Ratings and Reviews by Drew Cook

To start: I love Nancy Drew, and I had high expectations for an Infocom partnership with Jim Lawrence. Seriously!

Seastalker was authored and marketed as a children's game, and Infocom partnered with a successful author of children's fiction to write it. Despite the potential, it's hard to imagine Seastalker turning out any worse than it did. It's mechanically dull, the feelies are oddly irritating, and--most bafflingly--there is an actual stalker. Not a sea serpent, mind you, but a fake nice guy who tries to teach a woman that "she's just a human being like the rest of us -- and not only a human being, but a warm, desirable woman...!" by CUTTING OFF HER OXYGEN! Really! Such a strange thing to hide in a children's game.

The first major part of the game involves piloting an experimental sub (designed by the protagonist) through "Frobton Bay." Mechanically, this requires consulting a bathymetric map and using its depth information to navigate an on-screen ASCII map of the sub's immediate surroundings. It's a novelty, but I think a player's enjoyment will come down to taste. In any case, it isn't a model of play that appeared in later Infocom games. I did not enjoy it, personally, but recognize the attempt to innovate.

Once the bay is cleared, the autopilot kicks in, freeing up the protagonist to deal with an apparent act of sabotage. That's an ongoing concern throughout Seastalker: traitors or moles. I think this element was a major missed opportunity, as it would be enjoyable to discover clues about a double agent. Even if the answer was withheld until a climactic moment, these discoveries would enhance a sense of danger and help maintain tension. As it is, concerns over saboteurs rise like bubbles to the surface only to pop and leave no trace.

Once the oxygen plot is foiled, the protagonist must work with its perpetrator to upgrade the submarine. This is a case where the novelistic sensibilities of Jim Lawrence clash with the demands of gameplay progression in IF. In order to foster a sense of collaboration with a specialized team, many characters will approach the protagonist and ask a yes or no question: "Would you like to install the frob on the front-left frob arm?" The player must answer. I am not completely certain, but I think saying "no" can lock the player out of winning. In this sense, the function of the questions is to dramatize a team effort to upgrade the submarine. It is not, as one might have guessed, an occasion to evaluate the characters' offers and tailor the sub to the player's liking.

Experiences will vary, but I found the mechanic jarring in an immersion-disrupting way. I think that this is also a "knowledge of past lives" situation in which a player can be killed by failing to take a specific action some turns previous. Those of you who have followed my writing know that I try to be philosophical about old games and the "Player's Bill of Rights." In this case, though, there is no sense of danger--quite the opposite, in fact--that would prompt the player to save or even be wary. At least, if there was, I missed it.

The climactic battle involves a return to the ASCII sonar interface for a high-speed chase. It's hard to gauge how good this is or isn't. It is not the kind of gameplay that typically draws IF fans. This is also the moment in which the nemesis and a TRIPLE agent are exposed. It's a little underwhelming because, as mentioned above, you as a player haven't really been on the trail of these people. I think the scene illuminates the ways in which the craft of IF and the craft of fiction are different. Neither philosophy has a chance to shine here, and the work suffers as a result.

The feelies are unusually bad for this period in Infocom's history. They don't translate well to PDF, which is how many modern players will experience the game. They aren't very good in physical form, either--I have a folio copy. Passages of text (descriptions, mostly) are randomly left out of the game, and the player must sift through many cards to find a matching entry. As a former kid, I recognize that this might have initially had a "gee whiz" appeal, but there are many cards and many more snippets of text. The novelty wears off, and the process breaks immersion and takes time (Example cases include descriptions of Sharon Kemp, the scimitar, etc.). Still, the "Discovery Squad" patch is a nice touch and would have certainly appealed to my more young and adventurous self.

I can't recommend Seastalker. Its writing just doesn't work very well, it fails (though I recognize the effort) to create the forward motion of traditional fiction in an IF game, the ending comes out of nowhere, the creepy stalker suffers no loss in social capital for his outlandish behavior, and the feelies--usually a draw for Infocom--feel like a hassle. It is also among Infocom's least accessible games due to its graphics, joining Infidel, Zork III, Enchanter, and Zork Zero.

I grant it one star as what is most likely Infocom's worst game; it's deepest depths. If I were comparing it to games of the day generally, it would merit two stars just for Infocom's parser. In any case, children deserved better.

Suspect is the third and last of what I consider Infocom's "quantum detective" games. "Quantum," because the game world is in an indeterminate state. There are events and people moving and acting on a schedule, and it is not possible to know what is happening in a specific location at a given time without going there. While there, the player cannot know what is happening everywhere else. While we are with Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory, we may not know where Miss Scarlet is.

The first of those "quantum" games was Deadline. It was technically innovative and was, narratively, a satisfying locked door mystery. However, the nature of the indeterminate map made for a very complex geography, with time as an added dimension. Author Marc Blank mitigated these complexities with a reasonably-sized map and only a handful of suspects.

Even with these concessions, Deadline is considered hard-as-nails, and I can't imagine anyone saying, "I'd like another Deadline, only with more people, more traffic, and even a few more rooms." I've always assumed that Lebling fell in love with solving the technical problems posed by Suspect, ultimately losing sight of what might or might not constitute an enjoyable game experience. Those of us with interest in programming or even writing in general can probably relate. To Lebling's credit, Suspect is very impressive technically. I would say that, at the close of 1984, it was Infocom's most impressive technical achievement, unseating the previous, 18-month titleholder, Suspended.

In Suspect, the protagonist is, in fact, the primary suspect of a murder committed at a high society Halloween Ball. There are fun period details: a band plays "Karma Chameleon." The costumes are a nice touch and serve the greater purposes of gameplay and atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the complexity of the case will probably discourage many players. Several Infocom fans (myself included) name Suspect as one of the rare games that we either quit or else made an early beeline for hints. I personally could forgive this, but I can't look past the ommision of one of Deadline's defining charms: few of the characters have much, if anything, to say. While Deadline was incredibly generous with text responses, Suspect, having hit its 128K ceiling, is downright miserly. Sometimes, a character really ought to have a response to this or that thing, but all we get is a stock answer. It's jarring and frustrating. This happens, rather hilariously, with regard to the details of the murder, which really ought to be on everyone's mind.

There is presently only one review (besides mine) of this game here at IFDB, which I interpret as a lack of both contemporary interest and sentimental attachment. I personally cannot recommend it to anyone who does not have some sort of historical interest in either Infocom or the mystery genre. Still, technical competence or even brilliance is a redeeming factor. For this, I almost rated Suspect three stars, but it doesn't quite get there.

In just under a year, the best game of Lebling's career (and one of Infocom's best), Spellbreaker, would make for an incredible comeback story.

Infocom released both Seastalker and Cutthroats in 1984. These two back-to-back releases reviewed poorly (relatively speaking, as Infocom games tended to review well) and didn't feature the long sales "tails" of Infocom's other catalog staples. In fact, after this bizarre instance of schedule-packing, Infocom would never release another seafaring adventure.

Of the two games, critics have been kinder to Cutthroats, and deservedly so. Occasionally, the inventiveness of Mike Berlyn (Suspended, Infidel) manages to break through, if only briefly. The first two thirds of the game takes place on Hardscrabble Island, a dangerous place where dangerous men brave dangerous danger while endangering one another. The characters are all seedy types, but a player may forgive their familiarity. We have come for just this sort of adventure with just this sort of people, after all, and they do not disappoint. There are characters named "rat" and "weasel," for instance, practically daring us to complain about too much of a good thing.

Unfortunately, the gameplay on Hardscrabble Island would be greatly improved by a cliche or two. The primary challenge is hiding pocket-sized objects without putting them in pockets, since the game becomes unwinnable should the owner/operator of the local marine salvage company see the protagonist carrying and/or doing a surprisingly large number of things. These failures don't always make sense, which can be forgiven if the play is fun. Unfortunately, it isn't, and it's a shame that Cutthroats takes so long to get to what most players are really interested in: diving for treasure.

On that front, the game acquits itself reasonably well. The wrecks (there are two) feel like Zorkian cave crawls with the exciting addition of underwater exploration. Sadly, these parts of the game are all too short and cannot compensate for the tedious bulk of Cutthroats's misadventures on dry land.

However, it is worth mentioning that Cutthroats features an interesting formal experiment: multiple game variants. In the course of the game, a randomly selected shipwreck (there are two possibilities, but the packaging and source code suggest that four were originally planned) becomes the goal for that playthrough. Unfortunately, the wreck is selected very early on, so the most boring parts of the game must be repeated before exploring the other wreck. Infocom would only attempt this sort of branching narrative structure one more time, in 1986's Moonmist.

Cutthroats was the first game to be released in the iconic "Gray Box" format, and featured a pleasantly mimetic bit of copy protection in a local historical society's booklet about local shipwrecks.

For its formal and metatextual innovations, I have awarded Cutthroats three stars, but compared with Infocom's better games it comes off quite badly. It's a shame that Mike Berlyn's considerable talents were squandered on the middling "Tales of Adventure" series of Infocom games. This would prove to be his last text adventure game at Infocom.

I've learned that my disappointment with Sorcerer is a minority opinion, but it has garnered its share of ambivalent reviews over the years. Obviously, Steve Meretzky making puzzles with Enchanter's magic system could never culminate in a bad game, or even a mediocre one, but the result can match neither Enchanter's innovations nor Spellbreaker's moments of transcendence. It is, in other words, a good game wedged between two brilliant ones.

Its chief problem is a lack of coherence. The Zork trilogy is held together by a kind of subsumed mournfulness. Elsewhere, the recently abandoned habitations and escalating ambiance of dread in Enchanter create a sense of the stakes. Sorcerer feels aimless by comparison, and the player may forget their goal altogether in favor of riding the rides at Bozbarland, a surprisingly thorough (in those days of constrained computing resources) implementation of an amusement park.

That isn't to say that there aren't mechanical satisfactions. Sorcerer's two most famous puzzles deserve their reputations. They also are remarkably different. One relies on intuition, while the other requires careful mapping and spatial awareness. I have often said that Steve Meretzky was Infocom's most reliable puzzlemaker, and Sorcerer offers no counterarguments.

A frequent complaint is that something must be completed in the first (I just checked) 27 moves or so, and it isn't completely clear that this is so. It's true! If that kind of old-school meanness could turn you off of the game entirely, then (Spoiler - click to show)prioritize finding a use for the matchbook.

It's the weakest of what I call the Zork saga (the two complete trilogies in that universe), but that's a very high ceiling. Sorcerer is a four-star game among five-star games, and worth a play for those interested in Infocom's magic system or the Zork universe.

Infidel is a rather humorless game that finds its protagonist exploring a previously undiscovered Egyptian pyramid in search of treasure and fame. It's a perfect setting for that oldest and most thoroughly explored adventure gaming oevure: the treasure hunt. Even by Infocom standards, the setting is quite deadly. This is a game that assumes frequent, unmotivated saving. That was a norm in 1983, and contemporary gamers/readers will be frequently frustrated if they are not willing to adopt the habit.

That is something students and enthusiasts of older texts (in a technical medium, 4 decades feels more like 4 centuries) must do, isn't it? Meet them where they are. Or were.

Mechanically, the "hook" that makes the deathtraps of Infidel unique is the system of hieroglyphs used to provide clues and identify the names--or even, sometimes, the significance--of objects and locations in the pyramid. Over the course of the game, the player's "codebook" will grow as they find and decipher new glyphs. These symbols are displayed as ASCII characters, so be sure your interpreter (if you are using one) has a properly selected fixed-width font (IMPORTANT: as in other games, use of these characters poses an accessibility problem for players who use screen reader applications). While I did like Infidel on a mechanical level, players who either don't or can't enjoy the codebreaking metapuzzle will likely have a less interesting experience.

If that were all, Infidel would be a nice, little game--short for an early Infocom puzzler but diverting enough. That isn't all, though. Persons interested in artistic or literary craft in interactive fiction--especially its history or evolution--will find its critique of the adventure game genre and its gamification of colonial plunder interesting. Reviewing the game's packaging and documentation is essential to understanding this facet of the game.

Infidel's initial critical reception is interesting to consider as well. Several persons have written about it in detail over the years.

My rating is highly qualified. If the codebreaking element sounds appealing, you will likely find this game satisfying mechanically. If the historical or craft elements interest you, Infidel offers a lot to think about. For those interested in neither, Infidel is a bit of a hard sell.

1983. For the first time since Zork, the dream team of Marc Blank and Dave Lebling reunited. Both were seasoned implementors, as their work on Deadline, Zork II, Zork III, and Starcross attested. Lebling in particular had, in Starcross, created a Zork-style large, open map filled with puzzles and treasures that actually served a purpose in their game world.

Lebling's evolving mastery of the form must have been a great benefit to the team. Back is a large, open map filled with puzzles and treasures. In Enchanter, Blank and Lebling come up with Infocom's most exciting treasure yet: spell scrolls. The protagonist is the titular Enchanter--a novice wizard who can memorize and cast a variety of spells from a spell book. New spells can be added to the book, and it is consistently exciting to do so. Each adds new possibilities for gameplay. The implementation of spells is atypically expansive: you can cast spells on all sorts of things, whether doing so advances the plot or not.

In Enchanter, you are sent to the fortress of the warlock Krill, an evil wizard who is casting a spell that will forever cloak the world in darkness. It is explained that Krill would immediately detect and kill a powerful wizard, so the Circle of Enchanters sends you instead. Within, there are some truly excellent puzzles, a death cult, and a rapidly escalating sense of doom. Since no more zany, madcap hijinks remain to be ported from the PDP version of Zork, Blanc and Lebling are finally free to create a tonally consistent game in the Zork universe. The fortress--and the world outside it--deteriorate daily, and the nights keep getting longer. There are some good jokes, too, but the balance works better than Zork III's text at war with itself, pitting as it does the old versus the new.

Enchanter is quite fair. My only quibble is that becoming a light source makes the game unwinnable. While I do get it--how would the player ever sleep?--it feels obnoxious after Zork II's ending. Standout favorites include The Unseen Terror and the talking turtle. Talking to animals unfortunately doesn't reach Deadline levels of complexity, but it's still a lot of fun. There are surprises I have not mentioned--why spoil your good time?

Those who played Zork III will recognize the scene from "Zork IV." If Lebling and Blank struggled to incorporate it, it doesn't show. In fact, that's a way to sum up Enchanter: the struggle never shows. This is a well-designed map filled with fair puzzles of reasonable difficulty. The new magic system is is intuitive and satisfying, and it constantly rewards the player's progress. Everything just settles into place. Enchanter is an impeccably crafted adventure game, the as-yet best Zorkian Infocom title.

I suppose that Enchanter is not Infocom's best game. It is, however, my favorite. I encourage everyone to at least try casting a few spells or meeting briefly with the protagonist from the Zork Trilogy (seriously!)

A warning: Enchanter has hunger, thirst, and sleep timers. I found them less intrusive than those is Planetfall, but they're present all the same. Dreams provide some useful clues, so there is at least a point to sleeping. Like other games of its ilk, Enchanter offers little in terms of plot or characterization.

Stu Galley was, perhaps, Infocom's chief internal evangelist. He was the author of the idealistic "Implementor's Creed" and deeply believed in the potential of interactive fiction. To him, making IF was more than a job; it was a calling. Beyond Galley's significant technical contributions--he performed a late-Infocom rewrite of their parser--he was an important contributor to Infocom's culture, a needed source of aspirational seriousness that leavened the company's wisecracking Zorkiness. I feel both admiration and gratitude for Galley's contributions to the history of interactive fiction.

The opening of Stu Galley's first game, The Witness, is marvelously atmospheric. Take, for instance, this initial description of the victim's daughter: "Monica stops talking and looks at you sharply. She is a woman in her mid-twenties. Her grey eyes flash, emphasizing her dark waved hair and light but effective make-up. She wears a navy Rayon blouse, tan slacks, and tan pumps with Cuban heels. She acts as though you were a masher who just gave her a whistle." The feelies include a VERY authentic newspaper--game specific articles share pages with actual articles culled from the 30's. An included matchbook with a phone number written on it is another nice touch.

Between the feelies and the opening, it really seems that we players are in for a deliciously noir story. But when we find ourselves sitting in a chair, attempting to speak with a character who has little to say about a small number of topics and nothing to say about everything else, it is clear that something is wrong. With nothing else to say or do, the player is obliged to idle in a room with a person who invited them over to have a serious, life and death conversation while repeatedly typing "z," waiting for something to happen.

I take no pleasure in saying so, but there's nothing else for it. The Witness is a bad piece of interactive fiction. There are only four characters to talk to, and nearly all of their responses to your questions are one or two sentences long. They hardly react when caught lying. In fact, the murderer hardly reacts to being caught. Anyone who enjoyed Infocom's previous mystery, Deadline, will be baffled and disappointed by the complete lack of complex character interaction here. There are few clues to find and many empty locations that you will never have a reason to visit. The wonderful opening is like a rainbow lying atop a greasy puddle--there is little worthwhile underneath.

That certain Infocom polish, working in concert with excellent feelies, earns The Witness two stars. I can only recommend it for Infocom and/or mystery completionists.

I'm trying to work my way through the Infocom catalog, posting my thoughts on a gaming forum all the while.

In 1981, Dave Lebling assumed responsibility for porting Zork II to home computers. Meanwhile, Marc Blank worked on Deadline. The next year, Blank wrote/developed Zork III while Lebling worked on his own pet-project, a hard sci-fi adventure that would come to be known as Starcross.

Both Deadline and Starcross struggled mightily with the size limitations imposed by microcomputers: these games had to run on systems like the TRS-80. Blank, rather ingeniously, overcame some of the problems by the use of feelies, thereby moving in-program text to packaging. Lebling, unfortunately, did not have the same opportunity. In a game about exploring the unknown, how could feelies do such textual heavy lifting?

It seems uncharitable to hold Lebling accountable for the TRS-80's shortcomings, but these problems must be talked about all the same. The Starcross map is large--entirely appropriate for a massive alien artifact. The most important objects in Deadline are its suspects, and they are deeply implemented. Starcross, as a function of its large map, is wide but shallow. Most objects are briefly described (if at all), and interaction is largely limited to objects that in some way progress the game.

Depending on a player's taste, this may or may not be an issue. Starcross is chock-full of difficult-but-fair puzzles, and those who enjoy such fare are in for a treat. Be warned that some require very basic knowledge of chemistry and physics. I have seen a reviewer state that Starcross is not "Zork in Space," but I'm not sure how true that really is. In fact, I think that Starcross is a sort of "lessons learned" effort for Lebling. It improves upon Zork's weaknesses while capitalizing on its strengths (except for the jokes, which is a matter of taste): fair(er) puzzles, a logical and well-designed map, treasures that serve a clear function, and sense of exploration that feels purposeful. It is the intermediate step between Zork and Spellbreaker. I find a clear throughline leading from point A to point C.

Even forgiving as I do Starcross's light implementation, I should acknowledge two flaws. One is minor, and one less so--which is which depends entirely on your tastes! Many have pointed out the unfortunate possibility of verb-guessing in getting the red rod. I think these critiques are fair. The other problem is the ending. (Spoiler - click to show)I won't spoil it here except to say that it feels randomly tacked on and retroactively makes a good deal of the game rather nonsensical. It would seem that Lebling started with Rendezvous with Rama and ended it with 2001: A Space Odyssey. I think one Clarke novel per game is enough.

My rating is therefore a highly qualified four stars. If you are interested in Infocom games (perhaps Spellbreaker in particular), this is at least worth a look. There are many hard, satisfying puzzles here. The exploration is enjoyable despite the limited interactivity. However, those more interested in story and rich interaction will likely have a two-star experience.

I'm trying to work my way through the Infocom catalog, posting my thoughts on a gaming forum all the while.

Zork III is an ambitious and subversive game, and I feel Marc Blank was courageous in turning Zork, Infocom's cash cow, on its head. It assumes a tone of glum enervation; the whole world seems faded and spent. Our former treasure hunter is all grown-up: wisecracks and platinum bars no longer hold their attention. The Adventurer doesn't want to PLAY a cave game; rather, they want to RUN the game.

The game world is Zork's most geographically and tonally consistent to-date. The only parts that stand out, rather jarringly, are those ported from the mainframe version of Zork. Whether people enjoy it or not, the Royal Puzzle has nothing to do with anything Zork III is about. I wonder if Blank felt obligated to port these areas over untouched, just as I wonder if Lebling had done with Zork II's Bank of Zork puzzle.

Zork III's new scoring system is a clear indicator that this isn't the Zork you're used to. There are only seven possible points in the game, and you get a point when you're on the right track, story-wise. It's appropriate: after all, in Zork III's opening crawl, you are told to seek The Dungeon Master when you are "worthy." It's a harder thing to quantify than "get the twenty treasures of Zork and put them in your trophy case."

There are some fine puzzles to be found: the scenic vista and GOLMAC puzzles are especially enjoyable. One affords a sneak preview of "Zork IV" and the other is one of the game's only sources of Zorkian humor.

It is a shame that the second part of mainframe Zork embedded in the game is the final puzzle. It doesn't really feel relevant, and there's no sense of climax. It's just a silly little logic doodle and easily brute forced. At least the zany trivia quiz from mainframe Zork--absent here--engendered a sense of culmination.

Reviewing text dumps from both mainframe Zork and Zork III, one sees that the final scenes of both are almost identical, though Blank did append a brief concluding paragraph. This paragraph is, not surprisingly, about power, and it is one of the only times (in any Zork game) that we are given insight into the Adventurer's motivations. I've seen the idea floating around that this conclusion can be read as a metaphor for the birth of IF as a medium. Whether such arguments are right or wrong, I must agree Zork III is an invitation to us, the players; it calls us to think about the potential powers of IF.

Despite Zork III's missteps there remains a sense that something remarkable has happened. It would seem that Marc Blank has attempted to declare (prematurely, I'll admit) The End of The Cave Game. Zork III is in its way a critique of the genre's idealization of material gain and acknowledges, at long last, that there there is something lost when a civilization falls. Zork III is, if nothing else, the moment in which Zork escapes ADVENT's shadow.

I suppose it is long-established now that Interactive Fiction is art, but it wasn't always so. I would argue, whether it is art or not, that Zork III is IF's first overtly artistic gesture.

Zork III is a foundational work and rating it with this or that many stars would lose sight of this truth.

I am playing Starcross next and will, as promised, give it a rating.

Postscript: I have seen comments, here and elsewhere, about unwinnable games, and I have to say I find them rather overstated and ungenerous. It requires roughly five minutes and 110 turns to revisit every possible puzzle, including the optional sailor scene, before the earthquake. This is without a map or notes.

I'm trying to work my way through the Infocom catalog, posting my thoughts on a gaming forum all the while.

I started with Zork I, and I suppose it's easy to give it a hard time. The plot is more than thin--a monofilament of a story. The protagonist, an indeterminate blank slate, reaches a small white house in the midst of a forest. Reading the manual(s) accompanying Zork I, the player is told that the Adventurer wants treasure for themselves. The game will award points for collecting it and placing it in a trophy case.

Why does the Adventurer leave the treasure behind, if they want it so much? What is the significance of the case, unremarkably sitting in an unremarkably abandoned house?

In the course of their treasure hunt, the player-protagonist wanders a rather inorganic funhouse of a map, looking for things to do, solving puzzles until all rooms and treasures are discovered.

One of the means of fast travel, while convenient, has no apparent clues as to its use.

Zork has an expiring light source, though sooner or later an alternative may or may not be found.

There are a whopping three mazes, none of them fun or interesting. The largest and most tedious, called only "Maze," features 12 possible exits from each of its rooms as well as an NPC that picks up and moves dropped items--the Hansel and Gretel approach will not work here. Wise players will swallow their pride and retrieve a map from somewhere. Mapping this monstrosity is in no way worth the trouble.

It's easy to forget that the design of Zork was initially undertaken in order to improve upon ADVENT, which was then the only widely-known game of its kind. I suppose this may be a controversial statement: Zork does, in fact, improve upon ADVENT in almost every meaningful way. It is more technologically sophisticated, running on an engine that eventually evolved into one that is widely used today in contemporary IF. It has a sense of humor. It is, compared with its only competitor at the time, more interactive and more descriptive. The puzzles--the fair ones, at least--are more interesting than those in ADVENT. I have seen essays indicating that ADVENT makes fewer mistakes, but then again there is far less of it to begin with.

The parser at the time was a revelation. In ADVENT, the player DROPs treasures on the floor. In Zork, the player PUTs them in a CONTAINER.

We are lucky that Zork made so many mistakes, thus sparing future efforts the indignity of making them. It was not yet clear what made adventure games fun, but Zork was the first step in figuring that out.

This is not to say that parts of it are not fun. I particularly enjoyed the "bell, book, and candle" and coal mine puzzles.

Zork is worth playing for the sense of context it provides. If its outdated nature annoys, then the invisiclues z-code is legally available at The Infocom Documentation Project, free of charge. I found it satisfying to solve, but I think just looking around is worthwhile for the curious.

I give no rating for Zork. I'm not sure that measuring it against contemporary standards is relevant.

In my effort to get through all of Infocom's games, I have determined that Zork I-III and Deadline are too big to judge. I'll give a rating for Starcross if/when I get there.