Reviews by Victor Gijsbers

Escape from S.S.A.D.B. is a very primitive adventure game in every respect: prose, story, puzzles, parser. Although it is a very small game with maybe a dozen locations and only a handful of puzzles, it is easy to get stuck because of the unhelpful descriptions and many guess-the-command situations. For example, the very first puzzle is perhaps the most clichéd of all adventure puzzles: retrieving a key that is in the keyhole on the other side of the door, using nothing but a newspaper. However, due to a very unclear description of the situation and an unhelpful parser, I had to resort to the walkthrough to solve it.

It seems that the parser understands only one and two word commands. Okay, I guess you can work around that. But the parser will happily act as if it understood the entire command. So you may write "put X in Y", and the game says "okay", but actually it has only acted on "put X" which it apparently sees as a synonym for "drop X". Of course this is nothing compared to the elevator where the room description tells you that there are buttons labeled 1, 2 and 3... but the game only understand your commands if you write those numbers out as "one", "two" and "three".

Does the story or world or cleverness of the puzzles in any way make up for the pain of interacting with Escape from S.S.A.D.B.? Alas, no. It's just a bare-bones escape scenario involving some crazy adventure logic and an off-hand killing of a 'worker'.

Best avoided.

After playing two random Spectrum adventures (the very good Celtic Carnage and the decent Time Quest), I was perhaps getting unrealistic expectations about works coming from this community. If so, Shore Leave put me squarely back on my feet.

In this game, you take on the role of a minor character on a big space ship with the aim of getting it to a nice place for your shore leave. I can't say much more than that, because I found the experience deeply off-putting and never got very far. Part of that is the difficulty of getting the game to understand you. For instance, there is a cinema where you have to buy a ticket in order to see a film. There's someone who sells ticket, and someone who keeps you from seeing the film if you don't have one. Now the documentation specifically lists the verb "buy", but no variation of "buy ticket" that I tried had any effect; nor did "get ticket", "buy" by itself, and so on. There were already various points in the game where I knew what I wanted to do, but didn't find the syntax to actually do it.

Possibly I would have tried harder if the content of the game had been more to my liking. But this is a game that is desperate to be funny, yet only made me cringe. Here's an example. When you take the elevator to the main bridge, you end up in a location that is a bridge across a river. That's actually kind of funny. But the room description goes on to say: "As this location is nothing more than a cheap joke you are advised to proceed back to the lift." That really kills the joke for me. Worse are rooms like this: "You are on the main engineering concourse. This is a really boring place and I'm finding it difficult to make it sound otherwise." This is a cardinal sin -- boring the player and then treating the boredom as a joke. And then there's the Terminal Illness ward: "The people here are doomed to spend the rest of their days in this room. [...] South leads to the spare parts room." "You are now in the spare parts room. Bits of body are hanging from the ceiling on large metal hooks."

To me, it all feels as the worst kind of juvenile humour; utterly tasteless and unlikely to get better as the game proceeds. So I'm not exploring it any further. Nevertheless two stars, since from what I've seen this probably is a competently programmed puzzle adventure. There are those to whom it might appeal.

My review of 9/21: My Story must start with an explanation of how I came to play it, especially since readers of the review will most likely not be able to play it for themselves. I was doing an 'IFDB Spelunking' expedition, where I let the IFDB generate a random list of ten games and then try to play and review them all. One of the games on my list, this one, didn't seem to be available on the internet any longer. Instead of giving up, however, I decided to track down and contact the author, Kronosaurus.

Kronosaurus was very helpful, explaining to me that 9/21: My Story was a very intense and personal game they made when they were around 14 years old. Kronosaurus took it offline a few years later because they thought it was in certain ways immature and not something they wanted out there attached to their name. However, Kronosaurus was also kind enough to send me a copy for my personal perusal, allowing me to write a review of it if it didn't contain any quotes or screenshots. And so that's why I'm able to write this even though you will be unable to find a working download link on this page.

Clearly, my playing experience was heavily coloured by all of this. Had I encountered 9/21: My Story without any context, I would probably have spent a lot more time being annoyed at spelling errors or wondering at the author's artistic intentions. But I hope that even then I would have been open enough to the experience to appreciate this game for what it is: a raw, intense story about how personality and creativity can be killed off at school; how it hurts when you are forced into a mould you don't fit and when your most cherished artistic designs are discarded as worthless trash. The protagonist of our story gets through the day at school by designing maps for a computer game. Their thoughts about this are actually quite detailed and subtle. But they face an abusive teacher who, through contempt, almost succeeds in erasing this part of their life. Almost. For the game -- which even includes an almost-suicide -- ends on a hopeful note.

I found 9/21: My Story engaging and moving. I can also understand the author's desire to keep some distance from it; it is perhaps too personal, too much a document of a particular moment in one's life, and does one want to keep this around for every random person on the internet to give a star rating to? It's not art that rises to the level of objectivity. But the lack of an 'objective perspective' (whatever that may be) is surely part of both the intense pain and the unbelievable glory of being 14.

Not being 14 any more, I rejoice and despair.

In Hippy's Quest you play a young man trying to become a hippy. This reminds me of Frank Zappa's satirical album "We're Only in It for the Money", and there does seem to be a connection between these two works of art. But before we get there, a little about the gameplay. Hippy's Quest is choice-based. Often you choose from a list of option, though now and then there is also free text input. Many options lead to instant death, after which you will have to restart the game. For the rest you'll just have to try everything, hoping to hit on the path that will give you the items you will need -- I assume -- to proceed on your quest.

Ah, yes, the quest. Apparently, this involves entering a hippy hotel in order to register as a hippy; wearing hippy clothes; and then, for reasons that remain obscure, walking to a cliff and climbing down a rope, jumping into a dangerous river, and swimming past a series of lethal rocks.

These lethal rocks are the shareware protection. You need to enter some combination of numbers, but only by sending $10 to John Blake for full registration (or, if you're not rich, maybe sending $5 for 'just the hint kit') will you be told which numbers they are. So it seems that John Blake is, after all, only in it for the money.

Whether anyone enjoyed their random deaths enough to actually send him their hard-earned bucks is a question to which we may never know the answer. If you want my two cents, I'd advise any aspiring hippy to spend it on pot and an acoustic Bob Dylan album instead.

For the first minutes, Three Mile is utterly unremarkable. You and some friends are on a midnight trip towards a haunted road. There's the usual characterisation of the protagonists (the couple who aren't happy together; the socially awkward guy; the girl he's in love with). There's the linear interaction mechanic, which basically just involves clicking on the text to see a new piece of text. Any tension is the tension of anticipation. What will go wrong? What horrors will appear in the night?

And then things change. And I continue behind spoiler tags.

(Spoiler - click to show)The horror never happens to us. The horror is us. Of course it's an old trick to give us only fragments of a story and make us guess at what happened -- what we vaguely imagine is always more horrifying than anything spelled out in detail. And using technological breakdown to create this fragmentary nature is effective, but also a well-worn trope. But what makes Three Mile original and powerful is the fact that the protagonist-author is a manipulative, creepy bastard; and we know that he (he's probably male) is writing and rewriting with the specific goal of manipulating us. This gives everything that we read or see, and every act of interpretation that we perform, an added element of dreadful doubt. If this is what we are shown, if this is the bast face he can put on it, then what really happened? Psychological abysses open up before us.

One more thing: take the trigger warning about self-harm seriously. It's not really the focus of the story, but when it appears it has impact.

Hyper Rift is a choice-based interactive fiction for mobile platforms (Android, iOS, and perhaps also Windows Mobile). It's partly graphical -- you navigate between rooms using arrows on a map -- but almost all information is conveyed to you through text. The game is free, with some small ads in the bottom, and (I believe) the option to purchase an ad-free version if desired. I found the ads no distraction at all.

In Hyper Rift, we find ourselves waking up without memory in the medical bay of a spaceship full of horrors. So far so System Shock, but Hyper Rift is actually centered of saving and leading a large cast of NPCs. While these will mostly silently follow you to the point that they function more as inventory items, in certain situations they will do or say something that has a significant impact on the game. As you lead your (hopefully) growing band of equally amnesiac shipmates through the four levels of the spaceship, you will solve some mathematical puzzles and learn more and more about what was going on on the ship and what might be done to put things right.

Making everything come out in the optimal way seems to be a complex puzzle, requiring significant trial and error as well as careful exploration. From what I've seen, the puzzles have been carefully constructed; and there are more than ten different endings to be reached. While I'm personally not the kind of completionist who will search for them all, and while I'm also not motivated enough to try to get a better ending than my own (probably middle-of-the-road) ending L, I do think that there are many IF enthusiasts for whom this game can mean hours of fun. I certainly enjoyed the 2 to 3 hours I spent with it. Recommended.

In Assignment 46 (a sequel to Assignment 45: A Harry Flynn Adventure) you take on the role of captain Harry Flint, who has to save the galaxy by tracking down a shipment of plutonium. The first thing that happens to you, is that you find a poisonous lizard in your bed; and approximately the second is that you meet a beautiful woman in a casino; so, yes, this is pretty much James Bond in space.

What this also is, is CYOA of the most terrible sort. At every choice point you get a little menu of options, most of which lead to instant or near-instant death. BOOM! Your mission is a failure. You then have to restart the entire game, sitting through some timed text, and try a new option. BOOM! Getting through this partiuclar assignment will require much more patience than this particular reviewer has.

You’re a demon and you have to save your mother from an unconventional convent. Luckily, while security is tight, you have the power to possess people, taking over their body. Most of the puzzles in the game revolve around finding the right person to possess in order to get some task done. To get to a certain location, you might need to find someone who is small, or strong, and so on. There are some object puzzles along the way, but nothing terribly difficult.

This is the second Quest game I played during the 2018 IF Competition -– after Space Punk Moon Tour –- and again I ran into a host of parser issues, making me suspect that it’s Quest that is at fault rather than the individual authors. Here was a particularly frustrating sequence:

x crypt
A large stone mausoleum, the door slab flanked by ersatz Greco-Roman columns and moldering marble cherubs. A large crack bisects the slab blocking the entryway to the crypt, deeply enough that a strong enough human could probably pull it down.

enter crypt
I don’t understand your command.

go in crypt
You can’t go there.

in
The door to the crypt is paved over.

pull slab
You can’t pull it.

hit slab
You can’t hit it.

pull door
I can’t see that. (door)

x crack
There’s a large crack across the door to the crypt.

kick door
I don’t understand your command.

x slab
A large stone mausoleum, the door slab flanked by ersatz Greco-Roman columns and moldering marble cherubs. A large crack bisects the slab blocking the entryway to the crypt, deeply enough that a strong enough human could probably pull it down.

pull it down
I can’t see that. (it down)

Time Quest is in many ways an old-school parser game. We explore a relatively large but sparsely described world; solve some puzzles; avoid deaths; and don't worry too much about the story. The parser itself is relatively limited too, something that is especially evident from the lack of helpful error messages. (There's no real distinction between an action that was understood but didn't work, and an action that wasn't understood.)

But there are some ways in which Time Quest is more friendly than one might expect. There is, as far as I know, only one way to make the game unwinnable, and this is relatively clear. (Spoiler - click to show)It's when you get caught by the Gestapo and do not have the rope. The game world is very open, allowing you to explore more or less everything. There is only a small number of items, and the puzzles are generally very simple. And while the existence of different temporal eras to visit opens up the possibility of all kinds of complicated dependencies between them, in fact your progress in one era is (Spoiler - click to show)completely independent of what you do in other eras.

The story is rather limited: you have to search through time for the bad guy who has collected nuclear warheads in an attempt to dominate the pacifistic future from which you both hail. And that's what you do, with only one thing that could be described as a plot twist. It is especially weird that (Spoiler - click to show)the other temporal eras simply have nothing to do with your quest. This does feel like a bit of a lost opportunity.

However, despite the primitive story, Time Quest's handling of its theme of violence and pacifism is actually rather subtle. (Spoiler - click to show)First of all, every era that you visit is emblematic of a certain fictional genre that revels in violence: the fantasy quest with its trolls and dragons; the gladiatorial fight; the World War II story. And in all of them, we are able to engage in violence ourselves using the laser gun we are given at the start. But -- and this is quite wonderful -- it is never necessary to use the gun. The entire game can be played and won without ever picking it up. In this game, despite all the invitations we get, violence is never the answer. Which is a great fit for its story, and an interesting thematic message. (I wonder whether this theme of pacifism is present in more of B. J. Curtis's games.)

This is a very fine example of SpeedIF. Post-Christmas Letdown is very short, but well-implemented, with easy puzzles and a lot of charm. It made me smile and I enjoyed it for the ten minutes or so that it took me to play it. Which is precisely what one may hope from a SpeedIF game.