Ratings and Reviews by Rovarsson

A short and poignant description of a terrifying future where support and co-operation gradually slip away day by day, where pressure to perform rises uncontrollably, where individuals are expected to do more and more with less and less resources, where conforming to professional standards and keeping up one’s mental and physical well-being are wholly the individual’s personal responsibility.

…

…wait…

…

Did I say “future” ?

...

Do it yourself.

A loot-fest in an abandoned mental institution turns into a ghostly rescue mission. But the protagonist’s original objective of gathering enough valuables remains in the background, giving rise to an interesting tension between altruistic and selfish motivations for PC and player alike.

The asylum itself is an ever-looming presence. The descriptions of its gloomy corridors, stripped-down rooms, and water-logged roofs summon a bogged down atmosphere, home to long-gone but lingering suffering and despair.
Within its chambers, ghosts and spectres are trapped. Despite their terrifying effect on the protagonist, they also elicit a sympathetic, caring response through the backstories we find during our search of the premises.

Obstacles are mostly quite easily overcome, at least if the player takes good care to thoroughly investigate, remembers to return to certain locations when so clued, and has a good memory (or notes) to remind her of where the relevant pieces of the puzzle are.
This ease of puzzle-solving leaves a lot of mental room for the slowly creeping atmosphere to really grab hold.

The pacing and gating of the exploration, and the tempo of unraveling the story with it, are very well handled. Blockades and bottlenecks clear up after sufficient discoveries have been made, the promise of intriguing new secrets always keeps the player on her toes, the spread of ghost NPCs through the building gives a good balance between calm(ish) investigation and bursts of adrenalin.

A panic-meter adds to the tension. If it fills up, you fail. This mechanic, too, is very well-balanced. Scary rooms and sudden noises cause the meter to creep up notch by notch, while confrontations with spectres or other sudden events give the panic an upward jolt. But there are ways to release the tension too. I particularly liked seeing my panic-meter drop down by picking a choice that seemed the more dangerous, but was actually harmless. I could feel the relief of my protagonist as their panic dropped down and my own tension fell with theirs.

A world where a wooden log becomes an impassable barrier. The stump of a tree a house for three families. A small corner of a field a land in need of patrolling wardens.

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids completely mesmerised me when I was but a wee boy and saw it on the big screen. Later, when I saw The Borrowers on television, I felt that same magic again, this time enhanced by a more fine-tuned critical eye (I think I was 17 when I first saw it) befitting a more nuanced and layered film. And of course The Bromeliad by Terry Pratchett gave me many hours of enchanted reading pleasure.

I love how stories about little folk view the whole world that I think I know so well from a completely different, yet oh so familiar perspective. A new and fresh and surprising take on all the banalities and for-granteds of everyday life.

Warden fits right in with these stories, and it’s a lot closer to The Bromeliad end of the spectrum than it is to Honey, I Shrunk the Kids !
We follow the protagonist after she comes back from a surveillance mission. Rumours about some kind of intruder at the edge of the field create a lingering background tension, even as our protagonist’s immediate focus is food. She’s starved after such a long and exhausting mission.

What follows is almost a slice-of-life episode. Engage in a bit of banter with the neighbours while also asking about more pressing matters, look for some truly filling food (more than those few measly pickles), go admire the sap-reducing kiln made out of a flowerpot "borrowed from the big-uns,…

Practically a leisurely day out and about… But always, everywhere, the unshakable feeling that something is off…

Until you find the first hard evidence that something is very much off indeed…

During your investigation into the causes of this disturbance in your normally calm and peaceful corner of the field (except for the occasional wasp or badger, but your people have their ways to get rid of those…), there are obstacles to get around or across or over. Mostly in a typical text-adventure manner, but always with that bit of extra imaginative giddiness of being a miniature bugfolk in a world of giant pumpkins and huge looming berry-bushes.

The story slowly unfolds, and it’s a pleasure to keep guessing about the nature of the threat that is creeping up between the lines of the narrative as much as it is showing itself more and more in bits and pieces of evidence around your corner of the field.

I loved this game.

Guests arriving in the airbnb! A chance for you to be noticed, perhaps to be free of whatever it is that still chains you to the mortal world…

Through simple poltergeist tactics, you can interact weakly with items and furniture. If you time your meddlings to the movements of the guests, you can guide them to discover your fate.

Moving through the house and finding out which things you can move or disturb not only alerts the guests to your presence, it also allows you (both the semi-amnesiac protagonist and the player) to reconstruct your past and identity. A very sad tale unfolds…

Good writing, moving story, interesting characters. I liked it.

Proud investigative reporter you may be, but there’s been a bit of a lull in the area of exciting news-stories lately. Perhaps this letter all the way from the town of Puddlecombe will change that. Apparently a dangerous beast is prowling the moors and attacking the sheep. Or maybe it’s just a bit of small town rumour about someone’s runaway cat that got blown way out of proportion…

Time to get the tools of your trade and investigate:

(When I X PENCIL and X NOTEPAD, I discover that yes, every object you investigate has a little pixel-drawing. It doesn’t add anything to the gameplay, but it’s a fine touch that makes the game feel friendly.)

Now don’t even think of rushing off into the moors unprepared. For one thing, it’s just plain dangerous, you need something more sturdy than those flimsy trainers you got on your feet. Second, as a good reporter, you owe it to your professional pride to stick your nose into the Puddlecombe inhabitants’ business and pry loose as much as you can about this strange beastly appearance. And lastly, a small town comes with small-town etiquette. One must at least present oneself to the reverend and the publican…

Actually, The Beast of Torrack Moor consists of about two-thirds of this preparation in the town of Puddlecombe. Gathering information and survival gear is not straightforward at all, which is not surprising in a text-adventure of course. Acquiring some items is as easy as talking to the right person, and maybe performing a small errand. Getting other necessary items is somewhat more complicated. Even without the moor-area, the map of the town is large, and objects needed on one side are sometimes found all the way on the other side of town. Even so, none of these early puzzles are too difficult.

The town is alive. While you’re going about your business around the village, so are a number of other people. NPCs move around doing their own errands, notably getting things ready for the Church Hall sale. Should you need one of these mobile NPCs, there’s a helpful WHERE IS [npc] command. In line with the townsfolk doing their own stuff, the shops and the pub are also on their own timetable. From the moment you arrive on the town green, the clock is ticking and the day is advancing. This does add some pressure to get your preaparation done in time. It’s an easy fix to just explore at your leisure until you have most of the puzzles and their probable solutions mapped, and then reload an earlier save and solve everything with time to spare.

After this almost Midsummer Murder-like sequence in Puddlecombe, it’s an impressive change of atmosphere to finally set foot on the moors. Without proper preparation, you will get lost in the rain and the falling darkness. Even with all the gear you need, there are still a few obstacles that demand a bit more of your with than you needed in town.
Most impressive here is how moving just two or three turns from the village brings you to a completely different world, with beautiful but unhospitable natural features, and some ancient human relics.

The writing is good throughout, and sometimes wonderful and touching. I was stunned for a few moments when I encountered this:

The Cemetery

Surrounded by a stone wall, the cemetery is reasonably sheltered from the
wind, although the occasional gust blows leaves around the gravestones,
and a bench sits beneath a large tree.

>X GRAVESTONES
Everything ends, but until then, there is love.

A moody old-school text-adventure, lovingly ported to Adventuron. I enjoyed this a lot.

Take, for instance, tonight's entertainment. A fundraiser for the orphans, wealthy people demanding the highest standards of service, the other servants gone, and the master gone cuckoo... Still, as master Bryce's dutiful valet, it's a matter of professional honour to make the evening's event to everyone's liking. Elsewise, the guests' donations might not be quite so generous...

At the start, The Bat, after confronting you with your master's inability to do just about anything himself, goes on to pose as an optimisation game where seamlessly attending to each rich guest's requests will give you a high score measured in money.

It's not though.

As the story progresses, more and more events draw your attention away from catering to the guests, until the amount of money they promise to donate drifts away to the backgound. While getting money from the rich guests feels like the objective in the beginning, the plot gradually spirals outward to encompass more interweaving subplots. On the other hand, bringing them drinks and taking care of other requests still brings up a bold-lettered message of how much cash this simple task earned. Good for a small adrenaline jolt each time, and incentive enough to not just ditch the guests altogether.

This is important, as the never-ending service to the guests, who are also moving to different locations, ensures that our conscientious valet keeps circulating the rooms. Brilliant design by the author, it makes sure that clues that pop up during the game are seen by the player while attending to their duties, instead of intermittently having to do a tour of the house looking for changes.
The menial tasks force the player to keep looking around the game-world, leading them to discover information about the bigger puzzles and the deeper story. High craftsmanship.

About those puzzles:

First off, whereas many text-adventures either allow you to keep walking around burdened with an inventory so full that it becomes hard to choose which object to try on the next puzzle, or objects that have had their use disappear in a poof of magic, The Bat has found an elegant in-game way to discard items that are no longer needed. I like this.

Now, there are basically two varieties of puzzles in The Bat: a) pinpoint the problem and use the correct object or talk to the correct character to rectify it; and b) guide an NPC to fix stuff you can't by yourself.

a) I'm normally not a big fan of limited-parser games. The rigid set of verbs feels like it sets boundaries on my imagination, shrinks down the possibility-space for my exploration. (Of course I know that in reality, almost all parser games utilise a small set of maybe five or six common verbs, with maybe a few game-specific commands thrown in. Still, I like the make-believe of endless action-possibilities…)
I also mostly loathe games where USE is an important or even the main verb. No matter if I'm carrying a hammer, a parachute, or a raygun, just type the same generic and unimaginative command. (I actually don't mind this in graphic adventures where left-click is a largely equivalent broad action. Probably because clicking the button comes with a tactile sensation that assures other parts of my brain that we're doing something meaningful.)

What then must I think of a The Bat? Apart from EXAMINE, the game has exactly one verb.

And yet, it feels like the absolute opposite of USE. That's because that one verb slots so seamlessly and evocatively into the role of our protagonist that it enhances instead of dulls the imagination and the player's rapport with our discreet and dutiful valet.

That command is ATTEND TO [object/npc] .

Genius.

b) Perhaps hard to believe, but there are some things that are beyond the considerable powers of our protagonist, the most conscientious and upstanding of valets. Fortunately, there is a way around this. A certain object allows us to remotely control an NPC who, due to a mysterious condition, has far more physical strength and (perhaps more important), a berserk-like indifference to bodily harm than any right-minded individual would. Once the workings of this mechanism are clear, solving puzzles which require this NPC's assistance becomes an easy point-and-loose affair. I'm not saying it's a delicate approach, au contraire, it's rather messy and clumsy and crude, quite literally a brute-force solution, but it gets the job done.
This NPC-controlling (even around corners!) method is gently introduced in the mid-game, where the mechanism is discovered and a pair of puzzles require the player to steer the NPC around the house. Being unable to directly see the NPC unavoidably leads to situations comparable to a moose loose in the house. It gets bumpy…
The end-game is centered completely around this mechanic (and its destructive consequences), resulting in a tense but also hilarious run-chase-bump-repeat scenario.

Our conscientious valet character is splendidly characterised as a conscientious valet through his reactions to various socially delicate, unseemly, inappropriate, and improper situations he is forced to witness… His reaction being… none at all. Because being a valet means that one simply does not notice these transgressions upon the social norms normally aplicable in this class of society...

Unspeakable yet glaringly obvious misconduct is swept under the rug without so much as a second glance… but of course at the same time stashed in the valet's memory...

The Bat's narrative structure supports an expanding and spiraling plot. Basic exploration of the setting and initial acqaintance with the characters happens early on. With that foundation laid, the game stacks discoveries and revelations atop one another, and builds to a bloated heap of confusion and slapstick...

Then it winds back down in the finale, simplifying the objective and narrowing the focus to a tense duel.

The epilogue showcases one last brilliant creative find. It winds up to (Spoiler - click to show)an in-game use of QUIT which gave me shivers of admiration.

Masterful craft, comedic brilliance, top-notch writing and characterisation.

Great game.

The main cycle of the game is straightforward and simple: get money, spend money.
The plot-driving objective, the goal of the game, is to spend that money wisely so you can finally make a movie and become famous! Your big break into stardom.

“You” is three girls with different ideas on what the necessary ingredients for a smashing cinematic cocktail are. There are a few rounds where the player can choose which girl’s suggestions to follow.

I was surprised at how far the endings diverge depending on the order of the choices. The highlight of the game was how matter-of-factly even the wildest scenarios were put into words.

Fun game.

In the not too distant future, a biotechnologically enhanced judicial registrar puts the protagonist, a newly appointed detective, to the test by asking his opinion about a notable case in the early beginnings of spatial jurisdiction. While on the ride up to the space station in a space elevator (!coolest thing ever!). Better than softly droning musak, if I may say so…

Through his implants, the registrar can provide all reports in evidence in the case of a 1998 death (murder) in the ISS.
Careful, meticulous combing through these documents is necessary to form an opinion. In the end, inform the registrar of your judgment.

I liked this. A but dry, but that fits the subject matter. Thought-provoking too, with different national space agencies involved, raising questions about jurisdiction in space, power struggles and conflicting interests in space.

A straight-up murder mystery … in space.

A tale of sorrow,
And comfort sought
Between the trees, by mirror pool,

This author has
Intently wrought.
Voice of shade and waters cool.

A ragged rhyme,
I’m out of time,
Ripples close above my head.

The sun is gone,
I have no rock
to cling to here…

Am I now dead?