Meltdown
By Laurence Creighton
Published by Zenobi Software
Release Year: 1993
Version Played: ZX Spectrum
Meltdown was created by Laurence Creighton in 1993 which means it was written about eight years after everybody had stopped playing text adventures. I mean, obviously that's an exaggeration and a hyperbolic obfuscation of the actual history of text adventures because I'm currently playing a text adventure and it's 2018! Except now the target audience of text adventures calls them "Interactive Fiction" because they like pushing their glasses up against their greasy faces and correcting people. But in 1993, Infocom's text adventure department had been long dead and the renaissance of interactive fiction had yet to take place. But this game was written in the United Kingdom which means I should completely start over because the history of text adventures in that country is completely different than the history of text adventures in the United States which is the history I'm basing all of my "facts" on.
So, um, starting over in a way that is probably going to be insulting to my British readers: Meltdown was written by Laurence Creighton in 1993 for the Spectrum and almost certainly sold as a cassette tape in a sandwich bag in the back ads of Crash. Unless it was published by Zenobi Software whom I'm going to assume sold all of their second rate text adventure games in the back ads of Crash (sealed in sandwich bags). Text adventures remained popular in the United Kingdom for a long time after the market was essentially dead in the states because most people in the United Kingdom could only afford games which cost two to five pounds. Those games tended to be text adventures sealed in sandwich bags and sold out of the back pages of Crash. This is, presumably, due to having to spend most of their income on the NHS and television taxes. Although 99% of all Specy text adventures were low quality parodies of The Hobbit and Colossal Cave Adventure, they remained popular for years, gobbled up by loads of coal miners and chimney sweeps looking for an escape from the realization that Margaret Thatcher existed.
If you're interested in learning more about the Spectrum home computer, I'm sure some lonely twat has made a nostalgic documentary about it and uploaded it to Vimeo or YouTube. Being that I am interested in learning even more than I already know about the Zed Ex Spectrum (which, to be fair, consists of believing that all Spectrum games were sold in the back ads of Crash and sealed in sandwich bags), I just did the search I suggested. There's a teaser for a documentary called Memoirs of a Spectrum Addict (which is basically the title I came up with: Some Lonely Twat Has Made A Nostalgic Documentary About the ZX Spectum). It's full of 80s style blurred imagery of computer game boxes interspersed with scenes of the nerds from About a Boy and The Inbetweeners. Not literally, of course! But if you watch the trailer, you'll think, "Oh yeah! Those scenes looked like they were right out of About a Boy and The Inbetweeners, just like Grunion Guy jut said and which probably didn't need to be repeated in the sentence immediately following the statement."
Published by Zenobi Software
Release Year: 1993
Version Played: ZX Spectrum
Meltdown was created by Laurence Creighton in 1993 which means it was written about eight years after everybody had stopped playing text adventures. I mean, obviously that's an exaggeration and a hyperbolic obfuscation of the actual history of text adventures because I'm currently playing a text adventure and it's 2018! Except now the target audience of text adventures calls them "Interactive Fiction" because they like pushing their glasses up against their greasy faces and correcting people. But in 1993, Infocom's text adventure department had been long dead and the renaissance of interactive fiction had yet to take place. But this game was written in the United Kingdom which means I should completely start over because the history of text adventures in that country is completely different than the history of text adventures in the United States which is the history I'm basing all of my "facts" on.
So, um, starting over in a way that is probably going to be insulting to my British readers: Meltdown was written by Laurence Creighton in 1993 for the Spectrum and almost certainly sold as a cassette tape in a sandwich bag in the back ads of Crash. Unless it was published by Zenobi Software whom I'm going to assume sold all of their second rate text adventure games in the back ads of Crash (sealed in sandwich bags). Text adventures remained popular in the United Kingdom for a long time after the market was essentially dead in the states because most people in the United Kingdom could only afford games which cost two to five pounds. Those games tended to be text adventures sealed in sandwich bags and sold out of the back pages of Crash. This is, presumably, due to having to spend most of their income on the NHS and television taxes. Although 99% of all Specy text adventures were low quality parodies of The Hobbit and Colossal Cave Adventure, they remained popular for years, gobbled up by loads of coal miners and chimney sweeps looking for an escape from the realization that Margaret Thatcher existed.
If you're interested in learning more about the Spectrum home computer, I'm sure some lonely twat has made a nostalgic documentary about it and uploaded it to Vimeo or YouTube. Being that I am interested in learning even more than I already know about the Zed Ex Spectrum (which, to be fair, consists of believing that all Spectrum games were sold in the back ads of Crash and sealed in sandwich bags), I just did the search I suggested. There's a teaser for a documentary called Memoirs of a Spectrum Addict (which is basically the title I came up with: Some Lonely Twat Has Made A Nostalgic Documentary About the ZX Spectum). It's full of 80s style blurred imagery of computer game boxes interspersed with scenes of the nerds from About a Boy and The Inbetweeners. Not literally, of course! But if you watch the trailer, you'll think, "Oh yeah! Those scenes looked like they were right out of About a Boy and The Inbetweeners, just like Grunion Guy jut said and which probably didn't need to be repeated in the sentence immediately following the statement."
Here's the basic premise in the author's own words. I think my own words have already caused enough harm to the British people.
From the outset, I'm skeptical about my mission in this game. I may just be an overweight writer who sometimes moonlights as an underwater superhero but I can also pretend I'm a nuclear expert by asking cynical rhetorical questions that sound critical. Like this one: "If they're worried about a bunch of plutonium rods exploding, is it safe to put them all together in the same box? I don't think lead magically stops fission!" Or this one: "Isn't the 'going critical' part the bad part? And if so, the game states it has already happened! Am I just being sent to my death by government officials who have an axe to grind with me?" Or this: "What if my bosses are wrong about where the plane was thought to have crashed? Will I just wander around a barren landscape for this entire game, earning no points and never becoming a hero?"
You know what? I'm getting ahead of myself. There's no way I'm going to come anywhere close to beating this game. And since I'm apparently mankind's last hope, that'll be the end of the world! Or at least the end of the small field in North Hampshire that will soon be a nuclear wasteland full of radiation and gas pirates.
You know what? I'm getting ahead of myself. There's no way I'm going to come anywhere close to beating this game. And since I'm apparently mankind's last hope, that'll be the end of the world! Or at least the end of the small field in North Hampshire that will soon be a nuclear wasteland full of radiation and gas pirates.
This is probably supposed to be sweet but it just sounds like Laurence has been picked on a bunch.
I began the adventure outside of a small village without any possessions. You would think even if the government couldn't drop me at the exact location of the accident, they could have at least provided me with a lead box and a Geiger counter. Not providing me with the tools I need to save the world bolsters the theory that I pissed off somebody back at the main office and now I'm paying the price.
While doing my initial exploring of the area, I found a large portable fan. Being that "portable" is in the description, I decide to take it with me.
While doing my initial exploring of the area, I found a large portable fan. Being that "portable" is in the description, I decide to take it with me.
Due to the peculiarities of language, time, and country of origin, I had to check my inventory to make sure the response, "RIGHT", was not sarcastic. It wasn't. I now had a large portable high-speed fan!
The fan had a sign on it that it could only be used once. No wonder the shopkeeper couldn't sell it and stashed it in the basement. What a piece of shit.
It was in the basement where I began to feel proud of myself for solving some early problems following my book, The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Adventuring! Rule #3 states that a dead end isn't a dead end until you've searched and examined everything. After examining the wall, I detected a light switch. After turning on the lights, I tried searching the basement and discovered an iron bar (which couldn't be found until the lights were turned on). I wasn't at all angry or upset about this string of events because I'd only been playing the game for a few minutes. Besides, I'd bested the writer at his own game almost immediately! I almost began to believe that I could beat this game without any hints!
But there was a part of me that was also beginning to think my character in the game wasn't the smartest agent at MI6. To even find the basement, I had had to move a potted plant. When I suggested to myself (I don't know how better to describe the conceit of text adventure games where you're not really the protagonist but sort of a person suggesting ideas to the protagonist. It's like, I, Grunion Guy, am the brain of Mr. Not-Super-Smart-Secret Agent Man, my avatar in the game) that I "push plant," my character in the game pushed on the plant until it bent over. I had to specify "push pot" to reveal the secret entrance into the shame basement where the store owners hide all of their shitty merchandise that never caught on, like fans that can only be used once and crowbars that need to be bent into shape by the customer.
Eventually I solved enough puzzles that I found my way to the scene of the crash site (where I wasn't allowed without proper clearance. Could my bosses not have at least provided me with identification?!). Now, I say "solved puzzles" because that's what you do in professional text adventure games like Zork or Zork II or Zork III or the other games by Infocom that weren't a sequel to Zork. In those games, you were presented with problematic logistical situations which expected the player to think in unusual but logical ways to solve the problem. But in games like Meltdown!, "puzzles" are really just finding the right item uncovered by searching the right area or examining the right thing to get past some kind of obstruction. So if you find a locked door, you obviously need the key. Now you just have to examine everything until the key is revealed in an obscure place. That's not really a puzzle. That's pixel hunting in text.
So there I was. My youth fading but not so rapidly that I didn't mind spending a few hours playing an old Zed Ex Spectrum adventure game. I was chugging right along by using my own adventuring tips, a bit of swagger in every word typed. I had this Laurence chap beat! He might be able to hide a switch on a wall by not describing it in the room description or an iron bar in the dark by not describing it in the room description from some idiots. He might be able to fool other morons by hiding a briefcase under a dead body that I didn't have time to report to the police because those nuclear rods weren't going to go uncritical by themselves! And some people might not have tried grabbing a chair when the chair wasn't an obvious item in the room so they never got past the downed tree. Or maybe some other dolt missed searching the tool shed to find the potting trowel which is needed to get the spade which is needed to dig in places that aren't pots (which is, obviously, the only place you can dig with a potting trowel. Can you believe anybody would expect more than that?! Jerks!). But he couldn't fool this moron! My youth (fading but still semi-apparent!) and joy were still, more or less, optimistically intact!
Oh, sure! I knew there was something under the stack of papers in the office which I didn't know how to move. But how important could that be?! Surely if I couldn't move the papers or organize the papers or shove the papers or push the papers or transfer the papers or simply take the papers, it must be a red herring of some sort! Could I, the super spy whose superiors obviously trusted to save the entire world, have figured out how to get the bandage and where to wet it so that I could clean the window to find the first two numbers of the safe's combination while not being able to figure out how to look under a stack of papers?!
By the way, "look under papers" didn't work.
Surely whatever was under the papers wasn't that important! Besides, I knew the first two numbers of the combination to the safe which meant I could figure out the last number by trial and error! Surely that was the answer to this puzzle, right?! I mean, that's actually a clever thing. Give people the first two numbers so some people might think, "Well, I need the last number to open the safe!" But smart super spies like me think, "I can just try every other number until the safe opens!"
It was in the basement where I began to feel proud of myself for solving some early problems following my book, The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Adventuring! Rule #3 states that a dead end isn't a dead end until you've searched and examined everything. After examining the wall, I detected a light switch. After turning on the lights, I tried searching the basement and discovered an iron bar (which couldn't be found until the lights were turned on). I wasn't at all angry or upset about this string of events because I'd only been playing the game for a few minutes. Besides, I'd bested the writer at his own game almost immediately! I almost began to believe that I could beat this game without any hints!
But there was a part of me that was also beginning to think my character in the game wasn't the smartest agent at MI6. To even find the basement, I had had to move a potted plant. When I suggested to myself (I don't know how better to describe the conceit of text adventure games where you're not really the protagonist but sort of a person suggesting ideas to the protagonist. It's like, I, Grunion Guy, am the brain of Mr. Not-Super-Smart-Secret Agent Man, my avatar in the game) that I "push plant," my character in the game pushed on the plant until it bent over. I had to specify "push pot" to reveal the secret entrance into the shame basement where the store owners hide all of their shitty merchandise that never caught on, like fans that can only be used once and crowbars that need to be bent into shape by the customer.
Eventually I solved enough puzzles that I found my way to the scene of the crash site (where I wasn't allowed without proper clearance. Could my bosses not have at least provided me with identification?!). Now, I say "solved puzzles" because that's what you do in professional text adventure games like Zork or Zork II or Zork III or the other games by Infocom that weren't a sequel to Zork. In those games, you were presented with problematic logistical situations which expected the player to think in unusual but logical ways to solve the problem. But in games like Meltdown!, "puzzles" are really just finding the right item uncovered by searching the right area or examining the right thing to get past some kind of obstruction. So if you find a locked door, you obviously need the key. Now you just have to examine everything until the key is revealed in an obscure place. That's not really a puzzle. That's pixel hunting in text.
So there I was. My youth fading but not so rapidly that I didn't mind spending a few hours playing an old Zed Ex Spectrum adventure game. I was chugging right along by using my own adventuring tips, a bit of swagger in every word typed. I had this Laurence chap beat! He might be able to hide a switch on a wall by not describing it in the room description or an iron bar in the dark by not describing it in the room description from some idiots. He might be able to fool other morons by hiding a briefcase under a dead body that I didn't have time to report to the police because those nuclear rods weren't going to go uncritical by themselves! And some people might not have tried grabbing a chair when the chair wasn't an obvious item in the room so they never got past the downed tree. Or maybe some other dolt missed searching the tool shed to find the potting trowel which is needed to get the spade which is needed to dig in places that aren't pots (which is, obviously, the only place you can dig with a potting trowel. Can you believe anybody would expect more than that?! Jerks!). But he couldn't fool this moron! My youth (fading but still semi-apparent!) and joy were still, more or less, optimistically intact!
Oh, sure! I knew there was something under the stack of papers in the office which I didn't know how to move. But how important could that be?! Surely if I couldn't move the papers or organize the papers or shove the papers or push the papers or transfer the papers or simply take the papers, it must be a red herring of some sort! Could I, the super spy whose superiors obviously trusted to save the entire world, have figured out how to get the bandage and where to wet it so that I could clean the window to find the first two numbers of the safe's combination while not being able to figure out how to look under a stack of papers?!
By the way, "look under papers" didn't work.
Surely whatever was under the papers wasn't that important! Besides, I knew the first two numbers of the combination to the safe which meant I could figure out the last number by trial and error! Surely that was the answer to this puzzle, right?! I mean, that's actually a clever thing. Give people the first two numbers so some people might think, "Well, I need the last number to open the safe!" But smart super spies like me think, "I can just try every other number until the safe opens!"
Oh. Um. Okay. I guess that isn't the solution!
It was about this time that I realized my youth was fading far more rapidly than I was willing to admit. I knew I needed to find something to hook the key to get it out of the tar to open the freezer to get the meat to put in the briefcase to feed the dog so I could explore the cave. And that thing had to be in the safe, right?! There was nowhere else to look! And I had the first two digits of the combination which basically means I have the fucking combination!
This might have been the first moment when I actually thought, "I can't believe Babs, John, Marion, Sue, and Tim put up with Laurence's shit for so long!" It's definitely when I finally cracked and thought, "I could just glance through the first few hints to the game until I figure out why I can't get the combination to work!"
Little did I know, the "How do you know that? YOU CHEAT!" reaction by the game was the game's way of saying, "You got the answer correct but you did so by blind chance. You have to find the third number of the combination by jumping through Laurence's hoops before you get your reward, chump." The game responds the same way if you "throw switch" to turn on the lights in the basement before you "examine wall" to find the switch. The game is a fucking harsh mistress.
So even though I always begin playing every text adventure by proclaiming to myself that I will not look at hints, I always wind up looking at hints after wasting more time than I realized I was going to waste playing the stupid fucking game. So I loaded up the hints from the Museum of Computer Adventure Game History website to see what I was doing wrong with the combination and almost immediately — it's the last command on the first line of hints — "lift papers."
FUCK. GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, LAURENCE CREIGHTON. YOU PIECE OF SHIT SOCIOPATHIC PILE OF TEXT ADVENTURE GARBAGE OF A HUMAN BEING! THAT WAS YOUR BIG FUCKING PUZZLE TO MAKE A FIVE MINUTE ADVENTURE GAME LAST FOR MANY HOURS?! YOU DO REALIZE THAT A PERSON SEARCHING THE DESK CAN MOVE A STACK OF PAPERS REALLY FUCKING SIMPLY, RIGHT?! SOMETIMES THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO TRY! THE PILE JUST FALLS OVER FROM ATMOSPHERIC DISTURBANCES! WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE THAT THE ANSWER TO THE PUZZLE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I MEAN, I DID TRY RUNNING THE FAN IN THE OFFICE THINKING IT WOULD BLOW THE STACK OF PAPERS DOWN BUT NO! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A SOLUTION TO A REAL PUZZLE, WOULDN'T IT, YOU CUM-STAINED SOCK JERKER! INSTEAD, YOU MAKE MY AVATAR LOGICALLY RETARDED (I CAN SAY THAT BECAUSE I'M NOT REFERENCING RETARDS! I JUST MEAN LOGIC THAT IS, WELL, UM, RETARDED! IF LAURENCE CAN'T THINK OF USING SYNONYMS FOR "LIFT," WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THINKING UP SYNONYMS FOR "RETARDED?!" YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD MEANS! IF YOU'RE UPSET ABOUT ITS USE, THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM! IT'S A REAL WORD THAT'S USEFUL IN SITUATIONS LIKE THIS!).
No, no. You know what? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be upset at you. It's Laurence with whom I'm really angry. I shouldn't have taken it out on my readers and I certainly shouldn't have used the R-slur. I mean, I still stand by the phrase "logically retarded." That's just logical! But I shouldn't have said the bit about "referencing retards" even if I'm desperate to call Laurence Creighton the R-slur right now. I can feel the temptation but I shouldn't give in to it. That's called being a decent human being, right?!
So, if you're wondering, "So, Grunion Guy, how was the rest of the game?", I can only say, "Fuck you. You play this stupid bullshit." I know you won't because you're much smarter than I am. You know better than to use the R-slur! There's a reason text adventures have mostly died out. And the ones that have survived — the ones referred to as "interactive fiction" — mostly follow updated and modern rules. Walking dead situations are now frowned upon. Being able to solve puzzles only after gaining clues from dying in the game is frowned upon. Making old school mazes that have simply been included to extend the length of play of a game is frowned upon. Hell, almost everything old school text adventure games did to make sure a game that cost somebody thirty dollars wasn't over in just a few minutes is frowned upon. And I can see why! I might die from an embolism sometime in the next twenty four hours thanks to Laurence.
To be fair, I did attempt to go on with the game after this. But once you've looked at the hints, there's almost no reason not to keep looking at them. And while I did find the last number to the combination, I still couldn't open the safe. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I "cheated" earlier and the game was punishing me. But what truly killed my enthusiasm for continuing with Laurence Creighton's masterpiece was when I saw in the hints that the ID badge to give me clearance to the crash site was found by typing "look under car" at the base of the funicular. I had already examined and searched it so why would I look under it? Besides, Laurence created a verb specifically for this game — lin (to "look inside" something) — which made me think, "That must mean you can't use an expression that has three words in it. So why the fuck would I ever have thought to type "look under car"?! I know in my heart that I *should* have typed that! I know "look under" and "look behind" should be added to my list of verbs to use on every noun encountered in a text adventure. So, you know, maybe that was my fault for not being an experience enough adventurer.
No. You know what? Fuck Laurence Creighton! He may have taken a few precious hours of my finite life with his bullshit game but he's not taking my self-esteem as well! I did everything in my power to try to navigate this game honestly and logically. But it just can't be done! The only people who have ever done it were people who played this game before the Internet existed and also didn't have a subscription to Crash magazine and people who don't give a fuck about their limited life span and who have no self-worth! I refuse to let Laurence beat me both in game and out! I'm a smart person who totally could have moved a stack of papers if this had been an escape room in real life! Fuck me if I'm to be blamed for a stupid nitwit avatar who can't fucking interpret the intent of my commands and needs to literally be told exactly what to do with his useless fucking head and hands!
This was the worst Sunday of my life.
Grade: C+.
This might have been the first moment when I actually thought, "I can't believe Babs, John, Marion, Sue, and Tim put up with Laurence's shit for so long!" It's definitely when I finally cracked and thought, "I could just glance through the first few hints to the game until I figure out why I can't get the combination to work!"
Little did I know, the "How do you know that? YOU CHEAT!" reaction by the game was the game's way of saying, "You got the answer correct but you did so by blind chance. You have to find the third number of the combination by jumping through Laurence's hoops before you get your reward, chump." The game responds the same way if you "throw switch" to turn on the lights in the basement before you "examine wall" to find the switch. The game is a fucking harsh mistress.
So even though I always begin playing every text adventure by proclaiming to myself that I will not look at hints, I always wind up looking at hints after wasting more time than I realized I was going to waste playing the stupid fucking game. So I loaded up the hints from the Museum of Computer Adventure Game History website to see what I was doing wrong with the combination and almost immediately — it's the last command on the first line of hints — "lift papers."
FUCK. GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, LAURENCE CREIGHTON. YOU PIECE OF SHIT SOCIOPATHIC PILE OF TEXT ADVENTURE GARBAGE OF A HUMAN BEING! THAT WAS YOUR BIG FUCKING PUZZLE TO MAKE A FIVE MINUTE ADVENTURE GAME LAST FOR MANY HOURS?! YOU DO REALIZE THAT A PERSON SEARCHING THE DESK CAN MOVE A STACK OF PAPERS REALLY FUCKING SIMPLY, RIGHT?! SOMETIMES THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO TRY! THE PILE JUST FALLS OVER FROM ATMOSPHERIC DISTURBANCES! WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE THAT THE ANSWER TO THE PUZZLE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I MEAN, I DID TRY RUNNING THE FAN IN THE OFFICE THINKING IT WOULD BLOW THE STACK OF PAPERS DOWN BUT NO! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A SOLUTION TO A REAL PUZZLE, WOULDN'T IT, YOU CUM-STAINED SOCK JERKER! INSTEAD, YOU MAKE MY AVATAR LOGICALLY RETARDED (I CAN SAY THAT BECAUSE I'M NOT REFERENCING RETARDS! I JUST MEAN LOGIC THAT IS, WELL, UM, RETARDED! IF LAURENCE CAN'T THINK OF USING SYNONYMS FOR "LIFT," WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THINKING UP SYNONYMS FOR "RETARDED?!" YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD MEANS! IF YOU'RE UPSET ABOUT ITS USE, THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM! IT'S A REAL WORD THAT'S USEFUL IN SITUATIONS LIKE THIS!).
No, no. You know what? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be upset at you. It's Laurence with whom I'm really angry. I shouldn't have taken it out on my readers and I certainly shouldn't have used the R-slur. I mean, I still stand by the phrase "logically retarded." That's just logical! But I shouldn't have said the bit about "referencing retards" even if I'm desperate to call Laurence Creighton the R-slur right now. I can feel the temptation but I shouldn't give in to it. That's called being a decent human being, right?!
So, if you're wondering, "So, Grunion Guy, how was the rest of the game?", I can only say, "Fuck you. You play this stupid bullshit." I know you won't because you're much smarter than I am. You know better than to use the R-slur! There's a reason text adventures have mostly died out. And the ones that have survived — the ones referred to as "interactive fiction" — mostly follow updated and modern rules. Walking dead situations are now frowned upon. Being able to solve puzzles only after gaining clues from dying in the game is frowned upon. Making old school mazes that have simply been included to extend the length of play of a game is frowned upon. Hell, almost everything old school text adventure games did to make sure a game that cost somebody thirty dollars wasn't over in just a few minutes is frowned upon. And I can see why! I might die from an embolism sometime in the next twenty four hours thanks to Laurence.
To be fair, I did attempt to go on with the game after this. But once you've looked at the hints, there's almost no reason not to keep looking at them. And while I did find the last number to the combination, I still couldn't open the safe. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I "cheated" earlier and the game was punishing me. But what truly killed my enthusiasm for continuing with Laurence Creighton's masterpiece was when I saw in the hints that the ID badge to give me clearance to the crash site was found by typing "look under car" at the base of the funicular. I had already examined and searched it so why would I look under it? Besides, Laurence created a verb specifically for this game — lin (to "look inside" something) — which made me think, "That must mean you can't use an expression that has three words in it. So why the fuck would I ever have thought to type "look under car"?! I know in my heart that I *should* have typed that! I know "look under" and "look behind" should be added to my list of verbs to use on every noun encountered in a text adventure. So, you know, maybe that was my fault for not being an experience enough adventurer.
No. You know what? Fuck Laurence Creighton! He may have taken a few precious hours of my finite life with his bullshit game but he's not taking my self-esteem as well! I did everything in my power to try to navigate this game honestly and logically. But it just can't be done! The only people who have ever done it were people who played this game before the Internet existed and also didn't have a subscription to Crash magazine and people who don't give a fuck about their limited life span and who have no self-worth! I refuse to let Laurence beat me both in game and out! I'm a smart person who totally could have moved a stack of papers if this had been an escape room in real life! Fuck me if I'm to be blamed for a stupid nitwit avatar who can't fucking interpret the intent of my commands and needs to literally be told exactly what to do with his useless fucking head and hands!
This was the worst Sunday of my life.
Grade: C+.
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