Ratings and Reviews by manonamora

An Exercise in Emotional Honesty is a short conversation between you and (I think) the author of the game, where the latter opens up to ongoing struggles with their health and creative drives. Made in Twine, the interface and use of music emulates a light Visual Novel genre, where the sprite changes along with the conversation, smiling at you or looking away.

There is a very comforting and sweet vibe to the piece as a whole, and the warmth of sitting down with an old friend to catch up. And the discussion itself were quite lovely, opening up this way about the want (nay, need) to create but being unable to. Really nice.

The Impossible Conversation is, like its name suggest, an impossible conversation, or at least one that will probably not lead to a happy ending in its current form. You (an unnamed person) is having a conversation is your (probably former) best-friend following an unexplained conflict. Your choices in where you bring the conversation forward should influence how your relationship with the person go.

Due to the nature of the conversation, the writing is heartbreaking and painful. The end of relationships are hard, especially when people have strong bonds with one another, and it is the more painful when both parties have hurt one another (though, in this case, the hurt seems more one-sided). The bareness of the interface (keeping to the base Harlowe UI) and interactivity (click to show the next words) does add to the struggle and dreariness of the situation.

Come back soon, Oddie is a short linear Visual Novel, formatted mainly as a monologue from an unnamed soul, waiting for their friend, Oddie. The soul, shown as a shadow in a field of yellow flower (symbolising friendship), awaits the death of his friend, so they can be once more reunited - though he still wishes for Oddie to live a long and happy life until then.

Aside from its gorgeous interface and calming music, this game also includes voices, narrating the text with an emotional tone, balancing longing and grief. It is quite touching, the way the words are said aloud. It was really lovely.

I also didn’t expect Oddie’s actual name…

Marooned is a short dialogue piece made in Ink between two castaways on an island, waiting to be rescued… though your castaway-partner has other ideas. The story starts around the 6-month mark, and shows snippets of (frustrating/ed) conversations of a handful of days. Through your choices, you can reach different endings - I’ve found two so far.

The writing takes the less is more approach, going right to the absolute bare of dialogues to describe the situation the characters are in, the frustration one feels towards the other, their wants and wish. I quite enjoyed both endings, giving different vibes to the story (though (Spoiler - click to show)the rescuing being a choice removed from the original PC’s actions feels a bit strange).

Honestly, it’s a wonder they were still alive by the time the game started.

How Do You Like Your Pain? is a short grim visual novel made in Ren’Py about a demon looking for death, or at the very least learning what death feels like. Contracting a painful disease, which he inflicted on himself willingly, the demon must now endure a painful operations to remove it, lest the pain would make him wish for actual death. The procedure is done by another demon, who finds amusement in the situation.
While the game is part of the Art Without Blood series, knowledge of the other entries is not required, the game being enjoyable as is. There are 4 endings in this game, through my choices, I found 2.

Formatted only as a dialogue (even the choices), the two characters get into a dance of quips and flirting. The writing circles between dark violence and borderline eroticism in the way it interacts with the flesh. The implication of pain, whether it happens during the game or prior to the story unfolding, looking for it before being forced to endure it as so to reduce it is masochistic but really grasping. The pursuit of knowledge about death backfiring, making you wish for or afraid of death…
It is uncomfortable but drawing to the point you can’t take your eyes away from the screen (ironic considering the procedure).

I don’t want to talk about it. is an emotional short Ink game about grief and connections. Set in a therapy office, you meet with a patient who recently lost someone and is reluctantly going through grief counselling. It is heartbreaking but also beautiful, in the way the story unfolds, as you ask the patient more questions and try to help them talk about the person they lost and what they are struggling with the most.
A beautifully made and executed short entry.

Who Stole My Sausages is a quirky little mystery made in Twine, centred around the theft of a package of sausages in a communal fridge of a student house. With your background in psychology, you are chosen as the mandated detective. With its light-hearted tone, you end up encountering a lot of sausage-related puns (like when you choose your name at the start, PI Porkins).

The mechanic of the game is fairly simple: interview your housemates, find flaws in their rebuttal and confront them about it, and… solve the mystery. You will need quite a bit of back and forth between the different NPCs to unlock the true ending (any wrong reveal will send you back right into the action).

The interface is pretty cool, as it was made to look like a Visual Novel, with sprites of the different NPCs, separate backgrounds for each location, and cool background music to match. While it is getting more common to see Twine games with a custom interface, it is not every day that you see a Visual Novel made in Twine.

The story itself relies on twists and half-truth, with a shocking ending that no one could have predicted (wink wink if you check the suspects list before making up your mind…). It works as intended.
Though, I do have a bit of a quip when it comes to the overused trope of (Spoiler - click to show)the vegetarian who will still eat meat in secret here and there because *shrugging* why have moral convictions…

One last thing that would have been helpful is a way to review the clues found, especially when it comes to counter-argue with the housemate. You get quite a bit of information from each NPC...

Le chaudron d’Anaritium is an interactive mystery made in Open Adventure (the author and system is one), set in a Gaul village at the dusk of a dreary winter. You play as Isara, a bard-in-training tasked to find a missing artefact before the gods turn on the village. Will you find the artefact and its thief? and figure out the why and the how?

On the Open Adventure platform, you are introduced to the mystery at hand, and the different paths you can investigate, whether it be visiting locations or talking to other characters. As you find more clues, new paths may be open to you. Along with two large maps, some paths are also illustrated, in a watercoloured comic-style.
Every path taken is listed one below the other, in a way that you can re-read them with ease. The engine also lets you know when you’ve already visited a section, and only puts forward on the main page the most interesting location for you to visit.

The prose is quite lovely as well, bringing to life an atmospheric setting, filled with mysticism and legends.

And when you believe you’ve solved the mystery, you can fill in your answers to the different questions in a text box, before how correct you were and get the epilogue. But, because of how the game is set up, you’ll never truly be wrong at the end. The website collects the answer and gives you the solution right away, regardless of how close you were to the truth. So while the mystery was interesting, and fairly simple to figure out, I wished there would be a bit of a consequence to who you accuse of the crime or explain how you think things happened.

The Time Machine is a short-ish parser that continues the eponymous story, where you play as an unnamed friend trying to find clues as to Wells' psychosis (or proof that is tale is true). You get to explore parts of Wells' house, inspect his machine, and travel to the future with it (where you can explore a bit of the new world).

There are only a couple of puzzles (mainly to get and handle the machine), most of the interaction being conversations with the different characters. A sidebar includes your full inventory, NPCs you can interact with, and conversation options with said characters. There are also hints and a full walkthrough in-game.

The thing is, there isn't much to do after running the machine. I get that your goal is to get proof your friend isn't crazy, but had I been sent to the future, I would probably have tried to explore more or find a way to interact with the world... or just stand right there and freak out. Time may be of the essence for your friend, but you have a machine to rewind time (at only a push of a lever, how practical...).
Or go off the trails and get back in time. The possibilities are ENDLESS!

The Truth About PRIDE! is a short bitsy piece, where "you" explore the meaning of < pride >, by going through each of its letters (and an exclamation point). It is short and sweet, though it seems more of a personal interpretation of the meaning of the word rather than its "true meaning" (is there truly a true meaning for the word? or wouldn't you end up with individual interpretation of the word depending on your personal experiences?).

Each path leads you down that-letter-shaped corridor, where you can interact with that-letter-shaped element (where the author defines and question the meaning of each letter) before you can choose which path to go through (get the special meaning of P or back to the main room). There is also a secret path (which wasn't working for me).
Moving the sprite is a bit tedious (which is usual for bitsy) especially when you need to go across the screen with no interaction, or when an element is blocking your path in the next screen, or when it is not quite clear which tile is the exit.

Does it challenge any concept? Not really, it's more of a feel-good celebration of Pride, a pep-talk about yourself as an individual rather than pride as an aspect of your identity. But sometimes, that's all you need.