Ratings and Reviews by Sam Kabo Ashwell

Ex Nihilo sits on the cusp between IF and e-poetry: a very short, very abstract, highly atmospheric CYOA in which you make choices about a deity. It will take perhaps five minutes to play, but you'll want to play a few times.

The core plot is always the same: a divine being creates the universe, abides alone for eons, encounters a race of lesser beings, and finally meets a being that is something like an equal. The value of interaction is primarily about the attitude and tone of the piece: depending on your mood and tone choices, the lesser beings and your relationship to them will turn out rather differently. God's mood is the shaping force of the universe. Events are described in terse, cool tones, at a high level of abstraction; and when you meet your counterpart, at the end, things are left massively wide open.

The game's colour choices and the decisive nature of the final encounter, which determines the fate of the world, suggest a kind of Manichean universe*, in which the nature of the two sides is always different. The suggestion of these strange dualisms is the main thing I took away from the piece; it has the weirdly fruitful nature of procedural generation about it, and in this context the awkward juxtapositions that this kind of thing often throws up seem more like the product of minds alien to one another trying to communicate.

To be more specific: the final choice of the game is a text entry, the first thing you say to the Other Being. From what I can make out, the game stores the entries of everyone playing the game, then feeds them back out as the Other Being's responses. Like letting players choose their character's name, this is the sort of thing that you'd expect to be tone-breaking, and often it is; when you encounter a divine being who greets you with "Eat at Joe's", you're kind of catapulted into a Douglas Adams cosmos. But at best, the disconnect that this creates, the feeling of talking at deep, unbridgeable cross-purposes, makes for a pretty good suggestion of cosmic conflict: Heaven and Hell fundamentally don't understand one another.

All this is rendered in a smooth, simple, effective graphic style with appropriately vast-and-lonely-sounding music.

* that is, a world shaped by the struggle between two roughly equal gods or cosmic forces: in classic Manichaeism, these are the forces of good and evil.

An academic-mystery adventure about European art history. It's large, attractively illustrated and amusingly written, but (as with many games that have a lot of action territory to cover) doesn't work awfully well on the interaction front.

Gilbert Fontenelle, a crabby professor of Pre-Renaissance Italian art, is brought in to investigate a Mysterious Clue on a painting in the Vatican archives. This will end up taking him on a grand journey across Europe, on which he will discover ancient plots, rampage through a great many art museums, meet attractive, intelligent younger women and be grouchy to the latter. (They will find this endearing and gently needle him.) There are strong shades of Indiana Jones here, if Indy was frailer, grouchier, Frencher and much, much more interested in the actual content of his academic field. ("Sorry, beautiful," Fontenelle subvocalises to a Polish hostess, "Gilbert Fontenelle already has a vice: the study of Pre-Renaissance frescoes.")

The characters are thoroughly hammed-up, the action slapstick. Most conversation happens in (large) press-any-key-to-continue cutscenes, a lot of which are very funny: the comedy generally derives from Gilbert being a horrible grouch who hates everything, but who (despite protestations) is willing to engage in a great deal of impish mischief. There are a lot of fourth-wall-bending jokes; on several occasions Fontenelle grumbles about all the adventure cliches, suggests some more that would be even more ridiculous to encounter, and promptly encounters them. The conspiracy-and-mystery plot is not taken enormously seriously; (Spoiler - click to show)there does turn out to be an ancient and cloaked cabal, but they're mostly in it for the annual dinners. But the sense of a grand adventure through cool places is strong regardless. Also, though saying this feels kind of like a disservice to the author, everything is funnier in French.

My French is good enough to read IF (if I read aloud, and go to Google Translate for idiom, and the French version of Zarf's Play IF card for standard commands) but not really sufficient to judge the quality of prose, and the parts of my brain that scan IF for puzzle content don't link up well with the parts that read French. So, while I felt that a lot of necessary actions were heavily underclued, I'm not sure that this impression is fair. Less ambiguously, this is a full-sized story about fast-paced intrigue and action, with fairly traditional IF puzzles worked in. That combination tends to lead to punishing timed sequences and wobbly implementation, which is certainly true here. In other places (the Bond-ish card game, the final puzzle) the gameplay aspects make the pacing sag. It's admittedly difficult to twin certain kinds of plot to IF that plays smoothly, and Ekphrasis' failings here are hardly extraordinary. The game managed to be compelling despite this, largely because I liked the characters so much; but expect to grind your teeth at a few points.

It's not wholly bug-free, either; there's at least one-point where dropping an object makes it impossible to pick up again, rendering the game unwinnable. (The walkthrough at the Archive is not entirely to be relied upon, either, which can cause big problems in certain timed sequences.) It's not entirely clear whether the extant version was intended as a final release. Regular saving advised.

This is a game that's deeply interested in art history, and there's an appropriately extensive use of graphics The choice of images is generally excellent, particularly when it comes to setting. Their combination is less so, and often feels a bit clip-arty. (At the time, this was about as much as you could squeeze out of Glulx; I live in anticipation of what will ensue once the Euro IF crowd get to grips with I7 Vorple and native-language I7. If this entire game could be rendered in the style of the chapter-break postcards... that would be pretty spectacular). There are also sound effects, which are more squarely in the just-a-clip department.

This is a slice-of-life game, heavily influenced by lad-lit novelist Nick Hornby, that deals directly with a romantic relationship and its breakup. That's a pretty rare thing in IF, and Mix Tape gives some hints as to why.

The author's focus is definitely more on the writer side. Essentially all of the significant actions come pre-scripted; only one scene involves much interaction, and even there your actions are about preparing dinner, rather than directly engaging with the relationship. Much of the significant plot is doled out in walls-o'-text. The prose wanders, a good deal of the time, into overwritten or overwrought territory; it avoids being bland, it maintains voice, but it's in need of a ruthless edit and some repurposing to fit its medium better. Significant action is pretty limited throughout; veering from the script will either get you stuck entirely, or dragged back on course.

The central relationship concerns Peter and Valentine, twentysomethings from nowhere in particular. Although you play as Valentine, the protagonist of this story is definitely Peter; Peter is the one whose interests dominate the narrative. Val isn't given much that makes her stick in the mind as an individual. In the frame-story, wherein Peter gets Val to burn her scrapbook of their relationship, it felt to me very much as if Peter was using Val as a prop in his own internal drama while justifying it as a necessary step for us.

A lot of the problems with characterisation are ultimately interaction problems: Peter isn't deeply-implemented, so he comes off as distant and inattentive. Peter's role is to direct the plot, so he comes off as controlling. The combination makes him feel self-absorbed and emotionally manipulative. (True, this is meant to be about a failed romance, not a healthy one. But it's meant to resolve into a failed romance but a reaffirmed friendship, and doesn't really succeed at it.) But it's also a problem with the writing: Valentine mostly thinks about Peter, Peter mostly thinks about music. It's hard to form much of a picture of Valentine other than as Peter's cute girlfriend.

In this particular corner of cultural history, we tend to have some fairly strong feelings about parity in romantic relationships. But the basic formula of interactive media involves a highly asymmetric relationship. This means that IF stories about romance are a very fine balancing act; small errors can have far-reaching, unintentional overtones about manipulation, coercion, emotional blackmail. Moments intended to be touching often become creepy even in more traditional media; IF is even more vulnerable to this. (Violet, a more mature piece than Mix Tape, still ends up falling into this trap.)

The game's structural conceit is a retrospective of a romantic relationship in the form of a selection of songs. This is kind of self-indulgent on the face of it, and suffers badly because the songs aren't (and can't be) included in the game. This was perhaps more of an issue in 2005 than it is now, when more or less any song can be listened to on YouTube; but it still has a translation problem if you're unfamiliar with the songs, dislike them, or simply have no emotional resonance with them. (For me, most of it falls into the category of Earnest Indie-Pop Rock with a side of Boring Indie That Nerds 5-10 Years My Senior Like.)

(I liked this considerably more when it first came out, but on re-examination its flaws feel far more acute. The score here splits the difference.)

Zero Summer is a browser-based game using the StoryNexus platform (best known for Echo Bazaar/Fallen London, and a bit like a social network game without the social network nonsense). It's set in a strange postapocalyptic Texas: you show up in Amarillo with amnesia and are obliged to find your way in the world as The Man With No Name.

The StoryNexus platform has a good deal more friction than is usual in a CYOA. Your choices are never single-click: you have to draw cards, mouseover them to see what they mean, click to bring up the card's options, assess those options, decide between them. In some games (this one included) you have to travel between regions to get the options you need, which is not in itself a content-offering process. Grinding -- repeatedly doing the same thing in order to raise your stats -- remains a significant game element. Even on a decent internet connection, none of this loads instantaneously; every click is a little slower than might be desired. And the system itself limits how much you can play by giving you a set number of turns that refresh slowly over time.

All of this, importantly, is dumb friction: it doesn't add challenge or engagement to the experience, it just slows the rate of content-delivery down. This places really high demands on the content itself; and, indeed, the Failbetter house style has generally been to set very high standards for the writing side, with strong and distinctive worldbuilding that's evoked with dense, punchy, elegant prose, richly evocative but (at its best) understated.

Zero Summer's take on the house style is a little different, but only a little. It veers somewhat away from the generic characterisation of Fallen London, towards more specific, continuous characters. Its snippets of text are more on the lengthy side. But these are very small departures, and most of the core elements are much the same: a strange, dangerous world full of sinister wonders and gradually unfolding mysteries, explored by a enterprising (but vague) jack-of-all-trades and delivered as a series of anecdotes in juicy prose. The rhythms of the text, the way the story is paced, the detail-oriented aesthetic feel for the subject-matter are fundamentally familiar.

As with Fallen London, the world of Zero Summer has been transformed by a fantastic and sinister apocalyptic event. In Zero Summer, however, it's less a matter of mysterious fiendish machinations and more a force of the harsh, inhuman desert. Demons won't be offering you scones and employment, here. On the other hand, the protagonist feels like less of a hedonistic sociopath; this is a story concerned with hospitality, with getting to know people because you'd like to know them better, rather than for the sake of money, sex, information, patronage. Notably, while three of your base stats correspond to Fallen London ones, there's nothing that matches the thievish Shadowy. (The particular combination here, of people who are immediately hospitable but also very private, thorny and hard to get to know, feels just right for a frontier US context.) It's concerned about staying human in a tough world.

Insofar as Zero Summer has failings, they're generally to do with problems inherent in StoryNexus. The art is stock. The world is, at present, perhaps a little sparse; you can travel to areas before there are any actions unlocked there, and you often find yourself drawing the same five cards over and over again (which undermines the purpose of having a card-based opportunity system instead of a static set of options). There is a shade too much grind required, and the turn-limit system remains an unhappy compromise. But within its established idiom, Zero Summer is a capable and engaging piece of work.