Reviews by Kinetic Mouse Car
Horror
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It's another entirely normal day at the office. Time to sort through your emails.
You work at an office that processes print orders and provides services for online content. Everyone has their job. Jeff, for instance, covers printing. As for you, it’s implied that you work in Editing. So why does everyone seem to think that your job revolves around juggling emails?
Oh, and something odd may be happening with your coworkers…
Every day I get emails is a Twine game and an Ectocomp 2025 submission in the La Petite Mort category. (I love the cover art.)
Gameplay is linear and occurs over several days. It consists of forwarding a stack of emails to the right colleague, and these colleagues are spread across multiple departments. Sales. Tech. Accessibility. And so forth. Why do you even have these emails? No idea.
Send to Caroline
Send to Enrique
Send to Jeff
Send to Sushila
The act of forwarding emails to the right colleague is superficial. Forward a tech-related issue to Enrique? He’ll forward it to Sushila for you. Aside from feeling pleased at remembering who works in what department, your choices here don’t affect the gameplay’s trajectory.
Instead, emails are the mechanism through which the plot unfolds. Initially, forwarding emails is followed by the bliss of knowing that they’re no longer your problem.
You forward the email to Jeff. Now you don't have to think about that anymore.
(Spoiler - click to show)Until your coworkers vanish one by one. If you forward an email to them, the system acts as if they never existed. If you bring this up with your boss, he claims that he does not know who you’re talking about. In fact, he claims that these so-called coworkers’ jobs have always been your job ever since you were hired. You must be slacking off.
This kicks off a trend that continues for the rest of the game: Each day, a coworker vanishes without a trace, and each disappearance means more work for you. To top it off, you seem to be the only person who notices.
Now you don't have to think about that anymore.
Such irony.
And while you might consider the possibility that it’s all in the protagonist’s head, there are external signs that suggest otherwise.
…the fluorescent light flickers even more erratically. You wonder if the office chatter is quieter than usual today…
Will you be next?
After every coworker disappears, you visit your boss again. He dismisses you and recommends that you balance your responsibilities with Copilot. Because that’s going to help. And so, all you can do is return to processing emails and wait for your turn to disappear. The game then ends.
The way it ends could have been smoother. It simply ends with “Return to start” which felt abrupt. This clunkiness gives the feeling of, oh, the game’s over? ok then.
I must admit, I thought there was going to be a big twist where it’s revealed that your boss murdered or is behind the disappearance of your coworkers and is pretending not to know who you’re talking about. That said, I think the existentialism of endless office work and the protagonist’s quiet acceptance of their looming demise is just as horrifying.
Appearance-wise, the game uses a basic light blue background similar to the cover art. In fact, its cover art was initially what attracted me to the game in the first place. These multiple shades of blue make my spine tingle. There is also a cream text box with rounded corners, and this looks nice against the blue background.
To conclude, Every day I get emails is a blend of horror and humor set in an office. It has simple design, linear gameplay, and an uncomplicated story, and yet, it has suspense as (Spoiler - click to show)we slowly realize the implications for the protagonist as their coworkers steadily vanish.
However, while I enjoyed it, I didn’t find it to be particularly earthshattering, either. I think the ending could be more fleshed out. Then again, the author only had four hours to make it, and it definitely feels like a finished product. So, take my criticism with a grain of salt.
...except we have no choice...
You are on a road trip to start a new life. The plan is to move in with a friend and see where life takes you! Who knows, maybe you'll stop having those weird dreams. Then your car breaks down.
At night. In the middle of nowhere.
A man appears. A mechanic. He was just passing by. He wants to help.
Sparks Fly embraces a staple of the horror genre: Car breaks down, a stranger offers help. Main character has no other choice but to accept. We find ourselves in that exact position.
No choice left. You have to get out of the car.
The stranger is Andrew. A homely yet muscular man who informs us that he’s a mechanic with a shop at his house. He proposes that we come with him and, given how late it is, spend the night and figure things out in the morning. (Spoiler - click to show)It doesn’t take long for us to realize that this was a really, really, really bad idea.
I’m just going to rip off the band-aid.
(Spoiler - click to show)Andrew takes you to his home where he lives with his grandmother, Lydia. The bedroom they give you is oddly tailored to your personal tastes… but you’re tired and fall asleep. You have one of your recurring dreams.
…and wake up with Andrew laying on your chest. His skin is alarmingly hot, and as he continues to invade your personal space, you cannot help but notice that he has no pulse. He’s some sort of “automaton” of flesh and machinery, as is Lydia.
And their dog, Leo.
And a deer, resurrected after being killed by Andrew’s car.
All of this was accomplished through a twisted surgical procedure. Andrew reveals that he anticipated your road trip and prepared the bedroom because you’re going to be joining the family! Which means you only have a short amount of time left before Andrew puts you under the knife to make you one of them.
Now that you know what you’re in for, I’m going to deviate from how I usually structure my reviews.
Strengths
Opening scene
Sparks Fly makes a strong first impression with its opening scene by capturing our vulnerability and isolation of being stranded from human civilization. We can stall for time, but inevitably we must follow Andrew to his car.
My stranger danger alarm was running at full power. Has anyone experienced the sudden, quiet realization where a voice in the back of your mind says, hey, do you realize that you’re in a stranger’s car, they’re the one driving, and no knows where you are? This scene went and dug all of that up. He also asks to see your license, and this sharing of personal information only makes it more nerve-wracking.
Or maybe we’re assuming the worst because of our less-than-ideal circumstances. Jumping to conclusions, perhaps?
(Spoiler - click to show)However, any consideration that he might be genuine quickly evaporates when his car hits a deer, injuring it. He “consoles” us in manner that indicates his lack of regard for personal boundaries.
"Between you and anything that could pop up on the road," his hand, large and rough from years of work, rests on yours, thumb moving to rest on your inner wrist as gold brown eyes burn into yours, "I'll pick you."
(Is it too late to run?)
And then he runs over the deer to put it out of its misery. He’s oddly nonchalant about it.
You're left to sit with this for the rest of the drive.
Talk about an opening scene. (Spoiler - click to show)No one is fooled by Andrew. And yet, we don’t know what his intentions are. What’s going to happen to us? Nicely done.
Writing
The author has a talent for writing horror. The story’s premise is good, but it’s the writing that pulls it off. I would describe the writing as quiet, dawning horror.
This is because there’s a strong dissonance between your situation and how Andrew and Lydia act. If you lash out, they respond as if you are a child throwing a tantrum. The fact that their plan involves surgically altering you…
"Come on back inside now, dear. You have a long procedure ahead of you." She walks to towards you, unthreatened.
…only makes it worse.
My favorite is this scene:
(Spoiler - click to show)Grabbing a blood covered tool, you call, "fetch," and throw it as far as you can.
With a bark, Leo flies across the grass for it. Realizing it's coated in deer's blood, he sits with it, licking the treat.
"That's nice, it's been a while since he's had deer."
This scene deserves an award. I just burst out laughing. I love its casual morbidity.
Characters
Animals aside, the only NPCs are Andrew and (Spoiler - click to show)Lydia.
Lydia is unsettling, but Andrew? You don’t even want to be in the same room as him. His characterization makes every scene uncomfortable. He’s decided that you’re his soulmate and has no concept of personal space. You’re all his! In fact, the player can get kind of anxious just thinking about it. But for a horror game, this works well.
I think many players will be rattled by the scene where you wake up to find Leo sleeping on top of you. You go to stroke his fur only to realize it’s human hair.
This is hair, not dog fur.
Andrew, not Leo.
The player starts to panic. Are we really going to be trapped here? (Spoiler: There are four endings. Thankfully, one of them involves escaping all of this.)
As for the protagonist, we know little about them. However, their portrayal is heavily rooted in the notion of starting over and forging a life of your own choosing. This is partly what makes (Spoiler - click to show)Andrew and Lydia so infuriating: They want to choose your life for you by making you “part of the family” and surgically altering your body against your will. Ending 2 “Freedom” puts an emphasis on you regaining control over your life.
Visuals
The author also did a nice job with the game’s visual design. Set in the middle of the screen is the game’s text box. It’s stylized with rounded edges, a semi see-through black background, and casts a slight shadow on the screen. Text is white. Behind the box is a backdrop that changes with the scene. Half of the box’s border is light grey while the other half is darker, the latter of which disappears when the backdrop has little contrast, creating an off-kilter look.
This aesthetic reminds me of the earlier horror Twine games I’ve played. It has a similar vibe as the uncle who works for nintendo. Polished, but not too polished. There’s a slight roughness that reminds the player that there is something twisted going on underneath.
Sparks Fly demonstrates how simple design changes can elevate the player’s experience. Consider the scene where (Spoiler - click to show)you wake up to find Andrew pinning you down: black backdrop… until a closer look reveals two eyes staring back! Now, imagine this with Twine’s default appearance of a black screen, white text, and blue links. It wouldn’t be the same.
Weaknesses
Pacing
After the opening scene and the big reveal, the game begins to branch out and becomes less linear. Unfortunately, the gameplay snowballs and ends soon after.
Confident that we can’t escape, Lydia and Andrew allow us some freedom before our surgery. We can choose to go with Andrew or stay with Lydia.
You'll stay here.
Go to the shed.
This serves as a branching point for the gameplay. Between the two, Lydia offers slightly more content and flexibility. Either way, the player will find themselves at the end of the game after a few moves. Up until now, the narrative gradually unfolded. Ending it like this makes it all feel rushed.
Plus, we’re left with some loose ends. Notably, what is Andrew’s connection to our dreams? Is he causing them? Or are the dreams merely warning you?
You've been having that dream for months. How has he been sneaking into your room every night for a year?
“Sneaking into your room every night.” Is this still referring to dreams?
There are also moments where Andrew appears to read your mind. When you notice that your bedroom is suspiciously personalized, Andrew says, "'Really? Hope you feel at home then,'" even though we never said anything out loud. What’s going on?
Further clarification would be helpful.
Implementation
My main criticism. There were at least two instances in the gameplay where I ran into Twine’s red “Error: <<if>>: bad conditional expression in <<elseif>>” messages that spill across the screen. And while the game is generally well-formatted, there are still some spelling and formatting errors.
There is a rough patch that puts a dent into the game’s quality.
(Spoiler - click to show)It occurs when we choose to either wait with Lydia or go with Andrew to the shed. If you choose Lydia, Andrew leaves. The game then says,
The smell of oil and hot metal linger on you as he disappears behind the building.
However, this passage repeats itself anytime you make a dead-end choice while with Lydia. For example, if you immediately walk to the scrap pile, Leo pulls you back, leaving you at square one. And each time, you get the same message of Andrew walking away even though he already left.
Final thoughts
Sparks Fly is an Ectocomp 2025 submission for the Le Grand Guignol category. It was a game that I couldn’t put down before finding every ending. It’s an intriguing work of horror with excellent writing that builds atmosphere and places the player in some seriously terrifying situations. This is further enhanced by the visuals.
However, this is hindered by patchy implementation as well as how quickly the game ends just as it becomes less linear. If the author slowed down after (Spoiler - click to show)the scene where we receive our “welcome gift,” the game would be much stronger. The red error messages certainly don’t help either. All of this was factored into my rating.
Nonetheless, Sparks Fly is a memorable work of horror that is difficult to forget. I don’t know if it is the author’s first work, but if it is, this is a fantastic start.
You just wrapped up explaining to your girlfriend Amanda that ever since she plugged her TV into the cable its been plotting to kill her.
Problem is, she thinks you're crazy.
And has now gone back to her apartment...
...where her TV is waiting.
Only you can save her.
Gameplay
When the TV decides to Murder your Girlfriend - The Game is actually an adaptation of a book of the same name. It’s also a submission to Ectocomp 2025.
We begin in our own apartment. (We're Todd, by the way) The first half of the gameplay takes place here, and its puzzles center on the objective of leaving your apartment. The second half is set in Amanda's apartment (Spoiler - click to show)where we prepare to duke it out with her evil TV.
Gameplay primarily consists of interacting with household appliances and enlisting their help. It doesn't take long for us to notice that these appliances are A, sentient, and B, haunted. Possessed, maybe?
"Hey, Todd. Who's your favorite appliance? Just kidding. We all know it's me. So, what can I zap up for you?" Slender gray tentacles, like the finest strands of spaghetti, snake out lovingly from behind the control panel.
It did take me a moment to piece together that we're the only ones who can see this. No wonder Amanda thinks we're crazy.
Puzzles are straightforward and evenly distributed throughout the gameplay. They engage without being too difficult. However, that means if you were hoping for a puzzle-fest, you feel may underwhelmed by what the gameplay has to offer.
Mechanics
Made with Gruescript, this is a choice-based game that behaves like a parser. Instead of imputing commands on a keyboard, the player clicks on buttons to perform an action.
You can also see:
- [Your Television] [talk]
- [Cable Cord] [connect]
Exits and anything with interactable content are listed at the bottom of the screen along with your inventory. If you’re holding something that has an immediate application, the game will list it for you. No guess-the-verb here!
You're holding:
[Your Trusty Philips Head] [drop]
This format felt streamlined and easy to use. I adapted to it quickly.
Story
The game’s strengths are grounded in its writing and characterization because, truth be told, (Spoiler - click to show)you can predict the ending way in advance.
In her apartment, (Spoiler - click to show)we find Amanda hypnotized and held captive by her TV. We appear, fight the TV, and escape with Amanda. No unexpected plot twists or developments. And the game doesn’t need any of that. I was satisfied with this trajectory. I think that’s largely thanks to the witty, household appliance characters. If their characterization were lacking, I’d probably feel otherwise about the story.
I do have one complaint. I wish our interactions with Amanda had more depth. (Spoiler - click to show)She’s been hypnotized, so I understand that she’s not going to be particularly alert or responsive. But something about her portrayal feels overly “damsel-in-distress.” Her character doesn’t extend beyond the role of “the girlfriend.” Who also needs to be rescued.
Then again, the game is an adaptation. Perhaps it’s like that in the book as well.
This game vs. The Little Toaster
The storyline of sentient household appliances immediately reminds me of The Little Toaster. Except, I’ve never liked The Little Toaster. Too disturbing. This game? I can handle.
Characters
Characters are the best part.
The toothbrush's yellow tentacles point at its power button, then your eyes. "I'm watching you, Todd."
Particularly, the sentient appliances.
The writing reveals them to be humorous NPCs (a feral vacuum cleaner?). They are fun to listen to and fun to interact with; Important considering their role in nearly every puzzle.
Asphalt, lines, and cars. *Lots* of cars. You find yours cuddled up next to a sexy red scooter. You get the impression the scooter isn't a huge fan but is too kind to roll away.
Characterization-wise, the appliances offer plenty of attitude. A blend of stubborn snark and an eagerness to assist Todd in saving Amanda. And while some of them view you as Amanda’s oddball boyfriend, they all agree that her TV has gone too far.
Todd’s cool, too. After all, he can communicate with household appliances and see when something is haunted. According to the (Spoiler - click to show)car’s dashboard, he has “mind powers,” but aside from that, we get no further explanation. However, this suits the game’s purposes just fine.
Visuals
The game has a clean appearance with a black screen, white text, and orange links set into dark purple buttons. Reminds me of Halloween!
Final thoughts
I had fun with this!
While I haven’t read the book, the overall premise of saving-your-girlfriend-from-a-bloodthirsty-TV certainly piques one’s curiosity. But when taking a book’s concept and turning it into gameplay, there is risk of that concept losing its essence and feeling contrived. Not the case here.
When the TV decides is a well-rounded adaptation that strikes the right balance between gameplay puzzles and overarching story, and the NPCs’ humorous dialog brings it all to life.
Great option for Halloween.
Begin patient analysis.
The UK is experiencing an epidemic. No one knows what’s causing it.
You work for the Department of Health and have been placed in charge of “quarantine allocation.” Working remotely from the safety of your apartment, your task is to evaluate patients for potential infection so your colleagues can find a way to combat the outbreak.
Gameplay
Overview
Gameplay takes place in your apartment and occurs over several days. At the start of each day, you log into your workstation to read emails and review patients using a NeuroWave device.
user: [email protected]
password: ******
connection established to [email protected]
access e-mail
activate NeuroWare™ client (5 patients waiting)
log off computer
It seems that everyone has a brain implant which can be accessed remotely by health officials. The data received contains snippets of a person’s physical and mental health, as well as traces of memories.
To process this data, the player jacks in with their own implant.
Not again.
Red paper lanterns.
Scout-drone hovers.
RE-SCAN
RELEASE
QUARANTINE
Scanning patients provide three lines of info gleaned from their implant. Multiple scans can be run on the same patient. If said patient does not appear to be infected, they can be released. Otherwise, you can quarantine them, sending them to your colleague’s lab for further testing.
When we’re done with our patients for the day, we go to bed.
Use of haikus
As mentioned in its description, the game incorporates haikus into the gameplay. Haikus are poems that consist of three lines. The first and third lines have 5 syllables, while the second line has 7. Every time you run a scan on a patient, the game generates a haiku.
Commuters clutching newspapers.
Glimpse of the news.
Obsolete technology.
Or rather, the game takes inspiration from the haiku three-line structure because the syllable count is a bit off. But I liked this! It replicates the simplicity of a haiku without restricting itself. I was surprised at how effective they were at giving us a glimpse of the person’s life.
Cheap USBs.
Thrown coughing from the train.
Big group of girls.
It also brings out a cyberpunk vibe.
Thoughts on gameplay
For the first few days, I took my job seriously.
Every patient was extensively scanned. My strategy involved quarantining any mention of physical of illness: “Hacking cough,” “Taste of vomit,” “Eyes burning,” “Headache,” and so on. Following Nadeja’s updates, I added signs of mental distress such as, “Intrusive thoughts,” “Frenzied typing,” and “Distrust.” I wanted to end this epidemic.
Except, your choices don’t seem to affect the game’s trajectory.
(Spoiler - click to show)Early on, choices influence the tone of the emails you receive, but only for the first half of the gameplay. For one playthrough I released every patient. In another, I quarantined them all. In both cases I got two warning emails from my colleagues but then that was that. I wasn’t fired. No one followed up on my continued incompetence. The emails I received in the second half of the game were cut-and-paste.
And I don’t think any of these choices influence the outcome of the game, either.
My complaint, however, is geared towards the gameplay’s repetitive nature. After a few days, the scans start to overwhelm you, forcing you to jack out and take a suppressor pill before resuming your work. Problem is, it doesn’t take much for you to get overwhelmed. Re-scanning a single patient can be enough for the game to urge you to jack out.
RE-SCAN
RELEASE
QUARANTINE
JACK-OUT (this option uses shaking text effects; clever)
You can ignore this… but the game will only bombard you with a large paragraph of frantic text, forcing you to disconnect and take a pill.
Gameplay became a pattern of: Login, boot up NeuroWare, scan 1-2 patients several times, jack out, take pill, log back in, boot up NeuroWare, resume scanning, repeat, etc.
It gets to the point where I would just quarantine or release the patients without re-scanning them. That way, I had enough tolerance to power through them all without having to jack in and jack out. At least my colleagues’ emails were no longer tailored to what choices I made.
Ultimately, your choices don’t matter. And maybe that’s the point, to put the protagonist on a one-way track to succumbing from the same ailment that has infected the patients (more on that next). But that symbolism doesn’t make this gameplay any less tedious.
Story
In a nutshell, We’re All In This Together is about (Spoiler - click to show)being afflicted by the same disease you are trying to observe. It comes with a horror dimension because your isolation in an apartment does not save you from being infected. And I love this concept.
Its description says, “It's your job to scan potential plague-carriers and decide whether to quarantine them,” giving the impression that we’re hunting down your typical virus. (Spoiler - click to show)It’s not. It’s something more abstract.
While the disease is never named or fully described, Nadeja (from the lab) assesses the quarantined patients and shares her findings with you throughout the gameplay.
(Spoiler - click to show)Notably, she observes that patients’ symptoms are potentially psychosomatic and have included hallucinations. This probably wouldn’t be a big deal- after all, we are isolated from any infected individuals- if it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been taking suppressor pills every few scans and dreaming about a girl in grey.
A girl in grey?
If you pay attention, you’ll notice that there is a recurring theme cropping up in the gameplay: a girl wearing a grey dress. She occasionally appears in patients’ scans, but our main interaction with her is in our dreams where she talks to us directly. She is curious about your motives and marvels at your perceptiveness. This is hardly reassuring.
18/11/2023: [email protected]: "urgent"
Then, we get an alarming email.
According to the email, a security officer “kept ranting + raving about some girl; who is she; what does she want," before killing himself. Connect the dots. It is unclear if she is the source of the epidemic or merely an anchor point for us to make sense of it, but either way it begs the question: are we next?
your room
step outside
Guess who’s waiting for us outside? Cue the endgame.
She takes us on a walk through the city, during which the game continues to use its three-sentence pattern of narration. Sometimes, she’ll make comments along the way.
We end up at a huge pyramid with human bodies plastered on the sides. The girl apologizes to us and says something about “fixing things” before raising her hands and shattering the pyramid. Then the screen starts flashing with a non-stop chaotic jumble of words.
…
The player is sitting there thinking, “is that the end? Is it over?” Seems like it. And it appears to be the only ending, too. The way I understand it, the protagonist, having been infected by this mysterious ailment, succumbs to its psychosomatic effects, and the ending represents their demise.
I have mixed feelings about this. It doesn’t quite hit the target. Something’s missing.
It’s an ending that is edgy and cool, but also a bit too disconnected with the previous gameplay for the player to fully appreciate its impact. Confusing. Not confusing in a compelling, make-your-own-interpretation kind of way. Confusing because you’ve been carrying around all these questions and are suddenly rewarded with a gibberish screen.
What exactly is the pyramid? I can’t tell if it’s an actual pyramid or a representation of a broader concept. Are we hallucinating? For all we know, the protagonist could be passed out comatose on their bedroom floor.
It’s just that I was hoping for more updates from Nadeja or additional exposition about the epidemic itself. Or maybe further insight about NeuroWare technology and how it interfaces with our senses. In fact, this would help the gameplay feel less repetitive.
If the protagonist is doomed to follow the girl in grey, so be it. And I do think she’s an intriguing character. But we’re left with so many questions.
Like this eerie email:
13/11/1996: [email protected]: "HA"
I'm not sure what this scene is supposed to represent. We have a dream between days two and three where we receive an email containing random words. It’s probably just another side effect. But why is it dated from 1996? Is there deeper story to be found? I will say, it succeeds at rattling the player.
I really want to know what’s causing the epidemic. I understand the merit of not revealing this bit of information to the player, but I’m still curious.
Characters
Story is prioritized over characterization which means we know little about the characters, including our protagonist. And that suits the game just fine.
Also: I’m not sure if this is intentional but I like how the emails serve as a brief respite from your own deteriorating sanity. A bit of human contact that allows you to stay grounded.
Hey, mysterious psych colleage! :)
Nadeja, in particular.
Visual design
Made with Twine, the game’s appearance opts for simplicity. Black screen, blue links, and white text that often appears in lower caps.
There is delayed text. Aside from the dream sequences which may frustrate impatient players (hi), I think these pauses are used appropriately to build suspense. For example, each day begins with the phrase “your room” appearing on a blank screen, followed by “access your workstation” a second later.
However, there are moments where the pause after “your room” is slightly longer, signaling to the player that something different is about to go down. This tactic is used throughout the game.
Final thoughts
I was quite excited to play We’re All In This Together because its description alone was enough to draw me in. I was impressed with the game’s less-is-more style of writing and found its simple gameplay mechanics of releasing/quarantining patients- and receiving emails on the results- to be fun and immersive. I enjoyed my first playthrough when all of this was new to me.
But multiple playthroughs? Not so much. Replay revealed the gameplay to be frustratingly linear and repetitive. Especially once the game starts (Spoiler - click to show)forcing you to jack out and swallow pills after running extra scans. Overall, the framework is strong. And it does feel like a completed game. I just think that further refinement would make a noticeable difference.
That aside, it’s an intriguing game with a foot in multiple genres: The use of neuro interfaces borders on science fiction without overwhelming. Psychological horror emerges as the (Spoiler - click to show)protagonist’s work affects their sanity (pacing for these parts is excellent). And while I would not outright classify the game as “slice of life,” its premise, setting, and even its title strikes a familiar tone thanks to COVID.
If any of that intrigues you, play the game. I’d recommend it for a general audience.
One more thing…
(Spoiler - click to show)Just for fun, this game was published in 2015 and has a story that takes place in the future: 2023. Except 2023 was two years ago now. Also, the idea of an outbreak forcing employees to work from home is reminiscent of COVID, and yet, this is a pre-COVID game. I wonder what the author has to say about the game now.
I apologize for the cliché title; I couldn't help myself.
Overview
SCP Containment Breach is a fan game about the SCP Foundation, a fictional organization that catalogs anomalies and phenomena, particularly those that pose a threat. It adheres to the motto of Secure, Contain, Protect. Its existence is kept secret from the public.
Fiction aside, the Foundation is a collaborative project that anyone can contribute to. Visit its website. While there is no single canon, it sets a basic framework and lets writers' imaginations take care of the rest.
Technically, SCP Containment Breach is a partial recreation of another Foundation fan game: A video game called SCP – Containment Breach. Nearly identical titles.
In the video game, you play as a "D-Class," a category of personnel consisting of death row prisoners. They are considered disposable and are used to deal with dangerous anomalies, or “SCPs.” While it features multiple SCPs, its main attraction is SCP-173.
Anyway, SCP Containment Breach, an interactive fiction game made with Quest, attempts to recreate the video game's plot, but only focuses on SCP-173.
(SCP-173 is considered the "Original SCP" of the Foundation. When observed, it appears as a statue. When everyone looks away, it can move and will kill you. When working with it, the mantra is “don’t blink.”)
With that out of the way...
My review of the game
Unfortunately, SCP Containment Breach is not even a finished game. I understand that this may be the author's first game. But it is so lacking in detail it feels more like they lost interest and uploaded it just because.
The game begins in a room with no explanations or overhead announcements, only a document about SCP-173. Our prison uniform identifies us as a D-Class while the document suggests that we’re here to investigate SCP-173’s containment. Thing is…
(Spoiler - click to show)…SCP-173 never shows up in the game!
Look, if the game's incomplete, it's incomplete, but surely you can at least include this central element.
It's a shame because the game made me so excited.
A SCP 173 containment chamber
This is where SCP 173 is suppost to be contained, but he isn't here.
You can go north.
Spelling errors aside, this scene in the containment room ramps up the suspense because the SCP is on the loose. I'm just waiting for it to appear out of nowhere.
Too bad. (Spoiler - click to show)What’s the point of a game about an escaped SCP when there’s no SCP?
There is only one puzzle, and that is (Spoiler - click to show)unlocking the control room door with a keycard. The control room contains a switch that you can turn on and off, but it has no effect. The map is one long hallway with a side room, and it is nearly empty of content.
Also, implementation is rocky. You can repeat putting on the mask ("wear mask" doesn't work, only "put on mask") even though you are already wearing it. Examining yourself only results in "looking good," which would have been a good opportunity to develop the story. I'll leave it at that.
Appearance wise, the game uses a black screen and dark green text that is difficult to read. To be fair, it incorporates three cool pieces of imagery: the document with a photo of SCP-173, an icon for the keycard, and a creepy image of static that you get when you mess with the computer. That's the game's only strength.
In conclusion, I was really disappointed. It gets one star because it's so barebones. But I'll throw in another star because I really like the concept. This game was made in 2013 and is most likely abandoned. If anyone else decides to make an IF fan game of the Foundation, I will happily play it.
As long as the (Spoiler - click to show)SCP actually shows up.
The witch girls are a clique of girls at school who can supposedly perform magic. You and your friend Morag have decided to turn to them for help. You want boyfriends. But they tell you: "We don't do love magic."
As if that's going to stop you.
Taking matters into your own hands, you and Morag recreate this spell to create perfect boyfriends. (Be careful what you wish for.)
Gameplay
The gameplay experience is based on how you cast the boyfriend-creating spell. Failure to do it correctly produces… unexpected results. The spell determines which of the three gameplay paths you take, while the specific ending you reach is determined by decisions made later in the game.
The game keeps track of every possible route/path on a page that is made accessible after your first playthrough. Here, you can skip the intro and start after the spell has been cast, allowing you to dive right into the story. This feature was incredibly helpful for replays.
Story
Generally, the game is about agency, longing for independence, and realizing that the grass is often greener on the other side of the fence. It also serves as a demonstration of the dangers of a 13-year-old girl having unrestricted access to magic.
There was a freedom in it, in asking for what you wanted, without the mediation of parents or schools or big sisters. Magic might not have gotten you results, but it got you something better: power, or the idea of it, at least.
That is, until you do get results.
(Spoiler - click to show)If you do the spell perfectly, two boys wash up onto the beach and into your life. No one suspects a thing. At school, the boys are popular and only have eyes for you and Morag. But it all feels hollow and superficial. Your “boyfriend” lacks the texture of a human with real human experience. Something must be done.
Unsurprisingly, there is no “happily ever after.” By the end, the boys cease to exist. How this happens depends on your choices. And sure enough, no one notices the boys’ absence.
Creating a perfect boyfriend as planned can be considered as the game’s “generic route.” It leans slightly towards slice-of-life rather than horror because it feels more introspective. I do, however, agree with the game calling it the (Spoiler - click to show)“Zombie Route.”
Ultimately, though, this is a horror game. There are other routes.
Let’s say we do a poor job with casting the spell. What could possibly go wrong?
(Spoiler - click to show)The creature had been washed ashore by the low tide, and foam and specs of wet sand clung to its translucent, lumpy body.
WHAT.
I was shocked to find, not a fully formed human, but a milky jellyfish-like blob… with eyes. There’s even a (non-graphic but still unsettling) grainy picture.
Of course, Morag is like, “awesome, I’ll take mine home with me,” leaving the player with a decision: reject it or care for it?
The skin-crawling moment in the game is when Morag convinces us to eat it (as the player, you can opt out of this), resulting in us becoming pregnant with something. It’s wild.
She took a set of camping utensils out of her bag and handed them to you.
You took them with trembling hands.
Stop. Stop. Stop. (But I must find every ending…!)
I mean this in a good way. Its gradual buildup does an effective job at making you want to squirm out of your chair. The author strikes the right balance of icky descriptiveness without being excessive. It’s also set into a context.
The jellyfish eating scene is framed as a rite of passage to adulthood. Morag became pregnant after eating hers and insists we do the same. The protagonist is not entirely sure what it means to be an adult, but if eating this gelatinous blob (which has started growing teeth, btw) is a step in the right direction, so be it.
So, there you go. The Witch Girls can take you in some unexpected directions.
Characters
PC
The protagonist is unnamed and has a surface-level backstory which allows the player to step into her shoes without being distracted by characterization. And yet, the whole fiasco of fabricated boyfriends is still an opportunity for character development.
Like everyone, she judges her peers, and these judgments are mixed in with what she knows about her world. A common theme is how she views herself as separate from those girls, only to reevaluate what “those girls” even means, and whether she might actually be one of them. This is usually referring to sex but can overlap with other things.
You weren’t like those chavvy girls who slept with their fourth-year boyfriends and got pregnant. You were better than them.
(Spoiler - click to show)Ending 1C begs to differ. Sort of. You get pregnant by eating a mutant blob that was supposed to be a human boyfriend.
There’s a tug-of-war between her passing judgement and her also wanting to partake in the exact things she judges. It becomes an on-going journey of self-discovery.
(Spoiler - click to show)For example, in the “Zombie Route,” Morag sleeps with her boyfriend and reveals the experience to be underwhelming. The protagonist grapples with this letdown and ponders what it implies about her friend.
Her nonchalance was a blow. You refused to believe her. She’d become that kind of girl.
We then have the option to follow suit with our own boyfriend. If we do, the protagonist comes to the same conclusion as Morag: It was unremarkable. There was no transformation. The game ends shortly after, but it’s enough to see some new insight.
NPCs
I was hoping that we would get to learn a little more about the witch girls we first meet, especially since one of them is Morag’s sister. Shortly after they refuse to help us, they give up witchcraft altogether, freeing up the hut they used as a meeting space. I wonder how they learned not to mess with love magic.
(In that regard, I like how there’s an unofficial passing of the mantle with most of the endings. (Spoiler - click to show)The protagonist and Morag like to hang out in the witch girls’ hut, and whenever someone comes to them for assistance they say, “We don’t do love magic.” Clever way of bringing things full circle.)
Visuals
The game’s appearance is both simple and memorable. It uses a light blue background with black text in a basic but fun font. Most scenes have a small black-and-white picture in the upper left-hand corner that adds atmosphere without being distracting. The picture of the pencils with the smiley-face erasers resonated with me.
Final thoughts
The Witch Girls was a lot of fun. The protagonist is giddy with what magic can achieve for her, and this excitement is felt by the player as well. Horror and humor are equally intertwined, and the author captures a sense of nostalgia by name-dropping music, clothing brands, and pop culture.
My only complaint is how the original witch girls are glossed over. What’s their story? Just a little more explanation would have provided dimension instead of them being shoved aside. Are we just mirror reflections of them, if only a bit younger (and cooler, of course)?
That aside, The Witch Girls excels in every department. Play it, and you’ll learn why it’s best to steer clear from love magic.
Grocery shopping. Again.
You play as an unnamed protagonist who begrudgingly hauls herself into the local supermarket to complete the weekly errand of buying groceries. You only have $20 in your pocket, so budget wisely.
Gameplay involves going through the store and deciding which groceries to buy. It soon becomes clear that (Spoiler - click to show)buying groceries isn't important. Turns out this mundane errand is the protagonist's desperate grasp for any normalcy because, well... it's the apocalypse.
The strength of Errand Run is how the protagonist knows more about her situation than we do, leaving us in the dark until the end where it pulls a delightful bait-and-switch.
Now, we do know that something's going on. The lights are off, the AC doesn't work, and the store is understocked. But you can be fooled into thinking that the world is simply going through a rough patch. Local food shortages, overdemand of the power grid, etc.
With a sigh, you step through the automatic doors of the local supermarket. No blast of cool air whisks over to greet you; the AC's been acting up for months now.
Oh, no, no, no.
(Spoiler - click to show)She's not there to buy groceries.
She’s pretending to.
The world has been ransacked by a force of evil, only referred to as “waves of rapture,” that kills people before hauling them away. She saw it take her family members and acquaintances. It’s possible that she’s the only person left.
As if this isn't the 18th time you've deliberated over that bag of rotten onions.
This. Line. Right. Here.
I did not see this coming. The whole time, she's been playing pretend! I seriously thought we were there to purchase groceries with our measly $20.
It’s her way of clinging to sanity, the closest she can get to the life she had before everything fell apart. Ironic since grocery shopping is something she hated.
The reveal adds replay value because it puts the gameplay into context. When it says, "your mom definitely taught you better than to waste money on sugar and fried shit, but IT'S NOT LIKE SHE'S HERE NOW," you assume the protagonist means that her mom is elsewhere.
Nope. She's not here because she died a violent death. Welp.
The game’s writing is frosting on the cake. Its cynical humor provides commentary about the task at hand without being too dire. The author builds on this visually through text effects and colours that convey (Spoiler - click to show)the protagonist’s wobbly mental state.
To conclude, Errand Run is a brief horror game about (Spoiler - click to show)crawling back to the familiar because the entire world has gone to pieces. It doesn’t go deep with its story, but it doesn't need to.
Where it doesn’t have depth, it sure has attitude.
Saltwrack follows a perilous expedition across an unforgiving arctic landscape. The story is bleak. The odds are grim. The characters search for secrets best left undisturbed.
Gameplay
Saltwrack describes itself as a “post-post-apocalyptic” story in a world that has been devastated by snowfalls of salt and an ice age. The land is now one vast deposit of salt, also known as a wrack. Human civilization resides in six cities, existing as points of light, huddled at the edges of this harsh wasteland.
You are an interpreter- a scientist. The Observational Society has agreed to fund your proposal: to journey to the center of a salty wrack to discover its secrets. No one has attempted such a journey.
But first you select two individuals to aid you on the expedition: a saltwalker and an oracle. Saltwalkers know the physical landscape through experience and excel at survival, while oracles have precognition and interpret dreams. There are two candidates for both categories, providing incentive for replays.
The entire expedition- traveling to the wrack’s center and returning to the city of Hearth- is expected to take 40 days. Player decisions center on navigating the land with the guidance provided by your travelling companions. The game keeps track of your progress at the top of the screen.
Day 1 | Miles travelled: 40 | Rations: Plentiful
You also collect specimens and samples as proof of your discoveries. And no save features, either. Death looms behind every action.
All sorts of unexpected things can happen.
(Spoiler - click to show)When you scramble out of the tent, you see the walker sitting in the vehicle, the engine running, the headlights on. You can’t understand, for a long moment.
He calls down to you over the sound of the engine. “I am sorry to do this to you. I truly am. But you’re already gone—you’ll never make it back, and I can’t help you. I can’t.”
Dude.
Really?
And btw, I DID make it back. The oracle would have made it back as well, but they chose to stay and ponder the wasteland. We were fine, all things considered. (And yes, it’s possible for the other saltwalker to leave you, but at least she just leaves because you’ve been ignoring her advice. And she doesn’t take the machine with her, either.)
What frustrates me about the gameplay is how your choices don’t always have as much influence as you would think.
For example, (Spoiler - click to show)the number of specimens I brought back to the Observational Society had no effect on whether they believed my account of the expedition. The protagonist takes notes automatically, but surely physical specimens are needed as proof, right? Turns out, you can skip every opportunity to collect samples, and the Society will still believe you.
There are also moments where the game overrides the impact of your previous choices in favor of a pre-determined outcome. Sometimes the (Spoiler - click to show)female saltwalker would leave even when I followed her advice and established a good rapport with her through conversation. It felt like the game simply wanted her to be taken out of the picture, rapport or no rapport.
Despite this occasional rigidness, the game still managed to surprise me. I didn't think it was possible, but I somehow managed to (Spoiler - click to show)make it to Hearth with the second oracle where we recovered in the hospital clinic together. Usually, the oracles either die or choose to stay in the wrack.
I enjoyed finding every salt-sign glyph encountered by the saltwalkers. I found glyphs for (Spoiler - click to show)Contamination, Trap, and Death.
Story
The game is somewhat reserved in the amount of backstory it provides, but from the looks of it, there is a dead city in the center of the wrack. This city was once a hot spot for technological advancement until something devastated the world. You intend to find its origin. Spoilers.
This origin turns out to be a research facility abandoned over two centuries ago.
What we find inside is an experiment-gone-horribly-wrong. This reveal is also one of the vaguer parts of the story. It appears to be a biological anomaly that is organic but not entirely tangible. By accessing it, it forms a parasitic connection to your mind and body. It feeds on a part of you, and that part stays behind when you leave the facility. The characters have clearly been altered.
After leaving, the characters suspect that they’ve been contaminated or infected, making them a potential danger to civilization. Because of this, completing the expedition as planned is not exactly a “happy ending.” In fact, there are no conventionally happy endings, just ones where you don’t die a horrible death. If you make it back to Hearth with your research and share your findings, everyone regards you as a pioneer! Fellow interpreters are foaming at the mouth to visit the source.
However, you are unable to fully explain the anomaly and its effects. Despite the praise you’ve received for advancing humanity's understanding of the wasteland you wonder if you've also doomed everyone as well. Future explorers will be helpless when they face the facility's secrets, and they, too, will bring traces of it back to civilization.
Sprawling like a stain, fed by your witnessing, awakened by your trespass.
The horror is exquisitely conveyed through the author’s writing.
Whatever lives in the facility is not going to scurry out the door and escape into the night because you left the door open. It doesn't need to. It knows that other individuals will arrive, and it will venture out into the world through them.
An open mouth, a hungry and wounded space, waiting.
As the player, that’s when you start to think, wow, I'm responsible for all this. Maybe the expedition was a bad idea...
Fortunately, there are other endings that are slightly more optimistic.
Further impressions
The wrack is probably the coolest (I don’t mean that as a pun) piece of frozen wasteland I’ve encountered in interactive fiction.
It’s interesting how it (Spoiler - click to show)almost has its own consciousness, tied in with the local ecosystem and (I assume) independent from what we find in the facility. Exploring the wrack for too long can result in you becoming “wrack-touched,” where you gain oracle-like abilities that enhance how you perceive the world. Your body’s biology can even be altered.
The protagonist is surprised to see that the wrack is not devoid of life. Rather, unfamiliar organisms- extremophiles- have appeared, their biology allowing them to thrive in this cold wasteland. I love the concise yet vivid way the writing describes these creatures.
Hydras, polyps, a profusion of tiny invisible life.
This life, however, is absent in the city ruins. We learn, vaguely, that the (Spoiler - click to show)anomaly created in the facility would consume natural ecosystems and produce salt as a waste product. That’s probably the clearest answer we’ll get.
We tend to envision the future as being high-tech, but Saltwrack approaches this differently. It appears that the saltfall and ice age has knocked humanity backwards in technological advancement. Any tech we encounter feels rediscovered. While there is no mention of computers or radio communication, we wear clothing made of synthetic fibers and travel in an experimental machine powered by a motor engine.
Parallels to our world
As is often the case with my reviews, I like to take a detour to explore some broader concepts. Feel free to skip this part. I'll stick it under a spoiler tag to take up less space.
Saltwrack reminds me of nuclear semiotics, an ongoing discussion and field of research on how we should store and label nuclear waste- a hazard- so that humanity of the future knows to stay away from it.
Nuclear waste is buried deep underground in repositories. Because written language evolves or becomes obsolete over time, an emphasis is placed on visual imagery to convey danger. A face contorted in disgust. Skull bones. Hostile architecture is another method, using spikes and structures that hinder access and convey the feeling of STAY AWAY.
There’s even an existing template for what signage should convey. It comes close to describing the mysterious facility- and its source room- we find in Saltwrack. Here's a sample (courtesy of Wikipedia):
The danger is in a particular location... it increases towards a center... the center of danger is here... of a particular size and shape, and below us.
The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours.
And, most of all:
The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited.
Eerie, right?
Too bad the characters didn’t receive any of this (even if the facility isn’t a repository).
While the threat in the game is more abstract and interwoven with a fictional narrative, the implications of an abandoned danger- a danger facilitated by humanity- are relevant for us. A real-life repository may seem unremarkable, but hundreds of years from now the world may be vastly different. Perhaps these sites will possess the kind of secrecy, ambiguity, and lore as the facility featured in Saltwrack.
Visuals
Just a basic black screen with white text formatted neatly in the center. Links are underlined and stats are clearly listed at the top. Its lack of frills fits with the game’s grim, no-nonsense atmosphere.
Final thoughts
Saltwreck is an intriguingly desolate work of horror with vivid writing that conveys the bleak, salty expanse of the wrack and the expedition that attempts to cross it. There are a variety of events that can happen during the journey, encouraging many playthroughs.
Over time, the gameplay can start to feel inflexible, but the descriptiveness of the setting and its harsh realities make it difficult to turn away. I enjoyed it immensely.
(And if there’s spiky mold on your rations, don’t eat it.)
Grove of Bones begins with an intro in the form of a campfire story.
Years ago, the village was on the brink of death. No rain, no crops, no food, nothing. Then a man visits bringing saplings. He claims that the saplings will provide the village with everything it needs to flourish... as long as regular blood sacrifices are made. They are horrified. He knows he has them in a corner. If they turn down his offer, they won't last long.
He also knows how to stir the pot.
He tells them that guiltier the sacrifice, the better bounty the trees will provide. Suddenly, any moral qualms evaporate. Blood sacrifices aren't so bad if the person deserves it, right? And so, they agree. Sacrifices shall occur every blood moon. The saplings grew into trees located in an area they called the "Grove of Bones."
You play as one of the villagers listening to the story (btw, it’s also a blood moon).
The game lets the player choose their gender as well as whether they previously had a wife or husband. For some reason, your spouse was previously deemed a candidate for the grove. You still have your son, Treya.
Naturally, your son also becomes the village’s latest pick for the blood sacrifice. Gameplay involves making decisions to protect Treya. The defining choice in the gameplay is whether (Spoiler - click to show)you take a bottle of salt or some flint and steel with you as you take your kid to the grove. Both serve the same function but unlock two different achievements.
The game ends with a brief epilogue, and you can restart the game halfway for replays. I found three endings. I am pleased to say (Spoiler - click to show)none of them involve Treya being harmed. Take that, trees.
Intentionally or not, Grove of Bones makes it easy to dislike the village. Or at least, the village leader.
(Spoiler - click to show)Through the garbled rantings of the frightened child he'd finally gathered that [protagonist’s name] had taken the child's place.
"Foolish!" he mutters under his breath. "Why would they risk us all in such a way."
Uh, excuse you, maybe you shouldn't have decided to sacrifice THEIR kid. Risk us all in such a way...
The game strongly predisposes the player into siding with the protagonist over the village’s needs. Collectively, the villagers are depicted as cowardly, spiteful, uncaring, more than ready to point fingers and throw their neighbors under the bus. And perhaps that is the nature of their community.
(Spoiler - click to show)So: Do you choose saving that or opting for an ending where you rid yourself of any evil by destroying the trees, escape with your kid, meet the ghost of your spouse for one last goodbye, and flee to a guaranteed sanctuary located within a day's walk?
Flee with the kid. No regrets.
A middle ground is to make a deal to leave with your kid without destroying the trees. The village does not lose the trees or its benefits. They just need to pick a new sacrifice. Funny how the village leader balks at implication that he will be the next sacrifice.
An interesting point is also made: the villagers have become so reliant on the trees’ apples that they’ve neglected cultivating other food sources. The implication of (Spoiler - click to show)destroying the trees becomes much worse.
I think the game could have been stronger if it elaborated why the protagonist’s spouse was taken. The characters say they were “guilty” of something. Did they do something sketchy or were they picked because of something trivial? This is important because it (Spoiler - click to show)triggers a fight among the children, a fight that results in the village condemning Treya to the grove. Further context would have made the children’s fight more understandable.
To conclude, I was expecting a long ChoiceScript game with lots of text.
Not at all.
Grove of Bones is a smallish-sized game that keeps its word count down to what is necessary to the story without skimping on suspenseful content. The story is evenly paced, the implementation encourages multiple playthroughs, and its use of sun and moon imagery adds flair.
It’s a game that forces one to consider the needs of the group against the wants of the individual while cutting us considerable slack (Spoiler - click to show)if we choose to grab the kid, turn, and run.
Frankenstein is at it again… and you’re the severed hand of one of the victims he butchered to make his creation. It seems you have unfinished business.
First impressions
Tone-wise, I thought Frankenfingers would take one of two routes: Either being full of humor (after all, a sentient severed hand?) or a gross fest (again, sentient severed hand). Instead, it sets a blend of melancholy, desperation, optimism, and yearning. And the story is told through poetry!
You're a handsome left hand, seemingly male, from the wrist two bones protrude. Around the ring finger you see an impression, where once was a band but now nude.
Despite what the title and cover art suggests, it’s not exactly a gory game. In fact, (Spoiler - click to show)Igor’s death is the only explicit scene that stood out, and even that is surprisingly low-key. And unlike the hands in the cover art, the hand we play as still has skin. I think most players will feel comfortable with this game. The use of poetry probably also downplays the ick.
Gameplay
As I mentioned, we play as a severed hand. We crawl around Frankenstein’s house with a vague feeling that there is someone we need to return to. Someone outside the house.
The gameplay later clarifies that the overarching goal is to (Spoiler - click to show)recover your ring so your wife, Penelope, will recognize you. Otherwise, she will understandably flip out when she sees the severed human hand crawl through her house’s window.
Frankenfingers takes place on a moderate sized map consisting of Frankenstein’s house, its yard, and the nearby town. I enjoyed this layout and how each area is revealed in stages. (Spoiler - click to show)Initially, you are limited to the house. Then, you gain access to the outdoors when the front door gets destroyed. Once outside, you can explore the house’s property, but the town is only accessible once you have a horse.
Overall, a smooth way of introducing new areas to the player.
Puzzles
I liked the puzzles. They involve creative thinking without being too technical. Its puzzles are generally rooted in common sense. I did need the walkthrough for one of the earlier puzzles: (Spoiler - click to show)fixing the wire. The walkthrough helpfully clarified that I needed an object to connect the two wires together.
The horse-riding puzzle, unfortunately, was a pain.
(Spoiler - click to show)You pull the left and right reins to steer the horse as she moves. However, she would keep moving before I turned her towards the right direction. In one case, I ended up inside the house since she would go in any direction than the one I wanted.
And if she were pointed the right way, she wouldn’t move. The room description would read, (on Buttercup, facing [the direction I want], on the move). Despite saying “on the move,” she wouldn’t move. If I pulled on the reins, she would start to walk… in the wrong direction.
To work around this, I would maneuver her in the right direction, get off so she stops, get back on, and then use the crop to get her to move forward (the crop only gets her to move once she’s stopped moving). So, that was a struggle.
The only other complaint I have is a possible unwinnable state. In my first playthrough I ran into a problem with the two lighters. They both died. It seems that I used up their juice by lighting them while exploring and/or fooling around which was unexpected. I had no way of seeing (Spoiler - click to show)what was inside the box buried in the graveyard. I restarted the game.
> light lighter
The lighter seems to be dead.
Perhaps that’s my own careless fault, not the game’s. Do not waste the lighters!
Story
Frankenfingers advertises itself as “A Gothic Tale of Love, Redemption, and Dismemberment,” and we get to see all three.
The dismemberment part takes place before the game begins, thankfully. Frankenstein and (Spoiler - click to show)Igor have been kidnapping villagers and using them as “donors” for experimentation, cutting up their bodies and burying any possessions to avoid suspicion. The creature in Frankenstein’s lab is made of body parts from these villagers, including that of the protagonist who was merely traveling home to his wife and daughter.
If love is what brought the severed hand to life, redemption is the part that drives the protagonist to (Spoiler - click to show)go home one last time.
(Spoiler - click to show)After finding the wedding ring, we travel to the protagonist’s house. When we reach the yard, the game happily kicks us in the feels. The yard is lovingly landscaped with Penelope’s favorite flowers. What a lovely little house. You enter the window, and what do you see? A nursery. Of course, it would be a nursery. Really, game? Things are sad enough as it is.
It’s a powerful way to end the game. Penelope comes it, sees the ring, and- go play it.
Additional thoughts: The ending says that she does not know if he’s dead. However, his name is listed in the obituary section of the newspaper, which suggests that she will eventually be notified by the newspaper or another source. At least here she has some closure. Then again, she’s probably wondering exactly how/why her husband has been reduced to a sentient hand… (Now that he’s transcended, I wonder what she will do with his hand? Keep it? Or just the ring?).
Characters
Frankenfingers is proof that even a severed hand can be something players will want to root for. My feelings about being a severed hand were not of disgust. In fact, there was something oddly endearing about a hand wearing a purse to cart around useful items while exploring a gothic household.
The protagonist isn’t out for vengeance or violence. We don’t sense anger or hatred. Only longing for what’s important. Motivated by (Spoiler - click to show)Penelope’s handbag and the smell of her perfume, the protagonist embarks with quiet determination to reunite with her, no matter how brief that reunion may be.
And surprising empathy is extended towards (Spoiler - click to show)Frankenstein’s monster who is merely referred to as “the creature.” He sees us and understands how we feel. We feel for him too.
Final thoughts
Frankenfingers is not the first interactive fiction game I’ve played that features a body part as a protagonist, but it certainly stands out and has left a lasting impression with its overlapping of gothic horror and love. I was not expecting the depth of emotion found in the final scene.
I’m giving it four stars because of the horse puzzle. It could use further refinement, or at least have the walkthrough further explain how the reigns work. Other than that, I am pleased with my experience. If you want a horror game with humanizing qualities, play Frankenfingers.
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