Go to the game's main page
Review
It's snowy outside. A great opportunity to drink tea and play a mysterious video game!
I am a big fan of games that present a mundane narrative only to peel it all back to expose something sinister underneath. Violent Delight is that kind of game. But unlike some games that simply strive to horrify their audiences, the gristle in Violent Delight is also embodied in societal issues that are their own kind of horror.
To get to the meat of this review, go to the Story section.
Remember: Violent Delight is a game about a protagonist playing another game called “The Playground.” A game within a game. Don’t get them mixed up.
Gameplay
Violent Delight begins with the protagonist buying a cartridge game off an online auction site and having it shipped to their home to play on their computer. Our screen is organized into three columns: The left for messages we choose to save, the middle for the protagonist’s thoughts, while the right column represents the protagonist’s own computer screen.
“The Playground” is explored in levels. Each level features a small, illustrated map that we navigate with arrows. The illustrations are clickable. Clicking on signs, screens, and faces brings up a black text box with white text that shares a character’s thoughts or displays readable content. There is also a DOWN and UP button below the protagonist’s computer screen that allows you to visit the levels as they become available.
When you turn on “The Playground” you have a limited amount of time to play until it shorts out. There are probably technical details that went over my head, but the jist is that the game’s cartridge can be opened and tinkered with to allow us to access more levels. Tinkering with it takes time, though.
Speaking of time, here’s a quality of the gameplay that may drive some players away:
It.
Takes.
So.
Long.
For things to load.
Each portion of gameplay is interspaced by wait periods in the form of a loading-in-progress bar. The bar is meant to mark the passage of time in the game, only allowing you to move forward once the bar has filled. Except this can take a while. Now, I understand the narrative merit of this. If the protagonist must wait for a package to be delivered, so do you.
…but for a whole hour?
Maybe not exactly a full hour, but pretty darn close. And no, demanding efficiency of the postal service has no result. I was amused to find that if you wait too long to answer the door the delivery man just leaves it on your doorstep instead having you sign for it.
I don’t necessarily see these waiting periods as a bad thing since they are tied to the story. It also helps that the other waiting periods are only a few minutes each at most. However, having to wait at all will likely be a turnoff for some. Yes, it fits with the story, but I don’t know if this is worth losing potential players. At least most segments can be managed by opening another tab and doing other things while you wait.
Answer the door.
Finally!
Of course, if I overlooked an obvious feature that circumvents this inconvenience, someone let me know.
A convenient feature of the gameplay is a “Print” button that saves any text from “The Playground” that sparks your interest. You can then read it while the game makes you wait.
Ultimately, I’m glad I stuck it out. In fact, I ended up playing this game more than once.
Story/Characters
Game within the game
“The Playground” begins in a place called “Park.” It predominantly features child characters, and while there seems to be no sole protagonist, it does give a lot of attention to a boy named Rupert. Rupert is quite fond of his duck toy Duckie and has an innocent whimsical view of the world. Soon that innocence gets chiseled away.
please Read our manifesto!!! The world isn't what it seems!!! We have to save our reality!!!
Even the characters know something is up.
Each level becomes darker and edgier, though this is expressed in different ways.
(Spoiler - click to show)Conventionally, “Hell” (the third level) is the worse, though not nearly as intense as one would image since it is conveyed through goofy artwork and rambling text. In fact, it’s unclear is “Hell” is meant to be interpreted literally or if the scenes describing children being eaten are a mere fantasy of a character dealing with inner turmoil.
As a horror work, much of the scariness stems from its mundanity. The seventh layer is “Office.” After what I just told you about “Hell,” you’re probably thinking “No! Not an office, anything but that!” since, hey, at least Rupert and Duckie aren’t being prepped for a blood processing machine. But with “Office,” there is an overwhelming sense of existentialism, drudgery of daily life, and a feeling of inadequacy amongst one’s peers. The characters there seem just as miserable.
The most interesting level for me was “Laboratory,” the fifth level. No, not the kind containing flasks of chemicals and safety goggles. Rather, it appears to be a standardized testing center, the kind with paper-and-pencil tests familiar in most schools. Sit down. No talking. Here’s your paper. This is the time limit. Good luck, etc.
Except “The Playground” takes a more cynical stance on testing. In ALL-CAPS, the game talks down to the test takers, saying things like,
COMPLETE THIS PAPER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE ON THE STREET.
And,
IF YOUR ABILITIES AREN'T UP TO SNUFF THEN NEITHER ARE YOU.
The term “Laboratory” is used because the children taking the tests serve as test subjects in more than one way. In another room, several people are watching the test takers via video and making comments on subjects’ performances.
LIVE RESULTS
Rupert: FAILURE (could not sit still without familiar object)
Carla: SUCCESS (transfer recommended)
A trend we’ve seen throughout the game is Rupert being reprimanded for small things that slowly chip away his confidence. He’s chastised for his grammar and belittled for seeking companionship with Duckie. This comes to fruition in the testing center where he fails to meet the performance standards set by people watching behind a screen.
And Rupert is not the only person struggling. One observer cynically notes that another test taker is probably going to flounder before the test even begins:
I'LL GIVE YOU ELEVENTY TO ONE ODDS SHE'LL HAVE A PANIC ATTACK AND VOMIT BEFORE SHE FINISHES READING THE INSTRUCTION MANUAL
“Laboratory” comments on how standardized testing fails to accommodate individuals like Rupert who might need additional support or overlooks- and even makes light of- the anxiety that comes with test-taking. A failure to perform is automatically seen as failure of the individual without taking a step back and considering the framework itself as a potential problem.
These sentiments can be found in other parts of “The Playground.” In “Hell” we are told that “children are animals with behavioral issues,” illustrating how one’s own inner struggles and personal circumstances combined with a need for support can result in being labeled as problematic, uncooperative, and disruptive.
Unfortunately for Rupert and the other characters in “The Playground,” these tests appear to be a major determining factor of each subject’s worth. Things don’t get better for them in the remaining levels.
Blurring realities
Major spoilers in this section. Please play the game first for the full experience.
As we explore more levels in “The Playground,” our protagonist begins to reflect on their own life, hinting that the cartridge game might have some wider relevance. In fact, when the protagonist first receives the game cartridge, they ponder, "It's like downloading a real-life object. Is my house a P.C.? Am I an Interface?" I believe this is foreshadowing.
You see, the final level is “Bedroom.” It features a character standing by their computer. Clicking on the computer breaks it… causing “The Playground” to crash. The protagonist then thinks:
That's... odd. The picture's gone, but the screen isn't black, it's... see-through. Just the inside of the set.
Have we been inside “The Playground” the entire time? Is their house a P.C.? Suddenly they feel inspired to visit their house’s basement, something they’ve never done before. This is where the creepiness factor is an all-time high in Violent Delight. What do we find in the basement?
A boy.
Just standing there.
All we can do is listen as the boy expresses surprise upon our arrival. It seems that the boy is a younger version of the protagonist. The boy notes how "adults can get away with anything,” and ponders if he could be considered one given how much horrors he has seen. He then turns to the protagonist and asks them if they want to know the truth. There’s a shovel in the corner of room. We are told to take the shovel and start digging.
Then the game ends with a blank screen. I will say I am frustrated by games that do this. I’m not asking for a “The End,” but when they end like this my reaction is huh? Is this thing broken? Am I supposed to wait for something to happen? It’s also unclear about what we just witnessed, but maybe that’s the point.
Despite the abruptness of the ending, I liked how Violent Delight reveals “The Playground” to be more than just a game. Is the “truth” referring to everything we saw in “The Playground,” or is it something more that the protagonist has yet to find?
Recurring elements
Throughout “The Playground” we see recurring elements: Duckie, (Spoiler - click to show) wanting to play on the roof, a fearfulness of doors, someone named Carla. But the most common one is a ball. Somehow, things circle back to wanting a ball or having a ball and then losing it.
The significance of these is not entirely clear, but the ball and Duckie could be tied to the overarching theme of innocence lost, something that steadily occurs as Rupert and his peers move through each level.
“Park” is interesting because it is the rare level that allows us to alter the scenes themselves. There is a child in the upper left corner of the map with a ball, and a child in the lower right corner lamenting about not having a ball. You can actually take the ball from the first child and give it to the second child. Yay!
But then the second child loses it.
the ball's gone down there somewhere... isn't it amazing up here? you can see for miles.
I didn’t give this much thought at first, but (Spoiler - click to show)the phrase “gone down there somewhere” may- and this is just wild speculation- refer to the basement.
I would love to hear the author’s insights on making this game.
Visuals
I really like the game’s art. It’s crude in an appealing way. Reminds me of the art in the Quest game Space Punk Moon Tour but with less detail.
As I’ve mentioned, the game has three columns. They are colour-coded: red, bluish grey, and yellowish grey in that order. Font is stylized while also being easy to read.
Conclusion
Violent Delight is a potent example of surreal horror. Its cozy premise of playing video games amid snowy winter weather is flipped upside down as we’re drawn into the world of “The Playground” and (Spoiler - click to show)forced to witness it bleed over into reality.
I’m taking off a star because I think, for an IFComp game, the waiting periods (at least the wait time for the package) may be a lot to ask for players. But other than that, Violent Delight is one of my favorite games in this year’s IFComp.
Was I engrossed? Yes.
