baezil's Spring Thing '26 Reviews (most recent: Fantasy Opera: The Theater of Memory)

Review thread! Full disclosure, I’m a participant. All my reviews are subjective opinions; I want to talk about my thoughts, not make blanket statements on quality. YMMV. Also, I’ll be nice.

First up is the game that felt most targeted at me…

A Quiet Scurry (Moss & Quill Studios)

I loved naturalistic animal stories as a kid. I loved imagining different senses, loved pretending to avoid predators and forage for food; a game my first real friends and I made up and played a lot was called hawks and chipmunks (tag with a nature aesthetic, basically). I even tried to write a choose your own adventure story about a fox with only a pen and a spiral notebook. (Tried; I had terrible follow through as a kid.) Young me would love this game. Young me wanted to make this sort of thing. Young me would also want it to have a resource management component, and would want it to cover the mouse’s entire life and let you have babies and then let you play as one of the babies and and and..

As it is, this was lovely. It felt like a beautifully illustrated children’s book. This deserves moody, beautiful illustrations with a lot of purples and blues and some beautifully stylized yellow lighting for the roadside scene. Maybe it was the written imagery that made this feel oddly chill, despite the fact that you can die. (If you’re bad at being a rodent, which I am not; I lived through my first playthrough, probably because of my extensive training in being a chipmunk.)

My only note: I don’t love photos as backgrounds, generally. This one was alright, but the contrast wasn’t always ideal. That said, the photo was gorgeous and perfect for the story, and the text was always readable.

I’m really fond of this game, and as always I’m incredibly jealous of the UK for having harvest mice. Huge native wildlife W for you guys. What a great start to the Festival!

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Ooh, another fun one: Cryptid Hunter by Adam Wade, Alex Kutza, Skye Murrell.

I love cryptids! I want to believe! Or, I did, back before the US govt was neck deep in bloodthirsty chuds who believe aliens are real and are actually demons. Despite the present-day overlap of fun cryptid stuff and truly insidious conspiracy theories that guide US policy, in my heart I love this kind of thing.

In Cryptid Hunter you play as a scientist who’s a true believer but has never been taken seriously. (Again, IRL this sets off alarm bells, but I recognize the character trope and enjoy it.) You receive a mysterious package: a description of three cryptids (three traits per beastie but no overall descriptions) and a map with descriptions of likely sites. You can visit a site to observe, photograph (which gets you a delightfully grainy, spooky pic), and/or capture the resident cryptid, but you can only capture three total. Nab the wrong critter/s and you’ve failed. It’s a kind of deduction game in the vein of Phasmophobia & similar. It looks like which of the three are on your list is randomized, too. Neat!

I really liked the gameplay. Individual traits are shared by multiple creatures, and while I got them all right on my first try I had to actually think about it and even revisit sites. The photographs were such a fun and were genuinely helpful (I looked for credits for the art but couldn’t find any). At no point did I feel like it was tedious to navigate between places on the map or access my notes, even when doubling back, which was an achievement in itself. This game felt finely tuned in design and length (about 20 mins), and I had actual fun playing this game. I’m really picky about puzzles and IF gameplay, and I often enjoy the story more than the core loop/mechanics/puzzle (I’m sure anyone who plays strings will confirm, it’s hard to get it right). I enjoyed Cryptid Hunter as a game.

On the flip side, I found the surrounding story to be the weakest aspect. The character felt unrealistically naïve: the Venn diagram, of “cryptid believers” and “people who’d be suspicious of a mysterious employer with unstated goals” is probably a circle. The reveal at the end that your employer is a Dungeon Meshi-style monster restaurant was a nice bit of dark comedy (imagine being a customer: “I’d like the filet of child-mimicking well ghoul, please”), but how was the PC surprised? (Even if they were going to a shadowy zoo or research institution, that really more humane than eating them). Why would this person suddenly care, when they clearly hadn’t before, especially considering that you capture the elongated cryptid in a way that felt VERY cruel and unscientific.

Still, I had a lot of fun playing this game. It had a neat concept that aligned with my personal taste (always a mark in a game’s favor, lol), solid execution and scope, and graceful integration of some visual elements into the puzzle. My only other note: if it were me, I’d have saved this for Ectocomp ‘26!

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Missing City Council (Solarius)

This game signals almost nothing to the player; I think it’s impossible to finish without the walkthrough. It’s pure mechanics, no padding, no signposting. This made it difficult to play (the word hostile may have been used to describe my playthrough), but it was kind of fascinating, artistically speaking, especially with that truly gonzo ending. Something is going on here that I find compelling.

There is one aspect of the gameplay that I thought was interesting: this game doesn’t use any of the cardinal directions. It’s all ENTER [room]/EXIT. Cardinal directions are the most player-friendly because they’re the default , but they’re so artificial. It’s easier to ignore in a fantasy or outdoor setting, but I’m thinking of When The TV Decides to Murder Your Girlfriend, which was set mostly in apartments. Having to go west to the living room or north to the closet just felt weird, and it would’ve felt weird here.

I’m interested in attempts to do something different with how you navigate the space, and this game certainly made an effort. Enter X/exit isn’t the worst compromise, but it does limit the type of places you can write into your story, it took me a while to figure out, and the input wasn’t as convenient as just typing “n.” On the other hand, it wasn’t nearly as clunky as my game, which lays out directions you can go in bold at the end of every room description.

Digression: Dialog’s link features befuddle me, but the visual map elements, while very retro, can be a fun alternative; Daniel Stelzer’s Wise Woman’s Dog is a good example of a Dialog map I found pretty helpful. (I bet Twaiyn would’ve had an even better solution, Twaiyn could do EVERYTHING. RIP, Twaiyn. :cry: )

This was a weird game! It definitely wasn’t player-friendly! That said, there was imagery here that was delightfully and memorably bizarre, and I respect what the author was doing with navigation.

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Been too busy to play very much this past week, unfortunately, and I’m still trying to figure out how to pet the cat in Our Lady of Thorns. That said, I did sneak in a short Twine game, so here’s some thoughts on *MYRTDPI (*Ellric Smith):

In this game, when you have to talk or fight, you choose a spirit to conjure and hope they do a good job. The premise fits Twine quite well, and I can imagine that with more elaborate CSS/design work you could really class up the design with a little bordered section for your summon choices (or something, you get it, this isn’t y area). I think it also makes this a very hard kind of game to write; if the central mechanic is repeated often, the author has to think of ways to make each choice/response 1) in character for the choice of summon, 2) mechanically distinct and somewhat strategic or predictable, and 3) continually fresh and interesting. I think this game achieved the first, had variable success for the second, and wasn’t long enough to need to worry about the third.

One of the summons be the default PoV/narrative voice; very clever! It justifies the second person that a lot of games naturally fall into and allows for some humorous commentary on what’s happening (we’ve got a tsundere sort of situation here). The choice does put more pressure on the writing, and I think we lost the distinct voice at times. This outsider PoV could’ve been used to provide info/lore that I think we need and don’t get, too; more on that in a sec.

This is a short game that feels more like a proof of concept than a complete work (not a dig, it literally ends “to be continued”). We jump into the middle of a character’s quest and don’t see the impact of the quest’s success. We don’t have a great sense of their personality because they aren’t narrating and they don’t speak, but they’re not a blank slate. They have a history and feelings and information the player doesn’t ever get to access.

And I wanted to access it! Summoning is a common trope—just off the top of my head there’s Pokemon, Yugioh, Fromsoft games, Ender Lilies-- and I wanted to know more about this world’s take on it. Similary, what’s up with the main char? What does the censer really look like and how does it work? Are spirits conversing on their summoners behalf very rare? Is it hard to achieve? Is summoning rare or valued, and is our main char particularly skilled? Are these spirits slaves, friends, contractors?

I needed more info and more immediately personal stakes to be really invested (especially for the fight scenes), but I wanted to be more invested. A good sign. I think this is a clever concept well-suited to the chosen medium, and it’s worth developing further.

Anyway, here’s a crappy meme I doodled in about three minutes: Yultholth helping the main char with a Mickey Ds order. (Yes, I know that Yultholth doesn’t talk; artistic license.)

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I’ve read a bunch of transcripts for Our Lady of Thorns, @baezil , and the one thing that every single one had in common is that the player tries to pet the cat :slight_smile:

No spoiler, but: you can once you win her over. Good luck!

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I think I’ve basically won the game at this point, no matter what else happens.

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The Universal Robot (Assembled By Hex) (Agnieszka Trzaska)

We’re at that point in the Festival where others have already reviewed most games more intelligently than I will. I’ve only got my personal impressions to offer at this point! More than usual, this is a review about my very subjective reaction to the game.

There’s often a moment (to a greater or lesser degree) in a puzzle-forward game where you know SOMETHING has to happen, but you haven’t found or remembered the hint, and the character has no reason try anything in particular. You’re left to just Try Stuff. I find this Try Stuff phase is where I start losing interest. I need narrative reasons to put the Florb on the Fleem and toggle the Floop; it’s not usually inherently fun for me to do. I’ve never been a completionist; finishing for its own sake isn’t my thing.

Missing City Council is only Trying Stuff. On the other end of the spectrum is Our Lady of Thorns, which is lavishly implemented and fun to inhabit but does hit a Try Stuff phase after about 20 minutes (for me, at least). Universal Robot is in the middle. This game is cleverly made and written, and there is a certain pleasure in just trying stuff to see what’ll happen… to a point. While many puzzles have at least an implied goal, I, the player, messed with the secretary’s computer because it was there, and it seemed like the game wanted me to. The story then told me I scheduled a meeting. Why? I didn’t find out until I had Tried Enough Stuff to see the end result. This keeps me at a distance, lessens my investment; I tried the giving up ending, then got to a real ending (bought the wrong robot), and I was satisfied.

Speaking of distance… Stories speak to me more clearly when they don’t have their tongue constantly in their cheek. Dark subject matter relayed with the distancing effect of a light tone and absurdly heightened setting bums me out. I can’t take the story seriously, because it isn’t a serious story; but then, it IS serious, the stakes are high for this character! I find this dissonance unpleasant and existentially dreary, and not in a productive or compelling way. I know things are often hopeless and we’re trapped by arbitrary constructions of pointless systems beyond our control! That’s our day to day, man! I want someone, the narrative in this case, to care! Look, I’m a simple and also a self-serious creature, which is why the game we started to make before strings was shelved… more on that later.

This game is for the puzzle freaks (said affectionately) and the completionists (said with more weariness than affection). There was a lot of clicking to navigate, and the difference between combining items vs using one item on another wasn’t clear, but otherwise the mechanics were well deployed. When I made the connection between the snake and the secretary I laughed out loud. I liked Sniffy. The map was very slick. I think this was creative, enjoyable, engagingly written, and mechanically polished. This is a good game, and the endings thread has been busy, so it clearly connected with its intended audience. That wasn’t me, but that’s okay.

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Crier (Antemaion)

Oh, hell yeah. Love this game and its twisty ideas, crunchy art, and “shit graveyard ambience FOR SLEEP ~ unintelligible whispers, nature :leaf_fluttering_in_wind: sounds~ (ASMR) (LOOPED)” soundtrack. Like its setting, the narrative has more branches than you’d think at first glance. I like how it gets a little freaky with it (I was erotically eaten by a spider, which isn’t My Thing in that way but is my thing as a player).

Formally, it’s not actually that weird. I expected (somewhat apprehensively) a fever dream collage, but this is very much a story with an internally coherent (if slightly vague) setting, and the gameplay is straightforward narrative choice.

It’s more narratively comprehensible than I feared, too. You’re a mad prophet condemned to a catabatic exile in a hellish underdark of discarded history, waste, and people. Exiled for prophesying a ruler’s death, you hope to return topside so you can continue to insist the sovran will die. It doesn’t look good, but you have to try: “The worst thing I could imagine,” you say of your previous attempt, “was that nothing would happen.” SOMETHING has to change, regardless of what happens after. As you say, “All I have is speech. I hone it in the fine grit of obsession.”

And speech isn’t nothing. A whimsically sapient and corrosive guide tells us that “everyone needs you to speak to them, to act on them; you make us real!!” Feral moss imitates the structure and form of communication for “maximum attention” because it feeds on info. Words are fuel, communication and ideas the raw substance that constitutes bodies in a cyclical flow of refuse-reuse-resell. Organisms descended from biotech torture tools still carry “Genetic echoes of inquisition,” dangerous despite the absence of any controllers. Neither technology nor nature are neutral or acultural forces; it’s all a construct, baby, everything can be rendered and re-rendered, in words or flesh or both. There is nothing external to the system; the entire world is one big shit dungeon, its walls made of discourse. No escape from the slop, only adaptation or opposition.

But if discourse shapes everything, maybe our prophet isn’t so mad after all. Obsessed, sure, but as the prophet says, “I foretell what is to be. […] I can shape the future. But I can’t pry into the present.” So we’re helpless against the now, but if plant yourself on a hill and die hard enough, and something will happen. That might be an aneurysm induced how much you want the sovran to die (relatable), but if your dying rant poisons the discursive well from which we all sip, including the sovran… At least you did something, imagined a different future. Worth it? The next step may be extinction, or another iteration of tyranny, but isn’t anything better than stasis?

A good question, worth considering. I replayed this one a couple times because the world was enjoyably unpleasant to inhabit, and I wanted a better sense of what it was saying and doing, and on top of that it’s fun to look at and well-built. I encountered no bugs, thought the soundtrack was perfectly suited to the content, and I even kept the pixely gothic font. Clear inspirations notwithstanding (we’re all shaped by what came before, after all), I think Crier is something special.

Bonus: there’s a lotta good quotes in this one. "Sorry I defiled your tentacle” was up there, but my personal favorite was….

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Fantasy Opera: The Theater of Memory (Lamp Post Projects)

I love a game with stats and dice. Part of this is D&D withdrawal (I haven’t had a group for years at this point), but there’s an extra investment in a character: I made the choices that will shape (or at least texture) my experience, which lets me RP a little, makes the stakes of each roll or choice more personal. I think the dice and stats were very well done here. Simple, never overwhelming, breaking up the story-heavy passages with just enough gamey elements to maintain both the feeling that I was making choices without losing narrative momentum. I don’t think your dice rolls matter to the overall narrative, but it still feels good and adds a little personalized flair, and I had tons of fun, and I’ll be looking up the first trio of LPP games. I hope that Nell continues playing in this space.

The world is interesting, too. Post-medieval and pre-modern aesthetics are arguably under-utilized in fantasy, especially for the complex and diverse world that most D&D takes places in. I say D&D because that’s a conscious influence here and not because it’s set anywhere specific to D&D, as far as I know.

I do think there was an unevenness to the actual handling of the mystery. The player has probably already notice connections between dreams during day 1, but the intermezzo still asks us to perform a lengthy matching mini-game to further hone in on these parallels, “coding” the main themes or emotions that occur across all dreams. It is skippable, and I did skip it. On the other hand, I hadn’t realized the full significance of the painted emblems on the seats; the intermezzo makes that connection for you, no participation required. I’d have liked the dream matching minigame as an optional puzzle you could play if you needed a hint (I think this sort of participatory hint system would work well for a mystery game as something you have to seek out), and maybe a library visit or chat with a knowledgeable contact to get us more clues for the second half of the mystery. I wanted to feel like I did at least some of the work for that second piece of the puzzle.

My longest thoughts are about this story. This game made me think about justice, because as a mystery, it’s at least partly about what justice is, who seeks it and why[1] . We’re asked to decide the appropriate fate once the culprit is unmasked, and alarmingly this justice system has no set punishment for the crime. We need to carefully consider what the appropriate response is.

When I do, I find that something is rotten in Lyra. I don’t know if the story knows this, and I’m quite sure most of these characters don’t. These thoughts are longer, less about ToM as a game than as a narrative, and spoilery; it’s going under a readmore so it’s easier to skip.

An indulgent close reading

The dreams aren’t harmful, that’s clear to all, but one of the first things the director says to us emphasizes the gravity of the crime: “As you well know, unlicensed spellcasting is against the law. If someone has been dabbling in malevolent magic, we will see them brought to justice.” Unlicensed immediately grabbed me! By whom? The state, since it’s punishable by the state’s laws? Who can be licensed? For what purposes? Also, malevolent? More nuisance than malevolent, surely?

The real harm becomes clear as we talk to others. Alvisa the architect dismisses “these magic types” as liars, cons, exploitative hucksters. She says this while we’re standing in an enchanted opera house; there’s clearly some cognitive dissonance, some persistent socio-political narratives in play here. Later, we can choose to let Vitale off easy if he gives up info on a mage, and the game tells us our reasoning is that the mage is surely more dangerous than Vitale. If you leave the decision up to the opera troupe, they’ll vote to turn him in (even some of the ones who had good or sympathetic dreams about his life). The game shows us that the majority believe that unlicensed magic use must be punished, regardless of how harmful the effect is.

Why this impulse to punish regardless of (lack of) harm or danger? Let us use our leetle grey cells and sum up: Alvisa calls the tiefling mage a con. Vitale (whose motives I find stunningly unsympathetic, the sort of desire to be special and immortal held by tech bros and insecure tyrants) spent a lot of time and money (“I bribed the right people”) seeking out this mage, then paid her more money to perform complex but benign magic. If turned in, Vitale’s happy to rat for the cops indefinitely because he feels the mage “preyed on his weakness [by taking the money he offered], and he [is] as eager as anyone to see her magical practices put to an end.”

The only harm we’ve seen, the only danger that anyone has actually named, is economic. We can’t punish Vitale, he’s just a poor little guy, look, he’s crying! Vitale is the real victim, and the really dangerous criminal is this highly skilled mage who had the gall to take money for services. The harm, then, is not in the magic “these magic types” do, but the way they undercut the monopoly on magic (and, likely, the lucrative contracts that licensure can bring). The system has strong reasons to frame them as both unskilled but somehow still dangerous, to foster an attitude in its citizens that punishment is deserved but that the state is still ultimately in control. Whenever there’s a widely held attitude that a group is somehow both petty/lesser/weaker yet also dangerous, I get pretty suspicious, especially when the state hasn’t bothered to settle on consistent punishment for this group. Vitale gets off pretty easy; you get the sense that the mage, if ever caught, probably won’t.

There’s something to be said, too, about race. The mage who did this magic for Vitale is a tiefling. In the world of D&D tieflings are often regarded with suspicion and distrust as dangerous liars, thieves, cons whose magic comes from infernal ancestry. The mage’s bouncer was a kobold, another literal underclass (they live in tunnels under cities and make good thieves). We don’t see racism on page anywhere else, but this choice is interesting given the discourse about “these magic types.”

The story is overall pretty breezy, pleasant; a low-stakes mystery with very little opposition to your efforts to solve it, so the dissonance between the harm done and the eagerness to bring the mage to justice stuck out. This isn’t a criticism; it makes the story more complex to notice something the characters seem unaware of, and it gives greater weight to that final choice you make. I am on that mage’s side, though. Fuck the fantasy police and Vitale’s pathetic grasping for immortality; get ‘em, Lunetta, I hope you take all those old men’s money and never get caught. Magic for all!

Finally, a word about the art—it was great. It enhanced the design, was skillfully done, and matched the tone of the writing perfectly. There’s something quite special about a game by one person that does writing, art, and coding As an overall work, this is one to be proud of.

Footnote 1

As a fantasy mystery set in an opera house, it reminded me of Katherine Addison’s Cemeteries of Amalo fantasy novellas, the first of which is about murder in an opera house that features heavily in all three books. These books are similarly preoccupied with justice, personal and systemic, and this game strongly invited the comparison, apparently by accident. A fun coincidence! I love these novellas and the novel they spun off from, but because I love them I’m protectively hesitant to rec them. In addition to the opera house, they also feature a plot about illicit pornographers using recently invented photography to exploit underage orphans; the high stakes of the municipal cemetery’s dysfunction and politics in a world where the dead rise if their graves aren’t tended; plot-relevant systemic homophobia; radical political factions in the airship maker’s labor union; the racial politics of giving the big opera solo to a goblin performer rather than an elf; and a traumatized, anhedonic protagonist with a martyr complex. They’re something special (though I think the ending of the third and most recent is quite bad), and if this sounds like your thing you should read them.

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Ha! Excellent. That was in the back of my mind when I was playing it, but it wouldn’t have occurred to me to say anything about it. It’s so much a part of the contract when engaging with most things that lean cozy: that you’ll allow yourself to be distracted by the magic show and pay no attention to the externalities behind the curtain, you won’t ask “what is this story hiding over there?” or “cozy for whom?”

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