Ratings and Reviews by Passerine

Important context: I have not successfully played any of the Social Democracy games. I tried, but history was not my friend until recently, and it’s hard to immerse myself in the gameplay when I only understand about 5% of what’s going on.

But Lilac Song is a short story with no strategizing required. The scale is small enough for me to catch the vibe, and the premise is entirely laid out in the beginning: “Berlin, July 19, 1932. … Your name is Sibylle Hoffmann. Twenty-nine years old, a servant, an amateur scholar of mathematics and politics, and a transvestite.” You have an interest in politics, both academic and personal. You have the ear of a politician. And by playing through the simulation game you created, you’ve developed some ideas about what’s needed to defend the Republic.

I’m glad this game exists, because I feel like I got a different angle on Social Democracy by playing it. This approach was immersive in its own way, especially with the period music and artwork to help set the scene.

When I realized this story was being told from the perspective of someone who made a game about saving democracy in 1932, I got chills. We’re here in the 2020s writing games about saving democracy! Did I think it was only present-day people trying to capture our moment in history? We wonder if the games we’re creating will actually make any real difference. Did I ever consider that people throughout history were probably wondering the same thing? Drawing a direct line to the past this way expanded my thinking about our current predicament.

Anyway, you can reflect on how to make a difference, but ultimately there’s not much you can do—which is also more relatable to me than trying to meddle with actual politics. The ending feels very pessimistic, which is entirely appropriate. But one late-game question was the key for me: “Do you believe that a game could really save Germany? Or is this nothing more than an enjoyable diversion?”

I had to really think about that one, through space and time.

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.