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.

Easily deserving at least a 9/10 in IFComp metrics, it VERY strongly executed its plot. Though fairly easy relative to the level I'm more used to with IF, the puzzles and riddles provided just the right amount of challenge to be rewarding (and sometimes quite humorous) and not hamper the flow of the plot and worldbuilding in any way! It really felt immersive with how everything seemed to happen at the same (namely your tasks and intrigue springing up quite dynamically). As well, everything was very well thought out and meticulously planned with foreshadowing and hints were very well integrated into the text itself! (Spoiler - click to show)I especially liked how you needing to write "quit", a common command in IF, to stip using the compass made it extremely natural for the player to quit their job as valet at the end after fiddling with complass for the last time.

Adapted from an IFCOMP24 Review

So, I spent a good amount of COVID’s duration, like many of us, spinning in my own brain, grasping at any lifeline I could think of. One of my outlets was to create and share cocktails weekly, with fancy names like ‘Science Schmience,’ ‘A-B-CDC-Ya,’ and eventually, ‘Orange Slapdown.’ As the weeks dragged on, the obvious complementary flavors (and what was available readily in stores!) grew rarer, so I periodically tried combining things I loved individually to see if they played together. So very, very often they did not. Usually, it was obvious going in that they would not, but hey, science right? With enough time and energy, like a one-man infinite monkey with infinite cocktail shakers, I eventually tumbled onto a sublime discovery: the ‘Internal Sunshine of the Stable Genius Mind’ (and its candy-ass partner, the 'Internal Bleach of the Stable Genius Mind) – ISOSGM/IBOSGM for short. This improbable combination of citrus-forward gin, eldeflower liquer, kumquat simple syrup and egg combined to become so much more than the sum of its conflictory parts. (‘Bleach’ omits the egg in deference to my wife’s extreme physiological objections.)

The Bat performs similar alchemy in a less alcoholic medium. Take parts I love in isolation: servant-soire’-farce, superhero spoof, limited vocabulary parser, and light parlor mystery and you have the makings of a muddled mess. Or, in this case, something that improbably combines these elements into something greater even than their very pleasing individual parts.

Initially, I found the light vocabulary to be chafing - using the catch-all manipulation verb ‘attend to’ is intuitive when interacting with high society guests, but less so when fumbling with objects. It is in fact the only manipulation verb in the game, so eventually the shorthand ‘>a [object]’ alchemically becomes ‘whatever I currently want to do with [object]’ in my brainpan. Occasionally there are glitches where it is unclear which object should be attended to when you require two to interact, but again the brain quickly pastes ‘well, try the other one’ over the gap.

The early game is a pretty great ramp from acclimating the player to the syntax of the game and the geography of the mansion, then slowly but inexorably building guest on calamity on random events until the poor butler protagonist is flailing around the mansion like an electrified butterfly. Things are always just outside manageable and that masterful balance is where the humor continually keeps frustration at bay. There is a player score of sorts, charitable donations guests are willing to make based on how well they are attended to, and the ups and downs of this provide a very amusing tension to the proceedings.

As soon as that gameplay becomes familiar, the game shifts gears to a light parlor mystery whose culprit is not really in doubt, but the mechanics of catching them are interwoven into business and romantic trysts that test the protagonist’s inflappable discretion in various, hilarious ways. It also introduces some next level puzzling that is as funny as it is fun to play with, that ALSO builds on player knowledge in a very satisfying way.

Ultimately, the game crests to foreground the light superhero spoof it has been nodding at the entire game, a thoroughly ANTI grim’n’gritty take on a Dark Knight that could really stand to lighten up a bit. The final battle puzzle is a little clumsier than the leadup ones, but it does leverage the best mechanic in the game, so even flailing a bit is not unpleasant. Then, the FINAL employment of that mechanism turns into a double entendre’ so crisply tying the whole thing together that all is forgiven.

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the role the writing has in tying the whole thing together. The protagonist’s dry, beleaguered but indefatigable voice, committed to his role despite all its indignities, is the perfect counterpoint to the chaos around him. The narration is similarly matter-of-fact and minimal, letting the chaos speak for itself, and admirably gesturing at interesting details without clouding the vibe. This is a case study in ‘less is more,’ both for humor, and parser cluing.

It is clear I hope that I was thoroughly Engaged with this work. Like others of its scope, the 2hr timer provided an additional charge of tension at the end, as I had no intention of leaving the game unfinished. It was tight, but yay me. The limited vocabulary implementation ended up being a true strength, limiting opportunity for gaps while settling into a gameplay paradigm that was intuitive and transparent. I didn’t make an ISOSGM to celebrate its accomplishments as my kumquats* are not in season, but next time I enjoy one I will retroactively toast this game’s success.

*There is a whole different story around my wondrous discovery, so late in life, of the majesty of the humble kumquat. I will save that for a more appropriate time.

Played: 10/3/24
Playtime: 2hr, finished $100,000,000 in donation
Artistic/Technical ratings: Engaging/Seamless
Would Play Again?: No, experience feels complete

Artistic scale: Bouncy, Mechanical, Sparks of Joy, Engaging, Transcendent
Technical scale: Unplayable, Intrusive, Notable (Bugginess), Mostly Seamless, Seamless

The guests are almost here, and the master is in one of his moods. You're his faithful servant, and there's much to do: a cook to fire, candles to light, and a special harness to locate, to say nothing of what you'll need to do once the party actually starts. It's enough to make anyone go... batty.

The Bat is, to date, one of the best things I've read this year, and it's no surprise given that this is a Chandler Groover production. I recently reread Toby's Nose to see if it still held up to my impression of it, and it did - but what Groover has achieved here has eclipsed it.

The limited nature of the parser and inventory didn't faze me - on the contrary, it only served to heighten the experience; even a talented valet has only two hands, of course, and attending to things is in their nature. The charm and personality in the writing is ever-present and never falters, each room and strange object and wacky goings-on described in just as much detail that it needs to be. I don't think I quite got all the clever references - there certainly are a lot of them - but they by no means overstay their welcome.

One mechanic in particular stands out, as has been mentioned in other reviews, and whether it was intended as genre commentary or not, it was bloody good fun to solve puzzles with.

Just outstanding work all round, really. Five experimental bats out of five.