This is set up as a classic piece of “explore a weird and architecturally impossible house” horror, and the uncanniness does escalate nicely, especially if you decide to turn back at any point. Instead of reaching a spooky climax, however, the endings present situations that are merely sort of odd, and the PC’s muted reaction (“Huh.”) contributes to the draining of tension.
I suppose it feels a little like games you play as a child to try to scare yourself, or even just the experience of walking down the hall to the bathroom at night at an age where that passes for spooky. Coming out in the light and finding nothing too badly amiss is somewhat fitting for that kind of vibe. But as a grown-up I think I’d prefer some actual payoff.
This is unfortunately one of the less accessible pieces I’ve encountered in this year’s ECTOCOMP, and I don’t mean that in the way that poetry can be inaccessible to people unfamiliar with the artform. I know I repeat this constantly, but please, please use a contrast checker to make sure your text is legible. This gave me a headache to read. Also, I don’t usually complain about font sizes since that’s the easiest thing to change on the user’s end—any old browser will do it—but as someone who doesn’t generally need to boost the font size for vision reasons I did need to boost it here because it is tiny and my poor fine motor control was not up to clicking to continue when the target was so small.
The chained poem conceit is interesting, with each poem taking the last line of the previous as the first line and spinning off into a different direction with it, and the poems cover many different topics. The one that stuck with me most was the one about relatives squabbling over an inheritance, which I thought made interesting use of the unique affordances of the medium in what it was doing with cycling links. The rest of the poems don’t really make use of anything besides (sometimes very slow) timed text; I see in theory why that’s appealing to a poet and seems like a natural outgrowth of the way line breaks and general space on the page are used in static poetry, but I personally did not feel like it added to the experience. I do think there’s promise here and I would be interested to see more interactive poetry that really explored the question of “what can you do with interactive poetry that you can’t do with the regular on-paper kind?” (Other than make the text fade in really slowly.)
The least important thing about this game is that every time I see the title I start humming the similarly-titled folk song, and I don't want to be the only one doing that so I'm sharing it with you. You're welcome.
Moving along, Beneath the Weeping Willow is an Ink game where you play as a ghost. A couple of vacationers have rented out your old house on AirB&B on Halloween night, the only night you can interact with the living, so this is your one shot to try to get them to solve the mystery of your death and lay you to rest properly. Despite the ghost situation, the spookiness factor is low, and the general atmosphere is one of autumnal coziness tempered by slight melancholy.
You can’t interact with your guests directly, so it’s a matter of figuring out what you can interact with, what effect it will have, and how the guests move around the house at various points in the evening. Restarting at least once may be necessary, as the whole thing is on a tight timer. The apparent complexity of it really impressed me given the four-hour limit on a Petite Mort game. In general, I found it surprisingly polished and rewarding to play, and I would recommend it to anyone who is looking for a satisfying bite-sized puzzle game of moderate difficulty.