Reviews by Drew Cook

1992's "The Tempest" by David R. Grigg, which should not be mistaken for Graham Nelson's adaptation, is an unkind game that modern players will struggle to complete. However, this review, as part of my "games seeking reviews" series, is intended to celebrate and recognize previously undiscussed works. While I will be candid about the shortcomings of "The Tempest," cataloguing them is not my aim either here or generally in the series.

All reviews in my "games seeking reviews" series are inspired by Tabitha's excellent 2024 "Review-a-Thon," which I encourage all readers to investigate for more reviews of hidden IF gems.

Reviewing parser games from the interregnum between the fall of Infocom and the so-called "neo-classical" period that began with the release of Graham Nelson's "Curses" is difficult. I'd characterize many games as boutique titles, works sold by small publishers for a narrowing audience. Quality varied greatly in terms of design and presentation, but works of this period must be recognized as torch-bearers, keeping the medium alive in the face of diminishing sales. In this sense, even works that feel unsatisfying have merit.

"The Tempest" doesn't afford an experience of inhabiting Shakespeare's play. That would require a caliber of writing that would be difficult for anyone, in any medium, to achieve. Nelson's solution was to use Shakespeare's own poetry, which was probably the best approach. Players of Grigg's "The Tempest" will likely feel reminded of, rather than placed in, the play.

Mechanically, the game violates what contemporary players will expect as craft norms. There is a maze with no hints for solving. Exits are often unidentified in room descriptions and are frequently unreciprocated (entering from the east does not guarantee an eastward return). Weight limits come up more than once. There is almost always one or more unimplemented nouns in a room. Synonyms are few.

There are multiple timers, including a strictly limited light source.

I think persons interested in the history of interactive fiction might appreciate how rewarding it was to find an AGT decompiler, run it in DOSBox (Windows 11 would not execute it), and sift through the text in order to find a way through the maze. I think some of us live for this kind of thing! Doing so also gave me insight into how AGT games are organized, something I had no concept of.

I was only able to find one review of "The Tempest," and it was understandably negative. Since the reviewer likely paid money for it, he had a right to expect more than I might. There is no walkthrough for "The Tempest" at CASA, which often has materials for games not covered here at IFDB. It is obscure, unnoticed, and probably unloved.

[An aside: "The Tempest" was an entrant in the 1992 Softworks AGT competition, a contest organized over Compuserve for games written with the Aventure Game Toolkit, a shareware product for authoring parser games. It, along with other "honorable mentions," was part of a post-competition five-disk, seventeen-game collection that was sold by mail for thirty dollars. The collection included source code, which presumably provided a 1993 reviewer with solutions to some more vexing problems. For more information, the announcement for the competition's results can be read here.]

Still, I wish to praise the outlandish, outsized ambition of this work. It is not likely that audiences were clamoring for a "Tempest" game. As I have already indicated, hoping to do Shakespeare justice seems an incredibly difficult task. This is the kind of big, swing-for-the-fences project that is the opposite of safe, that loves great art, and must be, in its way, the product of fearlessness. I praise the impulse that inspired it and the conviction that it must have required. Even though the work is not successful, it indicates a certainty that IF can be art.

All this in a day when the jury was still out regarding that and many other questions! While I cannot recommend playing "The Tempest" for fun, it deserves credit for believing in (and investing in) the artistic merits of interactive fiction.

Tools used: I used AGTDec, which I retrieved from the programming/agt directory at the Interactive Fiction Archive. Since Windows 11 wouldn't run it, I relied on DOSBox. It created two very readable text dumps.

I thought I might enjoy reviewing as-yet unreviewed games. It's hard to get one's game reviewed outside of a competition or jam context, if the news page on IFDB is any indicator. If you are familiar with my writing style, then you might reasonably expect this review to mostly consist of deadpan snark, but that isn't what this series of reviews is about. Here, I'd like to draw attention to previously undiscussed IF in a welcoming way.

I discovered this game, a free demo for H. H. Richards's "Lewd Mod," via Tabitha's "Games Seeking Reviews" poll.

Let's get this out of the way first: "Naughty in the Library" has implied nudity, at least one colorful slang term for female anatomy, and a lot of sexual innuendo. If you are troubled by that sort of thing, then skip this game. This game - this demo, at least - doesn't offer much beyond that. There are no rewards for pushing through that content; that content is the game.

How is that content? For starters, the artwork is highly stylized. The woman featured, Ellie B, has white teeth, red lips, arched eyebrows... and no eyes. Some thoughtful critic might make a lot of that aesthetic choice. Does it mean something? Is it a depersonalization? The effect is striking and seems to be a consistent feature of women's faces in H. H. Richards's work, as the women on their itch.io page all lack eyes. I do not know if the overall effect is erotic, but I did find these portrayals memorable. For what it's worth, Richards's depictions of cats have no eyes, either.

So far as the dialogue that links these images of Ellie in a narrative thread: I feel the demo suffers, in that we - an undefined self-insert - already seem to know her. That being so, we never get to know her. I wasn't sure what I might and might not suggest to her, in terms of her bra, her shoes, or what have you. I felt rather disconnected from our exchange. Was the protagonist being weird or pushy? It didn't seem so in-game, as Ellie seemed very open to their suggestions, but I never really found the dialogue options very relatable.

The full game might fare better due to better contextualization. For instance, in that work, you are a content moderator for a social media site. So there is more of a "game" there, potentially, than there is here.

TL;DR: A short, dramatized text chat in which the player talks to a woman named "Ellie" and asks for her to send erotic selfies to them.
+ The style of the art is distinctive. So distinctive, in fact, that it invites interpretation.
+ The interface is very polished.
+ Even if the demo lacks important context, potential buyers can get a feel for the presentation, art style, and messaging interface.

- The gameplay in this demo feels almost beside the point. Ellie seemed very happy to send pictures. It isn't clear if the full game involves challenge of any kind.
- This content is not for everyone, so potential players should pay attention to content advisories.
- The main game seems to have context and gameplay that is not contained in the demo, which makes it hard to say if the paid experience would be worthwhile.

Additional thoughts: the artwork does not aggressively reinforce unrealistic beauty standards, which I appreciate. The exchange with Ellie doesn't seem inherently exploitational, and there is no apparent power dynamic at work. While this demo is not necessarily my thing, it seems to be honest about what it is and has, I am sure, an audience.

As a bit of background: I discovered this game via Tabitha's "Games Seeking Reviews" poll. I'm grateful for this initiative!

"Kiss of Beth" is a short horror story in Twine. There are optional conversation nodes and at least one momentous choice. Navigation is easy, and the interface and prose work together effectively. The beginning is gently ominous, dramatizing a chat with an acquaintance who has come to take the protagonist's roommate, Beth, on a date. While I won't give anything away, I'll say that the pace at which details unfold is well-calibrated, and I was eager to discover the true nature of this encounter.

There is also an interesting meta-comment about "good" endings, which left me with a few satisfying thoughts to mull over afterward.

TL:DR:
A short, 15-minute twine experience with a nice bit of initially understated horror. More than worth the time.

+ The visual and auditory presentation is more interesting than it first appears, evoking specific vibes from classic adventure games.
+ A bite-sized snack; both endings can be explored in a short amount of time. It's like a good short story.
+ Satisfyingly unpleasant.

- No notes! This kind of short, focused Twine experience is my jam.

For lack of a better term, let us borrow one from renaissance studies: Ballyhoo is what I would call a "problem" game. At times it is darkly funny. Elsewhere, it is just dark. Glum, even. The protagonist doesn't want to help people, it seems, they want to be recognized for helping people. Some of its jokes don't land; not gracefully, anyway. The mid-late 1980s was a different, edgier time, and Ballyhoo is a product of it. The puzzles sometimes feel unmotivated or nonsensical. Often the idea seems simply for the player to mess around with everything until something good happens.

I'm not alone in saying and thinking such things. Reception of Ballyhoo has remained stably ambivalent these many years since its release in 1985. It's a lukewarm outlier in an incredibly hot streak, even by Infocom standards. Consider this chronological order of parser game releases:

- Wishbringer
- A Mind Forever Voyaging
- Spellbreaker
- Ballyhoo
- Trinity

One of these games is clearly not like the others, but does that make it bad? From a textual point of view, I would say that Ballyhoo is quite good, actually. Jeffrey O'Neill is a gifted prose stylist: wry, playful, unagressively self-referential. He understands the conventions of the form and engages with them in novel and interesting ways. This is a text that has literary ambitions, yet never taps your shoulder to see if you noticed them. A Mind Forever Voyaging and, to a greater extent Trinity, really can't help themselves in this regard, with their quotations and press releases. As clumsy as Ballyhoo can be, it often seems efortlessly (or at least casually) literary in a way that I appreciate. This is a text, firmly rooted in pulpy crime fiction, that never seems to need to announce itself.

The story, such as it is, involves a kidnapped girl, a greedy businessman, and angry clowns.

Despite some messiness, there are some fine technical and craft moments to be found. There is, perhaps, the most interesting framing for a time travel puzzle that I have ever seen. There is a wickedly funny puzzle-joke about public radio.

Importantly, Ballyhoo runs on a subjective clock. Time only advances in-game when certain actions or story beats have completed. Previous Infocom mystery games ran on an objective clock. With an objective clock, time advanced with each user action, and the world responded in kind. At this late date, the objective clock is largely absent from interactive fiction. The subjective clock, on the other hand, is a staple not only in IF but in many game genres. Whatever one makes of O'Neill as an author, this contribution has become so common that few ever recall that, like everything else, someone had to do it first.

Will you like playing Ballyhoo? Circus settings, especially ones with this level of prose quality, are incredibly rare in the commercial era. In that sense, it offers a lot in terms of novelty and variety. The writing, as I've already said, is very good, and stylistically unique among all other Infocom games. The puzzles are mixed, though some strong, innovative ones are to be found. Finally, the feelies are excellent, with more great writing by O'Neill and evocative illustrations that summon an ambiance of faded nostalgia.

Ballyhoo is not going to be the game that changes your mind about Infocom, but it is a must play for fans and parser history buffs. The Invisiclues are available, and, as always, I encourage their use should the puzzles lose their glamour.

A final note: Ballyhoo was also history-making in that it was the first Infocom game in which a protagonist could be a woman explicitly rather than implicitly. That is, players have often tried to see themselves in Infocom protagonists, but it was usually unclear what Infocom's intentions were with regard to protagonist identities. Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether a character was inclusive or merely vague. Ballyhoo gives the player a clear, unambiguous choice with regard to gender.

Sadly, O'Neill didn't do anything very interesting with the choice, but the moment remains one for the history books.

In any case, there are enough historically notable features to make Ballyhoo worth one's time, and, thanks to O'Neill's prose, there is a great deal more than that.

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

Deadline was, in its day, a technical marvel. Nothing in Zork I or II could have prepared players for its intricate machinery. The suspects roam the map, living out their respective days, and these people can actually talk about more than one thing! They sometimes alter their schedules based on what the player does. The protagonist can catch them lying by confronting with evidence. They can be tailed or hidden from. You can even send items to a crime lab for analysis. Deadline is, in other words, a game where you get to do cool detective stuff.

The mystery itself is of the locked door kind, a type familiar to anyone who has read a bit of genre fiction. It is rewarding to unravel, too. There are multiple people deserving of the player's suspicion, and multiple playthroughs will likely be required before the player can focus on the killer.

It makes for a type of "groundhog day" effect; the player will have to spend time learning the characters' schedules and narrowing the investigation.

I have heard others say that Deadline is unfair, though I didn't find it so. Much will depend upon the player's actions when discovering a specific clue. Some find the appropriate action unmotivated, while others had no such problems. I have seen competent and experienced players stand on both sides of the fence, so your own experience of Deadline's fairness will likely be idiosyncratic.

It was one of the first Infocom games I played as a boy, but I never solved it then. That would come years later, taking me two years. It was a game I put down and later returned to, again and again. I usually thought of new things to try while in the shower or driving. It's that kind of experience.

Deadline is the first game of its kind. Other games labelled as mysteries really weren't. Not like this.

I don't think that awarding a rating to Deadline would be very productive. It is a foundational work in terms of both story and programming. I'll start rating games with Starcross if/when I get there.

Of all of Infocom's folio release titles, Suspended is the least-reviewed and second least-rated here at IFDB. I have seen it referred to as a "management and optimization" game, and I think the intended meaning is that Suspended is not "real" IF.

I don't agree.

This is because most of Infocom's early games have major management components. In Planetfall, consider the juggling required to get all potentially useful items from one complex to another. If you don't think these matters are serious in Planetfall, try carrying a ladder someplace while hungry or tired. Zork II likely requires at least two playthroughs: one where you learn what to do, and one where you do it before your lamp runs out. To solve Deadline, you will likely plan and then follow a strict schedule, making sure to be in exactly the right places at exactly the right time.

Suspended is different in that it is open about its management components. Quite open. In fact, the folio's manual dedicates real estate to "strategic planning." I appreciate it when a game lets me know what I am in for, provided it can deliver in an interesting way.

Speaking of the folio, I believe Suspended is the game that suffers the most in its transition from folio to grey box. The folio's featureless, white face, masking a terrified visage crowned with electrical leads, is instantly compelling. While Infocom would never really embrace graphics, they certainly seem to realize how effectively the right visuals can induce potent emotional responses. The folio manual is better, too, and I encourage new players to retrieve all package materials from the Museum of Computer Adventure Game History before starting.

In Suspended, you play a cryogenically frozen person that must, should an emergency occur, be roused from slumber. Awake as you suddenly are, it is your task to stabilize the "Filtering Computers" responsible for controlling weather, food production, and mass transportation for the entire planet of Contra. Casualties mount by the minute, and should you take too long, you will be killed and replaced by a clone.

The protagonist never leaves the cryochamber. Instead, they interface with six robots that both act and perceive on the player's behalf, and these robots constantly feed the player information. Each has different sensory abilities, so they have different names and descriptions for objects they encounter. Their descriptions of rooms differ as well. In the first playthrough it would be wise to send every robot to every room, just to see what all of them say. I really enjoyed this dimension of the game; it is a bit like the parable of the blind men and the elephant. The game world is small, but you get to see it six different ways.

I have also seen it said that there isn't a story here. I believe the documents included create a strong sense of place which is reinforced by certain observable events. I also think Suspended is the only Infocom game with what I would call enduring narrative propulsion. Starcross begins with a clear sense of forward movement, but once you reach a certain point there are no time constraints. In Suspended, you have to deal with the evolving situation effectively or you will die. You have to do so by immediately mitigating problems while developing a permanent solution. The urgency never lets up. The plot, modest as it is, remains, er... suspenseful due to constraints, temporal and otherwise.

Just as in other early Infocom games, multiple playthroughs are likely needed before solving Suspended. There are traditional puzzles to solve--some of them quite challenging. I remember my satisfaction upon completing Suspended for the first time, only to discover that I had allowed so many casualties that the populace wanted to burn me at the stake! After a few more tries I was able to get the best possible score. That time, only 12,000 people died. Getting the best score was unusually satisfying, even compared with other Infocom titles.

I have seen at least one critic attempt to psychoanalyze the sort of person who likes Suspended. I don't think that's necessary, but I will say that not everyone will care for it. I believe players open to multiple playthroughs will enjoy it the most. Trying to get everything right the first time will lead only to frustration. The sort of person who would enjoy making a map from complex data (Suspended actually comes with a map, but it doesn't say what is in each room) and interpreting non-visual descriptions of places and things will probably enjoy mastering Suspended. Players who dislike learning from failure or using knowledge gained from previous playthroughs probably should give it a miss.

Suspended's gameplay scenario is one that only interactive fiction could handle well, given that most video games rely exclusively on visual and auditory stimuli. Sight and hearing are the least-utilized senses in Suspended.

It's worth noting that Suspended is Mike Berlyn's first Infocom game, and I believe Marc Blank recruited him for his writing chops. I suppose some might find it ironic that Suspended is so narratively non-traditional, but I think that perspective sells IF short. Surely we all realize now that IF is a much bigger tent than we may have assumed way back when, no matter which robot is in the room.

I suppose many people think excellence is a zero sum game. It sometimes seems that one must pick between Trinity and A Mind Forever Voyaging. They cannot both be transcendent, some must believe. Only one game can rest at the tip of Infocom's spear. It's common - expected, perhaps - to see someone enter a conversation about A Mind Forever Voyaging only to say "I like Trinity better." The opposite is true, as well. One of these games must soar at the expense of the other, these exchanges seem to prove.

Such partisans do not realize the full complexity of their situation, as there is, in fact, a third game worthy of consideration: Dave Lebling's Spellbreaker. It seems that it has escaped the notice of star-givers and list-makers for most of the past four decades, though its critical fortunes have changed over the past few years. In 2019, it made its first appearance on an Interactive Fiction Top 50 of All Time poll with a placing of 36.

Spellbreaker is the sixth and final game in Infocom's two consecutive trilogies taking place in their famed Zork setting. This world, alternately whimsical and dark, finally makes good on its many promises throughout the series. What has it been promising? Change. This concluding episode delivers in what seems a final and irrevocable way. Spellbreaker's conclusion feels rewarding and philosophically complex. It is the narrative equivalent of a shower, then dinner, after a long hike on a warm day.

As the third game in the Enchanter trilogy, Spellbreaker uses a familiar, well-loved magic system. The player casts spells to solve problems and open new areas to explore, which in turn leads to the discovery of new spells, and so forth. It is an addicting loop. For 1980s games, the Enchanter series is quite deeply and generously implemented. These are, for their days, mechanically generous games. If you haven't played any game in this series, start with the first (Enchanter).

Since this is the third and final game of a trilogy, the protagonist of Spellbreaker is a powerful Enchanter, both in political and magical terms. In fact, they are the most powerful Enchanter to ever live. As the game begins, magic across the kingdom of Quendor (is it a kingdom? There seems to be no king) is failing. Since magic is the center of life in Quendor, this is a dire threat. Food production, economy, even public safety depend upon it. When guidmasters from across the land are transformed into small amphibians by a shadowy figure, the protagonist gives chase.

This pursuit drives the Enchanter through what is arguably Infocom's most complex and varied geography yet. Somehow, miraculously, it is all part of a single, complementary pattern. This world is a marvel of design: surreal, dangerous, and fascinating. Dave Lebling's prose has the density of poetry. This is his finest writing and an underrated competitor to Trinity's excellent prose. The ending, which not only concludes a game or a trilogy but a six-game series, is impeccable: unexpected, ambiguous, thrilling. It seems impossible that anyone could stick such a landing, but Lebling makes it all seem rather effortless.

Why has its recognition been so long in coming? I think it is a harder game than many would like, but players have fortunately grown more comfortable seeking hints. It's art, not an ironman contest. Experience Spellbreaker on your own terms, but please do experience it. The writing alone is worth the trip. For those who enjoy puzzles, though, many brilliant, satisying, and, yes, difficult puzzles await. With only one exception, I found them as rewarding as they were fair. This is a game that filled its Commodore 64-compatible story format to the brim. There is no fat, and there are no misspent words.

One of the greatest works of interactive fiction ever made. I mean this sincerely.

If Zork I is Infocom's most iconic title and Trinity its most critically admired, then perhaps Planetfall is the most likely to engender sentimental attachment. Reviews breathlessly enthuse about its supporting character, Floyd, and rightfully so. I am fairly confident that Planetfall is the first bit of electronic entertainment to make people cry (excepting tears of frustration). Nothing can take such an accomplishment from Meretzsky or Planetfall.

It would seem, though, that attitudes toward Planetfall have shifted over the years. It is the second highest-rated Infocom title ranked by IFDB. If I am not mistaken it was, for a time, rated more highly than Trinity. Be that as it may, it has not appeared on a "Top 50 of All Time" list since 2011, while Trinity, Zork, and Wishbringer have endured. Stranger still, the once frequently-dismissed Suspended made the 2019 list. Were I still in graduate school, I would beg a site administrator to expose the raw rating data. When were these ratings for Planetfall entered? What is the historical trend? Since I am no longer in graduate school, we will have to settle for an obvious truth: tastes change, people change.

Then and now, Planetfall has had a lot going for it. You, the protagonist, are living on borrowed time and must (Spoiler - click to show)find a cure for the disease that is killing you. The setup instills Planetfall with something frequently absent from Infocom games: a sense of narrative urgency. As you explore a strangely abandoned alien science outpost, you solve an assortment of well-clued, satisfying puzzles. The gonzo hijinks of your robot companion, somehow, do not negate the empty outpost's ambiance of ominous desolation. The game's final set piece ending is truly exhilarating, Infocom's best so far.

Everything works so well that a player may not even notice how hard Planetfall works to--for lack of a better phrase--jerk them around. The inventory management implementation is rather extreme, even for Infocom. The game world is liberally populated with red herrings to clog up your limited carrying capacity. When you pick up one too many items, you drop not only the item you were attempting to carry but also drop another random item from your inventory. A long train ride separates two large areas--if you don't bring the correct items to the train you may as well restore your game. And you won't bring the right items. Really. You find a key and lock combination (Spoiler - click to show)that work far away from your current location. After you lug yourself, saddled as you are with food, sleep, and disease timers, across the entire game world (truly! end-to-end), you will discover that the combination is completely worthless. Elsewhere, It is likely that you will find yourself hungry and tired while carrying a large ladder--having dropped your food to free up carrying capacity--down a very long hallway. Planetfall is also the first Infocom game to incorporate sleep and hunger timers.

That this mix still succeeds says a lot about the creative powers of Steve Meretzsky. What other game could require the management and planning of Suspended without the satisfactions of a management and planning game, and yet enjoy the love of so many people? What is Planetfall's secret? It can't be the ending, (Spoiler - click to show)which stretches credibility so far that one of the "Eaten by a Grue" podcasters thought that it was a dying hallucination of the kind found in "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge." The secret is Floyd; what a difference a robot makes! His implementation is incredibly shallow--you can't ask him about anything and you can only get him to do a few things, and yet it really does feel as though he is your friend. He is the Eliza of computer game sidekicks. People who have written about IF academically tend to be interested in Floyd, and why wouldn't they be?

For its ability to rouse actual tears, Planetfall qualifies as too big to judge. Thus, I assign no rating to it. Even if, decades ago, you--tired, hungry, and sick--left the laser at the far end of the train tracks, you must still admit that (Spoiler - click to show)the scene outside the Bio Lab got to you.

Worth a look, if only to know what everybody else is talking about. Or was talking about. For many, it will be worth more than a look.

Edit: I should mention that I encountered a nasty problem with release 39. Dropped items did not appear in room descriptions. I'm not sure what triggered it, but I recommend playing another version.

Just this morning, I witnessed two online conversants discuss the "overrated" nature of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Typically, I interpret the term "overrated" as an oblique yet economical way of saying "most people like this more than I do."

Still, since it was Infocom's second best-selling game after Zork I, it could be both overrated and quite good all at the same time. For those who have never heard of this game, it is based on approximately half of the beloved Douglas Adams novel of the same name. While I think it is a commonly-held belief that Steve Meretzky performed most of the technical development while Adams was responsible for the text (and was a co-designer of puzzles, perhaps), most researchers today know better. In fact, we generally accept that the game is almost entirely Meretzky's design, barring the source text (all Adams, obviously) and some significant consultations.

Like all of Meretzky's Infocom games (we can debate Zork Zero some other time), it's a worthwhile play for anyone interested in 1980s interactive fiction. His humorous prose blends perfectly with parts written by Adams (whether original or taken from the novel). This is a very funny game as a result, and I would say the laughs alone are worth the price of admission.

However, from a historical perspective, there are interesting formal innovations that truly set it apart, content aside. First, it includes several metatextual features that playfully subvert what we then expected out of a narrator-player relationship. Additionally, it was Infocom's first modular design, featuring multiple, small maps and more than one playable character. These features would have felt quite new and exciting back in 1984, even if they were overshadowed by the game's signature elements: Douglas Adams as author, humor, and possibly unreasonable puzzle design.

What of puzzles? The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is surprisingly difficult for a "Standard" difficulty game. In fact, the conventional wisdom is that it is "Standard" only because "Advanced" or "Expert" would have discouraged sales. I personally think it's harder than Starcross, that other difficult science fiction game. Players can easily lock themselves out of victory. In all honesty, they probably will. These conditions can feel quite cheap, as one can reach the penultimate move of the game, only to discover the impossibility of the situation.

What is comparable? The "flouresce" spell in Zork II, perhaps.

The Invisiclues are readily available online. Do yourself a favor and keep them close at hand. They are at least fun to read, written as they were by Steve Meretzky himself. If you are only interested in puzzles, or somehow dislike Adams or Meretzky, give this a pass. Otherwise, this is a very innovative game with Meretzky's best writing to-date. Highly recommended for players interested in 80s IF, Infocom, or the evolution of IF narrative stuctures. Alternately, just use the hints and laugh your way through.

There's a rather famous quote about the Velvet Underground's first album. It comes from an LA Times interview with Brian Eno:

“I was talking to Lou Reed the other day, and he said that the first Velvet Underground record sold only 30,000 copies in its first five years. Yet, that was an enormously important record for so many people. I think everyone who bought one of those 30,000 copies started a band!"

In 1985, Steve Meretzky was hardly a Lou Reed. He was probably one of the better-known game developers in America, thanks to the success of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Infocom, for its part, was hardly Verve Records. They had published some of the most successful microcomputer games ever made, and were making a play for big, corporate software dollars.

And yet, for all of Infocom's lavish production and post-production resources, A Mind Forever Voyaging has the aspirational earnestness of a small art film. According to Jimmy Maher, people around the office referred to it as "Steve Meretzky's Interiors," an unflattering comparison to Woody Allen's 1978 film of the same name. In fairness to Meretzky's contemporaries, amused bafflement is a possible reaction to something that one has never seen, anticipated, or imagined.

I could go on like this for hours. In fact, I already have elsewhere. So let's let this review be a review. In A Mind Forever Voyaging, the player guides an artificial intelligence, Perry Simm, though various iterations of a simulated future. The point of the simulation is to evaluate the effects of a sweeping legislative package usually referred to as "The Plan." The author of said plan is "Richard Ryder," and he and his policies are meant to remind us of Ronald Reagan.

The gameplay here is radically different from what one would have been used to in 1985. Perry must observe and record events and conditions that the game considers significant in terms of enriching or expanding the simulation. The AI is expanding its data set, in other words, while we guide Perry through daily life in Rockvil, Dakota. What is popular entertainment like, for instance, across the decades following the implementation of The Plan? How does the Simm family - Perry, Jill, and little Mitchell - get on? How are things at Perry's favorite Chinese restaurant?

Contemporary reviewers sometimes gloss over these innovations, missing the significance of centering human experiences and relationships in interactive narratives in 1985. Perhaps it is because we see these things everywhere nowadays. It can be easy to miss the influence of A Mind Forever Voyaging because it is everywhere. It can be hard to find an absence from which we can begin, from which we can detect its presence.

It has problems as a video game, and some of those problems are serious. It is not always clear what data is and is not useful for Perry, which can lead to feelings of being stuck. There is a climactic puzzle that has no relationship to the gameplay in the rest of the game. A game should train the player for its endgame, which A Mind Forever Voyaging fails to do.

I encourage contemporary players to refer to the Invisiclues - written by Meretzky himself - when stuck. If you don't understand a word or phrase in a Shakespeare play, do you look it up? The language of 1980s interactive fiction can seem equally arcane. Sometimes, these old games can feel mechanically obsolete. Which is fine! We have resources to help us through them as needed.

Some critics have invested significant ink in characterizing the model of AI in AMFV as unrealistic or incredible, as if A Mind Forever Voyaging was ever meant to be about computers. Despite appearances, it is about human beings. Humans wielding power, humans making art, humans forging friendships and families. Humans getting old together, humans insisting - rather shockingly in this context - that care, thoughtfulness, and imagination are essential to well-lived lives.

That isn't true, of course.

There is no such thing that "everybody" loves, unless it is a good night's sleep. Still, Wishbringer is emblematic of the shifting critical fortunes of Infocom games over the years. If we consider this site's aggregation alongside Victor Gijsbers's top 50 polls, we might guess that only a handful of Infocom's games retain the stature that they enjoyed, say, twenty-five years ago. At last polling (2019), those most-loved games include Spellbreaker, Wishbringer, Zork I, A Mind Forever Voyaging, Suspended, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and Trinity. The mix has shifted slightly in each successive poll, but Wishbringer has remained a constant. The aggregation tells an entirely different story: Planetfall, as only one example, is on the front page of IFDB games listed by rating!

Why Wishbringer? Much comes down to the talents of Brian Moriarty, who makes his stunning debut with this "Introductory" game for all audiences. The prose is descriptive and charming, and a "double world" of light and dark fills exploration with feelings of recognition and wonder. Its good-natured humor lacks the snark of so many Infocom games, and the experience is better for it.

The feelies and packaging only enhance the fairy-tale ambiance of the game and include a glow-in-the-dark "wishing stone" and an illustrated "Legend of Wishbringer" story. The story is darker than one might expect, but the quality of the content is excellent.

Regarding gameplay, I have "good news and bad news." The good news is that Wishbringer features multiple solutions to puzzles, which widens its audience and essentially offers multiple difficulties. This is an innovative approach that I'm not sure Infocom replicated elsewhere. (Spoiler - click to show)I wouldn't count Zork III's "hello sailor" solution, since that's more of an easter egg. If you can think of other cases, please mention them in a comment!

The bad news, at least for me as a little boy, is this: making wishes is the "easy" mode and awards no points. As a kid with a game called "Wishbringer" and a glowing wishing stone, I wanted to make wishes. I also wanted a high score. I cannot fault any child, young or old, for feeling disappointed.

I should recognize that this is still an Infocom game from the 1980's, which means that some of it will seem quite unfriendly to contemporary players, despite obvious efforts to make itself accessible to audiences of its time. In particular, one can make the game unwinnable early on without knowing. Wishbringer also punishes the player for (Spoiler - click to show)not drawing a map in a specific place, and it feels quite jarring in a game so friendly.

Still, these are all faults that Wishbringer manages to transcend. Don't let the "Introductory" designation fool you. This game is incredibly charming, very well written, and, whatever its failings might be, quite innovative in terms of its approach to difficulty. Highly, highly, highly recommended.

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.

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

I find it hard to evaluate Zork II, but perhaps this is my problem alone. After all, it is the second best-rated Zork game on IFDB, surpassed only by the rather corpulent Zork Zero.

It contains what many consider the two worst puzzles in the Infocom canon. One, I am happy to forgive, considering the intent behind it. In creating the infamous "baseball maze," Dave Lebling wished make to something interesting out of Zork I's least interesting obstacle: the maze. It is, in other words, a failed attempt to innovate. The other notorious Zork II puzzle is the Bank of Zork, which is only inches away from being a worthwhile and challenging puzzle. Unfortunately, it was simply ported directly from the mainframe version of Zork. I wonder if Lebling was unwilling to alter Marc Blank's work (the puzzle was his creation). Judging from his talk at a GDC Post Mortem years ago, Lebling knew that the puzzle had issues. He knew that others at Infocom had problems with the puzzle. The Bank of Zork went in untouched, all the same.

So I will forgive one and begrudge the other.

In other good news: Zork II's map feels far more organic than Zork I's, despite the fact that they were largely cut from the same puzzle-laden cloth. My only complaint is that its central hub, the carousel, is a massive waste of your lantern's batteries, and there is no torch to save you this time. On your first playthrough, you may immediately stumble upon the source of the carousel's spinning, or you may not reach it until your lamp is flickering. Just as many game developers today do, Infocom was perhaps struggling to find the line between a challenge and a hassle.

The game's final act before victory appears to be unmotivated, and a related event can render the game unwinnable.

However, the game's new additions, the Wizard and the demon, take Zork II in an interesting and new direction. This time, the treasures are actually FOR something. There is a reasonable, in-game reason for collecting treasure that propels Zork, a game and a half later, beyond the reach of ADVENT's shadow. Slight as it is, we have something new here: a bona fide story.

The titular Wizard is a mixed bag. At the time, of course, he was a bit of a marvel, performing feats of magic that had differing effects based on multiple factors. He was additionally a font of Zorkian humor, alternately causing you to levitate out of a hot air baloon or... conjuring the smell of fudge.

By the time your second playthrough rolls around (the one where you are better able to conserve lantern batteries), you will likely have tired of him and his battery-burning abra kadabery. Though far less remarked-upon, the really compelling new character is the demon--Lebling obviously enjoyed writing him.

Zork II is an interesting pivot point for Infocom. The Adventurer is no longer *just* a looter of fallen civilizations. They are playing a bigger game now, defeating wizards and ordering demons about. While few saw it coming, the glum ambiance of Zork III makes sense. The time has come, as they say, to put away childish things.

I like Zork II more than Zork, and I think I am in the minority despite IFDB's numbers: these things are hardly scientific. I feel that, in Zork II, the confines of ADVENT's "cave game" have begun to buckle. Lebling's addition of Wizard, Demon, and modest plot are quite innovative for their time, and they were brought to life by what was then the world's most sophisticated parser.

Like Zork I, Zork II is historically significant. It is worth a visit if nothing else, and can be quite enjoyable if one is accepting of such an old game's eccentricities.

I give no rating for Zork II. 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.