The Perilous Plot

In the spring of two thousand and twenty six, I, Isidor Ottavio Baldassare Fosco, Count of the Holy Roman Empire, poured all the gold of my rich nature into this heroic task: to review a game in which I am the prime mover, but do not appear in my full splendor – rendered, by the pen of a grasping and jealous author, farcical, capering, an organ-grinder’s monkey gifted, admittedly, with my mesmeric gaze, but subordinated to the caprices of chance rather than elevated above it by virtue of supreme intellect. As one who originated the rôle of the sensation-novel villain, I recoil to see it performed today in so tawdry an imitation.

I note these personal reasons to deplore the present work, only to dismiss them. One of the rarest of all the intellectual accomplishments is for a man to judge with perfect impartiality even when his reputation is called to question. Immense privilege! I possess it – do you?

But to commence upon the matter. To create an interactive fiction drawn from the world of the sensation novel and its gothic-novel antecedent is only natural; and it is just as natural to align the player with the interests of the devilish antagonist, rather than the insipid protagonist. Lurking in a decaying manse, bent to the realization of a grand design, the villain starts at the intrusion of those who would foil my – that is, his – conspiracy:

"After years of meticulous manipulation, your plans are nearing completion. You are so close to your goal you can taste it. As you stare out the window of your only somewhat stolen manor you see a blot on the horizon that troubles you."

The author – surely a person of the lower classes – is not content to present a single elegantly-laid narrative, but has recourse to games of chance instead. The pair of heroes who burst onto the scene are chosen at random – perhaps a ghost, or a turncoat partner, or simply a nosy neighbor who has no business in interfering with matters as far beyond them as is Fosco from a gnat!

The throw of dice likewise governs the resolution of the repeated confrontations between these contending forces. The villain must choose where to set an ambuscade for his quarry, knowing that their strength waxes in some environs and wanes in others. And as a master of matters both chemical and metaphysical, I look with approval upon the influence of weather on the success of the villain’s endeavors: the black, baleful eye of the new moon will set some heroes’ sinews a-tremble, while endowing others with false courage, and it is much the same case with clouds, the lashing wind, &c. Still, is matching opportunity to action so mechanical a process as the game proposes? It is not. And does success turn on the mere fortuity of happenstance, rather than the perfection of premeditation? It does not – infuriating, insufferable insolence!

My own mental insight informs me that three inevitable questions will be asked here by persons of inquiring minds. They shall be stated—they shall be answered.

First question. How may a mere glance defat the heroes? The answer is, the villain is like myself a disciple of Mesmer, capable of reducing the most stalwart of meddlers to a senseless swoon with the precise application of their gaze (subject, I repeat, to the vagaries of the dice which so enamor the author). Should they faint ten times or more, their strength shall fail and, chastened, they shall slink back to the London drawing-rooms of their friends, in search of sympathy for their unmanly failures. One gloats at the prospect, though one also quails at the repetitiveness of besting such unworthy opponents so many times.

Second question. May the villain also complete his plot? Answer: perhaps, though even I – I! – have not managed it. The vulgarity of the present author extends to assessing the success of a design not according to its sublimity, its refusal to obey the limits inscribed at the borders of human imagination and human morality, but instead by a counter of Plot Points. These are increased by using an appropriate item against the heroes at an appropriate time, rather than relying on the gaze, but beyond the damnable abstraction, Fosco must raise an objection: why can poisoned lemonade be proffered profitably in a cloudy colonnade, but not a sunny lake? And having once sucked its sour venom, would any hero truly be dull-witted enough to sup again, and again, when given the chance? To exhaust the possibilities compassed by the author’s limited mind would exhaust me as well.

Third question. Is this as much fun as it sounds? I answer, to be Fosco is to feel, with Icarus, the tips of your wings brush against the firmament of heaven – but, besting the Greek, to rise once more, rather than to fall! The game gives the taste of such bliss, but only the meanest taste.

I enter into no sordid particulars, in discussing this part of the subject. My mind recoils from them. With a Roman austerity, I pass on in silence.

Well, perhaps you are owed one sordid particular:

"Ice hangs off the balcony, like the teeth of some impossible beast. The cold wind blows, and you are exposed, no longer protected by walls and warm tapestries. Snowflakes dust your shoulders, as bright as diamonds and three times as cold.

"You break icicles off the ledge and drop them off the roof, waiting to hear them shatter below. The only thing better would be if they actually hit someone.

"‘How fraile ice is. Just one tap and it shatters. How similar to human bones. You just need to know where to hit it.’ You snap an icicle and the heroes jump."

A captivating scene, truly. But the misspoken word, the recourse to mere brutishness, the sullying of one’s hands – these are the actions of a lackey, nothing else.

A word more, and the attention of the reader (concentrated breathlessly on myself) shall be released. Shall the Perilous Plot be indicted in the public dock? Can the verve of its conception survive against the accusation that it does not do justice to its theme? Can we set aside the ways it has insulted me, as the origin and archetype of its protagonist?

No. It cannot be permitted – the enormity cannot be forgiven. Youths! I invoke your sympathy. Maidens! I claim your tears.

I announced, on beginning it, that this narrative would be a remarkable document. It has entirely answered my expectations. At immense personal sacrifice, I followed the dictates of my own ingenuity, my own humanity, my own caution. Receive these fervid lines—they are worthy of the occasion, and worthy of

–FOSCO

(With apologies to Wilkie Collins)

Originally written on the intfiction forums. Minor edits were made.

You’re a dastardly villain in a suitably moody mansion, whose antics are limited to threatening the heroes by making quips, attempted blackmail, or, perhaps the most effective, glaring menacingly at them until they faint. You are given a choice between two random rooms to go into (which eventually repeat after eight or so turns), and in each room, decide whether to confront the heroes using your gaze or hopefully cutting words, use or scavenge for items or silently observe your opponents. Your chances of success are up to random chance, though the effectiveness of your gaze, the location, and the weather can help or hinder you.

There are two ways to win, either by making the heroes faint enough or getting enough plot points. I thought it was pretty easy racking up the required number of faints, but I never found a consistent way of getting enough plot points. The first few times I chose to look for items, I didn’t get any so I stopped picking that option altogether. If you attempt to use an item you already have, the game will automatically pick one appropriate for the current situation or tell you it’s no use and waste a turn. Getting a considerable amount of failed gaze checks lowers their effectiveness, but some smart use of picking locations with appropriate weather should override that - if the RNG favors you. Eventually, I ended up finding the game structure and descriptions to be repetitive when I had two more faints left to go, and continuously spammed Gaze while only skimming the results text.

Frustrations aside, having a stare so powerful that people faint from it is the energy I wish I could have. With some more text variety and clarity on the stat checks, I would feel more comfortable recommending The Perilous Plot to a wider audience, beyond those who are intimately familiar with authors like Ann Radcliffe and Matthew Gregory Lewis.

I started playing through all Spring Thing 2026 games in reverse order by IFDB rating. I saw this one had a 2.5 rating, and so I had low expectations going in. The first screen really surprised me: fun, inspired text, nice layout, a comprehensive help system. How could this be rated low?

Then I tried the game itself, and now I can see. There's little to no connection between individual events, and almost no wrap-up at the end. You are placed in a variety of class villain situations and act against the protagonists, but they retain no memory of events, there is no plot arc, the characters are different every time, etc.

Love the writing in this but not the mechanics so much. I'm glad that what is there is polished. I've liked work by this author before, who's done some fun forum games.

Adapted from a SpringThing26 Review

Played: 4/16/26, 4/22/26
Playtime: 40min (4 iterations, 3x0 plot fails, a week later 1 dastardly success)

Before I start my review, let me just finish this tea you thoughtfully provided me. ya-aw-awn Oh Spring Thing, I know it’s time to review another entry, but today was sooo long. I’m just going to close my eyes for bit, I’ll get to… it.. soooooooon.. SZRXNNN…

This work gets HUUUGE points from me for its unabashed commitment to its bit. Its inspiration is a tongue-in-cheek deconstruction of Gothic pulp literature. Its central systems are based on a hilariously reductive analysis of the genre’s villain, protagonist and setting tropes. Even as a non-fan of the source, the IMPULSE to clown on its straight-faced conceits is so something I would do. To then gamify it? I am aligned with everything about this, author!

The parodic playfulness is doing a lot of lifting here. As a player, how do I choose between Withering Gaze and Overconfident Monologuing??? They are both so DELICIOUS!!! In the end though, I didn’t find the elements beyond its central conceit to be as weight-bearing.

For one, for a work so committed to the MOOD of its inspiration, portraying it in bland, default Twine formatting felt like a missed opportunity. A presentation more steeped in browns and greys (black was well covered), perhaps with evocative location backgrounds and Gothic fonts… back it with a portentous parlor music soundtrack… such flourishes would have really elevated the goals of the piece, I think.

Aesthetics aside, there was a bigger issue with my playthroughs - I question whether the game systems are ‘fair.’ This is a conclusion I jump to all too often, as the alternative is “well, reviewer, you are just BAD at this.” Certainly it is ONE of those two things, and in the end, does it even matter which? My experience was the same - baffling failure after baffling failure. The work provides some measure of ‘rules’ for you: that some (randomized) weather and locations will confound your randomized antagonists while others will buttress them. Intimidate them to ‘0’ and win; if failure leaches your ‘plot’ to 0 or your timer expires, lose. This suggests a pretty specific play style: confront your opponents where weakest, defer engagement where strong. This strategy was laughingly ineffective. I routinely failed (and lost Gaze capability!) where those thrice-damned heroes were weakest and occasionally succeeded where they were strong? In EVERY case, my plot points drained to zero much faster than any headway against my foes.

I do not know the mechanisms at play, but it FEELS like unconstrained randomness. Randomness in opponents whose FIBER scores combine to make your GAZE goal: on repeat plays I experienced some goal totals that were TWICE previous ones! If I can’t Wither “12” before my plot runs out, how will I EVER Wither “24”??? (This might be a bug? On repeat plays I ALSO got to see the previous randomized Heroes, making me wonder if I was getting harder goal scores due to non-reset, compounding game state. Or are some heroes just WAAAY more resilient?). To set scale, the path to success was 3-6 TIMES longer than the path to failure.

Further, there was cuing text that seemed to occur before and after an implicit “die roll.” Ie I might get a message "You are well prepared." That conveyed, 'ok, strategically on the right track! ’ To be immediately followed by (para) "The heroes laugh at your efforts. (Your Gaze score has decreased.)" How do I parse THAT combination? I tried the right thing, and failed anyway? The work strongly implied your GAZE score was the basis for randomization, but also seemed to modify your score based on results? This is a really punishing mechanic, if true. It reinforces results, making it MORE likely to succeed or fail next time based on the current roll of the die. Statistically, this means if you ever dip below 50%, you are increasingly likely to be on a resolute path to 0 plot. Which was my experience EVERY SINGLE TIME.

(SZNrr.. just a little more, donwannagetup…)

In addition to seemingly deceptive strategy guidance, some commands implied stat improvement by “practice.” Trying that (many times) did not seem to yield impactful improvements, and were just advancing my timer to the lose threshold. The gameplay was conveyed both too clearly (this is the strategy that SHOULD help) and inadequately (WHY DIDN’T IT???). Certainly, I did not tumble onto any cues that refined my understanding of dynamics under my control. Just one baffling failure after another.

Ultimately, it felt unbalanced? Randomization in games is a specific type of mitigation challenge - deduce how to optimize your chances of success against capricious fate, trusting probability and big numbers to not create unwinnable scenarios. This requires balancing the math in your randomization to not create a ‘failure drain’ and communicating action effects clearly enough for players to deduce mitigation strategies. My play experience was that neither of these things were accomplished? Since it is MY choice whether I call this “Game Design” or “Player Incompetence” you might guess which way I am leaning.

Despite those conclusions, I still carry a warm feeling about Perilous Plot. The scampish impulse to poke fun at something you love, then commit to it so HARD… I can’t stay mad.

SZZrxxXX, huhWhosat…? yawn Did I nod off? I just had the weirdest dream. Yeah, I was playing Perilous Plot, but it was different somehow. The hero-based faint targets were lower. Also my powers were more effective, in ways the game helped me anticipate? And I started with no items instead of two… Weird thing to dream about, yeah? It’s almost like I dreamed about a different game. Or am I dreaming now, and the randomization led to a circumstance where positive feedback launched me to success with the same inevitability as the prior failures? Has the game been altered, or has Dame Fortune trapped me in a dream within a dream? I DON’T KNOW!

CURSE YOU PERILOUS PLOT! DID YOU DRUG MY TEA??? BY MY HEAVING BOSOM YOU SHALL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS GASLIGHTING SKULLDUGGERY!!!

Spaceship: Heart of Gold
Vibe: “Before I Kill You, Mr. Bond…”
Polish: Smooth
Gimme the Wheel! : If this were my project, I’d really have to dig into the math. DO I have a fun drain? If so, what is the math that mitigates it, and how do I cue players towards these mitigations? I’d prioritize that over the graphical presentation, at least initially. OR DID I ALREADY DO THAT???

Polish scale: Gleaming, Smooth, Textured, Rough, Distressed
Gimme the Wheel: What I would do next, if it were my project.