Ratings and Reviews by Andrew Schultz

This was an entry in Neo Twiny Jam but would clearly also have fit in the Single Choice Jam conducted by the same organizers as well. It's pretty simple--you are a papier-mache puppet among a bunch of wooden ones. You fall apart more quickly, and while you'll be put back together after dancing like the wooden puppets, there's a worry your creator won't do this if you go your own way.

Given that PPP advertises itself as queer horror there are obvious parallels e.g. "come on, you have more rights than you would've had in the 60s. Turn that frown upside-down!" or some such nonsense. You're doing ... well enough, right? But you want more.

This is hardly a new theme but it's always nice to see it expressed in new ways, and here, it is.

Maybe it's that I don't like to talk about the same sorts of things most people do, or read the same things.​​ Or maybe it was in high school that I wasn't excited by fast cars, or I didn't crave a management position, or I (no, this doesn't make me a Marty Stu) wasn't as eager to bash people not in Honors courses. Or maybe I enjoyed certain odd math problems instead of the ones that made chemistry or physics clear to you. Or, like the puppet, I tended to have less endurance for conversations.

This sort of thing persisted into adulthood, with the constant "well, you can make compromises, can't you?" But of course the benevolent (as the author says) hand also restricts you. Perhaps you are in a company where the pay is good enough and it's not as conformist as the next place--really, you could do worse--but you want more, and you're not willing to go home and play MMORPGs with the same crowd you work with. Or you might find an Internet community where you fit pretty well but they can't satisfy a certain part of you, and perhaps you could be more convival or popular if you said certain things, but you couldn't and didn't. (I am thinking about past communities, maybe where others enjoyed retro games, but some people were just annoying. Not the current one! I mean, to the extent that no one community should be enough for us, yes. But this review isn't a manifesto.)

So this sort of thing is appreciated, and if people really shouldn't appropriate it all for ourselves, we can definitely go back to the well and get more inspiration from it. We should have many such sources, and they should go beyond arguments like "you're too good for those bums" or "you're not totally weird, so you deserve something, I guess."

I meant to make my IFComp 2023 reviews public, but I never did. So I had a think, which entry affected me the most? Which gave me the most memories? Bez's MPDE hit the mark for me. I wasn't surprised to see many high-star reviews when I went to submit mine.

MPDE is a virtual museum, autobiographical, about the author's experiences in an abusive home. Going back, I didn't remember all the details, but I wound up remembering the technical and aesthetic choices more than the story despite not being an aesthetics person. The writing is good, but the way the author goes about sharing episodes helped me think about how I share my disappointments, big or small, with others, and how I hope they share with me. It was also unexpected, even though I know Bez is a quality writer. (The strongest line for me, which I want to share, popped up early on. "But that's when it hit me: if I wanted to kill myself, why did dying in a dream disturb me so much?") This veers off into how I would write something, so be warned.

Because the museum is a good choice for what the author wants to present and allow the player to empathize. It's largely choice, with custom programming, but it takes in the parser elements of a map, which I found effective. Each museum allows you to back up in-game, away from the main exhibits on the walls (think: 4x4 map where you need to touch the edges to see stuff,) which was a surprisingly nice way to violate the "no unnecessary rooms" principle. In fact it works a bit better as rooms on a 4x4 grid in a parser can't really "see" each other.

There've been times I needed to back up physically when addressing a serious problem, and with these actions the game itself said "you can back up physically if you need to and come back later." And I did. Often writing about my own parallel problems. "Here's what I'd do if I had a museum." I think we'd all like to build one for ourselves, recognizing how impractical it would be if everyone built one (no-one'd have time to visit!) But I enjoyed the thought experiment. I enjoyed being able to go at my own pace, not just by getting up instead of clicking "next" but by being able to wander around in-game or revisit a part of a room exhibit, now I'd seen the others. (Yes, Twine has undo, but that arrow is off to the side. I'm grateful for the convenience.)

There's a price of sorts to enter the museum. Not dollars and cents, but waiting to download a 200 MB file. And it is worth that price. It brought back memories of "No way, I'd never download something like this" in the old days of IFComp, even the message of "if your multimedia extravaganza is over 20 MB, please cut it down." And weirdly, taking 5 minutes to download it is proof of how far we've come, and what we expect, with download speeds, maybe something we never really expected to have consistently. It's a big ask from the author, in a way. But it's also an acknowledgement that we don't have to worry as much about technological restrictions. Also, the author realized that they could take advantage of resources such as faster download speeds to give us their full vision, with what we want to keep or get rid of. In my case, I turned down the sound. For focusing on the issues in MPDE, even relatively soft music is a distraction. I wondered briefly how many seconds would've been shaved off the download, but I didn't bother to calculate. The TLDR here is that I had a moment of realization: we deserve to take advantage of resources to get the help we need and maybe pass it on. We deserve to risk bogging down other people who may be all "say what you want and get on with it." And I think MPDE did that.

My memories of museums are mostly "don't go wander and get lost" or "do you really want to stay here that long?" I did both with abandon, though the big museum rooms are pretty much one-way, since a sequential story is being told. I enjoyed having the third way of just doing whatever I pleased and not having to worry about museum guards. And I also enjoyed the shift from the early days of Twine, where good writers might bludgeon the reader with lots of details at once, making a conclusive case they've suffered more than you. This catharsis is a necessary and good outlet for the writer, but it's hard work for the reader, and it's not the way to connect. MPDE was still hard work for me, but it was work I wanted to do. And noting one detail then another left me to think on and off about my own museums. Highlighting where I knew I reacted badly, and I was able to forgive myself for that without blowing it over. Where I saw I'd improved, or I realized the people chiding my for my bad reaction to nastiness ignored the, uh, nastiness.

On the actual exhibits: one thing I found interesting was Bez's discussion of a support network. I realized I did not have one for certain things, and the Internet provides that now. In fact, I realized some people that I should have been friends with on paper, or with whom I got put together in classes, actively discouraged that, or me finding that sort of thing, or suggesting that I really didn't need that. I might even have had a network of people who just saw me as a target to feel smarter than. High school was like that, not with the classic bullies, because it was a well-regarded high school, but with people who told me that I was kind of weird and not reaching my potential, and the only reason that got the grades or achievements I did was because I had no social life. This is a bit of whining on my part, but seeing the simple things that Bez brings up makes me realize that the things I was asking for, the things people said was too much with that I had to work for, I didn't really have to work for. Well, I would have to work to keep relationships up once I found them, but I didn't have to work to justify that I wanted these sorts of things, the small things that helped Bez get out of what was way more than a rut. I imagine a lot of people feel they don't deserve a support network, at least not until they get more social!

This wasn't the only contradiction MPDE reminded me of in my thoughts past and present. But it also reminded me life is tricky, and contradictions happen, and we can fight and push forward. And when Bez talks about a support network, it's important at least for me to realize, the support network is someone who helps you work through these things, and it's much different from the self-proclaimed life experts who say, well, that's stupid to have that contradiction. And whether or not we have had this bad experience with people, or we can sort things out, or we do have a strong logical background, we are people, so we see these inconsistencies that turn out to be nuance, and it's rewarding to work them out for ourselves, all while not blasting other people for legitimate, honest inconsistencies, or not understanding how things work but wanting to, or realizing sweeping rules that seemed to work as a kid aren't always right.

And I remember someone who gave me a notebook years ago, as Bez received early on. I never really used it. I equated it with the notebooks my parents would buy me at the start of the school year, because We Buy Kids The Supplies They Need. I think about that notebook a lot, and how I missed the point of it at first, and how I bought my own notebook in college and slowly started building a file of notes and daily writing that got to 10MB and then I managed to organize it or at least be able to siphon off lines with certain keywords.

There was other stuff, too, that I didn't need to share. But I remember wanting to Show People that I had a right to behave the way I did, that it was rational. The people who say "Oh it's your life" but then "remember this, not that." But I had a lot of "I forgot that, that really happened, and I missed the meaning, and I wasn't overreacting feeling awful about it."

There are a lot of exhibits, and MPDE gives a really homey feel. I enjoyed the feeling of not being pressured to look at any of them and the hand-drawn maps of each exhibit area, where it was clear where the exhibits and exits were. The graphics were well done too, with an option just to read the text where appropriate. There's also space in the middle of the exhibit you can wander around.In a parser game, this would be flagged as a waste of rooms, but here, it's kind of neat. You don't have to be looking at the exhibits, and there will be no security guards telling you to move along or even just glaring at you, a potential suspect who might deface an exhibit with the pen or pencil you're (allegedly) using to write ideas that are pouring in. (Yes, the guards are just doing their job.)

One other thing that struck me about MPDE: my IFComp entries are very much the opposite of Bez's entries, on the surface, but in other ways, the protagonists have similar goals. They start with something missing in their lives, and they deal with people who've betrayed them and, possibly, overcome them by the end. I just put more jokes and puzzles and silly existential despair in, and it's helped me work through some things. If the comp were full of only Bez-like entries or only me-like entries, it would be the lesser for that. And if Bez's entries evaporated, the comp would clearly be less, too. Yes, yes, I'm implying and hoping the same thing can be said for mine. But it hit home for me in a way that well-intended pro-diversity messages can never quite, because you're aware they ARE trying to convince you of something.

There's a lot of miscellaneous stuff right, too. The title is particularly strong, as many of Bez's are. You know what you're going to get, but at the same time, it's a phrase you haven't heard before, and it's not a cliche. It got me thinking right away of what to expect, and what I hoped to see, and what I hoped not to see, and it largely hits the mark for the first. With the caveat that Bez did not, in fact, write this work specifically for me. Not even close. But it got me thinking of my own museum, as well as places I am glad to have visited, and if I can't physically visit them again, I am glad there is the Internet as a, well, pseudo-museum dementia can't corrupt. Or a place to visit locations that actively hurt me.

MPDE is not, strictly speaking, fun. But it is rewarding, and it will assure you that you deserve to have fun in real life, and it helped me have fun sorting out bad stuff from my past. I looked up a few other people, too. I worried it might cause something bad to flare up. But I also said, yeah, okay, I'm okay with not liking this person or that person, or when they reached out, it was to push me over. So I felt like I'd come some way over the years, maybe not as far as the author did in two years, but good enough. Much quicker than hoped, without the "Look! I was faster than you!"

It inspired me to find ways I'd bounced back, or ways I still need to. I felt comfortable with the uncomfortable scenarios it related. Some, I'd been thre. Some were more intense than what I had. It was work to get through, rewarding work, but I never once felt like skipping ahead. It felt like someone saying hey, here's a note, can you look at this later, and having the person requesting it have faith in me that I will, and wanted to do that, even though I know it might be tough. This game has that, and I value that trust highly, and it's not easy to say. I've had my share of exasperated "Look, dude. I trust you/you need to trust me." With this review, I hope I've repaid the game's trust I would pay attention.

If you'll indulge me, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I made my own museum. My own MPDE. Nothing ever written about in a text adventure. I hope you have one too, but only if you need one.

(Spoiler - click to show)With my reading notes, the weekly stuff, where I point out incongruities I remember, or where I realized I just had trouble remembering basic stuff around certain people. I couldn't explain it. What goes wrong with me? Didn't I have this motivation? This went as far back as high school, where people assured me that I really was smart in all that, but I wasn't reaching my potential because I was kind of flaky, you know. It bothered me that I should be flaky around certain people, and it never really occurred to me that this was a feature and not a bug of how they treated me. Apparently I hadn't given them a fair chance, but they documented, publicly and privately, they'd done so for me. (This had holes.) It's legitimately rewarding to fix these holes and move on. But I feel okay and not selfish placing the blame for my flakiness around certain people around, well, them. Especially those who claim to have leadership qualities.

I can only assume that they would be equally "lovely" and "tough but fair" to Bez as well. Likely even more so. If they could be bothered. They slate some people as nobodies, for abuse or neglect, and during abuse you should be glad you're not neglected and vice versa. It's tough to realize they have nothing new to offer, even if they throw out a factoid to trip you up momentarily.

One such person was a physics teacher. I thought of the exhibits I would show. They're in my own museum, but I think above several I would have his quote, words no teacher should be caught saying: "They can't get rid of me." It was not my fault he tried to intimidate me into science extra-curricular activities and I wound up intimidated by him. I only wish I'd saved the email I'd received about how alleged bad actors were trying to push him out. They succeeded, and I met his successor, who was much kinder and saner.


Oh yes! About the soundtrack. On finishing, I realized I had a song of my own I thought about. I remembered some people had songs to go with their reviews--I figured it just wasn't for me. And it usually won't be. But it will be now.

(Spoiler - click to show)I never felt a reason to until now. Mine is Public Enemy's "Brothers Gonna Work It Out." I remember in high school people saying, "what, you don't know Public Enemy?" Then a friend at math camp played Public Enemy for me and I was hooked. Then people said "Come on, dude, you can't like it that much." After all, as last names go, Schultz is about as white as you can get. Was I minimizing racial struggles? Was I trying to be Black? Appropriating Black questions?

These were troll questions. I didn't see how to deal with them. I learned, over the years, forgetting what that song meant to me, and how I had belief in myself in some areas, that I would work it out. And even though I forgot that song, I still did. I guess that's a small pseudo-dementia exhibition of my own. I thought I'd just forgotten it, but I'd actually found a bunch of other motivators, one of the originals faded. I'd forgotten some demons I'd buried, and I forgot why they were so powerful, and yes, there were unexpected good things I forgot I'm glad MPDE brought back up.

This isn't the first time that a work of Bez's has helped me say, yes, the things I have are worth saying, at least in a certain context. I want to measure them out and say them carefully, but I don't have to feel guilty my struggles are less intense or acute than Bez's. And it's been the best one so far for that.
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I feel Escape from Summerland may be underrated because it didn't get the IFComp reception it could have -- the authors were in a time crunch, and some bugs slipped through. Which is sad for those who maybe played it and got frustrated. It still may be frustrating with the bug fixes--but it's also a lot of fun, with very clever viewpoint switching and a lot of quirky humor.

You start off as a ghost who sees someone trapped in a tent. Seeing who they are gives a realization--you may be able to figure it out. Once his initial duties are performed, you switch to his pet monkey, which has a ... rather less nuanced version of things. Then once the monkey leaves her cage, you're the ghost, making sure she's safe. That done, you switch viewpoint to a robot. Its descriptions are technical and tough to decipher. But here's the twist: the more you observe and look around as the other players, the more you figure what they mean. And different items are described differently by Amadan (the ghost,) Jacquotte the monkey and Shinobi the robot. Shinobi appears to be some sort of drone from an outer-space invasion, not really malevolent but just obeying orders.

And with the three players' combined abilities, you switch perspectives until Jacquotte gets out of the park. It's fun but very tough. I've come back to EfS several times, and without the clues, I get stuck somewhere else. The puzzles make sense, but they're very sticky. There's a part-broken lift to operate, and pushing a box out of the way takes a while. Shinobi has lost both arms and is badly malfunctioning (the temperature gauge goes from -80 to 80 Celsius). And it is low on power, which is probably why the invaders desert it. And for big events, the power drops 2%. You may see where this is going. Will Shinobi have enough power?

EfS rapidly becomes a buddy-comedy but without the backslapping. Amadon, the least powerful, most knows what's going on. Shinobi, for its technical knowledge, has no clue what things are for. Jacquotte can reach places. Amadon actually needs to provoke Shinobi into an action, where Shinobi senses his presence without being aware he's, well, dead. And Jacquotte has fun with the buttons on the lift, as one always wanted to when one was much younger. Contrasting her with Shinobi is amusing, as she often reverts to emote-speak with no qualitative description, and Shinobi's technical descriptions include "Organic Pest Must Be Jettisoned Before Further Ambulation." In actual English, that means Shinobi must DROP PEST if Jacquotte has climbed, before moving on.

EfS also has neat touches beyond just the three entities seeing the same item in drastically different ways. Trying to change them to themselves gets clever responses. We realize that the amusement park is a sad place, poorly kept up even if there was no alien invasion. And ... well, there are still bugs hidden in there, so you may want to save after each small victory. Which sort of adds to the slog as the three entities push through, leading Jacquotte from her cage to freedom. And, yes, there is some guess-the-verb, due to the nature of how the three entities see the world, but I actually rather like the included hints. They help me stumble through, along with the three heroes.

EfS is a rare combination of charming and clever, where it's fun to take a step back and see what everyone sees even if there are pitfalls in he puzzles and parser. Once you get in the flow, it's clear the authors really knew what they were doing and had a great plan. I know after EfS I hoped and expected something even bigger and more polished. Sub Rosa, for IFComp 2015, was that. And it brings up a tough dilemma: would I rather have, say, EfS and Calm, or one Sub Rosa? I'll cop out here on my own question and say I'm glad we have both, since they're each unique in the IFComp landscape. And to say: EfS is worth taking another shot at, if you trip up at first. Even completing it with its hints/feelies by your side is extremely rewarding.

Changes may have the most creative story from IFComp 2012: you wake up in the body of a rabbit, but with the mind of a human. This isn't some "intelligent rabbit" or Watership Down thing, here. You're on a person-free planet called Elysia. And you observe how you became a rabbit: animals are putting other animals into the same sort of pod you came out of, and they are switching bodies. They know this instinctively. So your main task is: how do I find what happened to my body?

I remember almost giving up on Changes because the start was unclear and hostile and even random. You had a very diligent fox chasing you around, and being able to sense animal emotions around you only did so much--if the fox wanted to play prevent defense randomly, gosh darn it, it would, until you got impatient, and only trial and error showed where you were safe (Oddly, you could also run past the fox if, say, you were south of it, it chased, and you went north. Hooray for mimesis and feeling fear?) It wasn't really clear what animal you'd want to become, as everyone else was bigger than you. The solution wasn't that clear to me, though it seems hinted in retrospect. Along the way I found a ton of insta-deaths. There was one place where I fell into a lake and drowned, because rabbits couldn't swim.

This is the big clue here, because you need to become something that can swim, and there's only one real animal that can. I didn't find it at all obvious how to kill them, though in retrospect, it makes sense. I guess the solution felt like something you'd see in a cartoon, and not a serious sci-fi work. But once I took the new animal's body, I saw more of what to do.

I did not drown in the lake, but my predator did. Then I managed to annoy another animal and kill them. There were deer to manipulate and avoid. I noticed an abandoned shuttle which, well, looked familiar. I needed to become an animal that had something resembling fingers--all through the game, I spent time dragging the bodies of animals I'd killed by their teeth, into the cocoon and then out.

Opening the space shuttle is the big thing, and while actually moving a human body back to near the pod (there's no animal big enough to carry the body) again feels a bit cartoonish to envision, it's pretty much "do what you can to cause a disturbance."

Nevertheless it's all very clever to watch and see unfold, and each time you change animal skins, you get a flashback detailing more of the story. Perhaps you'll be able to guess it sooner than I did. But even escaping in human form doesn't change anything. There's a mythical feel to Changes, including the ending, which is far from "you board the shuttle and race home, vowing never to get near Elysia again." There's a tale of human tragedy and conflict to unravel, and the feeling I had that I was disturbing something perfect and special was, in fact, validated by the end.

Some parts of Changes do feel a bit loose, and they stop it from soaring. There seem to be more locations than necessary, and chasing certain enemy animals gets exhausting. But the payoff is legitimately rewarding, and with Andromeda Apocalypse won the IFComp that year, I can't help but thing Changes would've had a shot with a good deal more polish.

As-is, I remember the author had a bug tracker with a lot fixed, and there were obviously a lot of different moving parts with several animal NPCs. They all act pretty simply, with beavers hissing or deer fleeing, but they build a world remarkably quickly with little need for detailed scenery. As someone who is indulgent about using walkthroughs and giving the author a mulligan for a puzzle or two that may be a logical jump too far, I really enjoyed Changes, even though the random events and NPCs bouncing around made it hard to execute. Perhaps it added to the feel that I, as (initially) a human, had trespassed somewhere I should not have been, in the name of progress. It combines eerie naturalism with sci-fi horror in a way I don't recall any other IFComp games doing.

Milo van Mesdag opened the Pandora's Box of two-player interactive fiction. It explored themes of oppression and war, pitting two characters against each other, leaving the players to suss things out later. The Purple Pearl feels more in the text adventure tradition. Yes, a purple pearl has been stolen, but the other player in this case is someone you cooperate with. You're both cordoned off into small cells. There's a way to shuttle items between rooms, and useless items are rejected. The game has separate binaries for the player in each cell. You can pass items between cells, and once you do so successfully, a code to give to your cooperator drops it into their game.

The Purple Pearl is a good, successful experiment, but if you think too hard, it does feel a lot more like an experiment more than the author's other works. You know you have stuff to solve, and you know it's not the real puzzle, and your main goal is just to get out and start your main adventure. So it doesn't have the usual emotional depth of one of the author's games. But it's still unique and fun and well-executed, and the puzzles, while not profound (they feel as though they've been done before and some, you can use brute force) require some lateral thinking. Receiving the player code once your partner did something, though was a nice surprise gift, as usually you have to keep hacking away or examining everything until you find a clue. Now you hope your partner has, or that they missed something. There was a good deal of encouragement between me and my partner no matter who went first. We wanted to get out of our cells, but it was nice not to have death hanging over us.

And the gifts? Well, they felt like a white elephant party, except they were useful. In one-player games, discovering such things might've seemed too random. I found, first playing one side than the other, it was still a fun surprise to receive an item I'd given, and vice versa. And I was glad the person I played with didn't reveal too much when they were briefly stuck. Purple Pearl has hints--or, more precisely, you can ask for hints to send to your teammate, so you can't spoil anything on your own--but neither of us needed them. (I did poke through them later. They're cheery and fun and do well to steer you only into what you need, with some rhymes that don't spoil things until you know what item they're talking about!) Generally, the items that you didn't need any more conveniently crumbled, which didn't leave much room for confusion.

The Purple Pearl is definitely replayable to see the other side. It took us about forty minutes the first time, then less than twenty for the other. Of course you can play both sides on your own, but I found it a bit difficult to keep track of, even though many puzzles were similar (three switches with three settings, a dial with three digits.) The main moments were the mystery of what might be coming my way, as if waiting for a holiday gift, or asking my partner what we should be looking for--we were walking a fine line between getting through our half of the game and not spoiling the other half, and it was pretty clear we each wanted to see how the other half worked, especially for the bit when we'd escaped our cells and were in a corridor with just one more thing to do. I think that is the main, lasting draw of The Purple Pearl. And it will be unique, unless a MUD version of Inform 7 becomes active again, with its own puzzles.

I confess I've never really gotten into Larry Horsfield's work. Based on this, perhaps I should, or at least try to chip away at one of his works for a few minutes each day. It's odd. I'd have been bummed about a work as short as this as a kid, even if I could solve it, but now, given all the games there are out there to play, I want more like this. (I can't complain, of course, having my own series of decidedly old-school parser games that do their own thing.) It feels like a good introduction, even if it is the fifth in the Mike Erlin series, so it may've been a wake-up call to say, yes, scaling back the difficulty would be worth it. I'm glad it snuck into ParserComp under the deadline.

You, as Captain Mike Erlin, have a group of five subordinates whom you have delegated to help track down Meneltra, which -- well, they need to be shot, because they're big long ugly bugs that shoot acid and terrorize the town. You are to shoot them down with minimal property damage, then BECOME the next person in Erlin's troop. You can play with timed turns or not. The timed turns are a very close shave indeed, at eighty moves total.

Your team splits up at the nexus of a road, going every which way. One Meneltra is easily findable, and another is disguising itself among zampfs, aquatic creatures which need air, while Meneltra don't. You as the captain have one of the toughest ones. There's also one Meneltra you can't shoot, and you need to use other weapons. Blow up six Meneltra, and, mission accomplished!

This is standard parser stuff, but it gives a good look-in to the universe. It's worth playing without the timer, then with it, to feel like you really understand what's going in.

The timed test is a bit confusing from a plot perspective: if you've split up, shouldn't the maximum time taken be what matters, not the total moves? Mike Erlin seems like a man of action and not one to stand around, but when you switch perspectives, the turn count goes up, and that's that. Still, it's a pretty tidy timing puzzle all told.

Still, I wound up coming back to this after ParserComp to play it again, because I appreciated it, and I hoped it would bring me closer to really appreciating the author's other works. So often I've spun out on them earlier, wondering if I should have tried harder to fight with the ADRIFT runner, and such. I've had such fun with short ADRIFT games in the past, and I feel sad I can't tackle bigger ones. Bug Hunt on Menelaus is a good place to start, though, it seems. It leaves me wanting to understand more about how the characters interact (they're all sent separate ways from the center.) It leaves me feeling I can tackle such a game, and all the non-obvious verbs can be quickly found. I'd like more of that!