Reviews by OtisTDog

Back to Life... Unfortunately is an entertaining but significantly buggy game. I played version 3, obtained from the IF Archive. (At least, I think it was version 3. The game banner claims to be version 2, but the response to the command >BUGS implies otherwise.)

As noted by another reviewer, the game's humor starts well but doesn't hold up for long; there are really only so many ways to tell the same joke. However, by the time the humor has worn off, you are likely to have achieved several "successes," so you will be well-motivated to finish the game on the basis of wanting to complete the remaining puzzles. Regrettably, you are likely to run into trouble while doing so.

Many of the issues stem from the use of ADRIFT to write the game. As I've noted elsewhere, the most frustrating thing about ADRIFT as a player is that it lacks a proper parser and does not differentiate well between errors that are caused by failure to understand the arrangement of words vs. the failure to understand the words themselves. The game's gravest errors are where it provides inaccurate feedback, giving the player the perception that certain required commands would have no effect or would be unrecognized. I got hung up for quite a while on the syntax required to mark boxes on a form; since the need to do this is immediate and obvious, it is no spoiler to relay that the correct syntax is of the form >TICK BOX 1. (Just >TICK BOX is treated as a totally unrecognized command -- a disambiguation message would have helped tremendously here.) The worst offender of this class was (Spoiler - click to show)(see numbered hint 3 below). Attempting to use any other direct object results in a message instructing the player to say which of several indirect objects is intended. Specifying the correct indirect object in the command via its typical adventurese abbreviation (i.e. color only) will not work and falsely claim that there is no effect.

There is a built-in hint system, but it is not very extensive and does not help with guess-the-* problems. (Even here there is a significant inconsistency: While >HINT works as a command, the response to >HINTS claims there are no hints in the game.) (Spoiler - click to show)If you get really frustrated, there is a command >CLUES that will point the way to 100% spoilage. Since the game is enjoyable and worth playing, I offer the following hints:

1. Handling an intruder: (Spoiler - click to show)After exploring a bit, you will hear the sound of an intruder in your chambers. (Spoiler - click to show)You should immediately >LISTEN as soon as you are notified of this. Should you fail to do so, it will seem as though the noise was a false alarm. Go back to the Throne Room and >LISTEN to trigger the next part of the sequence. (Spoiler - click to show)An assassin! Oh, no!... but wait a minute, don't you want to die? (Spoiler - click to show)As the game hints, you don't want to die at the hands of this particular person -- once was enough.(Spoiler - click to show)You can't handle the intruder alone. He will kill you.(Spoiler - click to show)The guards can help here. (Spoiler - click to show)You have to call them -- but it only works correctly from the Laboratory. (Spoiler - click to show)If you don't do things this way, you will miss two opportunities to die.

2. Dealing with the problems of the kingdom: (Spoiler - click to show)You don't want to rule anymore. That's someone else's job. Someone specific. (Spoiler - click to show)Your High Chancellor is very... effective, shall we say, but he can't do the job alone. (Spoiler - click to show)Your layabout son is the proper ruler at this point. You will need to "encourage" him. (Spoiler - click to show)Did you know that you can >CALL GUARDS from the Throne Room? (Spoiler - click to show)They will provide you with a ring allowing telepathic communication. Pay attention to its introduction. (Spoiler - click to show)Examine it carefully before putting it on. (Spoiler - click to show)Your son isn't eager to take up his duties, but he is eager to avoid any displeasure. (Spoiler - click to show)Especially pain. (Spoiler - click to show)>SMASH RING -- but only while wearing it in the Throne Room, for inexplicable reasons. That will get his attention. (Spoiler - click to show)Then >TALK TO TOROMIN again -- but only somewhere other than the Throne Room, for inexplicable reasons.

3. An optional death: (Spoiler - click to show)If you have handled the intruder correctly, you will get two items that he was carrying. (Spoiler - click to show)One is easily applied to your goal. The other requires some work to use. (Spoiler - click to show)The leaf has an odor that reminds you of something. (Spoiler - click to show)Your lab has something that can help. (Spoiler - click to show)You want to heat it up. Which potion is best for this? (Spoiler - click to show)For inexplicable reasons, >PUT LEAF IN PURPLE won't work (and falsely claim that nothing happened), but >PUT LEAF IN POTION or >PUT LEAF IN PURPLE POTION will have a result.

4. A required death: (Spoiler - click to show)As you have discovered, your minions are quite adept at bringing you back to life. How can you stop them? (Spoiler - click to show)You need to be not just killed but obliterated. (Spoiler - click to show)Earthly methods are insufficient here; you need divine intervention. (Spoiler - click to show)Divine is not the same as infernal! (Spoiler - click to show)You probably found a scroll discussing "words of power" in the Laboratory. (Spoiler - click to show)Oh, darn -- the words are missing. But this was your scroll, supposedly, so maybe you already know them? (Spoiler - click to show)You can just say >WORDS OF POWER to use them -- in the right place. (Spoiler - click to show)The right place being someplace open to the sky. (Spoiler - click to show)No, not the balcony. (Spoiler - click to show)The Throne Room needs to be prepared before it will work. So do you. The scroll is specific about this. (Spoiler - click to show)Holy water is the tool for the job. (Spoiler - click to show)You can drink some to prepare yourself, but you need a way to get some to the Throne Room. (Spoiler - click to show)The only container that can be used for this must be ordered using the mouldy scroll (obtained via >CALL GUARDS in the Throne Room). (Spoiler - click to show)The genie in a bottle is a red herring. (Spoiler - click to show)The fiery potion won't kill you but does provide you with a container. (Spoiler - click to show)You can >FILL VIAL in the Laboratory and >SPRINKLE WATER in the Throne Room.

Although the goal is to reach a score of 10, the way to achieve this best score is, unexpectedly, to forego one of the opportunities (Spoiler - click to show)(see numbered clue 1 above). Doing so provides the PC with needed items that can't be obtained any other (legitimate) way. Sharp-eyed players will note that the score (measured in "successful suicide attempts") goes up even when the PC chooses not to die here, and that this mysterious extra death is needed to get to 10. The reason for this is not clear; it seems to be a bug.

The least bothersome issues encountered in the course of play were several misspellings that looked like the result of depending on a spellchecker instead of human proofreading. Of particular note were two phrases: "the semi-literature Toromin" (instead of "semi-literate") and "full extent of the water" (presumably instead of "of the law"?) -- the remainder were sound-alike errors that are easier to miss.

The problems were frequent and severe enough to sharply reduce my opinion of the gameplay experience, which is why I've given it two stars. However, I did like this game, and I encourage people to try it out. Its premise is solid, and the writing is above-average. It ended up being the first of a series, followed by two sequels that received respectable rankings within the competitions in which they were entered. With some corrections in place, this game would definitely warrant three stars. Until that happens, don't hesitate to use the clues above as a way of smoothing out the roughest parts.

Wisher, Theurgist, Fatalist is a short game with an unusually ambitious scope. It is intended as an homage (self-described as "fanfic" in the game's banner) of an RPG system proposed by Jenna Moran (the outdated URL for which is also shown in the game's banner; the Wayback Machine has an archived version).

I had never heard of this RPG, and a cursory review of its rules suggests that it was proposed as a game mostly in jest. Rules are frequently written in a joking manner, such as the following passage: "Don't play WTF when operating heavy machinery. Use caution when playing WTF while tired, drunk, or punchy, as it may increase the chance that the shadow lurking beyond the edge of the world shall immure you all in timeless misery. If you are or think you might be pregnant, talk to your doctor about playing WTF." Even the RPG's acronym (WTF) implies that it is not intended to be taken seriously.

However, the author of the RPG has published other commercial role-playing games, and the part of the WTF rules that are not in jest describes a collaborative story-building RPG system. That system as described appears to be at least 90% satire. I don't have enough experience with this type of game to comment on WTF's playability, but I assume that it is possible with the right set of participants. (A word of warning: The rules' example of play, from which the title of this review was drawn, might give you pause.)

The remaining 10% of the non-jest portion appears to be an outline of the RPG author's philosophy and/or methodology for creating fantasy stories (and/or possibly for living), which is interesting but is not the point of this review. The only part that is relevant is the prescribed gross structure of a game of the RPG, which begins in the the Civilized Lands. (Per the prescribed outline, the story is intended to progress from there to the Savage People and the Fairies, then on to the Ur-Toads -- optionally first attempting to reach the Dragons of the Deeps -- and thence to the Conclusion. Understand that these segments of the journey and their names are in some sense composed of mythic archetypes, and would seem to be highly fluid in their execution. The only requirement is that certain types of narrative challenge are overcome at each step.)

Xavid, the author of the work of interactive fiction which is the point of this review, seems to have been inspired by the RPG's more poetic sections to create a parser game rooted in the RPG ruleset. This is a goal that on the face of it seems manifestly impossible, as the ruleset is unapologetic about its massive ambiguities, and computer programs don't do ambiguity well. As a consequence, many (indeed, most) of the mechanics of the RPG are simply ignored by the IF. Perhaps unexpectedly, what remains seems, in fact, to be a pretty good adaptation of the intended play experience to the parser medium.

The human player takes the role of the player character, who is the Wisher, and indirectly takes the roles of the Theurgist and Fatalist, who are both non-player characters that become obedient to PC commands after minor puzzles are solved. Each of these roles has the ability to influence certain in-game objects by injecting those objects with a quality that is associated with the role. For Wishers, this is "valence," the relevance of that thing to the narrative. For Fatalists, this is truth (as judged within the story world). For Theurgists, this is "mechanical support," ostensibly referring to RPG game mechanics (but rather significantly re-defined in the IF).

Each of these qualities will be discovered in the course of play and can be used by the appropriate character to invest objects with supernatural influence for the purpose of solving the IF's puzzles, all of which offer multiple solutions. In addition, the Wisher and Theurgist characters have a limited ability to use other special influence, by affecting the thoughts of creatures and physical qualities of things respectively. (In the RPG, the Fatalist's special power is the ability to declare what is true about the history of the world. It would be difficult to implement in a meaningful way, so in the IF this character is largely reduced to the source of in-game lore.)

The events of the game cover the characters' travails in the first part (i.e. the Civilized Lands segment) of an RPG game, in which they must obtain the (vampire) queen's blessing to set out on their quest for the Jewel of All Desiring. This portion is very sparsely implemented, largely composed of single-sentence room descriptions and "You can't see any such thing." parser errors. However, mechanically the game performs very well, implementing some relatively tricky things without any noteworthy bugs. The built-in hint system is available if needed, which goes a long way toward keeping player interest from getting derailed by guess-the-verb and/or guess-the-noun frustration. The writing, limited though it is, is well-focused on what is necessary to create a minimum of atmosphere and adequate context for the game's puzzles.

The conclusion of the game is quite unexpected... and very thought-provoking. (Spoiler - click to show)Having reached the object of the quest, the player must wish the world into existence. (Spoiler - click to show)(In accordance with the rules of the RPG, this will be the world that the characters experienced -- yes, it's very meta that way.) The game asks a series of questions about the actions taken by the characters, soliciting your -- as in you, the player's -- input on the matter. Questions are phrased such that they ask whether or not you agree that aspect of the story. At the end of the ten questions, your score is given, and the maximum score accords with answering yes -- answering yes honestly -- to all questions. If the player does not like their score, they are implicitly invited to play again to find other solutions to the puzzles.

This game left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the concept behind it is compelling, and the implementation reflects insightful and inventive design in adapting the more ephemeral aspects of the RPG as written. On the other hand, everything about the game's text and interaction is so bare-bones that on the whole it feels flat and empty -- in stark contrast with the tidbits of evocative and compelling text pulled from the ruleset and delivered via the Fatalist. Ultimately, I decided that this flatness is what would matter most from the perspective of the average player, which is why I've given this work only two stars.

I remind the reader that, in my book, two stars is not a bad rating. I certainly think that this game is worth experiencing and contemplating -- it doesn't take long. Perhaps Xavid will return to this project and expand it to the point where it better fulfills its potential. If not... well, perhaps someone else will come along to take another shot at realizing the vision shimmering in the distance here.

>SHOOT THE PIRATE

This is the first line of Plundered Hearts. It is not a player command, but it looks like one. I don't know of any other earlier interactive fiction that begins this way. The text that follows looks like a response from the game, which is followed by a pause captioned with "[Press RETURN or ENTER to begin.]" After that, the game proper commences. The opening paragraphs give every appearance of being an in media res beginning, but they are not -- another actual beginning, also in media res, supplants it after the game's banner is displayed.

Whence that opening interlude? It is never explained within Plundered Hearts, and the scene portrayed, which is clearly not in the same continuity as the rest of the game, is most likely quickly forgotten by the average player. The game comes full circle at the climax moment, however, at which point this very command is the winning move leading to the "best" ending.

My first thoughts were about its similarity to the start of Wishbringer, which opens with the player character's daydream about fighting a dragon. Later, I considered that it might be an extended transition from the instruction booklet's sample transcript, perhaps doubling as hyper-abbreviated tutorial for those who had skipped reading it. Still later, I speculated that it was an excerpt from an alternate version of the scene depicting the player character's first encounter with her love interest, written earlier in the game's development.

According to the game's Invisiclues, the segment's origin is more prosaic: "You are asleep, dreaming this when the pirates attack.", "It's a preview of things to come.", "It's a sample of the writing style of PLUNDERED HEARTS.", and -- perhaps most importantly -- "Romance novels always have teasers of this sort." These are four answers, suggesting four separate purposes. In some ways it seems an echo of the Dreamtime of romance novel genre conventions, deliberately and skillfully inserted straight into the player's subconscious by Briggs (who has studied both psychology and narrative). Based on the Invisiclues answers (which evidence suggests were prepared by Briggs herself), it seems like an attempt to simultaneously reassure the player while preparing them for something different. For the player already familiar with text adventures, a sketch of the protagonist's relatively strong characterization and the game's atypical subject matter. For the player well-versed in romance novels, an illustration of the alien but essential interaction with the parser.

Plundered Hearts is commonly known as Infocom's first (and last) interactive romance novel. Released as the company was leaving its best days behind, it suffered disappointing sales and was widely panned in contemporaneous reviews. Although the marketing department had hoped it would be the bridge to a new market of women players, it sold only about half as well as a typical game. Author Amy Briggs, in an interview with Jason Scott, is blunt in relating that at the time she considered the game to be a failed experiment.

... and yet, here it is in 2023, three and a half decades later, and Plundered Hearts suddenly makes a strong showing on the Interactive Fiction Top 50, placing (alongside others) at a respectable 18th place, where it outshines even Trinity, which was long considered by the community to be Infocom's apex. The game has not changed at all in those years -- so what has?

I can point to Aaron Reed's 2021 analysis of the game as a possible contributor, but I note that Jimmy Maher's broadly similar treatment from 2015 produced no comparable shift in public opinion. Is it just that there's something in the air this year about nautical themes?

Let's look a little more deeply.

Plundered Hearts is remarkably different from most earlier Infocom games. Another review describes it as "story-forward," a useful term to differentiate it from both "puzzleless" and "puzzle" games. There are puzzles here, but they are lightweight by Infocom standards. Every puzzle is eminently fair. Solutions are rooted in the reality of the story world and standard genre tropes -- there is no "moon logic" here, nor anything that comes off more as riddle than as cause-and-effect. In short, these puzzles are not designed to stump; they are designed to engage. Although it is possible to get into an unwinnable state, it is not very likely if even the slightest prudence is exercised. The style of play is very close to the modern norm in which it is simply not possible to become stuck.

Almost shockingly in the context of an Infocom game, several of the significant puzzles have multiple solutions, and by this I mean genuinely viable and effective alternate options for surpassing obstacles. In some previous Infocom games there are false solutions which allow limited progress but will ultimately require restoring or restarting to win (or at least to achieve the maximum score) -- in effect, what looks like an alternate solution turns out to be only a promising-looking dead end, because the story structure takes the form of a maze with only one correct path. Here there is much less of a maze, and the available choices send the player character on separate but equal paths through the story space, enabling different players, using different methods, to finish the story in their own style.

The most direct consequence of this player-friendly design is a total play time on the order of 2 to 4 hours. This is extremely short by Infocom standards, and it seems that many players and reviewers mistook kindness for weakness -- complaints that the game provided too little entertainment for the money were prominent. But in an interview from the Winter 1987 issue of Infocom's marketing publication "The Status Line" (cited by Aaron Reed), Briggs is clear that she designed "a game that [she] wanted to play" -- the kind of experience that Infocom's marketing had been promising to the world on every box with the claim that their games were "like waking up inside a story." Jimmy Maher sums up her success in this endeavor well: "Plundered Hearts might just be the best expression — ever — of the Infocom *ideal* of interactive fiction... There’s a plot thrust — a narrative urgency — that’s largely missing elsewhere in the Infocom canon, coupled with many more of the sorts of things the uninitiated might actually think of when they hear the term 'interactive fiction.'... Amy Briggs took interactive fiction as Infocom preferred to describe it and made her best good-faith effort to live up to that ideal."

There are four "winning" endings to the game. Each of them yields the full total of 25 possible points, but three of the endings inform the player that "There are other, perhaps more satisfying, conclusions." I can't help but draw the parallel to Inform 7's "end the story" vs. "end the story finally" statements; what is standard convention now was something unheard of in 1987. This was an arrow in the sand, pointing the way to a broader definition of interactive fiction. Even Steve Meretzsky's boundary-breaking A Mind Forever Voyaging doesn't escape the straitjacket of convention calling for an endgame puzzle with a single solution, but Plundered Hearts takes a big step into new territory by granting all four endings equal scores, regardless of the outcome of the climax scene.

The game would fit very well in this year's IFComp if it weren't somewhat underimplemented by modern standards. I hasten to point out that the "under" part of that statement is rooted in a perspective influenced by 35 years of evolution of the form (and its supporting technology) since the game's publication, and that the reduced level of implementation is almost certainly entirely a consequence of 1980s technical limitations. The game file is 126K, which is at the absolute limit of size for Infocom's Z3 games. In the same interview with Jason Scott, Briggs describes the need to edit the original version of the game down to a size that would fit on the microcomputers of the era and says that it took months to accomplish. Despite the implication of drastic editing, production notes show that at its most expansive the compiled game was only about 2.5K larger than its final size. Briggs may be referring to cuts to the design on paper, ideas that never made it to code in the first place.

The decision to stick with Z3 (which in particular seemed intended to preserve access to the Commodore 64 market) meant that Briggs had very definite constraints on the realization of her vision. Perhaps the central challenge in designing this work was that by its nature it calls for extensive characterization and character interaction. According to Briggs, Meretzky warned her not to try this story as her first attempt -- while she does not say what specific challenges were anticipated, the most obvious stem from the difficulties inherent in developing characters. Undeterred, she plowed ahead, placing herself into a position where necessity became the mother of invention (mayhap following a brief dalliance with desperation).

Briggs partially solved the problem through the use of cliche. I do not say this as criticism, because I do not think that significant characterization for so many different characters is achievable within the limits of Z3 except through heavy use of cliche. (If you want a character to be different, you have to illustrate the difference, and that takes text.)

The plot is similarly a collection of standard tropes and beats, but I note that the use of cliche does not preclude effective entertainment. Many of the same elements are present in that other famous pirate adventure game of the era: The Secret of Monkey Island. (In a twist of fate that sounds too good to be true, it turns out that Amy Briggs used to babysit Ron Gilbert, the lead designer of Monkey Island, when she was a young lady. See the video interview of Gilbert cited on Briggs' Wikipedia page.)

Conversation was exceptionally dangerous territory; it was always weak in Infocom games due to the ASK/TELL model. The Achilles heel of ASK/TELL is that the frequency distribution of possible topics has a long tail. An NPC with just a few significant responses seems less like a person and more like the virtual automaton that it is. It takes scores of responses to make a suitably "lifelike" NPC (even assuming that responses to a given topic do not vary), and while some players will delight in an NPC that has a wide range of responses, most players will give up quickly after drawing a few generic replies in a row.

Although later non-commercial works such as Galatea, Anchorhead or Lost Pig show that ASK/TELL can work reasonably well, they also show that it requires large amounts of text to be dedicated to conversation. (Compare Lost Pig's single NPC and 279K file size.) The standard dodge was (and often still is) to create an in-game reason that serves as an excuse for an NPC's poor conversation skills -- and indeed this method is used for the characters of Cookie (who is nearly deaf) and the "butler" (who exhibits a stock combination of quiet menace and bland formality).

In the context of ZIL and Z3, where every byte matters, devoting substantial text to responses that have a low probability of being discovered by any single player is simply a bad bet when weighed against the other needs of the game. It is unsuprising that Plundered Heart's ASK/TELL conversation doesn't fare any better than the Infocom average, but Briggs makes use of a new invention for the most critical interaction with NPCs: the YES/NO conversation model, in which the PC must respond to yes/no questions from the NPC. Only an embryonic version of the technique is on display -- fewer than a score of these interactions occur -- but they demonstrate a way to add characterization to both PC and NPC in a very economical manner from the perspective of the programmer. Although similar code can be found in other Infocom games, the technique is generally used to conduct humorous and/or snide metaconversational exchanges between the parser/narrator and the human player; the exception is A Mind Forever Voyaging, where in a minority of instances the technique is deployed to interact with other characters. Plundered Hearts seems to be the first to use YES/NO responses primarily to drive player character actions. (Andrew Plotkin would later use the YES/NO conversation model to great effect in Spider and Web.)

Another innovation worth noting in passing is the game's implementation of clothing -- and layered clothing at that. Though the layering has little functional significance, it seems that the clothing system was a substantial development effort with its own module of about a thousand lines of code (around 5% of the total source by line count). Changing clothes is more than mere disguise, it is a social act within the game, and NPCs frequently react to the PC's outfit -- providing a way of squeezing a little more characterization out of the limited interaction that was possible.

In a further departure from contemporary Infocom norms, hallmarks of the house style of humor are conspicously absent. As pointed out by Jimmy Maher: "There aren’t 69,105 of anything here, no 'hello, sailor' jokes, no plethora of names that start with Zorkian syllables like 'Frob,' no response to 'xyzzy'..." The only whiff of that vein of humor to be found is in the player character's family name of Dimsford, and it is soon forgotten if it is even noticed in the first place. (Exhaustive interaction with the environment will yield a smattering of other jokes in the Infocom style, such as the motto on the Jamison family ring and the name of the piece being played by the band in the ballroom, but these are exceptions that are easy to miss.) The game's playability today is much improved by this choice.

It is very interesting to wonder about what the game would have looked like had Briggs been given the freedom of the Z4 format with its expanded capacity. There are hints due to the release of the Infocom hard drive, such as: the name for a fifth ending called "Femme Fatale," which an associated comment describes as "You desert -- Lafond dead"; a spyglass with a special interaction from the crow's nest of the ship; the possibility of the protagonist injuring her ankle and approaching the mansion along the road north of it; a number of interactions involving Lafond's hat; snipped objects such as a bent key, a candle, and hoops for your frock; and suggestions of a somewhat more lurid style in certain places.

We know that Briggs wanted to do more. In the Jason Scott interview, Briggs recounts her reaction to seeing "Pirates of the Caribbean" for the first time: "*That's* what I was trying to do. That *movie* is what I was trying to get my game to play like -- that whole experience." She wasn't the only one who wanted more action, in a separate anecdote she recounts: "I remember one reviewer just lit into the game because she was trying to karate chop and to do tough guy stuff, and the game wouldn't let her." It simply wasn't possible to do much more than she managed with the materials at hand in 1987.

In the end, the collapse of Infocom and the shift to graphical games was a turning in the tide of history, and Briggs' arrow in the sand was washed away... but not before it was noticed, not before it turned eyes to the horizon and kindled dreams of what distant shores might lie beyond it. Now, in a time when those shores have been charted, pirate-themed interactive fiction continues to be produced in a steady stream -- but has any of it managed to do better than this pioneering first?

There is something deeply endearing about the Frenetic Five franchise to me. If there was anyone out there long-awaiting another episode of this series, I was that one.

What do I love about the series? It's not just that it hits the superhero satire sweet spot better than anything since the Tick animated series, but that it does it in such a clever way. Author Neil deMause's sense of humor is both shallow and deep, running from playful one-liners such as

> QUIT
You can’t actually quit, since as an independent contractor you’re not technically employed.

> QUIT
Oh, *that* kind of quit.

Are you sure you want to quit?

to the refrigerator logic perfection of the fact that even though the superpowers of the main characters seem foolish, they truly *are* superpowers in the context of an interactive fiction game. (To wit: Improv is the player avatar whose "power" is to come up with improbable solutions with at-hand materials. Lexicon knows all the words in the game's dictionary, defeating guess-the-verb and guess-the-noun issues. Pastiche can violate the physical world model's containment rules at will, so no locked container is a barrier -- plot requirements of this episode notwithstanding. Newsboy's awareness is not bounded by scope; he can theoretically see anything happening in the game universe. Clapper's power bypasses visibility and concealment rules, obviating any lightweight "puzzles" that are based on objects being hidden in a room.)

This prequel is written in Inform 7, a departure from the TADS platform used for every previously-released episode. The author's notes indicate that writing it was partly an exercise in learning the new language, and the oft-noted bugginess of release 1 is undoubtedly in part a reflection of this fact. (As relevant background, a certain level of bugginess can be found in the author's TADS-based works, as well.) The presence of bugs (even the serious one noted by other reviewers) was not enough to prevent me from enjoying release 1, and in any case they are substantially addressed by release 2.

I found this episode to be as good as any installment of the series, in that the plot was just as flimsy (in a manner entirely in keeping with the superhero genre), the jokes were just as funny (in a manner entirely in keeping with the author's trademark style), and the writing was just as entertaining as ever.

For a newcomer to the series, this may not be the best first episode to play, because much of the strength of the series comes from the interaction between the PC and other members of the team. That kind of interaction in this game is almost entirely lacking -- the relationship between characters is (appropriately for an origin story) that of newly-introduced co-workers instead of familiar friends (and even roommates) as seen in episode 1. There is still enough to entertain in the way of deadpan comedy, unexpected puns and puzzle cussitude, but it just doesn't have the same feel of being a dynamic situation full of active and interesting characters.

The puzzles were more enjoyable in this episode, though I'm not sure how much of the difference is attributable to improved design vs. better alignment of my expectations. There is automatic hinting for several of them when no progress is being made, so I assume that an effort has been made to be "fair" in the strictest sense, even if necessary actions don't always make sense at first blush. Sometimes it may be necessary to stumble on a solution through experimentation, and it certainly appeared to be the case that involving NPCs was not optional in some places. As a result, there doesn't seem to be any reason to refrain from calling for help early and often.

The ending is somewhat anti-climactic, and the "post-credits" scene will make little sense unless the player is familiar with (or goes on to become familiar with) the chronological sequel: The Frenetic Five vs. Sturm und Drang.

The author's notes claim that he "will absolutely be writing more games sometime in the next two decades," and I hope that is true because I definitely look forward to whatever else he might publish. Welcome back, Mr. deMause!

The author of this short adventure bills it as "an old-fashioned 1980's style text adventure" and notes: "[T]his isn’t modern IF, it’s an old-fashioned puzzle game with a wafer-thin plot and dated concepts like darkness, And, yes, there are a couple of things you can do to make the game unwinnable, although I’ve tried to make these somewhat obvious." It was also apparently produced as a first attempt of using the PunyInform library (version 4.0), and officially left beta status last month.

The premise seems intentionally absurd: You are a duck -- a toy plush duck -- living in a world that seems to be made of a combination of toy building materials, natural caverns, and occasional technology ranging from antique to futuristic. If that bothers you even a little, then you will find little to enjoy about this game. If the idea of a mashup between "A Bear's Night Out," "Planetfall," and a generic Scott Adams game sounds fun, however, then keep reading.

The PC wakes with amnesia and does not seem to understand why he/she is a plush duck. The "wafer-thin" plot consists of trying to escape an abandoned research complex by summoning help from the associates that left you behind while evacuating. To do this you will need to solve a series of arbitrary puzzles. So far, so good.

The gameplay experience rapidly breaks down, however, because many of these puzzles are significantly underclued. This is aggravated by the fact that there are numerous red herrings. It is further aggravated by the presence of what look like serious bugs that can lock out a win state without explanation or warning. (Spoiler - click to show)I don't know for sure what is causing these, but they seem to be related to lighting conditions. Key objects and object components can "disappear" either intermittently or permanently. Make sure that you have light when conjuring vegetables, and try turning the torch on and off if anything seems to be missing an essential component.

The essential flaw of the design is a failure to provide feedback to the player regarding partial progress on puzzles. This is absolutely critical for any complex puzzle requiring an extended series of actions, so that players can understand that they are on the right track. The most egregious example here is the puzzle involving retrieval of a piece of paper wedged under a heavy desk. Despite understanding the basic idea of needing to lift the desk to free the paper, this was not easy to accomplish even with a found item that seemed perfect for the task. (Spoiler - click to show)The actual solution requires use of multiple objects stacked onto one another in order to get the jack high enough to work, but there is no indication that the reason it doesn't work is that the jack is not high enough on its own. Multiple items must be stacked under the desk to get it high enough. (NOTE: The first version of this spoiler said that the need to turn one of these items over was "inexplicable," but it is in fact quite explicable and consistent with a similar item. I just wasn't paying very close attention to the default game output about this object. My apologies to the author!) There is no indication that the player's plan could work if conditions were adjusted. I had to resort to decompiling the game file to get the solution here.

Another flaw, arguably one that is stylistically appropriate for 1980s works, is that certain events occur "off-screen" as a result of your actions without any indication that this has occurred. The key example here involves obtaining a head of celery; the player simply won't know when this puzzle has been solved. In fact, the feedback given when the correct action is taken implies that the task failed. The player must wander to another part of the complex to find that the celery can now be obtained (with a little more work).

The last serious flaw involves a failure to communicate important in-game information to the player. I'm thinking here of a snake that prevents access to certain areas. Although the PC claims to remember something about the species, the essential information (Spoiler - click to show)(what it eats) is not provided, even after a puzzle has been solved that the game states should improve your memory. Good luck finding the solution here via anything other than brute force.

This game is littered with what look like author in-jokes, or possibly references to sources (like cartoons) not made explicit. A mysterious "ethereal" voice that harangues you every so often has no explanation, but it seems to be linked to a red herring that can be found. An even more mysterious event that happens at move 37 seems to have no bearing on the plot or in-game explanation. The ending makes no sense at all, as far as I can tell.

Despite the above, I basically wanted to like this game. The author clearly put a significant amount of work into the implementation, and the main set piece puzzles (involving a blender and an automated surgeon) are competently executed. There are some clever bits here (like a light puzzle not based on batteries running out), and the oddball humor appealed to me where it was accessible. The two-star rating that I'm giving it means "almost there" in my ranking system, and it would rate three stars (aka "good, not great") with better focus and the cleanup of game-threatening bugs. I'll keep an eye out for a release 2.

Having very much enjoyed Risorgimento Represso, I was eager to play this sequel when it was first released in 2018. It didn't manage to grab me the way that its predecessor did, so I put it aside and only got around to trying again recently. It was definitely enjoyable for someone who appreciates the old school style of play, and it is a solid sequel to a well-regarded first episode.

One of the hallmarks of the old school style -- found abundantly in the most popular games of Infocom -- is a kind of wacky comedy to interactions with the presented world. Plenty of more modern works offer the same, but this is not mere imitation. Instead, the technique survives because it is a relatively easy way to deliver entertainment to the player that is of particular value within interactive fiction because it doesn't rely on proper pacing. After all, "brevity is the soul of wit," and bite-sized jokes fit neatly between command prompts.

Although this piece frequently incorporates that type of comedy, it takes the form of more than one-off jokes. Instead, it is the framework for an extensive comedy of errors, a genuine farce growing like rich ivy over the cottage of the game's simple action plot. Jokes build on one another and escalate over time as the player, in the typical old school PC style, conducts a minor crime spree in pursuit of purely personal goals.

It should be noted that knowledge of the original is wound throughout the sequel, though not in ways that make that knowledge required to finish the game. If you happen to have played Risorgimento Represso recently, Illuminismo Iniziato will feel like an unbroken continuation -- following almost as directly as Zork II follows Zork. (In theory, quite a bit of time has passed between the two episodes, but it's not clear what the player character has been doing in the duration. You don't seem to have changed, and you begin with a few familiar items.) In the first half of the game, the setting will be Blumph, a city mentioned but never visited in the original. In the second half, the scene will change(Spoiler - click to show), and you will return to the town of Vechlee, revisiting many of the same locations and objects from the first game.

Several characters appear in both episodes, albeit in different capacities. Ninario, the centerpiece NPC of the first episode, barely appears in this one, and he is never on-stage. Instead, pride of place is given to Crystal, a talkative companion that serves up continuous "color commentary" on your actions. Much of this takes the form of reminders/exposition about events in Risorgimento, but over time this slowly morphs into observations that help to focus attention on the central thread of the plot.

Crystal is an extensively-implemented sidekick(Spoiler - click to show) who develops into a G-rated love interest. She has a ton of things to say, quite a lot of which is non-essential. This creates a life-like presence, but the drawback is that players expecting typical goal-directed expository interaction may find themselves stuck in a morass of verbiage with no end in sight. [In fact, the reason that my first attempts at playing didn't grab me is that I found myself standing in the first room talking endlessly to Crystal about seemingly inconsequential topics(Spoiler - click to show). After her insistent introduction, I assumed that speaking with her was important at that point. Perhaps a device such as her refusing further conversation by saying "We can't stand around all day." after a certain number of interactions in the same location would have served well here.] She is explicitly cast as the "talks too much" type, and one humorous innovation is that her replies for unrecognized topics often take the form of anecdotes about unrelated matters, each of which eventually ends with the acknowledgement that she didn't really hear your question.

Once one realizes that conversation with Crystal is entirely optional, the rest of the game beckons. Although the player is warned by the opening sequence that Big Things Are Afoot, the protagonist's quest begins as the simple task of picking up some dry cleaning. This task is quickly derailed, and in the "natural" course of events (i.e. initiation of the aforementioned crime spree) the protagonist and Crystal catch up to what the player already knows: The villain from the first episode is trying to widen the interdimensional rift that brought the PC to this world. Although it might not seem like this would be a problem to solve, it is(Spoiler - click to show) because, as it surprisingly turns out, the returning villian is some sort of vampire who plans to suck the life force out of students back on Earth. That this was never mentioned in the first episode -- and that this changes my earlier metaphor in a way that suggests the ivy is the only thing holding the ramshackle cottage together -- is beside the point. As with the first episode, the emphasis here is on having fun, not making dramatic sense. This becomes clear through the use of "tyromancy" (a hallmark of the series), which is the art of using cheese for divination. Tyromancy works somewhat differently in this episode, functioning as a series of dramatic cut scenes while also occasionally reprising its previous role of inciting curiosity through clairvoyance of yet-to-be-visited locations(Spoiler - click to show). Most of the cutscenes take place in locations that seem copied word-for-word from the original, which is probably useful for those who haven't played the original for some time but is less effective for those who have recently replayed Risorgimento.

The puzzle structure is a little uneven. Some solutions are quite obvious by virtue of being repeats of tropes from the first episode. Others involve repetitive use of the same objects for similar tasks. Few mysteries are present, and none of them seem exceptionally difficult to resolve, with discovery of the function of the hoop(Spoiler - click to show) and its interaction with the satchel being the most obscure. (The major clue to its use cites the zifmia and aimfiz spells from Infocom's works without mentioning what they do, which are to summon a target person to the caster's location and to send the caster to the location of a target person, respectively. This is a minor unfairness to someone not familiar with those works, but there are other clues available to make up for it.) It is worth taking particular note of how Coyne varies between playing some solutions "straight" while others have surprising and delightful twists.(Spoiler - click to show) The bit about the grappler and the gate of the estate that one plans to burgle is especially funny. These shifts in tone play well with the dual nature of the plot's "unseriously serious" core, with the balance heavily weighted in favor of light-hearted amusement.

Coding quality is improved over the original, with the "graphical" map and continously updating front page of a magical newspaper being the most apparent results. I don't recall encountering anything that seemed like a significant bug, though there are some quirks of interaction that I'm not sure were intended.(Spoiler - click to show) (For example, it is possible to solve the vault puzzle while retaining both the hoop and the satchel, which doesn't seem right given the setup.) The play experience is quite smooth, and the use of sound livens up the occasional sequence without being a functional requirement.

All in all, this work does exactly what a sequel should, namely to deliver more fun with familiar elements. It is well worth playing if you are a fan of Risorgimento Represso, and if you're not familiar with that work, consider this as an invitation to check it out.

The Lost Islands of Alabaz has been out for more than a decade now, and, while it did make a splash by winning the Spring Thing 2011 competition, it seems to have faded into something like obscurity in the years since.

This is a grave oversight.

Michael Gentry's overlooked gem is an exquisitely well-planned introductory adventure for children (or, indeed, for adults sufficiently young at heart). Developing it in the years after his work on Jack Toresal and The Secret Letter, he seems to have been prompted to write this piece as a test of his own insights about how to craft a kid-friendly IF experience.

In the same way that his genre-savviness elevates Anchorhead above the pack, his deep intuition about children's storybooks serves him well here. The very first interaction, the simple device of asking for the protagonist's name, is a remarkably-effective hook for young players, especially as it is phrased ("What is your name, brave Knight?"). Immediately, the player is invited to either enter his or her own name (thereby stepping into the story with an actual identity) or to invent a heroic-sounding name (creating an avatar to embody an archetypal persona). From there, the target player is deftly drawn into the fairytale world that will be the story's setting while at the same time being shown the ropes of interactive fiction. The spare text style of just a few lines to describe each room is appropriate to the genre, won't tax even intermediate readers, and leaves plenty of room for the imagination to fill in the details -- especially after it has been sparked by a few carefully-chosen adjectives. The tropes at play are simple, and the story progresses with a light-hearted sense of fun that is both charming and compelling. In the first few moves, during which the tutorial mode is active, I was powerfully reminded of Infocom's Wishbringer, but it is important to note that this isn't an "old school" style game.

Once again, the author's talent for integral design of the play experience is evident; a few careful changes to the mechanics of interaction do much to set the mood for those familiar with interactive fiction, while smoothing the way for newcomers. The world model is somewhat simplified from the standard: Only four cardinal directions are supported, and objects never leave inventory once acquired. NPCs are talkative enough within the game's ASK/TELL model, which can be daunting for beginners, but implementation of a "topic-prompting" system (similar to that of Lost Pig) and functional combination of the verbs ASK and TELL make it very easy to get started. The SHOW and GIVE verbs also can also be used, a discovery that new players seem to make intuitively once they have had a few interactions with people in the world.

Trig, an almost ever-present sidekick who is the most prominent NPC, arrives early and takes over as the game's tutorial voice after the first few moves. By the end of the first chapter, he stops dispensing tutorial advice, and from that point on he doubles as a hint system. Repeatedly asking Trig about an active problem (as identified in the self-updating journal) will yield increasingly larger hints. It's quite intriguing how this plays out psychologically with young players -- they seem naturally resistant to asking him for help whenever they think it is something that they should be able to figure out themselves, even when stuck. Perhaps this has to do with the way that Trig's personality is implemented; he is somewhat dull, in the style of Trent/Tiffany from the Infocom canon. (The logic seems to be "If even Trig can figure it out, I should be able to!")

NPCs are an integral part of the game. In addition to Trig there are two other crew members, Javier and Zoey, that the protagonist is nominally in charge of as captain of a ship. These at first seem to be information-dispensing cardboard cutouts (the dominant but wholly-appropriate style used in the game), but at several points the protagonist needs to gain cooperation from one of these team members to complete a puzzle. This is a small but important touch, moving them out of the realm of background decoration and into the realm of supporting characters. At least one of these occasions requires issuing a command to Trig, an affordance that might not be obvious to new players but which Trig himself introduces as an optional interaction during one of his last tutorial voice comments.

Although the hint system is in place, it is rarely needed because the puzzle structure is masterfully designed. It works marvelously in conjunction with the game's "journal" system that serves in place of a score. Reading the journal lists achievements that have been accomplished as well as the pertinent puzzles to be solved at that point. The effect of reading over the list is much like a FULL SCORE command without any numbers attached, and it's interesting how over time this creates a sense of progression through the story's highlights without implying a precise measure of how much of the game remains.

Initial puzzles barely count as such, with solutions on the order of opening a container or walking between rooms, but the difficulty level slowly increases over time. While even the most difficult puzzles in the game are on the easier side for experienced players, several are clever in their construction and require small leaps of intuition that are just the right length for kids. Using Andrew Plotkin's definition of a good puzzle as being one that makes the player feel smart, these are very good puzzles indeed. There is also quite a bit of variety to the types of puzzles, including a superb racing sequence that makes for a very memorable action scene (and adds a new companion NPC: the mount, which the player must name). Wonderfully, the puzzles dramatically reduce in difficulty as the plot reaches the top of its arc, allowing for a quick denouement before the sense of victory is lost.

The story's pacing is also excellent. Its structure involves exploration of several islands, each consisting of a small number of rooms (generally 3 to 10) and each relatively self-contained. Access to each island is granted by obtaining one of ten magical pearls, and much of the functional plot revolves around obtaining these. As the range of traversable locations expands, more and more interactions between locations become possible (and necessary to progress). Although the central mystery of the plot remains a mystery until near the end, the player is rewarded with snippets of history that are revealed through exploration. These snippets contrast with the expectations set by the game's well-crafted "feelie" (an almanac of the kingdom written 50 years previously), giving a sense of deep dynamism to a world whose present is generally static. The command GO TO assists in navigation on each island, but it is not 100% reliable, suffering bugs in certain places(Spoiler - click to show) [confused by basket-o-vator, or presenting occasional malformed disambiguation questions] and outright refusing to cooperate if the destination is too nearby. This is another of Gentry's bits of subtle genius; it frees players from long sequences of navigation commands while still encouraging them to create a map of their own, in their heads if nowhere else.

One feature that I particularly liked about this work was that it includes some strategically-placed red herrings in a couple of places. These are items that seem like they could have a use somewhere, but which never actually do. Players are left to mull over these and deduce which items among them are the ones that can actually be put to use. Their presence does quite a bit to vary the pace of the story (allowing for thoughtful, slow-paced experimentation phases) and to engender the sense of a world of possibilities, even when in practice there are few options for progress. They also contribute to the satisfaction of working out the relevant solutions by sorting trash from treasure.

Although a version 2 was released to correct bugs, there are still a noticeable number of typos and a few issues with the interaction. These are minor, and they do not detract from the story. Perhaps these will be addressed in a future release, but most players will probably be more interested in seeing the sequel that is promised at the game's end.

There's something in the alchemy of this work that may particularly appeal to those who enjoy games in the old school style. It manages to retain the heart of some of the best elements of that style while adopting (and adapting) several innovations that inarguably improve the play experience. I'm not sure how well playing this would prepare someone to try older games, which might seem primitive in comparison to this work, but it certainly seems likely to encourage young players to view interactive fiction as a category in a positive light, and that aspect alone makes this a valuable contribution to the field.

This game earns five stars for me, as it has become my first suggestion whenever someone asks for a recommendation for a children's game. If you are looking to introduce a grade school child to interactive fiction, this is definitely the one to try. Even middle school aged children may enjoy it if they can get into the proper mindset -- especially if they are teamed up with younger kids and can help them think through the puzzles. The same applies to parents: It's sure to be fun if played with kids, even if it's not the kind of thing that you would choose for just yourself.

Simon Deimel's Enigma starts out like an off-kilter version of "Hello, World" for Inform 7.

You start in a room frozen in time, and the whole game plays out as the protagonist's experience of a single moment oriented around one decision(Spoiler - click to show): to shoot or spare your best friend. Starting with only immediate sensations, you must build a chain of association between memories and perceptions that let you come to a realization about the truth of the situation you are in.

Exploring a memory may let you perceive things more clearly. Exploring a perception may trigger a memory. On occasion, a threshold can be reached that allows a kind of breakthrough into new conceptual spaces. Sometimes memories or perceptions will be enhanced, providing a more connected impression over which to mull, so you must return to a topic to see how new scraps of information fit into it. The text is delivered in a fast-paced, heart-hammering style that seeps into your attitude and keeps you rapidly typing until you arrive at the conclusion.

There are really only two verbs that make a difference(Spoiler - click to show): 1) "examine" and 2) "remember" or "think about". If you somehow get lost, the "hints" command will offer specific topics for introspection. This is probably not a good thing to use as a first resort, but it's helpful on a second run through.

It's really quite remarkable that Mr. Deimel has managed to create such a compelling experience out of such a small range of action, and the extent to which he has achieved this speaks to his creativity in developing and executing the concept. While he notes in the post-game INFO block that the basic concept is not new, it was new to me.

From a technical standpoint, the execution is good but could use a bit more refinement to reduce repetition of certain topics and smooth the experience. As a player, it's sometimes clear that you have hit a dead end, but it's also difficult to ascertain which topic will advance the situation without resorting to hints. Perhaps a routine that would "auto-associate" previously-explored topics that have been updated due to new information after a certain number of turns?

On the other hand, the sense of urgently and repetitively reviewing bits of experience very much conveys the mindset of the PC, and perhaps it enhances rather than detracts from the play experience overall.

From a writing standpoint, there are opportunities for improvement(Spoiler - click to show)-- for example, it's not made at all clear what drove Tim over the edge, and this leaves the whole scenario feeling a bit forced. Then again, it's not always clear in real life, either, so perhaps that's intentional.

In addition, although I liked the writing style, some additional work to smooth out the line breaks when reviewing the scene would have greatly improved the impression of a fully completed and polished work.

Overall, a good comp entry and an enjoyable short work. I look forward to more from Mr. Deimel in the future, and will be interested in exploring some of his past works.

This slightly silly (but highly enjoyable!) piece by Ryan Veeder is perhaps inspired by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, as its story is built around the escapades of two minor characters from his previous work, Taco Fiction.

I came across this work first, then later played Taco Fiction to compare. The two are not related in any meaningful way, so perhaps it's not really appropriate to think of Dial C for Cupcakes as a sequel. Certainly, this piece works well on a standalone basis.

The first act of the story seems almost conscientiously designed around exercising some of the latest features of Inform 7, specifically the ability to do floating point math and to switch the perspective and tense of rendered text. Once the exposition is done, however, it settles into a more typical style of interaction, in a scenario that poses the question: Just how far are you willing to go for friendship, justice, and/or frosting?

The second act is well-paced and entertaining, and it does a good job of demonstrating how careful design of NPC interaction can provide an appropriate level of satisfaction to the player without demanding too much from the author.

With a semi-realistic setting and a story that gives license to be somewhat mischievous, this is one of those pieces that probably has broad enough appeal to hold the interest of casual mainstream players -- or even those new to interactive fiction. I'll be adding it to my short list of recommended pieces for those just trying IF, and I would definitely point it out as a great seasonal piece around Halloween. While it might not quite be kid-safe (since an understanding of certain adult motivations is necessary to complete the story), it's certainly no worse than PG.

This decade-old SpeedIF entry takes only a few minutes to complete, and is not a fully-developed work by any means. Still, it seemed worth it to put together a quick write-up, since it demonstrates a narrative device from which would-be authors can learn.

The interaction here is done in the style of a combat scene in a typical war movie, though the setting is a strange blending of fantasy and modern (or possibly sci-fi?) tropes. The action starts in media res, with you pinned down, low on ammo, and basically doomed.

What's interesting here is the way that you, the player, are not given a complete description of your environment; instead, significant new elements are injected serially over the course of several turns.

This is a clever trick, in that it takes advantage of the deeply-ingrained player's instinct to examine everything new to encourage him or her to "play along" with the developing narrative. (A similar "pointillist" style can be seen in Ashwell's Ugly Chapter, but in that case it is used more for the background than the foreground.)

While this piece is almost over before it has begun (it only lasts 10 turns or so), and there doesn't seem to be any possibility for meaningful interaction with the scene playing out, I was struck by how cinematic the sequence feels. Forcing the player to constantly reorient to the PC's situation this way seems similar to the technique of fast panning used in cinema to draw the audience "into" the action.