Game #3: The Warlord, The Princess & The Bulldog
It's not the next chapter in The Chronicles of Narnia (and if no other
reviewer makes the same joke, I'll be surprised). David Whyld's Spring Thing
2006 entry, written in Adrift, reprises the exploits of mercenary bad-ass
Stavros "The Bulldog" McGrogan in a sequel to his earlier A Spot of Bother.
It's up to The Bulldog to sneak, fight, grunt, and puzzle-solve his way to
victory against the evil Warlord, Baron Grishtak.
At times, this is a contradiction. From the start, the goal is clear. I don't
mean the goal of the story (which is also clear), but the goal of the game
itself. Finish the three primary objectives with full health for a score
boost, and pick up more points for solving puzzles rather than pushing past
them with brute force. This opens the game to a variety of play styles, but
that "best score" objective is the carrot dangling just beyond reach. The
Bulldog loses life points when he fights, and without a clear idea of how to
gain them back (let alone how many can be regained), my inclination was to
avoid fights and slink about the castle solving puzzles, preserving every
point of health possible. So much for being a bad-ass.
Even though I enjoyed the game using this strategy, I might have enjoyed it
more if I hadn't been aiming for a perfect game. In the end, it didn't matter.
I didn't complete one of the three objectives, and I won with a score of only
80 and health of 90. The ending - and the death ending too, when I purposely
let The Bulldog get pounced by The Tiger - was still satisfying.
Things take a bit longer when you play for points. Instead of beating up the
bad guys, I lured them into traps, tricked them into leaving, or simply
avoided them entirely. When I stumbled into traps or lost health in unexpected
ways, I opted to "undo" or "load" a prior save, so I could try another
approach. This made the game tougher. To get it all right the first time, I
would have needed to read the author's mind. The interesting thing is that
this was just another way of playing the game. With a different objective -
let The Bulldog fight enemies and bully his way past the tough parts - it
doesn't require psychic powers. It's a fair system which rewards do-overs
without making do-overs essential to win.
I've mentioned "health points" several times. If you have visions of RPG
stats and random dice-rolls - especially if you don't like those things -
take heart. That's not how WPB works. Think of it as the antithesis of a
scoring system. When you earn "score" points, it's for completing a task,
reaching a milestone, or hitting some score-worthy trigger. These are things
built into the game, and the points are set. If you play much IF, you've
probably seen this in action. WPB has this in addition to its health point
system. Points come off by making mistakes, or in other predetermined ways
that involve alternate puzzle solutions. Sometimes, these mistakes (especially
in facing enemies) can be repeated, but on the whole it's more like a credit
system. The Bulldog is extended so many of these "mistake" points, and he
spends them as necessary.
The beauty is that making these mistakes usually gets The Bulldog past
puzzles. For instance, there are several ways to pass the landmines near the
beginning of the game. One way in particular saves The Bulldog from damage
entirely. Other ways leave him only slightly scathed (or perhaps unharmed, but
with the loss of something that might be the key to avoiding damage later). Of
course, stepping into it (with persistence) solves the puzzle too, at the
expense of a chunk of health.
It's designed to be winnable, no matter how low your health becomes. The more
damage The Bulldog takes, though, the fewer risks he can endure. Suppose this
drops to a single remaining point. The game remains winnable, but every
additional obstacle must be overcome with brains instead of brawn. This can
become very difficult. Health can be recovered, but I never was quite sure
how much. If I recall, I healed about 30. The Bulldog has suffered some prior
to the start of the game, beginning with 63 health. Health of 100 is
considered "full". It may be possible to recover more than 37, making it
possible to take damage and still finish with full health. I never figured out
the max. It's just as possible that every method in the game adds up only to a
total of 37, meaning a perfect win requires a totally unharmed Bulldog. Maybe
a better player than I - or Whyld himself - will say for sure.
Really, it's a clever design. I can't think of a single puzzle that didn't
have two or more solutions. The easier the solution, the fewer the points (and
often, the more damage The Bulldog would take). Because my goal had me going
after the toughest of each solution, I hit the built-in help often. After only
a short ways into the game, I was requesting every hint available in every
room. In a way, this became just another tool, like "undo". Instead of
cheating, it seemed more like a part of the game. Some hints even felt more
like puzzles to solve. Even with hints, it was often difficult to work out
the best (most rewarding point-wise) solutions. Without them, though, I never
would have.
This all makes it difficult to say just how tough The Warlord, The Princess,
and The Bulldog is. I solved many of the puzzles with easier solutions at
first, costing The Bulldog only a few points of health. I would have finished
faster - and possibly without so much reliance on hints - if I had just
pressed forward from those points. I suppose it ranges from "challenging but
not overly difficult" to "one step down from impossible", depending on what
approach you take. Mine was more on the side of the latter.
Whyld has done an excellent job of anticipating much of what players may try.
The implementation level alone is amazing. Very little encountered in the game
lacks first, second, even third-level implementation. If you look at scenery
that has parts, you can look at those parts. You can often interact with
those parts. If those parts have parts, they're probably implemented too. It
pays to really inspect what's around. Even though much of it is optional,
enough digging can bring up the keys to alternate puzzle solutions.
The prose in WPB is dotted with amusing passages. Generally, Whyld isn't
trying for real comedy - and if so, it probably wouldn't have worked here
anyway. It's more the "ah ha, that was funny" kind of subdued but cliched
humor you'd expect from a story in which the hero only grunts yet everybody
understands what he means. When Baron Grishtak writes a letter to his ace
henchman - subsequently obtained by The Bulldog - he admits that he
"foolishly jotted down the access code to the master computer on the bottom
of it." He goes on to encourage his henchman to destroy the letter after
reading it, for that very reason.
As to the presentation, the author held nothing back. My first fifteen minutes
were spent just reading the introductory material - details about the game,
additional commands, the intro, etc. The game font size can be adjusted via
the command prompt. Screen-clearing at each room change can be turned on or
off (personally, I liked it on - it was easier to quickly scroll up and re-
read room descriptions that way). Around four different fonts were used - one
for room headers, one for the room description, the default font for most game
messages, and a script-style font for letters and notes. It may sound like a
hodgepodge, but it works well (if you're using the Adrift runner and your
Windows-based computer has those fonts) and it set WPB apart from other games
in terms of style.
To now, it may seem as though I have no complaints about The Warlord, The
Princess & The Bulldog. A big game, though, has more room for things to go
wrong. None of these problems (in my play-through, anyway), were game-killing,
but they ranged from mildly annoying to completely preventing (or, at times,
allowing) certain solutions. My transcripts note quite a few typos - not
surprising in a game of this size and complexity, but still minor dents in the
proverbial finish. Weirder quirks included things like the non-working pendant
(it worked once, but after a subsequent "undo" or "restore", shaking it
didn't work even though it still had 3 charges); being able to enter the
guards' training courtyard in a "they're gone" state, even though they
shouldn't have been; a reference to a voodoo doll in the hints, which doesn't
seem to be in the game (Adrift will usually respond to objects it knows, even
in other places, and it didn't know that one); being able to break the panel
in the sleeping quarters repeatedly; I didn't realize it at the time, but the
"code to the master computer" is too long to work in either of the computers
found later in the game; some available exits were unmarked on the map; some
exits described in the text didn't work in the game; you can't "undo" to
before a hint screen; I couldn't get "exit" to work (even though it was
supposed to), when trying one of the codes; A seven-letter password scattered
throughout the castle appears to have two fifth letters; it's possible to set
the watch before winning, so that it goes off during the final scene; a few
other miscellaneous quirks.
As the game progressed, these things either became more common or more
noticeable. Maybe it was the cumulative effect, but my faith in the game's
internal consistency was shaken. If I felt at all guilty about reliance on
hints, the feeling passed when I thought that maybe the game was broken just
enough to prevent the solutions I needed for a perfect win. This may not be
true. From my experience, the bugs that persist after beta testing are usually
the bugs in sections that aren't vital - else they would have been worked
out already. Nonetheless, it's a reminder: the better the polish, the higher
the faith.
Most of the design works great. The health point system contributes to
alternate puzzle solutions, and alternate puzzle solutions are abundant. The
hints, although cryptic at times, are helpful. Even so, a few specific parts
left me cold. One very early puzzle (the one that avoids a loss of health - an
easier but damaging alternate does exist) requires waiting a few turns after
taking action. I was impressed that the game allowed the particular action,
but I thought I had messed up - so I did an "undo". Speaking of "undo", you
can unwittingly make a move that disables it, in what I can only describe as a
prank perpetrated by the author. It's by no means a necessary (or even an
obvious) move, but some players will try it. I found no way to re-enable it,
aside from reverting to a prior save (or starting over). One obstacle requires
that you lose everything in inventory. The hints describe a way to keep most
of it, but it requires repeating an action (and it's even possible to undo a
failure, repeat, and succeed the second or third time).
As a Spring Thing entry, WPB is fittingly sized. My play-through - taking most
puzzles the hard way and relying heavily on the built-in hints - was eight and
a half hours. Despite the flaws, I enjoyed the time I spent with The Warlord,
The Princess & The Bulldog. An incredible amount of effort was put into this
game, and it really shows. A post-competition release could address the
remaining problems, making it even more recommendable.
My Spring Thing Score: 9
Game #4: The Baron
The Baron deserves a spoiler-free review.
The difficulty is it's a game that can barely be discussed at any length
without spoilers. I think this one is as spoiler-free as you'll find, but
anything said about The Baron might be too much. In other words, reader
beware.
The author's introductory text describes the story's theme as disturbing,
shocking, and tragic. On the surface, it's about a missing girl and the father
determined to save her from her captor, the evil Baron. I use the word
"evil" because the game does ("x photo" in your bedroom, near the
beginning). After that, it's left up to the reader. What kind of monster is
the Baron? Can he be redeemed, or should he die? Is he a monster at all?
The story (if ever a work of Interactive Fiction wasn't a game, this is it)
begins in a cave. You must slay the dragon, because nobody else will. I found
no way to achieve this, but later events make it clear that you don't have to.
After this, the main quest begins. Along the way - and it's a journey that
feels much longer than it actually is - you encounter three obstacles. These
are decision points, not puzzles. Each obstacle can be overcome in numerous
ways. Not every way is obvious in a first play-through, and some of the
multiple-choice decisions won't even make sense the first time. It should
really be played at least twice. The second time, your decisions are likely to
be wildly different - not because you're poking around for changes to the
story, but because you will understand the story in an entirely different way.
Before setting out toward the Baron's castle, look around the house first. At
the Baron's castle, it also pays to poke around. Even though the story lacks
puzzles, it features bonus material for the observant reader. A torture
chamber, found through a hatch under a rock at the castle, hints that things
aren't exactly as they seem. Well, not so much that, but it's a good
indication that the author is relying on symbolism to enhance the story.
In relating what has happened at the end of the story, the PC mentions
nothing of a dragon. It stands to reason that the story's first scene was
someone else's experience. If this is the case, it might have made more sense
for the dragon to approach from a southern lair, while the PC stands firm.
When it ends, the story offers no congratulations. You haven't won. You
haven't lost. The final choices allow the player to affirm his or her
convictions. The story doesn't tell you what's right and what isn't.
You tell the story.
What I expected from The Baron wasn't what I got. In his introductory text,
Gijsbers does a good job of preparing the player. Actions should be taken
because they're meaningful in the situation, not because they "solve a
puzzle". My first reaction was "sure - I've heard this before." I can't
help but treat IF as a game - even when the author tells me not to - because
every decision affects the outcome. In The Baron, that's not the case. Some
decisions affect the PC's dialogue at the end, but none of it affects the
experience of the reader except to the extent that the decisions themselves
are part of the experience. So, even though the author warned me that it
wasn't a game, I tried to play it like a game. I expected something dark and
sinister. I expected torture, helplessness, suffering, and perhaps victory in
the end. The story delivers these things, but in an unconventional way... in a
disturbing, shocking, and tragic way.
If all of this leaves you wondering just what you might be getting into if you
try The Baron, by all means read a spoilery review. Even though this could
soften the punch of experiencing it for yourself, you might be doing yourself
a favor. You may say to yourself "bah - I can handle blood and gore and text-
rendered pain." If that's what The Baron actually had in store for you, a
disclaimer would be unnecessary.
It's difficult to say if The Baron hits the mark, without knowing what the
mark was. The final choices in the walkthrough included with the Spring Thing
version (available from the HELP menu) might be how the author imagines it.
Most of us won't be able to feel compassion or empathy for the Baron, though -
let alone identify (thank goodness) with the story itself. So, are these final
decisions meaningful to us, as readers?
With precious little else to be said without delving into spoilers, some
discussion of the design and craft is fitting. The story file is in .Z8
format, written in Inform. The English translation of the Dutch original (also
included) is surprisingly good. Aside from a few typos, not much in the
translation detracts from the experience. Even with a second play-through (or
read-through) of some of the story, I found it easy to complete in an hour and
a half. Certain bits - especially the dialogue - are presented in multiple
choice lists. The rest of it, however, manages to maintain the traditional IF-
style command system. You move around a map. You get, drop, and examine
things. You open doors. You take an active part, just as IF is meant to be.
It's hard to describe The Baron as a good story, in the way a game can be a
good game. It's an effective story. Appreciating it doesn't mean liking
it. Even so, I can imagine the opinions of various readers will vary wildly.
Some may say it was emotional. Some may say it wasn't. Some may say it was
purposely manipulative. Some may say it was an honest and heart-rending story.
Some may resent becoming an unwitting participant as the story unfolds. Some
may describe it as grim. Some may feel entirely detached from it. Some may say
it will receive accolades it doesn't deserve, while others may believe it to
be unfairly criticized. Some may even say it's a story that didn't need
telling.
I say... nothing, except that it was an interesting experiment. In the context
of the Spring Thing competition, it's far too short (even adding a replay or
two). I was moved (I'm a parent - how could I not be moved?), but this alone
doesn't make it a clear winner when this year's competition features three
other very good games. Scoring it is even harder than reviewing it. After some
thought, I have settled on a middle-of-the-road score. It succeeds as
Interactive Fiction, and it doesn't pretend to be a game. It fails as
entertainment (for me), even though it's more like art for the sake of
emotion. In another context, it might be a "9" or a "10". It should prove
to be one of the most memorable works of 2006, regardless.
My Spring Thing Score: 6
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