I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on my experience with puzzles, particularly after having completed Delusions and John Saul’s Blackstone Chronicles (and Clock Tower: The First Fear yesterday, but that’s largely puzzleless so it doesn’t count). In this post are the conclusions to which I arrived. It’s all subjective stuff, but maybe it’ll come in useful. Sometime. For someone. Maybe.
By now, I pretty much take for granted that at some point in any given game I’m going to need clues, hints, a walkthrough. I’m going to resist it like hell, but eventually I’ll need them. And whether I go “Oh. I could have solved this on my own, if I’d thought about it” (Eric the Unready, Blackstone Chronicles) or “What? How was I supposed to guess THAT?” (Delusions), from then on I’ll pretty much follow the hints. I become dependent on them. I try to avoid them, I really do, but then timed puzzles start happening; possible dead ends; and I know that with just a couple of clicks I’ll relieve the anxiety of not knowing whether I can still beat the game, or whether I’m walking down a less-than-favourable path.
But this is to do with my relationship with puzzles. I’ve noticed a pattern in my game-playing.
When I begin a game, I’m all for it. I’m ready to explore, to tinker, to think analytically. That’s when I solve most puzzles. I’m still thinking of the game world as a diagram, of the objects as potential anythings and everythings. I’m fresh. I’m sparkling. And most of all, I’m not emotionally connected to the experience, though I may be immersed.
But here’s the thing. As the game goes on, I become more and more immersed. As Blackstone Chronicles went on and I started getting to know the inmates, and seeing what was forced upon them, I become emmotionally very involved. If the safe combination puzzle (and here’s a side-note about that sort of puzzle - I ABHOR it, because there’s been a trend, and I’m looking at YOU Black Dahlia, of hiding the safe combination amongts all sorts of numbers in all sorts of places with all sorts of “add first then subtract last then look at it upside down” shennanigas. When I find a safe, I automatically shudder, because I know there’re tons, TONS, of possible combinations, and unless the author TELLS me the combination I’m in for a lot of guesswork, finding birthdays. I mean, in Blackstone Chronicles, there were all these important days in Malcolm’s life! How was I to know which was the correct one!) had appeared at the beginning, maybe I’d have cracked it. Maybe. But when it does appear, and I’ve met so many of those people, and time is running out, and Joshua keeps calling for me to save him… I lose patience.
Similarly on the music box puzzle. I’m not going to stop to think that maybe opening the music box in front of the organist is a good idea, because I’ve met Abby and learned of his atrocious fate; because I’ve just narrowly escaped a deathtrap, and learned how all the other inmates died. I’m not thinking logically, I’m thinking emotionally.
And that’s the way I WANT to think. If I’m going to start being logical at that point, I’m going to have to distance myself from the gane, risk breaking that emotional connection.
Mind you, looking at hints does not improve the emotional connection either.
In Delusions, I happen to completely agree with Plotkin. There’s tons and tons and tons of plot - I get swamped, and puzzles start to annoy me because I don’t even know in which direction to move (plus the computer GUI is the most cumbersome, unwieldy thing I’ve ever ever ever seen in IF). It’s even worse because I HAVE connected emotionally, but it’s not the puzzles that are stopping me - it’s the lack of direction.
So, do I mean that puzzles should be easier? Well, no. No, not at all. One of the biggest thrills was solving the elevator puzzle in Hollywood Hijinx, all by myself. But you see, HH does not exactly create an emotional experience. Same with… with… hang on, let me check.
Ah, here they are. “Aura: Fate of the Ages” and “Sentinel: Descendents in Time”. And I spotted “Shivers”, too, which I ALMOST finished when I was a kid (solved everything but the damn chinese checkers!). Those three games are quality puzzle-fests. They provide immersion, but little emotional connection. Your logic is never put in check by your emotions, and yet you are compelled to go on. Heck, that’s the secret behind Myst, I’m sure. And the reason why Phantasmagoria is such as easy game - the puzzles acknowledge that the player must stop thinking logically, because the story makes that happen.
Graham Nelson said, in his Craft of Adventure, that the endgame should be easier than the midgame - forcing a bottleneck, limiting the rooms and objects available. I’m not saying that the whole midgame should be easier too, but maybe it’s time to start thinking about the nature of the puzzles we’re using - adjusting the puzzles to the experience we want to give the player - , and how logically one must think to solve them. If I have to think too logically in a game where I’m too emotionally attached (heck, the Iron Maiden puzzle in Blackstone Chronicles - made worse by me not even understanding what some of those symbols were!), then I my enjoyment will decrease. I’m not even clear-headed at that point - I want to follow the story through. I’ve no objection to being thwarted by a puzzle, but by then my mind is formatted to certain patterns. I still want to solve puzzles, make connections, but not the kind of connections that force me to distance myself from the moment in the game I’m currently playing. For instance, the BACH puzzle in Blackstone was brilliant in that aspect, forcing me to think like the man who set that particular lock; piece, from his love of music, the correct numerical combination, all the while knowing that I had all the necessary information and needed only to stare at the lock and think. The “Rhinovirus” puzzle was not - it sent me on a wild goose chase, walking by all the rooms, hoping for something to click. Needless to say, I didn’t bother with it, especially not when I was so close to the endgame.
So this was my rant. I’d been wondering about my experiences with puzzles, my sucesses and failures, and finally arrived to this conclusion. Now, here’s the big question: am I talking sense?
Here’s another big question: has this all been covered somewhere before?