The Bat

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

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

It's not though.

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

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

About those puzzles:

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

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

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

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

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

That command is ATTEND TO [object/npc] .

Genius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great game.