Ratings and Reviews by Sam Kabo Ashwell

At first glance, this looks like a big pile of crap-IF tropes: a squalid apartment, a detective-type PC, and a narrative voice that lampshades crap-IF tropes and the game's own half-assedness. On closer inspection, the writing turns out to be actually funny a reasonable proportion of the time.

As the titular slob hero, you're tasked with uncovering a busybody conspiracy against Halloween chocolate in a small American town. Sometimes you encourage delinquency and attack fun-hating prigs, but as often you disrupt The Kids instead: the general tone is one of sociopathy born of slacker incompetence. The design approach aims for scale at the expense of detail and smooth play: characters are thrown in and out with wild abandon, a classic adventure-game jump-between-different-areas map is delivered as a high-speed sketch. The gleefully irresponsible action is sort of charming, although it doesn't quite overcome the game's overstretched design.

The main problem with the thing is gameplay, which is at the lower end of speedIF quality. Crucial exits are never mentioned, read-author's-mind abounds, and there's nothing really resembling direction. At times play flows very fast, at others it flounders. There's an in-game walkthrough, however, and not all of the evidence-gathering seems to be strictly necessary.

An entry in the horror-themed EctoComp, which requires games to be written within a three-hour limit. The usual SpeedIF qualities apply: synonyms are largely absent, the writing could do with a little editing, and the one puzzle suffers from guess-the-phrasing. Keep the walkthrough handy.

Blue avoids SpeedIF wackiness, aiming for a sweeping SF plot -- a hazily-defined plague of worm-like parasites collapses human civilisation, but the protagonist has managed to lay hands on a rare, stupendously expensive android. He could upload himself into it, or use it to save his infected girlfriend. (Spoiler - click to show)If he saves himself, it turns out that the rest of humaity chose a different way to save themselves. There are some minor obstacles to this, but it's essentially a grim-choice kind of game.

The game tries to avoid Usual SpeedIF Wackiness in favour of grim survival-horror and dark irony. (There are strong overtones of Vonnegut.) It's not wholly successful at this: the writing veers into the vague and overwrought a little too much to be really convincing, and there's so much crammed into a rather limited space that some crucial elements lack the time to breathe. Still, a good attempt at a difficult proposition.

Bringing the Rain was written under the narrow coding restraints of the ADRIFT EvenComp. (In this case, 8 rooms, 12 objects, 14 tasks, 2 events and 4 characters.) It tackles these restraints with a heavily linear structure and essentials-only approach to scenery, thus managing to get in a rather longer plot than the constraints would normally support.

It's a fantasy quest minus the swords, a third-son kind of story. Your town is suffering a prolonged drought, the witch Melda is holding the town to ransom, and you need to bring the rain back.

At its outset, the game presents you with two courses of action: investigating Melda, or going straight to Feather Mountain. If you go to Feather Mountain first, the story assumes that you've already taken the other path and found an important item. The bug isn't fatal, but it is pretty disruptive. Travel is often described in static room descriptions, and room descriptions don't reflect things you've taken or destroyed. Scenery implementation is very limited; this is largely due to the comp constraints, but it does make for a moderate amount of pointless frustration. Apart from this, the correct action is usually obvious and the story flows easily.

The writing is competent but not striking, and the story feels much the same way. It's a very basic plot; that isn't inherently a bad thing, but I came away feeling unsatisfied. Having conceived of its basic story, Bringing the Rain doesn't really add anything to it; the wicked witch is as wicked as you'd expect, the protagonist is thinly characterised, the challenges are unchallenging. I began to be a little irritated with the wicked-witch-is-wicked plot, but it's fairly clear that the story isn't interested in trying to make any kind of ethical point. Everything feels adequate and un-elaborated, which is acceptable in individual elements as long as they're in service to something. In this case, I think the author's interest lies in big dramatic spectacle: (Spoiler - click to show)the great avalanche, the exhilaration of flight, the elemental power and beauty of the gryphons. This is a difficult kind of effect to render in a non-graphical format, particularly an interactive one; if the most interesting elements of an IF piece are in the cutscenes, it's worth considering whether it needs to be IF.

By any reasonable standard of craft, Cheiron is a very poorly-made piece. It was not originally designed for general consumption, and only marginally as a game. Rather, it was designed by med students as a study tool. It's technically fiction, but it's the fiction of training scenarios, intentionally avoiding literary qualities.

The game contains four patients. You need to diagnose them using the standard methods available to a doctor: part of this lies in asking them about a fixed set of topics, and part of it involves a physical examination using a lot of specialist verbs (AUSCULTATE) and an immense list of anatomical nouns (FIFTH CRANIAL NERVE, STANDING BLOOD PRESSURE). Some of this is accompanied by stock medical photographs. The overwhelming majority of details are default responses, some of them totally inappropriate. All the patients are built from the same template and imperfectly customised, so you can (for instance) receive assurances from male patients that they are menstruating normally.

Given the game's intent as a revision tool and its sandboxy implementation, it's easy to assume that the patients will have a different condition each time. This was, I think, the original design intent, but it was never accomplished. Worse, once you've reached a diagnosis there's no way to tell the game this; the answers are included, and you have to be satisfied with that.

All this said, I had a hugely entertaining time with Cheiron. I played together with an EMT and anatomy student, and we made heavy use of internet resources. Divorced from its usual context -- the anxiety that you or someone you care about might have some horrible condition -- amateur diagnosis becomes a fascinating mystery, a complicated puzzle striking a balance between research, deduction and informed guesswork that I haven't seen equaled in any IF mystery. Most IF is designed to be self-contained, requiring as little external knowledge as possible; Cheiron demonstrates that taking the opposite approach can be compelling, although it doesn't suggest that it could be done in a stable and easily-played way.

The answers are telegraphed slightly -- you can't send off for lab tests, but you can see the results of the tests that a qualified doctor sent off for. The choice of tests alone is often a strong clue, but it still requires some interpretation.

Cheiron could, with a vast investment of work, have been turned into an excellent game. As it stands, its half-baked implementation will probably make it a frustrating experience for most players, its heavy requirement of specialist knowledge is likely to seem unfair, and some will find its focus on disease and infirmity off-putting.