Rabbit's IFComp 2025 reviews

Competitions IFComp
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21

Lady Thalia and the Case of Clephan (N. Cormier and E. Joyce)

Played on: 27th September
How I played it: On the IFComp ballot via Firefox
How long I spent: 1hr 30mins for one playthrough scoring 28/33

Lady Thalia and the Case of Clephan is a very good game which I’m not going to do a useful job of reviewing. For a start, the Lady Thalia series has passed me by so far, so I can’t evaluate how it builds on its prequels. Because I was going speedily to make sure I finished in time, I didn’t think to copy-paste any interesting passages from the game. Also, I got distracted halfway through and played Silksong. (I found the secret bossfight against the First Sinner, and spent quite a bit of the day struggling with them.) So, sorry. I can tell you the game’s good.

I did at least grasp the basics. Lady Thalia, gentlewoman thief, has retired to become Theadora Knight, gentlewoman secretary at her former Scotland Yard rival’s detective agency. It’s dull work but her interest is piqued when a theft at a pottery shop proves to be the work of one Lady Thalia. Each of the game’s four Acts has a rhythm to it: you, as the real Thalia, assess where the copycat burglar may strike next, case the joint, plan a counter-heist, and then debrief with Mel, your rival-turned-partner-turning-into-something-more???, and the rest of the cast.

The central character arc is shared between Thalia and Mel as they negotiate a romance, and it’s a delight. Thalia is a lot of fun as a narrator, relatively professional and strait-laced but given to fits of pride (her chief objection to the fake Thalia seems to be that she’s so amateurish that she’s making the real Thalia look bad). Frequent parenthetical asides about Mel in the text show Thalia’s more romantic thoughts creeping into her mind and pulling her focus away. Those asides might break the flow of the text in places (not that I should be throwing stones from my glass house), but they sell the awkward fumbling romance between the pair very well.

A few minor characters are a lot more one-dimensional and cartoonish, but this is to facilitate the conversation system. Many sequences in Case of Clephan require you to manipulate characters through a dialogue tree, with a choice of being friendly and buttering them up, being straightforward with them, or asking them questions to lead to what they want to tell you. The minor characters have to be flat in order to hint at what the correct approach is – the guy who’s itching to tell you a rumour probably needs to be asked leading questions, for instance. They’re not difficult, and in fact I think it’s pretty hard to truly flub them even when you’re trying – I futzed with one or two of the higher-stakes late-game conversations after my full playthrough, and it looks like the game generally keeps you on course and lets you bail yourself out in certain situations. They’re not puzzles so much as ways to make what would otherwise be paragraphs of expository dialogue more involving. But they work! They are especially delightful in the back half of the game, when Mel gets in on the action and we see the same conversation narrated from two different protagonists who each pick up on different things, like a simultaneous Rashomon. It’s good stuff, and a good flex of character writing skills.

A running gag in this simultaneous narration is that Thalia frequently gets distracted with people’s fake accents, so that Mel ends up being more perceptive in practical terms. It’s a funny bit, but it also touches on a central thread in Case of Clephan (and, I assume, the previous Lady Thalia games, so I’m sure I’m not saying anything new in what follows). Thalia is a former actress moonlighting as a master thief moonlighting as a secretary, so she’s frequently preoccupied with matters of performance and disguise (another reason why the character is so compelled and annoyed by her imitator). The emphasis on performance is mirrored in the game’s structure, which is split into Acts and which finishes by saying “we hope you enjoyed the show”. The embrace of play and performance by both characters and writers is very enjoyable, but there’s a more sober undercurrent here: Thalia is gay and, unless I’m very badly mistaken, is living in Victorian London, a time and place when homosexuality was criminalised. Thalia lives in a sham marriage with a gay man and his “assistant”, Oscar and Yorkie (who have their own side story going on in this game), providing cover for all of them to be their true selves. There are some pretty clear variations on a theme here, exploring the joy and liberation of performance in both serious and ridiculous contexts. Good stuff!

I don’t know where to work my comments about the puzzles in, so I’ll jam them at the end here. The Case of Clephan has puzzles, but they’re not especially difficult – as with the conversations, I think it’s difficult to truly screw up, and you’re only playing for points here. My favourite puzzle came in Act I with the dual locking mechanism, but they sort of taper off after that. I could have missed the clues but some scenes like the séance in the Order Of The Guys I Forgot The Name Of feel like guesswork, and it’s not always clear how much of a timer you’re on – sometimes you need to confront the fake Thalia but you have all the time in the world, other times you’re cut off while casing a joint (as with the backrooms in Act II, which gives you exactly enough time to check every room so that any misclicks will cost you). It’s not a serious issue when you’re only playing for scores, not progress, and you have a generous save system to abuse. Just slightly bothered me, is all.

Anyway, very pleasant game! I’ll certainly put the other Lady Thalias on my to-play list, at a time when I’m not rushing through games to meet judging periods in between real-life obligations, and when I’m not distracted trying to do this goddamn Bilewater runback and boss fight in Silksong, good grief

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Thanks so much for your well thought review!

(I am also currently stuck on the same thing in Silksong so I deeply feel your pain)

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You Cannot Speak (Ted Tarnovski)

Played on: 28th September
How I played it: Through the IFComp ballot via Firefox
How long I spent: Just under 10 minutes

This is quite a tricky one to review, and I’ll just frontload the problem: You Cannot Speak isn’t done. You may have some premonition of this when you see that the blurb describes the game as a “prologue”, or when you load the game and see the title “youcannotspeakv2”. You’re playing along, and you finally meet a couple of NPCs, and then the game tells you the prologue’s done and Claudia will return in Chapter One, and that’s it. This is a shame, as the writing isn’t bad and a few elements of the setup promise something a little more socio-politically charged than what we get here, but there’s just not enough here to go on.

So we have our protagonist Claudia, who wakes from a sleep paralysis dream to find she’s become mute. We discover it’s her first day as an officer at a new Mars colony, and the substance of the game is poking around her room, which is claustrophobic (like the Star Wars hotel) with a fake window that’s actually a screen (like the Star Wars hotel) and a fire exit (unlike the Star Wars hotel). In so doing, we learn that the colony is going to kinda suck. We can also learn more about Claudia herself in a series of reflections. You Cannot Speak warns you that “sometimes a story is more intriguing without all that exposition” and it’s true that the exposition increases the length of the game by a good 25%, but since the game is about 300 lines total with the exposition, that doesn’t mean much. (That includes the text for the choices you select, which doesn’t disappear as it usually does in Ink games, though that’s fine by me as it makes the transcript I’ve copy-pasted into a .txt file easier to follow.)

It’s difficult to assess this piece’s successes when most of the piece isn’t done yet, but there are neat little flashes of descriptive writing and setting information which spark the imagination. One glimmer of where this could be going is in your sci-fi wristband TORUS, which cheerfully tells you that TORUS “has been shown in studies to reduce the problems posed by mental illness on space colonies!” Not the illnesses themselves, mind – the problems caused by them. Victor Gijsbers’ review also points out the shower scene and the history that it invokes – it may or may not prove to be an appropriate inclusion, as Victor says, but it does at least establish the baseline fact that the colony is going to be hell on Earth Mars. The gimmick that the protagonist can’t speak could also go a few different ways – it might be in service of a story about disability and illness and isolation, or it could render the protagonist completely passive while things happen around her. Or both!

But now I’ve reached the point where I’m just imagining the flaws that the next chapter of You Cannot Speak might have, so it’s already time to wrap up. I’m not going to say that You Cannot Speak shouldn’t have been submitted to IFComp, but I don’t think it stands alone as an entry well enough. The prologue lacks a resolution or a character arc, and I don’t think the author’s blurb sets expectations well enough (for a start, it predicts 30 minutes of playtime, priming the player to expect something more substantial than the 5-10 minutes it actually takes), so playing through it is fundamentally unsatisfying. Still, I think it’s a promising prologue, and I would be interested if the full game appeared in a future competition.

(by the way, Silksong update: I have beaten the Bilewater runback and gauntlet, for which Team Cherry will not see the light of heaven.)

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The Wise-Woman’s Dog (Daniel M. Stelzer)

Played on: 30th September – 1st October (playing the 28th Sept update)
How I played it: Downloaded and ran the index.html file through Firefox
How long I spent: 2 hours, incomplete: 5/6 spells found, 4/7 taxes paid, 0/1 wise-women cured

The trouble with the IFComp two-hour judging period is that it makes me feel like I need to rush. I’ve got to charge through these two-hour games to make sure I see the whole game in two hours, especially if I’m pausing to write notes. So I’d like to thank everyone who implemented the time estimates in IFDb, because when I happened to notice that The Wise-Woman’s Dog is well over two hours, it felt like I had permission to relax and actually savour the thing, making no attempt to complete it. I don’t think I got close to an ending, but I did really enjoy it.

This is a puzzlefest with two selling points. Point #1 is that you’re, to oversimplify it, a magic dog. Your owner is under a curse that’s making her very sick; you have the power to extract curses and blessings from people and things and move them into other people and things, but understandably, if you just take that curse, you get cursed and die, so saving her ends up being a bit more complicated than that. (About 3hrs 30mins more complicated, according to IFDb.) Many of the puzzles involve juggling spells and experimenting with their effects. A fiery feverish curse might be used to heat up an object you transfer it to, for instance. There are items too, but you can only carry one at a time, on account of being a dog.

The curse-shuffling is a really elegant idea, which would be right at home in an Arthur DiBianca game. The puzzles I solved were straightforward but reasonably clever, with a surprising capacity for lateral thinking. I liked the dam-fixing puzzle the most out of what I solved – I had a nice little aha moment when I stopped to check the descriptions of the spells I’d found so far. All the known spells are listed under a metagame command, as are all the items you’ve found so far, and there are shortcut commands for automatically going across the map to pick them up and back. The Wise-Woman’s Dog is absolutely stuffed full of quality-of-life features like this: there’s a mini-map which can be used to fast-travel to rooms, and which shows the puzzles that you can solve (along with an option to turn that feature off if you don’t want the guidance), there’s an exit listing, there are suggested commands along the bottom of the screen, and of course, this being a Dialog game, all objects and exits mentioned in the text are clickable so that you can play entirely with the mouse without typing anything. I’d forgotten this despite having enjoyed The Impossible Bottle, but Dialog turns out to be a really great choice if you want to make a puzzle game with good quality-of-life features!

I was really pleased with this implementation, though I did find the game a touch buggy. There was nothing game-breaking, but I think occasionally links don’t appear or don’t work as they should. For example, early on when I took the security blessing from the sealed chest, clicking on the “sealed chest” link again gave an “I don’t understand” message instead of re-examining the chest. There’s also one puzzle which I think I short-circuited (spoiler for a Chapter 2 puzzle): giving the congealed pudding to Kasilti at the dam solved the puzzle but automatically transferred the fiery curse to me even though it was stashed in the stela; in fact, when I checked, it was still in the stela, suggesting a duplicate. I think maybe the game logic expected me to have the fiery curse already to stop the pudding congealing? But as I said, I found nothing terrible, and the game continued pretty robustly despite the bugs. (I’ll attach the transcript for information. Thank you to whoever implemented Dialog’s automatic transcript recording that’s preserved between play sessions, by the way, you’re a genius.)

A few bugs like that are bound to happen with so many bells and whistles, and I haven’t even got to the main attraction yet: the footnotes. This is where Point #2 comes in. This game is set in the Hittite Empire circa 1280 BCE, based on historical scholarship and mythology. This was the main attraction for me when I saw this game on the ballot because I know Stelzer is hugely passionate and knowledgeable about this period of history (I’m fidgeting with the “You can’t see any such thing” cuneiform seal they sent me as an IFComp prize in 2023 while I write this (I know it’s meant to be rolled in clay but it feels so nice to roll between my palms)). This kind of passion makes for brilliant work when an artist indulges it – see one of my favourite IF games, A Beauty Cold and Austere, which is a bit like The Wise-Woman’s Dog but for mathematics instead of Anatolian history.

And yes, the footnotes are a brilliant addition. They offer a guided tour of this fascinating moment in history, explaining the cultural significance of much of The Wise-Woman’s Dog’s scenery and admitting where artistic liberties have been taken for the sake of puzzles. Some footnotes lead to others, and they’re as dangerous as a Wiki crawl – one moment you’re idly checking the footnote about the river that runs through the village, and suddenly it’s ten minutes later and you’re learning about the Kumarbi Cycle. Not to downplay the work that’s gone into the puzzle side of The Wise-Woman’s Dog, but you could probably have snuck the game out from under me at that point and I wouldn’t have noticed. (It’s good to learn that the Hittite pantheon partied just as hard as any other mythological pantheon, by the way. What is it with gods and trying to devour their own sons?)

I can’t assess the game as a whole since it was too long for the competition, but The Wise-Woman’s Dog was really fun to play, and it’s the kind of thing I love to see in IFComp. I’ll be coming back to this one later to learn more about the Hittites. I might even try to save the wise-woman if I run out of footnotes.

The-Wise-Woman-s-Dog-251001-2205.txt (212.6 KB)

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Thank you so much for the review, and I’m so glad you enjoyed the game! I won’t be doing another update until after the competition, but thank you very much also for the transcript; you found some definite bugs I want to fix!

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A Day in a Hell Corp (Hex)

Played on: 3rd October
How I played it: On the IFComp ballot via Firefox
How long I spent: 40 mins for one playthrough

I do not think A Day in a Hell Corp is a very good game. I try to avoid writing very negative reviews as I find it too easy to be cruel rather than critical, and I apologise if I’ve crossed that line in what follows, but I have to be honest here. There are fundamental issues with the writing of A Day in a Hell Corp that make it really difficult for me to enjoy or appreciate the game.

It’s a classic premise – it’s Hell, but it’s a bureaucracy. You’re playing as one of the demons in charge of torturing souls, Chuck Wagon (okay, I do at least find that name kinda funny), and you’re competing to be Employee of the Month by torturing the souls even more. Your great nemesis: office politics. It’s not the newest idea under the sun, but you can see the potential for good gags and interesting scenarios. And indeed, there are a couple of neat little ideas here. Hell Corp turns out to be styled after a hospital, with the damned souls kept in wards themed after some of the Seven Deadly Sins; that’s a nice way to play with classic horror imagery and distinguish your Hell from the classic fire-and-brimstone imagery or Dante’s Circles.

Right, but there are those issues with the writing – it’s poor throughout, but it’s poor in several different ways. First, there are obvious technical errors throughout. The prose flips from second-person to third-person a few times (not counting the dialogue scenes, which are laid out like scripts, which is fine as a stylistic choice). It’s extremely repetitive in its use of adjectives, describing almost everything as “hellish” or “nightmarish” or some combination thereof. One dialogue scene has the protagonist repeat the same line of dialogue twice in succession. A few passages end with doubled punctuation marks, as if the passage has been copied in from elsewhere and the existing punctuation hasn’t been cleaned up. A lot of these flaws are on the solution path, suggesting that not even the author has proof-read their work.

There are problems with the narrative voice too. It flips from descriptive adjective-heavy prose to stoner dude talk between passages, which is extremely distracting. For some reason, on the way to the endgame scene it flips to a third mode, clipped staccato descriptions like if a caveman was suddenly narrating. (“Light tubes shake like scared bird. Red floor blanket saw big food fight, did not win. Every step, you hear funny sound, like spirit cats cry soft.” Oddly enough, this is the best writing in the game – it feels tense and distracted, which fits the scene during which we read this.) But the bigger problem with the voice is that, whatever mode it’s in, it’s trying very very hard to sell the comedy, but overeggs it massively, thus ruining the jokes. Mike Russo already highlighted this as a sample passage of poor joke-telling but it’s a good early example to analyse. The player-character wakes up to the sound of their alarm clock, and if the player chooses to smash it:

The moment you grab that hammer and smack the alarm clock, everything goes kaboom in a total mess. But the alarm clock? It’s still there, perfectly fine, like nothing ever happened. Oh, the irony! And just then, the hellish door opens up, ready to take you to work. Good day, huh? :sweat_smile:

The idea of smashing an alarm clock so hard you destroy the furniture yet somehow leave the clock standing is not a bad slapstick gag. But “everything goes kaboom” is relying on pure zaniness rather than anything you can visualise concretely, and the “Oh, the irony!” flubs the joke, almost begging you to laugh, as does the “Good day, huh?” Many of the jokes are like this, and so are many of the descriptions; one area is “a real spectacle of chaos and the grotesque […] An atmosphere of total disorder, where every step is an adventure into the bizarre.” The voice really needs to pull back and let the actual events breathe, rather than telling you how funny or strange you should think everything is. (And I can’t quite explain why but that emoji is driving me up the wall. Maybe I’m just a snob.)

Now, let’s talk about women. The female characters in A Day in a Hell Corp are all evaluated based on their looks first and foremost. Two women are primarily objects of workplace romance, and the other two are roasted based on their looks. That’s bad enough, but then your stomach plummets when you realise you’re going to have to do a lust-based puzzle. Here it is, and I’ll spoiler it in case you want to play: the Lust ward is getting a Bang Bus full of cheerleaders, and you have to swap it with the pharmacist’s ugly sister in order to torment the souls more. Agh. It’s hard not to feel like you’re doing a very cruel thing to the sister there.

One more thing that made me cross: There’s a ward for the avaricious, known as the Stingy here. What that means is that the souls have unionised and are demanding to be paid. As the walkthrough says, “There’s a union strike here. All the greedy folks want more money and less torture.” (Well, who doesn’t?) So we have an equivalence drawn here between being miserly and wanting to be paid more, and we have trade unions cast as inherently greedy organisations. Now, here I am continuing to throw stones while my glass house lies around me in shards – with five years of experience and hindsight, I will admit that the protestor in my game Vampire Ltd was not a good representation of workplace disputes. But I will at least give myself credit that my protestor was correct in the context of the game, and not depicted as just being money-grubbing. Speaking as a union member currently involved in a dispute to stop many of my co-workers being made redundant due to poor management decisions, this part of A Day in a Hell Corp really annoyed me. It’s a fundamentally conservative, sycophantic way of looking at workplace disputes. I don’t care for it.

I’m sorry to put the boot into the writing so much, but there are just so many issues with it, so many poor decisions and obvious errors, that it’s really hard to appreciate what A Day in a Hell Corp does right. I do think there are some good points here. Like I said earlier, the premise and the setting aren’t bad at all. I think some of the puzzles (not the Lust puzzle) are worth something, too. They’re generally easy, which is the right decision for a madcap comedy, allowing a bit of interaction and pacing without sacrificing momentum by getting any player completely stuck. I think they might be a bit too easy, though. That video tape puzzle would be a banger if it was at all subtle, if there was some element of translation or lateral thinking to matching the tapes with the players rather than just comparing copy-pasted descriptions. (Oh, and if the solution didn’t just resolve to 1234 and if there wasn’t the hack mother-in-law joke in the middle of it.)

So no, I don’t like this game very much. There are ways it could be better, and I want it to be better. I think it’s absolutely possible to take the same zany premise and make it work (off the top of my head, The Wizard Sniffer and Adventurer’s Consumer Guide are two similarly madcap games which orchestrate and tell their jokes really well). But sorry, this isn’t doing it for me.

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I read your review of A Day in a Hell Corp carefully and found it very clear and well-argued. I really appreciate that you didn’t just say you didn’t like the game, but explained in detail the reasons why: from the technical and stylistic errors, to the forced use of humor, up to the more problematic aspects related to the representation of characters and unions.
It strikes me as an honest, balanced, and useful critique, because it doesn’t stop at pointing out the flaws but also acknowledges the few strengths and shows how the game could have worked better. This kind of analysis is valuable not only for readers, but also for creators.
Thank you very much for sharing your perspective with such precision and passion.

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Who Whacked Jimmy Piñata? (Damon L. Wakes)

Played on: 7th October
How I played it: Downloaded and run through Windows Git
How long I spent: 1hr 35mins, solved correctly with one hint

This year’s Bubble Gumshoe mystery is another one where I’m coming into it with no experience or knowledge of the previous entries in the series. So most references to previous games will be lost on me (although I did recognise Mayor McFreeze and Gum E. Bear’s names from previous ballots), and more importantly, so will be any improvements. I can say that Who Whacked Jimmy Piñata is a lot of fun in its own right - not too tough a nut to crack, but with tons of clever ideas and jokes.

This is a hardboiled noir mystery based around investigating a gruesome murder in the run-down industrial zone of a decaying city at the mercy of organised crime and drug trafficking. There is an investigative puzzler at the heart of this game, so you’re expected to interview witnesses and associates of the victim, maybe do a little light parser-puzzling to get into places you’re not supposed to be, and eventually bring the evidence to the guilty party and formally accuse them of the crime. And of course, like all good murder mysteries, the game is set in a world of candy, so the victim is a piñata, the drugs are sherbet and crystal candy, and it’s always raining syrup.[1]

In my last review, I was hard on A Day in a Hell Corp for overselling its jokes. Who Whacked Jimmy Piñata demonstrates why the opposite approach works so well for me. The narration seems almost unaware of the fact that the protagonist is a bubblegum woman and everything is made of sweets, so it plays all the gritty detective tropes absolutely straight. It’s so deadpan that it’s easy to miss the puns - it took me five passes to notice that one of the cars I was passing in a certain set-piece was a Volkswagenwheel. I’m sure I’m missing others – there’s a pun just about everywhere you look. It could be groanworthy, and often is, but there are so many puns tossed off so blithely that it won me over almost immediately. It helps that there are a lot of really good other jokes too. (The line of the game for me, and maybe the line of the Comp so far, is Jawbreaker the spherical heavy complaining about his bad luck at poker: “I can never seem to win - even when my cards are so good I get up and shout hooray.”)

I’m very tempted to just list all the jokes I liked and call it a review, but the actual game is pretty well constructed too. The fundamental mystery is not difficult – the critical evidence is pretty damning – but the way it unfolds has been nicely choreographed. The game’s cast of NPCs is very good, and care has been taken to give them all reasonable motives and/or connections to Jimmy Piñata so that the mystery is not completely trivial to solve. That certain set-piece mentioned above is perhaps the highlight, well-integrated into the game structurally – it’s always neat to reflect on the composition of a game and see how it pulled your strings to get you in the right place at the right time with the right information.

The puzzles have been pitched about right too, though some are a lot easier than others. The password puzzle, as trivial as it is, is a great example of how puzzles can be participatory jokes with their own punchlines. A central set-piece puzzle involving a motorbike was a struggle for me to figure out, but there are good enough nudges provided within the game to get me there, and the solution makes good use of the setting in a satisfyingly grisly way. There’s a sort-of riddle which may require a bit of knowledge of either bakery or pop-culture, which is perhaps a touch unfair to people who don’t have either but Who Whacked Jimmy Piñata does provide another method of getting the solution. (I solved it by the bakery route, and somehow managed to completely miss the pop-culture reference until like 10 minutes after the riddle, even though almost the whole game is- well, that would be spoilers, but I think more alert people than me will twig within the first few minutes.) The only puzzle I needed a hint for was getting into the boat, which I have a gripe about, though not a very strong gripe – the crucial step “lick taffy” would not have occurred to me in a long time, using as it does a verb that’s not very commonly used in IF (well, not by most people, anyway). But I fully accept that it makes sense in retrospect, and that it’s suggested by the setting in the same way as that bike puzzle is.

While I was getting that hint, I stopped to admire the walkthrough. I’m not sure, but I think it’s a whole separate Twine game which implements the solution as a set of Invisiclues hints. It’s really thoughtful work. I had a proper read-through after completing the game, and I’m hugely impressed by how much work has gone into planting red herrings, involving whole false puzzle trails, just to prevent the player lawn-mowering through all possible NPC accusations. There’s an alternate universe where I found one of these puzzle trails and fell hook line and sinker for it, and ended up writing a slightly saltier review here after making a false accusation. But in this universe where I got it right and didn’t even realise you could get into the church tower, I admire it.

Oh my god I just realised that he’s called Jimmy Piñata because it’s the same initials as Jesse Pinkman. And he’s a drug mule. Aaaaaagh. Anyway, very good game.

  1. It’s 100% irrelevant to the review but every time I read this sentence back to myself I want to sing it like Martin Sheffield Lickly. ↩︎

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I think that’s all I’m going to manage this year! I’ve got a family event to prepare for this week, so I expect I won’t have much free time. At least I beat my review count from last year. Another really strong competition - I played a lot of games which are likely winners.

One more review for the road:

Uninteractive Fiction [2] (Leah Thargic)

Played on: 2nd Sept [11th October]
How I played it: Online via the IFComp ballot
How long I spent: 10 seconds, one losing [winning] ending

There’s usually one game that captures the attention of the IFComp judges right out of the gate, for better or worse, and this time it’s Uninteractive Fiction [2]. I always miss out on these, so this time I ignored the personal shuffle and went for it. The blurb says “the only winning move is not to play [This time everybody wins].” There’s a PLAY link; you click it and it says “You lose [win]” and plays a sad trombone [triumphant orchestra] effect. I downloaded [opened] Twine to check the source code, and - Wait, sorry, the bit’s been derailed, I actually did just open it in Twine to check it and the whole thing’s been encrypted with a message saying “Good Luck Importing This.” That’s very good, well played. This review is over

EDIT: okay I went back to it and tried too hard. Very very good. Yes it does look like a skull, it made me jump a little bit

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