic events were repeating, I started becoming desensitized to the battlefield, to my benefit, at least for the moment).

The choice to start in the middle of a battle was intense. I felt I had some info about the situation, but not enough to honestly assess my role in the conflict—which is fine. That might not be on the player character’s mind in a situation like this anyway. Especially not one who came here looking for easy money.

If this was the intro of a larger game (or, if not the very beginning, an early stage), I can see myself continuing to play and getting into the story. I’m curious about how I ended up in that place, on that side. But the game works well as a small action game with a modest goal, and it’s not like anything I’ve played before. That’s pretty great for a debut work!

Disclosure: I am biased in this game’s favor because I managed to finish it on my own (though, fuller disclosure, without the good ending). It sure does feel nice to not resort to a walkthrough!

Surely it helped that this game was part of the Text Adventure Literacy Jam, so it’s extra approachable—not that that means it’s easy in the puzzle department, just that it felt very smooth. The map and puzzle flow are both fairly small, which also keeps things manageable. Including a tutorial is a big part of TALJ, and this one was fantastic: clear, concise, and easily distinguished from the gameplay (since it used a different font). But beyond all that, the puzzles themselves were obviously crafted with care. For example, (Spoiler - click to show)at the point where you can go north to find a gnome or south to find an undine, the game gently urges you to walk past both of them in turn and experience failure; after you’ve observed their behavior and figured out how to sidestep each of them, things get more complicated, but now you have what you need to work out a successful course of action. All along the way, the puzzle design is very effective at leading the player to the solution without pointing right at it, creating a satisfying moment of insight.

Also, zapping things out of existence momentarily was just plain fun as a central mechanic. I enjoyed messing around with the weapon, and the part at the end where (Spoiler - click to show)you have to zap yourself to avoid an explosion was a great culmination of the premise. I wish I hadn’t already played around enough to try it earlier in the game, because it would’ve been an A+ aha moment.

I also appreciated the narrative choices in this game. We’re thrown into the middle of a story, playing only a small role in what seems to be a larger fantasy political drama. There’s no need for a detailed backstory in the intro. We have our role to play, and it feels like the right size for the task ahead. But that’s not all we get: throughout the game are places and objects that provide environmental storytelling, frescos expanding the world, and moments where the game offers us glimpses of a point of view (one small example: “[>x straw] It gestures at comfort without providing any. Which is worse than just having nothing at all”). Just like the puzzle design, the subtle storytelling stands back and lets players work things out for themselves.

Overall it’s a harmonious effect, with only a couple moments when things felt noticeably calculated. For example, (Spoiler - click to show)when my mapping sylph started narrating pertinent information about the undine’s actions in a different room, I was surprised that it had that power, and I wondered if it was added to reduce confusion for the player. I think it felt especially conspicuous because the power only came up once. But among all the careful design, I’m not about to ask the game to be messier, so this is truly an observation more than a complaint.

The other thing I wasn’t expecting was (Spoiler - click to show)the logic when it came to disappearing things inside other things. I couldn’t imagine how to save Manzio because it didn’t feel intuitive to me that the bag’s contents would stay inside it while invisible. It’s entirely possible this is set up in the game and I just missed it. But either way, it’s an optional discovery, so using the hints for that part was good enough for me.

And then comes that satisfying ending. Even though we’ve already seen (Spoiler - click to show)three of the depicted elementals, it was exciting to encounter the salamander and feel that suspense and then the moment of insight I already mentioned. And then we exit in the middle of a larger story, just like we entered. Sweet harmony.

This review is for the preview version submitted to the 2026 Review-a-thon. I’m going to assume people reading this won’t mind spoilers.

As a player, I don’t usually have a lot of patience for long descriptions and am not especially drawn to world building, and Isekai is packed with both of those things—yet in the end I largely enjoyed it. For 2+ hours I got sucked into the world and the story, despite some uneven elements and rough edges. With some careful editing, I think this could be a really compelling, dare I say wholesome game.

I haven’t played the previous games in this series, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I spent a long time in the first room, looking at everything. And there is a lot to look at in this game (“Which do you mean, (1) the aqua girl’s eyes, (2) the aqua girl’s face, (3) the aqua dress, (4) the aqua girl’s ears, (5) the girl in aqua, or (6) the aqua girl’s hair?”). I almost got overwhelmed. Then I realized looking at things is the main mechanic of this game, even more than in the average parser game, which actually makes a lot of sense in a story about waking up in someone else’s body in a strange world. Ludonarrative consonance! Anyway, whenever I got tired of reading descriptions (again, this is a me thing), I could skim them and get the idea. The important things were clear enough. The italic suggestions that sometimes showed up at the bottom of a description helped move things along.

The thing I thought was particularly strong was the pacing. There was a whole series of revelations along the way, doled out at regular intervals, which kept me interested in exploring to learn more. Up front you realize you’re in a woman’s body, of course. Then you realize you’re an elf, a specific elf, a specific elf with two wives, and you all have magical abilities. The dominos are set up for the explosive final realization (which I’ll get back to later). And I thought the finale really delivered, with revelations every step of the way as I left the library and walked to the landing pad to meet up with my spouses.

Sci-fi/fantasy is not usually my favorite (it’s probably the world-building thing), but when it's truly transportive it can feel therapeutic, and there’s something comforting about spending time in a world that doesn’t have all the obstacles and injustices that we have. This game’s many world-building details made me think about our own society, and how a different life is possible. What if different species lived together in harmony? Wouldn’t it be nice to not worry overmuch about a wardrobe malfunction? How would life be different if people weren’t concerned with using the toilet in front of each other? I’m not sure I’d ever given that last one much thought in the past, but now I have.

I also enjoyed the gameplay elements that weren’t just about looking at things. The puzzly moments where you have to read documents in order of complexity in order to get better at reading the language—the diplomas in particular—were a good example of melding gameplay with storytelling to make the experience more immersive.

The main thing that made the game less cohesive for me, I think, was the portrayal of the player character. Throughout most of the game, I couldn’t tell if the PC, aka the person who got isekai’d in the intro, was supposed to be a specific character with his own personality or a generic PC who anyone could project themselves onto. His characterization seemed founded on being 1) curious about this strange world, 2) fascinated by women’s bodies, and 3) unusually knowledgeable about math and astronomy. But since we didn’t get any concrete background details about him (e.g. name, occupation, what year he’s from, where he was before this happened), it felt less like he was a specific character, and more like an everyman speaking with the author’s voice.

Either way, the PC’s point of view became jarring to me because of the stereotypes and objectification peppered throughout the narration. Nothing I saw was overtly negative (the game is open about being accepting of differences), but there were multiple mentions of the “feminine knack” for improving one’s appearance, for example, and I can confidently say we don’t all have that knack. The mystery and beauty of the PC’s body is emphasized (“You feel more connected to this charming, gorgeous and exotic elfin body”), with far more attention paid to her large bosom than her six-fingered hands, for example. It feels like being a woman and being an elf are treated as equally shocking, which won’t be the case for all readers. Moments like that broke the immersion for me. I can picture a version of this game where we get clearer personality details about the PC that explain why he would be especially concerned with her ample bosom. I also can picture a more adult version of this game where the anatomical differences are an even bigger part of the allure. I found it perplexing how this game walked a line in between those two possibilities.

So that was my thinking for most of the game, and then came the late revelation that the main character has been Etuye all along, and her soulmancy was so effective that she got stuck believing she was someone else. This was an extremely cool moment! (It also helps explain why this guy can calculate astronomical positions and convert decimal to duodecimal in his head.) This realization made me wish even more that the game had teased more of the past-life PC’s background, so that the reveal would be even more of an aha moment. The intro could be a good place for this, since it was uncharacteristically brief.

Speaking of which, my other main wish would be to make everything shorter. I enjoyed “looking at things” as a mechanic, but it got tiring, and most of the descriptions could convey the same thing in half as many words. Just as an example, here’s a snippet from the game:

“You’re surprised at the ease of actually donning for the first time a tight, form-fitting culotte around your legs and hips, pulling them up to fit it around your waist with elegant, gracious and agile hip and finger movement, leavingneither wrinkles nor creases, like you have always elegantly and graciously donned female form-fitting garments, with that feminine knack for excellent appareance.”

Compare that with something like this:

“You don the form-fitting culottes, pulling them over your legs and hips to fit smoothly around your waist with surprising agility, as if you’ve always worn garments like this.”

Word count is an artistic choice, of course, and many people like lengthy descriptions. However, for a general audience, I do think cutting back on words would make the game more approachable. A diligent copyedit would also make the game read more smoothly—there weren’t too many confusing parts, but the volume of typos did slow me down a bit.

So, overall, this game is promising and I would totally read more of this story (though I think this segment could totally stand alone as its own installment). I enjoyed the journey of discovery the game took me on, and the story is threaded through with heart and optimism, as well as world-building that even I could appreciate. In an ideal world, I would like to be able to identify with the protagonist more—or else see more clearly why they are the way they are, without giving away the central conceit—though perhaps I’ll have to wait until the next chapter.

You’re sitting in your house and you’ve just finished breakfast. You see a newspaper headline about a suspicious person who’s recently moved into the neighborhood and just might be a witch. You decide you’d like to do some snooping around town and find out for yourself.

This is a very funny call to action for a text adventure, and All That Shimmers… contains plenty of chummy humor to match the premise. The writing is both functional and charming, with lots of amusing details about the people and places in your neighborhood. Suspicious things keep happening, and the narration tells you just how suspicious you are about it. And you are!

As for the puzzles, these are all pretty much the standard pick-up-and-use-things variety. Nothing particularly devilish, more a way to make you feel like you’re investigating a mystery. And you do! A couple highlights: (Spoiler - click to show)Including a helpful ghost as hint mechanism was inspired, and it made me laugh when, after all the setup about how good your hearing is, you need to crack a safe purely by ear, instead of, like, finding the combination.

I couldn’t tell at first if this was going to be a straightforward old-fashioned text adventure or if it would attempt to subvert expectations by making the witch a good guy or something like that. Turns out (Spoiler - click to show)it’s the first one. But the game doesn’t feel old-fashioned, either in tone or challenge level.

This game was an entry in (and won!) PunyComp 2025, which had a requirement that the player must interact with an animal. And the animal interactions were fun! Unlike some other text adventures, these interactions are not violent. (+1 bonus point for the great response to “>pet mouse.”)

I did spot a few typos, so it probably could use another editing pass, but nothing that gets in the way of enjoying the adventure.

A Garden of Impossible Objects is a visual novel that explores and makes tangible the experience of bearing witness to a family member’s grief. This game combines thoughtful, vivid writing, graphics, and sound to capture the surreal disappearance of meaning that comes with the death of a loved one.

The writing is wonderful. The evocative description of driving on a dirt road, arcane allusions to the oddities of an expansive garden, a throwaway line hinting at the narrator’s father’s death—everything points at the idea of the blank space, the unknown. On a broad level, the storytelling dances around and then gradually hones in on what’s missing. I found it very affecting as an illustration of how someone’s death is not just the loss of the person, but a million small things in the past, present, and future, and confronting any of those small losses holds open the wound for another moment.

It’s an interesting choice that the grieving person is the narrator’s mother, rather than the narrator themself. Both perspectives could be explored this way, but this one gives the story an extra layer of curiosity and remove.

The listed genre for this story is horror, but my experience of it was more aching and tragic. The visual and symbolic representations of grief felt familiar and natural. It’s weird, but I felt at home in the mystery and tension of the situation. Though abstracted and exaggerated, it all felt very real.