Michael Behringer Reviews Ectocomp 2024

Competitions
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I do remember parenting at that age, but I think a big difference in my experience is that I was lucky enough to have plenty of happy baby snuggles (and my God, the amount of bibs he went through, he was a perpetually soggy child, it felt like- we were going through a load of just his bibs daily! Very soggy baby snuggles.) and the awareness of shaken baby syndrome. I think I did a real number on myself, obsessively reading about the health outcomes and how the grief ripped families apart.

So even when his colic made me want to gouge my ears out, or I was frustrated and exhausted after pacing the landing with the baby in my arms for hours at end, I was always able to set him safely into his little bed and have a cathartic screaming/crying session out in the hallway, rather than ever risking harming him.

I was always pretty solid in the fact that I would refuse to ever endanger him, though this fed into strange obsessive behaviour like holding my breath while watching him breathe for the crippling fear I would inexplicably suck all the air out of the room and suffocate him like an absolute monster- sleep deprivation wrecks havoc on your addled brain.

I could see, however, in a parent who was less assured of their self control how this could be frightening, though. Or one who isn’t able to have those softer moments to compensate for the agony of late night screaming to the point of vomiting all over you and into your mouth- that was deeply unpleasant. Personally, the stakes were always so high, and so anxiously in the forefront of my brain- that I would rather kill myself than bring him to harm, that that particular fear never entered my headspace. But on reflection- yes, that does elucidate the potential horror in this piece more clearly. Much to think about.

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The Column — Passerine

This ran up against a major challenge for me immediately: while I can see the appeal of generalization of a person into solely their role, especially in a more practical minded group like an expedition, where it isn’t expected that everyone would know each other well, if at all- it makes it far more difficult for me to really care about the cast. I love names, the intimacy of nicknames- and while the distance in using a last name can lead to some interesting development when or if there is ever a switch over to a more immediate term of address, somehow, it isn’t as engaging for me when referring to someone by their profession.

This is sort of slightly an imposition, when the story revolves largely about the people within it- and especially when you’re asked to make big choices of trust- which involves at least a little bit of liking them. This isn’t really a slight on the author, though- it was equally ineffective for me when used in Annihilation, and while I adored the first book, I didn’t think very much of those later in the series. Less of a reflection of any skill, and more so just personal preference- I get into stories almost entirely for their narratives, their character dynamics: the human aspect to works is what interests me, and stripping them of their names kind of flattens it for me.

I also don’t like particularly bloated casts- especially when introduced in a rapid fire fashion. This is extra understandable, given this was a work quickly assembled: and yes, it is realistic, to have more people than not to cover all of the various professions that would be present. I had a similar quibble with Winter-Over, which was the second highest rated game on my IFComp Ballot, and who I would have been thrilled to see win, so it’s again: nothing against the author, and more of a personal quirk. It also does make sense given a whole whack load of people have to die for the story to work- but I feel like their deaths would have been more meaningful if the cast was perhaps smaller, and they had a bit more time to develop a relationship beyond a scene or so of chatting after hours.

That being said, I did still enjoy the time I spent reading the story- and especially when viewed as a fangame, or inspired by, Annihilation, I can easily see a receptive audience for it. The actual prose is at times, also quite pretty- the rustling of trees, the calling of gulls: and it was smooth reading. Despite my personal quibbling, I did like this game, and could see myself suggesting it to some friends who I think would have a deeper appreciation for it.

I wound up trusting the archaelogist first, and then the botanist, and successfully getting off of the island with a group of four (the botanist, the archaeologist, the navigator, and us) which feels like a pretty decent team for getting off of hell island in one piece. I mean, the navigator’s alive, for one! The cook was just too suspicious in taking things lightly, and it made sense to follow the archaeologist’s initial authority- so yippee for coming out of it alive.

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Dark and Deep — Amanda

Attached is the transcript for my playthrough of Dark and Deep.

transcript of dark and deep.pdf (220.2 KB)

Whenever I finish reading a good novel, there’s a span of about a day or so, where I’m kind of left in a daze. It’s as if I haven’t quite yet adjusted to it being over, and pulling myself out of the immersion takes a little bit- before I can focus back in on the mundane day to day, sifting through all of the big emotions it stirred up, picking apart the membrane of memory in the name of clarity.

That’s how I’m feeling at the moment, having just wrapped up Dark and Deep- a bit fuzzy, slightly stunned and stupid- and wiping away blotchy tears, because this game is the first in the competition (and likely to be the last) where I actually sat down and cried like a baby in front of my laptop while playing it.

Relationships are the most interesting part about stories, for me- not necessarily romantic ones, though, I do love a good lovestory. This game is centered around them- and with a priest struggling with losing his faith, a pettable horse, and terrible men, this story was all but tailor made to appeal to my tastes- it’s even set in winter.

It’s the details that really make this game so fantastic- delicately picking off the moss and lichen, rubbing the gravestones clean: being able to pray, for yourself, for the world, for Mrs. Lajway. Petting the horse. Guiltily examining the boxes- hastily closing them, because you’re not supposed to be rummaging around- you can’t just take things, you’re supposed to be here in the capacity of a good man! How she still keeps the afghan she made, colours faded and worn- the same one she was snuggling up by the fire with the night that the dead man came walking. The ache he feels, staring at the empty thatch- how he fucks everything up, how he seems incapable of holding it all together.

How he refuses to touch things, because of a lifetime of training to keep his hands to himself, behind his back- how differently it paints him in comparison to her late husband, who raised his hand in anger- to her lover they killed and buried in the basement, who went to cover her mouth. How she remarks that he’s the last man she’ll ever spend the night with. How he feels a sham in his vestments, but feels like merely a man in his everyday clothes. How she keeps the saw in the barn, still rusted and worn down with the blood it was slathered in. How she can’t bring herself to visit the graves- they’re grown over, almost eaten up by the woods.

I wish we could have put the buttons back into the box. I wish we could have picked up the box and set it properly onto the table. I wish we could have stoked the fire a little warmer- even if she didn’t see the point in heating half a corpse. I know it wouldn’t have mattered in the grand scheme of things- but I think it’d have mattered to me, playing as the priest.

There is so much loss in this story. It’s painful, and I wept, and you absolutely need to play it to experience it for yourself. Amanda’s writing is as beautiful as it ever is- and her portrayal of troubled, complex relationships is as strong as always. Run, don’t walk.

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Thanks for both the lovely reviews-- and the transcripts. I see I have a few bumpy areas to smooth over!

I’m so touched that this little game-- my first after a year’s hiatus-- touched you. It was a struggle to get even such a small thing done. And I swear this is my last game about dying old ladies.

A lot of that isn’t mine! I did draw heavily-- and steal mightily-- from many poems by a particular poet. People who want that information up front can type ABOUT (as well as a good amount of info about them in the endnotes). I personally like to tweak to those things myself, so I didn’t acknowledge it up front, unless you count the glaring clue of the title.

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Thanks a lot for the review <3 Really happy that the changeling theme situation type of deal was something you enjoyed! Now I have to check out the Moorchild, it sounds like something I think I’d enjoy too

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A belated thank you for this review! I’m glad you enjoyed the game :grin:

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Thank you so much for this thoughtful review! I completely agree with you, and I was a bit concerned while writing it that most players would tap out of this game early because the kid is mostly annoying. I wondered if maybe some of this stuff is “just a me thing.”

spoilers

And I had more horrific endings in mind when I sat down to write, but staring at the tail end of four hours I had to wrap things up. In fact, I wrapped them up so abruptly that the version my wife play-tested had the values reversed in the code, which flipped the Yarry/Larry ending results!

It’s funny, I actually never considered a violent outcome for the PC, except possibly more violence at the hands of the child Jasper. “Yarry” would experience a more powerful replacement of self by an other, and “Larry” would become a literal stranger to his own family.

I should say in my two-year-old’s defense that while he was the inspiration for this story, he’s only given us “Jasper energy” in small doses. And I’m touched to see my game and your analysis sparked an exchange here with @AmandaB!

Are there any threads on here about how parenting can feel like playing a broken parser game in AI-generated VR?

THAT'S NOT A VERB I RECOGNIZE!
THAT'S NOT A VERB I'LL EVER RECOGNIZE!
NO VERBS! WHAT'S A VERB?
>x self
As tired-looking as ever.

I very strongly identify with your feeling, Michael, of a misstep or causing some kind of irreparable trauma. My wife still carries guilt about how difficult breastfeeding was, despite it not being her fault or our son’s fault. And what’s really crazy is they may carry some feeling however strong from those early experiences, they won’t literally remember any of it (some people claim to, but it’s hard to know how true that is). So from a certain perspective, those earliest difficult memories can have a weird tinge of loneliness for us as parents. At least they do for me.

And after experiencing/witnessing human birth and babyhood firsthand, I marvel at how our species ever survived. Compared to other animals, humans (moms and babies) have it pretty tough!

Anyway, thank you again for playing and reviewing. Your feedback is very valuable to me.

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