My first exposure to the adventure game genre was at Camp Island Lake, in a darkened cabin full of sweaty kids, all grouped around Macintosh Classics. I can't remember what we were playing. Honestly, what I remember most was how unbearably hot a closed room full of computers and kids could get in the middle of the Summer in Starrucca, PA. But despite the heat, we were entranced by the game we were playing.
Over the years, I voraciously devoured (like a grue, one might say)
every adventure game I could get my hands on. Infocom, Legend, Sierra, LucasArts. To this day, Indiana Jones
and the Fate of Atlantis is still my favorite PC game of all time.
Psygnosis' Discworld games changed the way I imagined the original novels. And then came the Internet.
The popularization of the Internet killed the point-and-click adventure game by making it far too easy to obtain quick solutions to otherwise challenging puzzles. (Of course, the Internet subsequently resurrected the genre, with the new Sam & Max serials, but that's beside the point.) Walkthroughs, FAQs, and UHS made it all too easy to play through an adventure game in an afternoon. Consequently, people stopped working together to beat the games. Instead of discussing the puzzles at school or work, they got the quick fix online.
I remember when my stepfather came home with the Myst strategy guide. My initial thought was, well, what's the fun in that? He never felt the genuine satisfaction that my friends and I did when we finally figured out a solution and moved on to the next puzzle. But then, he never had to feel the same frustration we did, either.
So here I am, designing my own retro adventure game, and I've come to accept that if more than a handful of people ever actually play it, someone will probably write a walkthrough. The first puzzle is escaping from your jail cell, which is fairly obvious and linear. Later puzzles will require more thought, experimentation, and travel, of course.
The question remains, however: why bother if people are just going to cheat? And the answer is nostalgia. I'm making this game for the people who still want to feel the satisfaction that only a kid at summer camp, suffering through heat and frustration to finally figure out a puzzle, can feel.
The popularization of the Internet killed the point-and-click adventure game by making it far too easy to obtain quick solutions to otherwise challenging puzzles. (Of course, the Internet subsequently resurrected the genre, with the new Sam & Max serials, but that's beside the point.) Walkthroughs, FAQs, and UHS made it all too easy to play through an adventure game in an afternoon. Consequently, people stopped working together to beat the games. Instead of discussing the puzzles at school or work, they got the quick fix online.
I remember when my stepfather came home with the Myst strategy guide. My initial thought was, well, what's the fun in that? He never felt the genuine satisfaction that my friends and I did when we finally figured out a solution and moved on to the next puzzle. But then, he never had to feel the same frustration we did, either.
So here I am, designing my own retro adventure game, and I've come to accept that if more than a handful of people ever actually play it, someone will probably write a walkthrough. The first puzzle is escaping from your jail cell, which is fairly obvious and linear. Later puzzles will require more thought, experimentation, and travel, of course.
The question remains, however: why bother if people are just going to cheat? And the answer is nostalgia. I'm making this game for the people who still want to feel the satisfaction that only a kid at summer camp, suffering through heat and frustration to finally figure out a puzzle, can feel.

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