Mammal is a small-to-medium-sized treasure-hunt game with mild puzzles. As the human slave of reptilians, you are tasked with eradicating all traces of mammals from a museum.
(Spoiler - click to show)This is a fairly grim premise, since you're effectively a Sonderkommando. The wider context of the purge is never explicitly stated, but there's ample evidence that it has been a violent and chaotic process. The featureless protagonist shows no signs of emotional reaction, and dutifully goes about a set of simple tasks that are perfectly familiar to an IF player: find and identify the treasures, solve some mild puzzles to secure them, return them to the trophy-case. The PC is wholly subsumed by their role.
There are some obvious homages: the skip as trophy case is a throwback to Ad Verbum, and the reptilians bear no small resemblance to Dr. Sliss of Rogue of the Multiverse. (If there are any direct references to the TMBG song, I wouldn't notice them.) More generic stock IF devices are common, too: a crowbar to pry things with, a wandering cat. This is about the morally numbing effect of familiarity, of how having an excellent practical grasp of how to do something can make it seem less ethically troubling. That this is a mechanically unremarkable game is kind of the point. The puzzles are just fiddly enough to engage your attention and keep it away from the elephant in the room. Ultimately, you incinerate yourself for the lousy last point. (I assume; there's a point or two that I haven't found.)
Mammal is not an ethically deep work; it has a single trick to pull, a single point to make. But it's cleverly handled, and it delivers a mean little moment of realisation. And it's very clearly not about the rather tired point that players will cheerfully do atrocious things if shepherded by gameplay; rather, it takes that as read and takes advantage of it.
(There is one small bug: if you incinerate yourself while holding other mammals, the other mammals are not incinerated.)
A strikingly surreal piece, with the feel of a (feminist?) short story written in the 1960s or 70s, or certainly in a time when people took Freud way too seriously. Unfortunately, version 1 is crippled by some major bugs.
The game has two PCs; one, Paul, obsesses over Lisa and in doing so distorts her reality. While the content is technically PG, Paul's obsession is in a pretty fetishy idiom, and the story as a whole is one of those works (see also Portal, maybe make some change, Loved) that plays heavily on creepy compulsion and manipulation of the player. For the most part, you have very limited options and the game makes it extremely clear what they are. There is one rather odd puzzle, which is less complicated than it looks (which means that it can be solved without being fully understood.)
As of version 1, there's an annoyingly repeating run-time bug (attempt to look up a non-existent correspondence in Table 1) in the second scene, although I can't tell if it breaks anything critical. More seriously, I was unable to finish She's Actual Size due to a major bug later on that failed to switch between protagonists at the appropriate moment. This is a shame, because it's a fascinatingly weird beast.
A bite-sized wordplay piece that should take under five minutes to play. Fictional content is slight, surreal and entirely in service to the wordplay.
Most puzzles have a trick to them, a satisfying moment in which you discover how the thing works and can start to make progress. A really good puzzle still requires some ingenuity after you've worked out the trick. In a bad puzzle, all that's left after discovering the trick is brute-forcing or other kinds of tedious slog. By that standard, this isn't really good, nor is it bad; it swiftly delivers that single gleeful moment, and after that everything else is trivial.
Narrative-centred, vivid, weird SF noir, short and fast-moving. If you enjoy Robb Sherwin games or Deadline Enchanter you're likely to enjoy this.
The idea of a PC with a prodigious sense of smell has been floating around the IF world for an awfully long time. And a detective piece seems like a good fit for a smell game: the PC can see evidence that nobody else can, and you can deliver forensic-science details without having to mess around in a lab. The thing practically writes itself, and Nostrils of Flesh and Clay looks almost nothing like it.
Nostrils is a sort of science-fantasy noir. The SMELL verb is, indeed, more useful than EXAMINE, but it doesn't give concrete information so much as emotions, associations and metaphors. This meshes in heavily with the lurid, punchy prose, which would be at risk of becoming purple if it wasn't so admirably concise. The world is grimy, threatening, nauseous, bordering on the surreal; everything is experienced viscerally. There's heavy use of gesture-worldbuilding; China Mieville or Blade Runner territory. You are not meant to understand everything, and there's a significant gap between player and protagonist.
Once the central plot thread emerges, it's pretty clear that things are not going to end well. The protagonist is a bent cop; her special powers bring her little joy and cause her plenty of suffering. The world does not contain anybody trustworthy or pleasant. The IF feeling of isolation is in full effect. There is, in theory, a payoff you're working towards, but this isn't a character who sees any real hope of things getting better. It doesn't wallow in misery, and the language is too tasty to make the experience particularly grim; but the content's still pretty freakin' dark.
Mechanically, it's a rather simple game, without much in the way of deep interaction or significant choice. Cut-scenes feature heavily. The whole thing has the instincts of a short story, with all the unnecessary elements sheared off; it wants to keep the plot moving. At points it's somewhat more sparsely implemented than might be hoped, but mostly (particularly considering that it credits no testers) it's remarkably smooth to play.
Highly promising; hoping for more.
An IF implementation of a fairly common videogame trope: eat things to get bigger so that you can eat bigger things. Mangiasaur is a world with the same bright, cartoony colours and magical-logic you'd expect in an early-aughts console game. There are a few notes which come across a shade more darkly, but mostly it's pure entertainment: don't expect involved puzzles, deep content or elegant design, but you will get light humour, satisfying gameplay and occasionally lovely notes of setting.
Adapting videogame mechanics to IF poses a number of problems, and one of the biggest is repetition. IF isn't really well-suited to problems of the 'kill 10 rats' type; the paradigm is hand-crafted, individual scenarios. Mangiasaur takes pretty much the path you'd expect; you don't need to eat a dozen critters to level up, and the challenge is more about finding and identifying your next target, or getting at them with light puzzles. A simple map and a low challenge level maintain a brisk pace.
So: fun, charming. Totally inconsequential, but sometimes that's what you need.