Ratings and Reviews by ChrisM

This entry in the 2022 Text Adventure Literacy Jam is an entertaining desert island pirate adventure with magical themes – like Treasure Island with a Narnian twist. You play a shipwrecked mariner, washed up on the beach of a mysterious and once - but no longer - inhabited island. Through exploration and flashbacks, the story of the original islanders’ fate, as well as how the protagonist ended up in his current predicament, are gradually revealed.

This is a well-presented game made in Adventuron, with some multimedia flourishes typical of games made in the engine: there’s an excellent title graphic, colourful text, a subtle change of background shade in the flashback sequence (from black to very dark grey – subtle but effective), and at least one instance of the rainbow lettering that crops up often in Adventuron games. There’s also a thunderous, cinematic soundtrack to underscore the action that, at first, I found to be unintentionally comical paired with the somewhat humble text-game interface – but one you get over the incongruity, it does enhance the mood quite effectively.

Implementation throughout is reasonably good, although there were a fair few unimplemented commands and missing scenery items in the version I played, as well some other minor bugs (like some accidentally portable coconut trees). I should say that I didn’t play with the in-built tutorial on, as I find such tutorials a bit irritating. More irritating, though, is the imposition of a two-word parser, something recommended by the TALP competition (in last year’s competition it was a mandatory requirement). The wisdom here seems to be that a two-words parser makes it easier for beginners to get to grips with the somewhat arcane genre of the text adventure, by relieving them of the need to use more complex sentences. I disagree with this, on the basis that the restriction often forces players to phrase some commands in awkward and unnatural ways that beginners in particular are likely to find more of a hindrance than a help. An example is something like TURN ON TORCH (ie flashlight), which a two-word parser would reduce to the weird-sounding TURN TORCH or TORCH ON; similarly with TALK CAPTAIN (instead of TALK TO CAPTAIN) or LOOK TELESCOPE (rather than LOOK THROUGH TELESCOPE). I’m not convinced that such an approach is a very helpful and a sensible way to introduce players to the genre of the contemporary text game – but I suppose it is a way to introduce them to classic Scott Adams-style text games of the 80s for which this sort of restriction was more of a necessity that a design choice. Maybe that is, in some way, the aim of TALP. Anyway, the point is that here, it seems not particularly helpful in the several instances where a preposition or two would make for a much more natural player input, and the tendency of the parser to scold the player when they use more (or less) than two words makes it feel off-puttingly pernickety. (NOTE: I played the competition version of the game and reported several of these implementation issues to the author; they may well have been fixed in the post-comp version).

As for the gameplay itself – there are two rather disparate elements here. One the one hand there is an epic fantasy yarn, entwined with elements of the player character’s back story. There’s a real atmosphere of magic, mystery and adventure developed through some effective world-building, including a couple of really effective flashback / dream sequences. This is narratively more interesting than the majority of the TALP games I’ve seen which (with no disrespect to what are often very effective games) often feature a simpler story as a background to a fetch quest or other straightforward series of puzzles. Here, the flashback to the storm at sea is really well done – full of drama and peril, and a real sense or urgency, as an on-screen counter ticks down to disaster. It’s lot of fun to poke around the deck and talk to your crew mates as you hurtle towards calamity, and this sequence feels like the most deeply implemented part of the game. The puzzles associated with this main narrative are quite satisfying and mostly sensible, and effectively drive the plot along to its epic conclusion (I loved (Spoiler - click to show)finding the wolf’s eyes and making the statue come to life). Some, however, are a bit under clued and one or two commands are hard to guess (I struggled most to find the correct verb in the very final scene and had to consult the walkthrough to figure out that I had to (Spoiler - click to show)ASK TREE). On the other hand, running in tandem with the epic story, there’s a series of ‘achievements’ to discover: mostly rewards for doing small and ultimately irrelevant things like (Spoiler - click to show)dropping a pebble down a well, or (Spoiler - click to show)catching a seagull. This is a motif of many Adventuron games and it can be fun just to wander around and try to get points for doing random things, but here it just feels like a distraction from the main thrust of the game, especially as some of the things for which achievements are rewarded (like (Spoiler - click to show)lighting a fire, discovering a message in a bottle, and finding the treasure cave) felt like they should have been more important to the story than they actually turned out to be.

These two strands of the game didn’t quite gel for me, and I was left with a feeling that it would have been more effective if the game had concentrated on either the dramatic fantasy storyline or the fun and inconsequential achievement hunting, rather than trying to make the two work together. As it is, they sit rather uneasily alongside one another, with the ‘big’ storyline feeling a little underdeveloped and the inconsequential treasure hunting being a little distracting. The overall effect is of a game that’s not completely sure of what it wants to be – an effect that is only enhanced by a charming, if slightly perplexing, fourth wall-breaking coda that is fun but only serves to underline the oddly uneven tone of the game.

In all then, a well-written and well-made game that feels more substantial than many of the games in the TALP 2022 competition but suffers somewhat from a lack of focus. I hope the author produces more, though, as there’s definitely potential here, even if it’s not fully realised in this first game.

[Note - I beta tested this game]

Sting is an autobiographical parser game that sketches a life through a series of six vignettes, each punctuated, as the author himself was punctured, by bee stings. Aside from the curious tendency of the author to provoke the ire of bees (the presumably pheromonal explanation for which is never satisfactorily explored – subject matter for the sequel no doubt) the underlying theme of the game is the author’s relationship with his twin sister Liz who, whether they are together or apart, remains a constant presence in his life. We follow Russo (as he is affectionately known by his half-a-minute-younger sister), from his early life through his awkward teenage years to early adulthood and onwards to the present day, where we discover him at the other side of the traumatic personal event that was the impetus to create this interactive memoir in the first place.

This is the sort of game that is bound to be polarising amongst players. It’s necessarily linear and puzzleless (comparison with Adam Cadre’s Photopia seems inevitable), and deals with real life issues that many players who come primarily to IF for escapism will likely find off-putting. I’m that sort of player and yet Sting really did work for me. I’ll try to explore a little some of the reasons why I found it so successful.

For one thing, the decision to use a parser rather than choice mechanic was, I think, the correct one. Sting is a memoir and each vignette deals with a specific place and time in the author’s life, but this being interactive (non)fiction, the memories are lived, not static. It feels important that we’re able to run about and poke into corners, to try to pick the flowers and jump up and down on the scenery; the parser confers an impression of agency that couldn’t be achieved to the same degree in a purely choice-based game. Of course, these being memories of actual events, our choices are still constrained and our freedom of action is illusory (even more so than in your average parser game) and that creates an interesting tension in the gameplay, exemplified in the second vignette, where the player finds themselves in the middle of a sailing race that they seem bound to lose – because, in the author's recollection, the race probably was lost – but the trying to win (a painful and prolonged fumbling and failure to competently execute various nautical manoeuvres beneath a constant tirade of scorn from Liz) become the driving force of the narrative. The author has described aiming for an ‘adversarial vibe’ here, and he definitely succeeds: the familiar experience of the IF player fighting with the parser is employed quite deliberately, and cleverly, to simulate the experience of being in what feels like an inevitably losing situation (the author has pointed out that there is alternative path here, but it isn't easy to find; the uncertainty of the outcome is nicely reflective of the unreliability of memory). I can’t imagine the episode having quite the same sense of urgency and immediacy with a choice-based mechanic. Similarly, I think the parser lends a tactility to the settings and situations elsewhere in the game (wandering around the backyard as a child, or the family home, or your shared apartment later in life) that it would be hard to achieve with choice selection. Of course, with a parser game implementation is the factor that can make or break the experience for the player and here the author doesn’t let us down – pretty much everything is amply (and amusingly) described and works as it should, and the game has obviously been put together with a lot of care and attention, right down to the custom default responses that help maintain the tone of the piece throughout.

Aside from that fundamental design choice, there are other aspects of Sting that allow it to come off far more successfully than it otherwise might have done. Most of these are to do with the quality of the writing, which is very good throughout: lot of pleasing descriptive prose and wry, self-deprecating humour characteristic of the author (anyone who has had a game tested by MR and read his in-transcript comments will know what I mean). The characterisation of Liz, and the depiction of Russo’s relationship with her, is excellently done and very effectively captures something of the tensions and antagonisms intrinsic to all, and particularly to sibling, relationships (people being, more often than not, rather difficult things to live with). Russo and Liz fight and bicker, and generally wind each other up but there is never any doubt about the strength of the affection underpinning their relationship. More often than not, those we are closest to are those with whom we have most conflict, and Sting depicts that very effectively.

Another noteworthy aspect is the uncertain, dream-like quality of certain elements of the game that, along with occasional intrusions of the authorial voice, remind us we are playing through remembered events - with all the fallibility that implies. For example, examining the swing in the backyard of the childhood home elicits a confession that the author’s memory was cheating him: the swing wasn’t there yet when the events happened. Similarly, if we try to examine something that isn’t implemented we’re told you can't see that anywhere around (or maybe you just won't remember it being there). Elsewhere, the dream become darker as we find ourselves locked into events that we’d rather avoid: in particular, the happenings of the fifth episode have a nightmare quality as the player is carried along towards an inevitable and terrifying event and any attempt to take refuge is only to postpone the encounter for a little while. A sense of unease and insecurity is effectively deployed here to accentuate the failing relationship that is the main theme of the episode.

The game builds, in its own discursive way, towards the final snapshot set in the present, where Russo discusses baby names with his pregnant partner and reflects on the particular, terrible event which lies at the core of the whole story. There are many ways that this central subject could have been handled but the way it does play out amply demonstrates the author’s skill. Liz’s illness could have been the dominant theme of the game, overshadowing every scene; it might have been dealt with in greater and more explicit detail. The author doesn’t do that – quite possibly, and understandably, because such things are too painful to write about but also, I would venture, because the story is firmly and resolutely about life, in all of its colour, weirdness and mundanity, far more than it is about death. The effect, when we realise at the end that Liz is gone, is as impactful and shocking as it ought to be and the particular mixture of grief for the passing of a loved one, and happiness at imminent arrival of a first baby - polar events occurring in close proximity - is masterfully communicated through the dialogue in this final section. We spent so much time together, and knew each other so well, that I feel like I've always had a mental model of her living in my head, says Russo towards the end, highlighting a central truth of the game and of life in general: that we’re nothing so much as the memories we make, in ourselves and in others, that we never truly live in the present moment, only a forever receding past, and that often, people we know and love can seem as vivid and real – sometimes even more vivid and real – in our memories as they are in life.

Sting isn’t a game for everyone – some will find the gameplay too linear, the fiddly parser wrangling (particularly in the sailing episode) too irritating, the tone too uncomfortably personal, the subject matter too melancholy. But for those prepared to engage with it there is a compelling story here, told with much love, humour, and honesty. In any case, there can be little doubt of the artistry on display in this finely crafted and unusually autobiographical piece and, taken on its own terms, I think it is entirely successful. I'd expect it to be remembered as one of the highlights of this year’s competition. It certainly was for me.

A heavily introspective, noir-styled choice-based game about a guy searching for a girl against a backdrop of surreal landscapes (presumably projections of his inner states) while encountering a succession of enigmatic women (presumably the splintered subconscious impressions of the one he is searching for). The story is narrated in the third person present throughout; we witness our reverentially capitalised protagonist (he is a He) from a distance as he works his way through (presumably) whatever persona trauma it is that has led him to retreat into the sanctuary of his mind; the viewpoint seems a deliberate means to dissociate himself from that trauma. Probably.

There’s a lot of presumption there and that’s because, really, this game invites it: it is, in parts, wilfully obscure. The whole thing feels rich in allegory, but it’s never quite clear what the allegory is or what, fundamentally, is going on aside from the central narrative thread of Him seeking the missing Her.

Interesting stuff happens. Characters come and go. One dreamlike location leads to another. The whole thing is divided into acts that shunt us ever onwards, bewilderingly, towards the climax and a denouement, of sorts. There are a number of literary quotations throughout that seem suitably apposite in their place, but, in hindsight, don’t cast much light on proceedings. It’s all rather perplexing.

However, in spite of the obscurity there is actually a lot I like about this game. The writing is good throughout: the prose is moody and evocative and just off-kilter enough to lend a slightly unsettling atmosphere to the whole, and the characters are interesting and their differing personalities distinctly drawn. I did enjoy the story overall. The implementation in Twine is effective: an appropriately subdued black and white theme and sporadic sound effects which could be easily missed (I did miss them, before I played with sound on the second time round), as well as an inventory system and continually updating list of ‘people of interest’. I found myself engaged and entertained throughout. I found a few minor typos and there are a number of bugs, also reported by others, that meant I became trapped in a loop and had to restart on three occasions (once during conversation at the bar, another at the mine and a third time when looking up things in the inventory followed by consulting the ‘people of interest list’). I was also able to seemingly use an object before discovering it on a couple of occasions: ((Spoiler - click to show)the phone and the beer, both of which I could trade for pills before they were in my inventory). I hope these minor wrinkles will be ironed out in a post-comp release.

One wonders, with something like this, if the obscurity is explained by the private nature of the work (this is a personal story that only the author could truly understand), or if it is merely affected (it’s just an authorial device to make a more interesting story). The latter seems less forgivable and, I suspect, it the case here – it feels like a deliberate stylistic decision to make the story difficult to decipher in this sort of way and, I think, it is only a partially successful one. Ambiguity and allegory are fine but only if the reader can have some confidence that, overall, they know what is going on; a little more exposition is generally required before an audience becomes sufficiently engaged to fill in the detail for themselves rather than letting it simply wash over them as most players would with this (and as, ultimately, I did).

As it stands, An Aside About Everything feels as though it is about everything and nothing. That’s a pity, as some considerable skill has gone into this piece, and it is worthy of a player’s attention. But it would benefit from a layer of enigma being stripped away; a shade less obscure and it would be a solid four-star game. As it stands, it’s a respectable if slightly disappointing three stars from me.

Well this is unusual: an educational text game designed to reinforce key messages for young kidney patients about the regimen they need to follow to stay healthy, created in a new and experimental ‘natural language’ game engine called Perplexity. You play a young person with a dilemma: you have an audition to go to but no costume to wear! A quick look around your school’s drama room yields not much of use but then, lo and behold, the Kidney Fairy appears to give you a helping hand by transporting you to a magical place where some puzzles and the continual need to manage your medical condition with appropriate medication are all that stand between you and a part in the school play. A little wandering around, some untaxing exploration and a quick, if slightly queasy, trip inside your own body should be enough to solve this one. So far, so interesting. But does the game live up to its rather intriguing premise?

Sadly, no. The problem here isn’t so much the slightness of the gameplay (the puzzles, few and simple as they are, don’t offer much in the way of challenge) or the annoyance of having an inventory limit and a hunger timer (you’ll find yourself forever fumbling to drop items so you can pick up other items, while expecting any second to expire for want of food) but the engine itself. It’s a little hard to understand what the authors are trying to achieve here – Perplexity is heralded (to quote the blog of one of the authors) as "a natural language AI experience that uses deep linguistics processing to fully understand every word you type", but judging by this demonstration, it falls very short of that mark. Not only does it appear to understand very little of what you type, it is also very buggy and prone to produce strange and unintentionally comical responses (for example, LOOK AT THE DOOR = "a white door is north, open, and white. It is connected to an opening, an opening", EXAMINE ME = "You are a person that looks like they need a costume for the audition. It also has a hand, a hand, a body" and CLOSE BAG = "The on top of a bag of potato chips is now closed."). It’s also pretty fussy about the limited range of commands that it is prepared to accept - it’s rather wearing to be continually told to use articles in sentences even though it’s quicker to enter e.g. OPEN DOOR or EAT HAMBURGER, and furthermore it’s not even consistent: when handling a bag of chips (i.e. crisps, for us Brits), GET BAG prompts the usual nag about using the definite article but GET CHIPS is accepted without such fuss. The authors seem to believe that forcing players to enter commands in full sentences like this will lower the bar for entry to those unfamiliar with text games – but I’m not convinced that’s true. It strikes me that the simplified set of commands and abbreviations conventionally used in interactive fiction are a) not very difficult to learn and b) make interaction with a game a lot more straightforward than trying to use the messy, ambiguous and heavily nuanced thing that is the English language. Even if it’s accepted that Perplexity is a prototype system and there is still a lot of work to do to bring it to maturity, I’m unconvinced that asking a game WHAT AM I CARRYING? is more straightforward or easier to remember that simply typing INVENTORY or I, or that LOOK AT THE DOOR is more satisfactory that EXAMINE DOOR or X DOOR, conventional commands that are not difficult to master, even for young people. It’s difficult to imagine your average child spending more than a few minutes with a game like this before giving up, even (or especially) if foisted upon them by their doctor (how the real-life kidney specialist Dr. Sangeeta Hingorani got involved in this is anyone’s guess); kids generally don’t have the patience for text games at the best of times and this falls very short of providing such times. It’s just too frustrating and unforgiving. Personally, I did play to the end, but I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t felt obliged to (this ended up on my IF Comp random shuffle list).

Ironically, since the game engine is billed as something new and progressive in the world of text games, the overall effect is actually very retro. The hunger and inventory limits bring forth fond memories of the rage-inducing text games of my youth (all that is lacking here is an inescapable maze) and the frequent lengthy waits while the game digests the player’s input before finally spitting out a response that may or may not make any sense remind me strongly of many adventures of the 8-bit era. Odd then, that something that aspires to be at the cutting edge should in some ways hark back so strongly to that long ago era (unless there is some sort of meta-joke here that I’m not getting).

Probably I sound a little harsh, and I do accept that here, perhaps, the system is not being shown off to its full advantage: perhaps there is another game waiting to be presented that will demonstrate unequivocally the power and potential of Perplexity – but sadly Kidney Kwest is not it and, as a showcase for a new game engine, as a pedagogical tool intended to appeal to young players, and simply as a reasonably fun game to play, I'm afraid it falls considerably short of its aspirations.

A crazy adventure about the four members of a high school garage band named AardVark and their antics as they try to thwart the purveyors of 'Hype', a weird new soda that has the property of turning ordinary teenagers into monosyllabic, shuffling zombies (whose parents might not be able to tell the difference). It’s variously madcap, silly, and comically horrific with a B-movie flavour, some witty writing and a cast of likeable characters whose relationships, insecurities and obsessions (sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll and all the rest) accurately depict those of the average rebellious teenager. The game has a strong, linear narrative bookended by an early flashback sequence and an epilogue; the gameplay in-between is neatly compartmentalised into short episodes that need to be completed to progress and that flow fairly logically from one into the other. Altogether, the story works pretty well and kept me entertained throughout, although I found the ending a bit abrupt - a bit more could perhaps have been made of the final denouement, but curtailing the story at that point does at least ensure it falls neatly into the 2-hours-or-less bracket, playtime-wise (this being an IF comp game). A shame, perhaps, as I enjoyed it and would have been happy to play for longer.

However, there are a couple of problems with the game that, for me, took some of the shine off it. Firstly, the puzzles are sometimes a little illogical and / or poorly clued. This is game that really wants you to win: not only are the goals for each section helpfully listed in the status bar but also unsolicited nudges are liberally thrown at the player as soon as signs of hapless flailing are detected. In spite of that, I still found myself unable to divine that I needed to e.g. (Spoiler - click to show)insert the hot dog sausage into the crevice to distract the convenience store attendant, or (Spoiler - click to show)WEAR CONDOMS (really) to get past them and out of the store. Secondly, there are numerous implementation problems that are not only cosmetically displeasing but in some instances, negatively impact the gameplay. There are numerous typos, minor formatting errors and other oddities such as should-be-openable boxes and windows that aren’t "something that you can open", (Spoiler - click to show)a cord that can’t be tied to anything, even though you need it to climb a tree (just CLIMB TREE works) and null responses when trying to interact with a can of soda, amongst various other issues. In addition, there are a couple of places where such problems almost scupper the game altogether: namely (Spoiler - click to show)the shelf in the bedroom, that you are directed explicitly to search but can’t (it was only by looking at the hints that I learnt what was on there and could then get it, even though I hadn’t actually discovered the item by LOOKING ON or EXAMINING the shelf) and (Spoiler - click to show)the coffee-switching sequence in the Gas’N’Stuff where, somewhat infuriatingly, not only are more logical commands such as PUT HYPE IN COFFEE or POUR HYPE INTO COFFEE not implemented but the actual solution given in the in-game hints (SWITCH HYPE FOR COFFEE) is wrong! It’s actually SWITCH HYPE WITH COFFEE, as given in the walkthrough (if I hadn’t come across the answer there then I would probably have abandoned the game altogether at that point). Looking at the in-game credits, I see that some reliable people were involved in testing it, so I have to admit I’m slightly surprised that such issues made it into the final game. I can only assume that there were a lot more bugs in the beta version and what remains are the ones that weren’t picked up amongst all the others, or that the author ran out of time to fix everything. Whatever the case, it’s a shame that the conspicuous lack of polish makes the game a definite three stars for me, where it could so easily have been a solid four stars.

That being said, the game does have a charm that makes up for its infelicities and it delivers a satisfying experience overall. As a piece of amusing and silly escapism, it’s well worth the player’s time.

A bit of fanfare preceded the release of Tristam Island which meant, unusually, that I’d actually heard of it before playing it (it got a couple of mentions on a well-known community forum; relatively speaking, a blaze of publicity) – so advertising does work, a bit. In any case, I’m glad that I was thus induced to play it, as it is pretty good.

The game is made with PunyInform which, my scanty research suggests, is a version of Inform optimised for 8-bit computers that would otherwise struggle to run a full-fat Inform game – something that appeals to the nostalgic, the curious and those who believe they are still living in the 1980s (which more or less covers the whole contemporary IF audience, I think). One feature of that is the ability to target lots and lots of different retro computer systems, which the author has exploited to the full: there are dozens of different versions of the game available, so players are free to run it on the obsolete hardware of their choice. I played the Windows version, but even there the retro vibe still shines through in the implementation: more sparse, perhaps, than the average ‘modern’ IF game but richer than a lot of the games of the period to which this harks back. I guess that a general sort of Infocomy feel is what is aimed at here, and I think it succeeds (although I haven’t played any Infocom games, I more or less know what they’re supposed to look like) – the parser is very capable, but doesn’t require too much of the player in terms of long and complicated commands, the descriptions are just long enough to fit comfortably within memory constraints, etc. There are also some explicit Infocom references in the game too (having done my research, I recognised a couple of them; there are probably more) which indicates quite clearly where the author’s heart lies, in case there was any doubt. Overall, the attempt to present an authentically retro-flavoured text adventure whilst avoiding authentically retro-flavoured frustrations is quite successful: which brings me to the game itself.

The setting is an abandoned island on which the player finds themselves stranded. There is, inevitably, a mystery here which is slowly uncovered during the course of the game through the player’s attempts to escape. The parser is reassuringly understanding and there aren’t any real guess-the-verb frustrations. The map is fairly large, with new areas becoming accessible as the game progresses, and there is a lot of exploring and puzzle solving to do in this solitary wilderness. There are no NPCs in the game (well, perhaps there is one – but you can’t talk to it), which works well to enhance the feeling of loneliness and isolation, while also handily avoiding the memory constraints and other difficulties involved with implementing NPCs effectively. The puzzles are generally well thought out, sensible and just challenging enough to feel satisfying – for me, they hit a perfect sweet spot between too easy and too hard that meant (much to my own astonishment) that I managed to complete the entire game without any external help at all (albeit with an imperfect score: I got 135/150). Some of the more complex actions in the game are implicitly handled (by MAKE or REPAIR etc.) which is a good idea for those players who can’t be bothered to spend endless turns entering each individual action involved in e.g. sewing a button on a shirt, and for the ones that aren’t, a bit of careful interrogation of things (especially the scenery) and lateral thinking is usually enough to put you on the right track. The most complex puzzle comes about halfway through the game and one senses the author struggling adequately to describe exactly what the set-up is here - he almost, but not quite succeeds. But for all that, it’s still not too difficult to figure out what to do especially as the required items are relatively close at hand, as with all the puzzles (a design of which I approve: who wants to get to the end of the game only to have to traipse all the way back to get the sea shell that they stumbled across at the start?). A surprising feature is the number of hints scattered throughout: surprising as we are told at the start of the game that help is not available (due to memory constraints). In fact, more often than not, careful examination will yield pointers as to what you need to do, which are generally helpful nudges towards the solution…so the help is there, you just need to go hunting for it.

The game strikes a decent balance between open-world and on-rails. There is a reasonable amount of wandering around and exploring to do, but the game is clearly compartmentalised into different sections that need to be traversed in order to progress (literally in one case towards the end of the game, where you pass a point of no return). That’s fine with me: I much prefer to be moving forward through a narrative to wandering around aimlessly. Each bit of the game is likely to take some time to complete. I never play these things in one sitting, but I’d estimate that it might have taken me around 3 or 4 hours to get through it all if I had – so there is a decent chunk of game here.

Overall, I’d say the game is a pretty good investment of your time and money – but it’s not perfect by any means. For one thing, the plot is quite hackneyed: the grand revelation about the mystery of the island towards the end of the game was no revelation at all, and I was left feeling that something more original might have been attempted. There are also several bugs in the game, including a couple of fatal ones, that I would have expected to have been picked up in play-testing especially as the game is being marketed commercially (albeit for pin money). I’ll report them back to the author but it’s disappointing to come across them.

Those negatives aside though, this is a very well done and enjoyable game that I would certainly recommend. I’ll be playing more by this author.

Curious, impressionistic piece about time, impermanence, and ‘net channel incision’ (to use a technical term concerning the effect of water mill construction and demolition on the topography of river beds of which I was previously unaware; one learns something new every day).

You play a visitor to the garden of the title, the mill itself having long been demolished, where you can wander through a small number of locations and spend time pruning, tidying, shoring-up and generally fighting entropy while, hard on your heels, time stalks you like a jealous ex-lover and unravels all of your good work as fast as you accomplish it so that you have to continually loop back and start all over again. And all this to the soothing (if bathroom-visit inducing) accompaniment of running water and some pleasing poly art graphics.

As both a game and a story, it’s rather slight, if not unpleasing. One could spend more time than the 20 minutes or so that I spent with it contemplating what it shows us about the futility of existence and suchlike, but it doesn’t really justify the effort (or at least it didn't, for me). “Is this really how you wish to spend your days?” the game asks pointedly, after a few cycles of building up and knocking down, and the answer has to be: no, not really. But as something to while away a quick tea break, it will do just fine.

I went into this game not expecting to get out of it as much as I did - its blurb doesn't do it justice. But I found it completely absorbing. It starts off as a cute little story about the secret lives of software plugins - you’re a spam filter, tasked with reading an endless procession of emails and deciding whether or not they’re worthy to pass into the inbox of the human whose computer you inhabit - and then develops into a fascinating journey through time, space, memory and the entangled relationships of sentient beings (both human and artificial).

At its heart, it’s a love story, and a very well-written and frequently very funny one at that; if that wasn’t so then I could imagine the earlier section of the game, in which you read your way through a steady stream of faux emails and simply have to decide whether to ‘zap’ or approve them, would become rapidly quite wearing - but I found that the writing was skilful and entertaining enough to avoid that. After the preliminaries, the game opens out and the story and characters come to the fore, the non-human protagonist and their friends being, for the most part, a far more likeable and interesting bunch than the humans they serve; its their attempts to influence events in the outside world that drives the narrative along but their interactions with one another that provide the lion’s share of the entertainment. It’s a hard task to elicit empathy with a spam filter and the equivalent of Clippy, but somehow this game manages to do it, while offering up a thoroughly entertaining story and a few (very easy) puzzles along the way.

This is an author who knows how to spin a rattling good yarn and keep readers along for the duration; I took me around three hours to get through the game and I felt it was time well spent. Linearity seems quite high and the sense of player agency quite low - that might bother the sorts of players who are inclined to replay choice-based games to explore different branches, but I tend to play games like I play life, largely blind to the paths not taken, so it didn't worry me. The implementation in Twine is carefully done with a few different backgrounds and sparing use of text effects - simple and very effective.

Altogether I found it completely enjoyable. I’d certainly recommend this to anyone looking first and foremost for a good story.

Wonderful. A fabulously detailed, beautifully written and altogether very clever tribute to the greatest TV series that Terry Nation never wrote, in fake-Wiki form.

In a parallel reality where Nation became trapped in a lift on his way to the BBC canteen with only Bob Baker and Dave Martin, Dennis Spooner and Robert Holmes for company (and then sold the resulting story idea to Patrick Dromgoole at HTV), Excalibur would have been the inevitable result.

I lost myself in this for hours and I'd urge anyone else to do the same. Even for players not quite as steeped in the milieu from which this thing emerges as I am (it does feel rather like it's been written specially for me) there is an enormous amount to enjoy in this lovingly crafted and immersive account of the making of a television series that one cannot help but regret never actually existed. There's even a game, of sorts, to play if one feels the need to do anything more than just drink in all the delicious detail.

Highly recommended.

Picture the scene: it is a Saturday afternoon in 1983. Thatcher has just won her second term in office, TV-AM has awoken a startled British public to the UK's first breakfast television service, and the Queen has bestowed a knighthood on Clive Sinclair for inventing the means by which Ant Attack and Manic Miner can be bought into being, at last. But you shun the empty calories of such vulgar arcade-stuff: you want something more wholesome and cerebral, something that will engage your critical faculties and lateral thinking skills. In short, you want to play a text adventure. Happily, you have such a thing to hand in the form of The Golden Apple, from Hull's illustrious 'Arctic Computing' software house. You pop the cassette in the tape recorder, adjust the volume to 7.5, and crack open a bottle of Panda Pops and a packet of Monster Munch while you wait for your afternoon's entertainment to load. You hope to have made good progress by tea time, maybe have it finished in time for Sunday dinner. You're not expecting it to be a walk in the park, but you're a clever young man and you've had previous form with these sorts of games. How difficult can this one be, authored as it is by a bookish A-level student with an interest in computer programming (perhaps one day you'll be just like him)? The tape has finished; you admire the colourful loading screen and then, with baited breath, press a key to begin...

I am on the road, near a mansion

Time passes...

You play for a while. Quite a long while. In fact, a very long while. 37 years later and the Panda Pops has run out, the Monster Munch has all gone. The Berlin Wall has fallen, electric cars are on the roads, your fridge-freezer has become quasi-sentient, and the Tories are back in power, again. You should probably have left home and had a family by now; you vaguely remember your parents moving out and leaving you to it. You've grown a Methuselean beard and you haven't looked away from the flickering TV screen in over three decades. And yet, you still haven't got all the treasures! How can the game be so difficult? The parser is a quite adequate two-word affair, the locations are concise, the map easily navigable, the objects more or less commonplace. And yet, somehow, from the mind of a 17-year-old youth has sprung a game so difficult, so utterly intractable, that it is formally impossible to complete without the aid of a walkthrough: mathematicians have proven that even an infinite number of monkeys pounding the rubber keyboards of an infinite number of ZX Spectrums could not do it. They would give up in frustration before even the final heat death of the universe had occurred. You type HELP, desperately, for the 10,000th time and still the same mocking message appears (how could it have changed?): a help sheet is available from (a residential address in Hull). Perhaps you should have bitten the bullet and sent off that self-addressed envelope after the first 6 months. Was three and a half decades leaving it too late? It must be worth a try. But maybe you'll do that tomorrow, after a final attempt. The answers must be here somewhere, you just need to look more carefully (although not much can be EXAMINEd, it is true). You've got the orb and the tin of paint, you've sung the glass case into fragments, the parrot is squawking Hamlet at you, and you've fed salmon to a crocodile. All you need is a little more time to figure it all out. Now, concentrate...

An entertaining runaround with a silly story and no pretensions beyond being a bit of harmless fun, this retro game is decidedly my kind of thing. I haven’t played any of Ryan Veeder’s self-authored games, but from what I can gather the style here is, coincidentally, not dissimilar: it’s light-hearted and frequently quite funny, the writing is witty and concise, the puzzles are relatively merciful, there is a large map to wander around and explore and plenty of characters to chat to. I haven’t finished it yet – games of this length I tend to play on and off, so it will take me a while – but from what I’ve seen so far, I would highly recommend it.

If that was all there was to it, then this review might end here – but there is a real-world backstory attached that is as interesting as the game itself. The game is a long-forgotten relic, based on and contemporary with the spooky Crocodracula US kids TV series from the early 1990s, a copy of which was discovered by prolific IF author Ryan Veeder and ported to Inform for the convenience of present-day IF aficionados. UK TV historians (there are a couple of us) and players of a certain age (there are many more of us) may recall that, in 1993, this quirky series did air briefly in the UK on Tyne Tees’ Saturday morning children’s show Gimme 5, before it was pulled after a complaint from Thames Television citing the 1990 Broadcasting Act (an obscure stipulation of which was that all children’s TV shows broadcast on the ITV network before 12pm on Saturdays should have a minimum 15% UK production stake). The show was replaced by the homegrown Danger Mouse after just three episodes. It could therefore reasonably be claimed that Margaret Thatcher killed Crocodracula, at least in the UK – after chewing up the nationalised industries and eating the NUM alive, she had this show for afters, and no more was heard of it ever again.

We should be grateful to Mr Veeder for unearthing this obscure but entertaining cultural artefact and resurrecting it for the pleasure of nostalgic oldies – and, perhaps, for introducing a whole new generation of fans to this most obscure of TV franchises.

In search of a little retro text-adventuring to play on company time, I stumble across this curious artefact from the nostalgic 1980s of my childhood: a Doctor Who-based adventure game! How my 8-year-old self would have coveted such a thing, if he had known it existed; how inconsolable would he have been had he known the inconceivable span of time that he would have to live through before he would get the chance to play it. Nevertheless, here I am, half a lifetime later with the very thing at my fingertips and I can’t help but ponder the question – was it worth the wait?

The Key To Time is a typical product of the grey economy of the 1980s British home-grown adventure game scene, where anyone with a copy of the Quill and a bit of spare time could declare themselves proprietors of a software label and flog self-penned games from their residential address, often blithely borrowing copyright assets along the way. In this instance, the rather off-puttingly titled ‘Lumpsoft’ really do go the whole way, shamelessly borrowing the undisguised title, concept and characters from the Doctor Who TV series and even including the TARDIS police box image on their packaging and loading screen. Of course, the BBC had a considerably more apathetic attitude to copyright infringement in those days. In fact, they tended not to show much interest in their assets at all – after all, by the time this came along they’d spent the past couple of decades methodically throwing away most of their archives because all those old film tins were becoming such a bother to dust – so it’s not too surprising that this sort of thing frequently passed under their radar, and in hindsight this represents an enormous missed opportunity for game authors (where, I ask in vain, is the text adventure version of Howard’s Way?) More astonishing and riskier by far, as anyone familiar with the reputation of Terry Nation’s agent, Roger Hancock, will be aware, is Harkin’s appropriation of the Daleks into his game, both in word and image (there is even one on the loading screen!). How on earth the impudent P.J.R. managed to get away with that without receiving a visit in the dead of night from Hancock’s heavies is a mystery. Or maybe he didn’t, and that’s why Lumpsoft’s output mysteriously ceased after their second game (a rip-off of The Avengers that time) with an advertised third never to be released? It’s likely we shall never know.

As for the game: it’s a fun Quilled effort, with a decent number of locations spread out over different zones to add a bit of variety. You play the first Doctor (the game is, rather amusingly ‘respectfully dedicated to the memory of William Hartnell’ – what the perpetually out of sorts Bill Hartnell would have made of this is anyone’s guess, but he passed away in 1975 so was spared the indignity), engaged by the White Guardian on a 1978-flavoured quest to collect the five segment of the Key to Time, for reasons no more adequately explained here than in the TV version on which the plot is based. Gameplay consists of hopping between different planets and solving a series of simple puzzles to locate segments disguised as everyday (if often rather incongruous) objects that can be transformed into their true forms with a touch of a magic wand. The means of transport between different zones is, of course, the TARDIS – rendered (presumably due to budgetary constraints) as just two rooms, one containing the famous console which here bears no more than a single button and a lever. This makes navigation a more straightforward affair than depicted in the TV series, and the imagination can easily fill in the missing Bakelite radio knobs, switches, sticky tape and vacuum cleaner parts seen on screen.

Our first port of call is the Dalek’s home planet of Skaro, depicted as a handful of sparse rooms and a corridor (as seen on TV). The most exciting thing here is a control room swarming with Daleks! But sadly, we’re not allowed to explore it but instead encounter a singular Dalek guarding a statue of Davros (the Daleks’ weird fetishization of their creator, who they hate, being nicely illustrated here). Of the various items we come across on the alien world of Skaro, a tin of baked beans is perhaps the most surprising (we must suppose that a plucky Thal dropped it during a reconnaissance mission), but it proves to be so central to the plot that, presumably, Harkin could find no more suitable substitute.

Next, we’re off to an unnamed planet and an encounter with the Cybermen (forever doomed to reside at number 2 in any ‘greatest Dr Who monster of all time’ poll) or rather, lone Cyberman, in a rather lacklustre run around with overuse of an unimaginative USE command to get us through to the next segment of the Key. This seems like lazy puzzle design to me, but at least it avoids the usual three-hour guess-the-verb marathon that is the staple of 1980s text adventures.

Moving on, we find ourselves face to face with the spooky, bewhiskered, telepathic, plate-footed Sensorites – unarguably one of Dr Who’s greatest ever potentially good monsters trapped in a crap story. We encounter them in their ‘Temple of Senses’, a minimally-implemented post-modern sensual gallery where each of the senses is indulged through a single, stark artefact. The identity of the disguised segment here is rather curious, but I suppose convergent evolution can account for most things and after all, it has to be disguised as something.

Our next destination is a trip to the zoo, and some animal antics with monkeys, piranhas, a giant bird and three bears (including porridge, excluding Goldilocks). This is certainly the least Doctor Who-ish of all the episodes and may appears wildly off-topic to some players (unless they’ve seen The Chase, in which case it seems pretty sober) but there is more to do here than anywhere else and it is probably the most entertaining part of the game; I wouldn’t be surprised if this section started life in some other unfinished project and ended up incorporated here. Whatever the case, there is barely time to pause for breath before we’re back in the TARDIS operating our singular button and lever once more, and arriving at our final destination…

Gallifrey, the Time Lord home planet. Originally depicted in the 1960s as aloof, sanctimonious, omnipotent guardians of time pontificating quietly over the fate of morally inferior beings (i.e. everyone else in the universe), the Time Lords went through a strident glam-rock period in the 1970s before devolving into a group of venal degenerates endlessly bickering with one another and trapped forever in the conference suite of a 1980s budget hotel; it’s fun to imagine the upholstered beige walls and uplights of the contemporary screen version while reading the spartan location descriptions, although the plot is rather 1976 (those familiar with The Deadly Assassin will be at an enormous advantage here). Like many senescent empires, Gallifrey is corrupt, insular, and utterly complacent – so finding the priceless and all-powerful artefacts of Rassilon stowed carelessly beneath a cushion on the only chair, and a pillow on the bed in the President’s quarters, is not really that much of a surprise (I don’t think I can be spoiling here, unless you really weren’t going to look beneath that cushion and that pillow). Once those treasures are procured, there is a bit more fiddly unlocking and inserting to do before the final segment is won and the game ends in a (typically abrupt) triumph.

So what to make of this strange confection overall? Stripped of its fan appeal, which gives it a hefty boost for anyone with an interest in the TV series, The Key to Time is a pretty primitive playing experience. The puzzles are for the most part simplistic and not particularly well clued (especially for those unfamiliar with the series), the locations are few and sparsely described and the parser doesn’t understand anything but the most basic of commands and can be frustratingly obtuse. And yet some care and attention has clearly gone into the making of this and it is not an entirely unenjoyable playing experience provided that one takes account of the era in which it was written and adjusts one’s expectations accordingly. It’s interesting to note that its original retail price in 1984 was £5.95, equivalent to around £20 today – a not inconsiderable amount of pocket money – and that the contemporary magazine reviews are all fairly positive. We may never know if P.J.R. Harkin shifted enough units to pay off his mortgage, but it does give an idea of the accepted standard of games and their retail value in the unsaturated UK text adventure market of the early 80s. Viewed from almost four decades later, The Key to Time is little more than a historical curiosity, but there are certainly more harmful ways of frittering away your time than playing through this thing (preferably with the CASA solution to hand, for those not blessed with infinite time or patience). I’d recommend it as a decent example from the era, with the added curiosity of it being based on some famous subject matter.

Intrigued by the earlier one star review, and at the risk of giving this more reviews than it deserves, I had a look at this myself. Sadly, it seems the previous rating is more or less right. Ostensibly a simple puzzle game, of the sort that seems to spontaneously germinate from Adventuron, it is hugely marred by unnecessarily hidden objects, impossible to guess commands and an enormous extravagance of bugs that, if you were an electronic sparrow, would keep you sated for days (perhaps forever). But as a player, it's a rather maddening experience. On the plus side, I enjoyed the typical Adventuron bloopy noises and retro graphics, and this first-time author has obviously tried to do something that hasn't quite worked, so it feels mean to chastise too much. Two stars for the effort that has gone in.

A fairly short, choice-based game with familiar Fighting Fantasy-esque trappings: potter about your medieval environs killing giants, talking to wizards and encountering mysterious mists etc. There are a few alternate paths but not much substantive variation between the two poles of happy ending or sudden death, but it is all very solidly implemented and written in an easy, confident style by an author who clearly knows what he is doing. Overall, this fulfils nicely my current primary criterion that games should be short enough to complete during work-time, but not so superficial as to feel like a waste of time (your employer would no doubt be happy to sponsor you playing this brief but worthy number), making it a solidly three-star experience.

Apparently, this has been written as an experiment in using a minimalist JavaScript engine (Quandry) to create a work of IF. Having not played much (in fact, hardly any) choice-based IF, I can’t comment on its relative merits compared to other systems, but it all works well enough as far as I could tell from my playthrough.

Completely linear, non-interactive, whimsical bit of prose poetry. I've had sneezes that lasted longer than this took to click through but, you know, it probably hasn't done me any harm - so there is that to recommend it at least.

An exemplar of the sort of minimalistic low-res, ultra-retro puzzle game that gives Adventuron a bad/good name [delete according to your opinion of what Adventuron is best used for]. Wander around a maze of 20 rooms, collecting objects and feeding cheese to NPCs, in a bid to escape to the 'outside world'. It's a little bit of harmless fun done with a good dash of humour, and an excellent way to distract yourself from that important work that you should otherwise be doing, for a good half hour or so. Possibly some of the references will be lost on a non-British audience (I'm not sure how far the cult of Roland Rat penetrated beyond these shores), but happily the associated website provides ample research material for those non-natives wishing, for reasons unfathomable, to immerse themselves in 1980s UK pop culture. I'm looking forward to the sequel!

Fun little puzzler with a cute back story: you've been sent down into a cavern to complete some sort of spooky family coming-of-age ritual by summoning a familiar to be your lifetime magical companion. The trouble is, you haven't a clue about how to do it - so you've got to figure out the moves by yourself, using the disparate selection of objects lying around you.

It's a single location escape room, decently written, with an old-school feel: basically use every object in every combination until you work out what you're supposed to do. You can summon your familiar at any point in the came, but the outcome will be different depending on how you have set things up; the alternative endings add to the fun. I didn't manage to finish the game - it seems quite easy to get stuck and there is no help available. If I had a lot of time and patience then I could probably crack my way through with brute force, but as it is, I'll have to leave this review unstarred until inspiration strikes and I manage to progress (some in built hints would make playing a less frustrating experience).

There are a few little buggy bits here and there (eg you can get on the altar and drop things there, but can't pick them up again unless you get off the altar; you can use down as a direction off the altar, even though you're told 'You can't go that way' when you do so, you can put all your stuff in the unreachable crack in the roof but you can't get the thing that is already there without solving a lengthy puzzle). Nothing critical (unless that's the reason I'm stuck...) but nevertheless a tidy-up of those little bits would add some polish overall.

If you're in the mood for some good old-fashioned object-based puzzle solving, and you have some patience, then this could be worth a look.

A straightforward thriller set in a fictional Eastern Bloc country during the exhausted fag end of the European Communist era (1989). You play a functionary in the state security apparatus, tasked with gathering some evidence to denounce your boss’s romantic rival while making your own plans to escape across the border.

The writing here is solid if rather functional – quite appropriate for the Soviet setting, with it’s monolithic, dilapidated government buildings and drab, identikit living apartments. There are some nice incidental touches that add to the atmosphere (the cigarette-stub littered floor of your office, the propaganda posters, the tv news programme) and your co-workers, one of whom is caught in flagrante with the Chief at a certain point in the game, are amusingly described. I would have liked them to have had a bit more depth: most of them have a function in the plot (although you main office buddy doesn’t) but there is not a lot to them beyond that. The same goes for the player character – I would have liked your motivations and background to be explored a bit more. Perhaps some personal touches in your apartment would have helped? As it is, it’s just a functional place to sleep, as prescribed at a certain point in the action. The enormous human interest potential in this evocative setting isn’t really explored at all, which wouldn’t matter much if it was played for laughs, but done straight like this, the omission is noticeable. There are other bits and pieces in the game (for example, a mysterious but irrelevant locked door and a car that you can go to the trouble of getting into, starting and driving off but ultimately doesn’t go anywhere) that suggest that the finished game turned out a bit smaller than originally planned; tying off those loose ends so the player doesn’t waste too much time trying to interact with such scenery would improve things.

The gameplay is linear and fairly puzzle-free, so there is not too much danger of getting stuck - for most of the game. If you find yourself at a loss as to what to do, just revisiting each location, and/or saying/giving the right thing to the right character should eventually show you the way forward. I say most of the game as there is something more puzzle-like at the end that wrong-footed me a bit as I wasn’t quite expecting it, but a bit of lateral thinking got me through. There is no HELP or HINTS in the game itself, which makes it feel a bit unfriendly, although it is packaged with a walk-through. A built in hint system would enhance it a lot, I think: it’s certainly a more satisfying way of progressing through the trickier parts of an adventure than following a list of ‘d,d,drop box,get key’ type instructions. The whole thing is competently implemented, although there is a bit of irritating door stuff that might be something Inform-specific rather than the author’s fault (I’m not familiar enough with it), producing exchanges like:

>LOCK DOOR
What do you want to lock door 309 with?
>LOCK DOOR WITH KEY
Which do you mean, the Talmak apartment key, the security office key, the car key or the memorial apartment key?
>LOCK DOOR WITH MEMORIAL APARTMENT KEY
First you would have to close door 309.
>CLOSE DOOR
You close door 309.
>LOCK DOOR WITH MEMORIAL APARTMENT KEY
You lock door 309.

…when just locking the only available door (without having to specify the correct key, which I am holding) would be preferable, for me at least. But other than that, there are no real design problems that I noticed.

As a fairly easy, reasonably short game (finishable in a couple of hours at most) in a recent historical setting, this is well worth a look.

A fair stab at a noir-style thriller, featuring many tropes of the genre (a lone detective in search of a new case, a chanteuse murdered in a dingy nightclub, a restless city backdrop, etc). There is also a somewhat incidental gearpunk theme that pops up in the background occasionally (clockwork transport, a clockwork computer). I didn't finish it: I ended up not knowing what to do next, and there are no hints to help you along the way. The plot and characterisation are somewhat sketchy and many things are under-described or not described at all: mostly, what I've taken away from playing it is what I've filled in from my own expectations. In itself, it is slightly thin stuff, but I think there is potential for a good game here with some development of the story and characters.

There are some design irritations in the game: entering and leaving locations is a mixture of compass directions and 'in' and 'out', which is a bit confusing, and some of the exits are not reciprocal - in at least one place, you go east to enter a room and then go 'out' to leave it. There are also a load of doors that need to be opened explicitly for no very good reason, causing an unnecessary inconvenience (why put a shut door in the way if there is no need for it? Just let it be implicitly open so the player can get on their way). The main problem, though, is the writing which is, frankly, a bit shaky. There are a number of typos, some awkward sentence construction and a disorientating tendency to switch tenses (sometimes more than once) during passages. Perhaps the author isn't naturally a writer (not everyone is) but in any case the text could do with a good edit for sense and grammar.

As it stands, this is not quite polished enough to hit the mark for me - but a few drafts down the line, it could emerge as a decent game.

This is a fairly short, tersely written thriller, played entirely straight which makes a refreshing change from the usual more-or-less comic mode of most parser IF. You play a secret agent on a mission to retrieve a piece advanced technology from behind enemy lines (your people want to reverse engineer it, for purely defensive purposes of course). Most of the action takes place in a dinghy which you navigate between a few locations linked by pseudo-random exits (or at least, I couldn't figure out the map), which combines with the brief but precise descriptions to give a convincing impression of bobbing around on the waves. The game is very polished and very accessible. There aren't any bugs that I can see and care has been taken to guide the player through the narrative; you shouldn't get stuck or find yourself wondering what to do. It's fairly short and there are useful hints built in, which more experienced players are unlikely to need but beginners will be grateful for. The puzzles, such as they are, aren't very taxing (the items in your inventory make it pretty obvious what you need to do, and you seem able to stash an infinite amount of stuff in your wetsuit), and that is quite right for this story-driven game. If you want something fairly easy but nicely involving to pass an hour so, then this does the job very well.

A clever, absorbing game quite deceptive in its simplicity: the things that you need to do are very straightforward but you'll find yourself hooked for hours trying to reach the next level. The player input is very stripped down: there are few words needed and often the activities can be completed by just entering a single letter or two. The gameplay is progressive, requiring completion of an entertaining variety of mini-games to earn rewards that can be cashed in to elevate you to the next level, where ever more elements are unlocked. It feels as though a lot of thought has been put into making the game as accessible as possible by eliminating the usual barriers that parser-based IF presents to inexperienced players. I playtested this with a 7-year-old and he could pretty much do it on his own, which is more than can be said for almost any other text adventure I've come across - but there is enough here to keep adults pleasantly diverted as well. Recommended.

A solid escape room game with puzzles that are just about the right level of hardness if you want something to think about...but not too hard. I did it in about 45 mins with a full score and didn't need any hints along the way (but they are there if you need them). The story isn't hugely germane to the gameplay but nevertheless, it is there and the revealing of it in snippets and flashbacks as you progress through the game is quite effective. The writing is good and does what it needs to do in relaying tension and a feeling of impending peril, with a minimum of flashing lights and blaring sirens. Give it a go, get through to the end and be reassured that you will know exactly what to do the next time you find yourself in a fix in low Earth orbit.

A fairly typical Quilled text adventure from legendary ZX Spectrum publisher Zenobi. This one is set on the Greek island of Thira, putative location of the Atlantis of fable, where you have decided to go on holiday and accidentally stumble upon a fabulous underwater kingdom during a quick dip in the sea just down the road from your hotel room. It's a fun little run-around with some amusing writing in the usual droll style of 8-bit text adventures. Thira itself is a small but lively place, populated mainly by shifty mule-vendors and sandal-proffering youths who are just after your trousers, whereas Atlantis itself is so sedate that most of the inhabitants have fallen into suspended animation! But in spite of that, there is still some puzzly fun to be had if you're looking for a retro-flavoured diversion to fill an hour or two.

The parser is more or less what you would expect for a game from this era: mostly two-word, with a couple of occasions where a multi-word input is required. There are the standard 'guess the verb' frustrations in a few places (although the right words are not that difficult to work out, for those players gifted with more than minimal patience), and a couple of unexpected sudden death scenarios (I was arrested for (Spoiler - click to show)indecent exposure in one instance, and (Spoiler - click to show)burnt my feet on a hot beach in another. Part of the normal daily routine for the average British holiday-maker, but seemingly enough to make you give up your quest for Atlantis in this game). Naturally, this being a classic text adventure, you have to spend a lot of time examining objects and locations, most of which yield nothing much but occasionally prove essential to completing the game. If you’re feeling really lazy then you might need to glance at a walk-through, but there is nothing too perplexing involved here and there is even the (very occasional) built-in HELP prompt to assist with the more obscure puzzles. The ending feels a bit as though the author is running out of ideas, with the Atlantan royal family snoozing in rooms next to one another (yet desperate to be reunited) and separated by a slightly odd locked door puzzle. But that doesn't really matter as the player has probably had enough by that point and the end is in sight! And duly arrives, after a rather pointless-seeming return to your starting point.

Judged by the standards of the time and taken on its own terms, this isn’t a bad little game at all and should certainly provide a brief and mildly fantastic diversion for players interested in such retro stuff.

This is an amusing little game with some strong writing and a well-drawn player character in Ariadne, a sassy novitiate priestess who gets caught up in a little light espionage after a night in the sack with a couple of local goatherds. The map is fairly small and the story very linear: you are more or less trundled along from one scene to another with quite a lot of heavy hints and signposting to help you along the way. That being so, the puzzle coefficient is pretty small, but the whole feels immersive and convincing enough (thanks to the writing) for that not to matter too much. If you're in the mood for something not too taxing then this makes a pleasant diversion for an hour or so.

There are a few typos in there, and some other minor issues (for example, at one point you're told that you converse with a character while you walk to another location, but you don't actually leave the location that you are in), but nothing too egregious to distract from the overall experience.