Some say that games are a limited creation, only able to replicate certain experiences. Indeed, this was a core argument behind the “Games cannot be art” statement: They were believed (Although contradictory evidence has existed since the early days) unable to speak to experience, or make statements, or do many of the things art can do. Indeed, as time has gone by, we’ve had to invent new genres to talk about new games, and not a year goes by without me looking at something and saying “Ah, that’s pretty innovative!”… And meaning it. Unlike many times I’ve heard the word (That’s no doubt an article for another day…)

But games do have a limiting factor, and it’s a limiting factor that doesn’t promise to go away: The creativity of its makers. I’m going to pick on DnD games in this case, because there are interesting facets of Dungeons and Dragons universes past and present that RPGs, as my chosen example, just don’t replicate. And it’s not that it’s impossible… Tell a particularly stubborn or creative game designer something is impossible, or even “hard to make entertaining”, and there is a strong possibility that you will find, some time later, that they’ve proven you wrong. Pacifist games. World Simulations. Multiple path murder mysteries… I could find you examples of these, and quite a few more out there ones. There’s a game about the dangers of assuming simulations can give clues to historical events (Opera Omnia, by Increpare). There’s at least two games about jobs of crushing futility (Papers Please and Cart Life). There are procedurally generated murder mysteries (A small, but fun example is The Inquisitor, from ProcJam 2014). But let’s get back to DnD. Specifically, Dark Sun, Ravenloft, and (briefly) Forgotten Realms.

There are two Dark Sun games, two Ravenloft games, and several Forgotten Realms games, but each setting has elements that games struggle to replicate. Let’s start with the most interesting one, Ravenloft. Ravenloft was TSR’s attempt at horror, and one of its core supplement series are Van Richten’s Guides. Van Richten’s Guides, much like Trollpak, many 90s RPGs, and countless race supplements have done (or at least attempted), attempted to make monsters we normally fought as fodder interesting, unique, and, because horror monsters have to be more powerful than the protagonists in some fashion, harder to dismiss as Just Another Kill. It explores it from the perspective of a premiere monster hunter, all the ways they could be wrong, all the ways they have been wrong, and what it cost. They’re pretty good reads, and, for good or for ill, are also good examples of how tabletop RPGs deal with making threats interesting.

And then you play the two games and… It’s set pieces, a series of fights and puzzles. They’re limited, not only by the technology of the time (The Ravenloft games, and the one FR game using the same engine, Menzoberranzan, were notoriously picky to run for the time, and are still technically tile based, first person view games), but by game design thinking of the time. RPGs must have a BOSS MONSTER… So for the first game, they picked the most iconic, Strahd Von Zarovich, Darklord of Barovia… A character who can never actually be defeated, due to the way Ravenloft works. And the means of defeating him is, of course, a McGuffin. Along the way, you can cure a werewolf of his affliction. Sounds like an average day for the adventurer, right? Oh, and they make it horrific by having endlessly respawning monsters.

What results is a tiresome slog. But, within their limitations, they try to be atmospheric, in the sound design, the speeches by (rare) scared peasants, gypsies, and, of course, Strahd’s Vampiric Monologue… But what it amounts to is a Dungeon Bash By Any Other Name, complete with Helpful, But Oddly Powerless Deity that gives you the knowledge that you need the McGuffin of Vague Holiness, the Potion of Protection From Arbitrary Obstacle (Obtained by making sure you collect every coin in a certain dungeon, and giving them to the local Vistani Wise Woman), and, of course, the RPG equivalent of an 80s Training Montage (Grinding on monsters until you have the right level to safely proceed in the story. Not helped by the fact that some monsters drain experience levels. Have fuuuun!)

Now let’s compare that to the experience in tabletop. Strahd as a direct enemy is usually right out. He has Cursed Plot Armour (No really, he’s cursed to forever make the same mistakes, to never outright be killed, all for the giggles of cosmic entities who hate everything nice and fluffy). On top of that, he’s somewhat boring, precisely because of this. It’s a common problem with making Ravenloft a campaign setting: As soon as you actually involve the Big Bads, or the players try to get out of Dodge, it’s a rapid downward spiral. And, due to the way DnD works, eventually you will.

But the setting takes a great effort to keep things interesting. Yes, McGuffins are still involved, to some extent or another, but they most often take the form of symbolic weaknesses. Certain things nearly always work, such as a stake to the heart and decapitation in the case of vampires, but other things depend on the vampire. In fact, a big part of a monster hunt in Ravenloft is recognising the monster for what it is. People are disappearing in the area? Not good enough. That could be quite a few things. There’s investigation, both in the sense of becoming aware of the type of threat, and investigating how to defeat it, with real consequences for fucking up. And, competently told, this story is suspenseful, can be heartbreaking and entertaining, and has the potential for an interesting game. There’s lots of variation possible there, too. For example, curing a werewolf of his affliction could, due to the way it works, take a small campaign and still fail, whether due to the person not wanting to be cured, or not having correctly gone through all the steps, and, even when things are done right, it involves an immense effort of will on the part of the afflicted. Keep in mind, even failure can be made interesting if you do it right.

Meanwhile, back in the computer game world, Strahd patiently sits in his castle and waits equally patiently for you to jack him up. He’s mentioned as the owner of all he surveys (Which, as an aside, gets around the vampire weakness of not being able to enter a home. He owns all the homes in Barovia), but… He’s a glorified boss monster.

Dark Sun, also, is an interesting setting. Magic is harmful to the world’s well being, relying on life force to flourish. Water and metal are scarce, and survival is considered more important than trust. Even in the desert, there’s a flourishing (and lethal) ecosystem, and unwise magic or decisions can make an area barren forever. There are entire cultures, with their society dictated by the world they live in, but when you get to the computer games… Again, due to a limitation of beliefs and mechanics of the time, it’s… Once again, mostly a series of fights and puzzles. The closest you come to any of this interesting stuff is that defilers aren’t allowed as characters, only enemies (But become less effective as enemies in the second game’s fights as less and less foliage becomes available as fuel), a few sidequests where you can be betrayed, or help a village or person survive (Occasionally involving water, which you’ll otherwise never use), and the fact that the endgame is easier (Although still a massive, painful battle) if you’re not a dick. Oh, and sometimes weapons break, if they’re not steel.

You could have a Thri’Kreen (Mantis person) in your party, and never be aware of their customs, their culture, their language, or their psychology (It’s interesting stuff, and the book you want to read there is “Thri-Kreen of Athas”, from 2E AD&D… TSR #2437). By the end of the game, you’ve got metal plate armour for everyone who can use it, steel weapons for everyone who can use them, and you’re quite happily roaming through scorching deserts with all this on, giving nary a single fuck about the consequences. Equally, the plant life, the ecology… They’re just monsters to beat up.

Seriously, for all that both settings got silly, the computer games really don’t give you much of a clue as to how much effort went into each setting. Even Forgotten Realms, a world where the gods literally depend on belief for their survival, and can act directly in the world, in a setting with enough computer games to fill a small bookshelf (If you so chose), don’t really give you as much support between the setting and mechanics as you may like. Yes, not even Baldur’s Gate 2, widely considered to be the best Forgotten Realms computer game around. There’s an excellent and informative VideoBrains talk on the subject of religion in games by Jenni Goodchild here, and even though Dragon Age is the main example, it applies equally well to Forgotten Realms.

Now, you may be saying that size, or complexity, is an issue here. And in a sense, you’d be right. Previously, this was the case. But it’s much less of a problem now, and size, or complexity, aren’t the main issues here. The main issue is one of how well games sync up with the things they’re trying to talk about or portray. We talk about The Last of Us because of how it deals with survival, and relationships, and responsibility. We talk about Bioshock because of how it deals with choice, and the degradation of ideals. We talk about Analogue: A Hate Story because of, again, relationships… But also how the known past can be misleading, and about societal expectations, toxic or otherwise. These games, while they are by no means perfect, are held up as games that do the job they aimed for particularly well. We don’t have as many problems with authorial intent in these examples as otherwise, because it’s more often the case that the game laser focuses on these specific issues.

Sometimes, you just want to make or play a dungeon bash, and that’s cool. Done well, it’s entertaining, and it’s all good. But that is by no means the only kind of game you can make, and I think it’s time that more people realised that. I wouldn’t mind seeing an Eberron game about being an Inquisitive. Or a Dark Sun game about a tribe’s survival, or the ecosystem of the world. I wouldn’t mind, in short, seeing more games that explore their settings. And I pick on RPGs, because, very often, we’re too focused on The Hero’s Journey, or on pretty numbers going up and Big Bads. There are games out there that do more… And there can be more. While this article picked somewhat on licensed RPGs (For the simple reason that licensed media often vary widely in quality), it’s true of pretty much any setting or genre… How you show an aspect of your setting is important. And you can completely miss aspects that people might find more interesting than you’ve actually shown.

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Afterlife Empire, developed by Autobotika, and published by The Fine Young Capitalists, is a sort of expanding tower defence type game, where the afterlife apparently involves scaring the wits out of anyone genre unaware enough to visit (Because Fear = Belief, and Belief = Life/Power for a ghost), and expanding your home, while scaring away troublesome exorcists, policemen, and assorted busybodies (who reduce belief in death threatening ways.) It has some interesting ideas, but… The execution could do with work. A fair bit of work. Let’s begin with the loading screen, and what appears to be one of two pieces of music for this game.

The loading screen tips are, for the most part, helpful, but there is one in particular that feels less helpful, and badly worded. “The Authorities notice when people die in your mansion. Yes, even the ugly ones.” Nobody appears particularly ugly, and… Do ghosts even have a preference there? Is “ugly” people fear less useful somehow? Do they have preferences? I couldn’t be sure, because of a core problem. The music needs equalisation, as instruments vie with each other for the top spot, volume wise, in their simple melodies. I turned it down (but not off), because… It vies with the game as well. The warning music does its job better, but… Two short loops for music make me feel… A little hollow while playing. And not in the mood enhancing way.

The UI. Not the UI in general, it’s mostly does its job. I like that I know what threats are coming from roughly where. I’m less fond of the tiny scare indicators… But I’m specifically less fond of the tooltips, or, more accurately, the lack thereof. The game provides little feedback (Except on powers, where it gives you a rough idea of what you do via the tutorial messages), and I cannot tell without a notepad which props are more or less useful for their price, beyond “More expensive = Good”. While, on the one hand, this could accurately simulate a ghost who knows nothing, the tooltips, frustratingly, never really appear. A new player won’t know what a scare trap does without trying one (Does one generate more fear than another? Don’t know for sure. I know what area of effect they have, but it always appears to be “The tile next to the object.”), just as they won’t know with props.

The tutorial is mostly fine, but does highlight a couple of problems. For example, camera and object rotation (And, for that matter, moving or deleting objects that are poorly placed). If there is any, I couldn’t detect it. Yet, for all that it’s usefully highlighted that one of the people I need to scare off in the tutorial is behind a tree with a tutorial path, nonetheless, they are behind a tree. Similarly, when placing props, not being able to see them to place them is a mood killer. As is not being able to place them because something I can’t see is obstructing them. For this, I recommend cutaway walls or some form of X-Ray technique. It’s very useful in an isometric game. Being able to scroll back on messages is also a good idea, and an encyclopedia of enemies might give both an incentive to proceed (Currently sort of lacking) and a means of remembering who does what. Sadly, neither of these things currently exist. The medium section, also, has its problems, as I failed to kill her by scaring her twice before she ran off the map, which… Meant she respawned, standing still, at the edge of the map. Thankfully, there was no power cooldown, so I just clicked twice, but… That’s something that should be avoided in tutorials. A tutorial should be a controlled experience.

Aesthetic wise, the models are nice. I can tell a civilian at a glance (Although apparently there are different kinds, and that’s less clear), and immediately tell them apart from an exorcist, a policeman, or any of the other folks who modify the score or threaten me in some manner. They tend to shuffle around quite slowly (A boon in the case of the exorcist, who drains your fear much faster when in the house, cleansing it), but they look fine. So do the tiles, the trees, and the walls. The props, though, I’m less enamoured of.

I understand that what we start in is a dingy shack, and that we “gain more powers, props, and traps as you level up”, but I couldn’t find a single prop that was furniture at the beginning. Not even a tattered chair, table, or one of those cheap replicas of the Dogs playing Poker paintings. It’s a disconnect, and an obvious one. It does get better, but that was after the first ten minutes (Counting the tutorial), and the first ten minutes of a game are important. Especially with refunds on less than 2 hours of play now being a thing. Freezing the arrow scroll controls when in building mode also feels like an odd decision.

Finally, we have sound. Not everything makes a sound. Our ghost, in the title, silently mouths/laughs/screams at us (And sometimes laughs eerily when using his first power.) The props make no noise as they spooookily move of their own accord, and while people make sounds, they tend to only be a short, sharp scream before they run away. Those screams tend to wear thin after only a short time.

And all of this was noted in the first ten minutes of play. I’ve tried to play since then, but a lack of many forms of feedback a game generally contains means that, despite the tutorial explaining the basics, the game feels both incomplete, and an exercise in trial and error. I eventually got the hang of the core concepts, and things slowly get better and more varied, but, in short, it feels slow, dragging, unchallenging once those concepts are mastered, and incomplete. I don’t really feel much incentive to expand, as I can seemingly scare many people off with a single trap centrally placed, repeating this in adjoining rooms to make sure, and I don’t feel much incentive to open more doors to the outside, especially to the back, where it becomes easier for an exorcist to sneak in the back (Despite the handy notification that there are troublesome folks on the map). Loading a save resets the map’s population, but, and I’m guessing this is unintentional, so does hitting escape after you’ve right clicked to remind yourself what a power does (Also setting your power to 1000, which I suspect is due to a missing event flag.)

So that’s Afterlife Empire. I applaud the effort, but feel that the game needs a fair bit of work at the time of review before it could be considered a finished game. I hope those suggestions and pointers help the developers.

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As any cat owner can tell you, cats domesticated humans, not the other way around. It was a clever scheme, but only recently have we acknowledged precisely how clever cats really are. In a video game. Obviously, I’m not being entirely truthful here, this is just a charming puzzle game, but it’s hard not to talk as I have been considering the concept of this puzzle game: Descendants of Schrödinger’s Cat, stopping the earth from leaving its orbit and plunging into the sun… With cats riding on trains.

Yes, that is The Cat Machine. Much like a cat, it is audacious, clever yet simple, and unbearably cute.

I could have made the screenshots the first three messages of the tutorial, and I’m pretty sure people would have flocked to buy the game for charm. But enough purring in delight, let’s talk what it all means.

Essentially, it’s a track puzzle. There is at least one train of cats, different coloured tracks, and always, at the end of each, a white cat. The cats must be directed to tracks of the correct colour (So they fly off and preserve the Earth’s angular momentum), and all the white cats must leave on the white tracks that are pre-placed. It’s a logic puzzle, and, while it’s simple in concept, it adds new wrinkles as time goes by. You cannot cross tracks, for example. Not even if they’re the same colour. And the cat train must never collide with itself.

In fact, half the problem with reviewing this game is because its rules, and its spaces are clear. Solutions, on the other hand, are not so clear cut. For example, you do not have to use all the tracks. But you have to be careful where loops are placed. I know in one level, I have to get the cats to finish, no matter how they travel, with two yellow cats. I have to think, not just in terms of order, but loops. And there’s this nagging feeling I’m not being as efficient as I could be. And I know it can be broken down by whether there’s an even or odd number of cats…

There’s not a whole lot of variety in the music or visuals, but you know what? The puzzle music is simple, giving you room to think, and the colours are very clear, which, as a colourblind person, I am very grateful for. However, one bug, which definitely needs to be fixed, is that trying to speed up the game will inevitably lead to a collision of cats… Even, it sometimes appears, on straights. That’s slightly frustrating, please fix it, devs!

For £6.99 though, there’s more than fifty of these puzzles (Which start to get difficult around six or seven puzzles in, and, if you like a good logic puzzle, this is definitely not a bad purchase. Apart from the tutorial, it concentrates on the puzzles themselves, leaving you to ignore the sometimes hit-or-miss dialogue from your mentor of the game, Science Cat. And I like that. It’s got a little charm, but nothing is getting in the way of what the game is: A good set of logic puzzles about herding cats. And we all know what they say about herding cats.

As he watched another cat fly by, The Mad Welshman mused about criticisms of Quantum Physics, Real Cats, and the elusive dream of the cat-and-toast motor. Truly, he thought, Cats are magnificent creatures.

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