Tag: jesus

Jesus of Nazareth by Paul Allen Panks as Dunric [Comp05]

IFDB page: Jesus of Nazareth
Final placement: 33rd place (of 36) in the 2005 Interactive Fiction Competition

Between this game and Panks’ previous comp entry, Ninja v1.30, one year elapsed. Between that review and this one, the better part of 18 years has elapsed. In the interim, some things have happened, including the author’s death in 2009, just shy of his 33rd birthday.

Panks contravened many of the social norms in the IF community, and for that reason provoked reactions ranging from shunning to outright hostility. Jason Scott sums it up as well as anyone in the blog entry he wrote shortly after Panks’s death, and the comments from that entry (one of the few times I actually recommend reading the comments) flesh out the picture further.

Many things have changed technologically in those 18 years as well, which meant that I couldn’t just double-click the game file in order to run it the way I might have been able to in 2005. Jesus of Nazareth is a Windows executable, and Windows 10 wants nothing to do with it. I had to fire up a DOSBox instance to run it, and even once that succeeded there was certainly nothing like a scripting capability available, so I was reduced to taking the occasional screenshot so that I could remember notable moments in the experience of the game.

I wasn’t certain I really wanted to go through the bother, because I did not expect the game to be good, and it wasn’t. And if DOSBox had failed, I’d probably have given up. But when it succeeded, and I could at least play the game, I felt like I should at least give it a try, and in light of the author’s short and difficult life, I’m not inclined to be hypercritical.

Nevertheless, what we have here is not great. It’s a homebrewed parser game — one of Panks’ specialties — which is deeply player-unfriendly. Most anything the parser doesn’t understand (which is most things), it responds to with “You cannot do that here.”, giving a “Hello Sailor” feel to the proceedings minus any of the humor or sense of distant potential. In the very first scene, there’s a note, and if you try to read it, you’re told “You can’t make out the note.” If you type “x note” (not “X NOTE” because the parser can’t handle capital letters)… you read the note. You meet a centurion who is holding a spear, helmet, and shield. If you try to examine any of those things, you’re told, “That isn’t here.”

Technical flaws aside, the premise of this game made me smile. You play — not surprisingly — Jesus of Nazareth, and your goal is to get followers. The game knows and relies upon the command “convert”, as in “convert matthew.” The “score” command tells you this, at the beginning of the game:

Your goal is to convert at least 4 disciples to your cause.
Thus far, you have converted:
You still have 6 disciple(s) left to convert.

If you’re going to make Jesus the PC in a text adventure, this seems like a pretty logical way to keep score! On the other hand, if you’re going to make Jesus the PC in a text adventure, the parser should probably know the word “forgive”. See, I hadn’t wandered too far when I found myself trapped in a location with the aforementioned centurion, who was insisting on seeing my papers, and wouldn’t let me leave. I had no papers — no inventory at all. Talking didn’t work. Converting didn’t work. Forgiveness wasn’t even an option. And there is no walkthrough.

So I quit, and forgave the game its trespasses.

Rating: 3.5

Jump by Chris Mudd [Comp01]

IFDB page: Jump
Final placement: 41st place (of 51) in the 2001 Interactive Fiction Competition

Jump puts me in mind of something Orson Scott Card said in a 1997 interview. In talking about how he started as a playwright before becoming a novelist, Card says, “By the time I turned to fiction, I had already cleared many of the first hurdles (I had written my suicide story, my perversion story, etc., and had moved beyond them, as every good writer eventually must).” What we don’t know from this quote is just what happened to that suicide story. Given that he was writing plays for BYU at the time, it’s not such a stretch to imagine that Card’s suicide story was enacted onstage for whatever audience might show up to student productions. After playing this game, I have a notion of how that audience might have felt.

Jump is a suicide story. To me, this was clear just from the title and blurb in Comp01, but no matter who you are, you’ll know it’s a suicide story before game’s first prompt, given that it opens with a suicide scene. Suicide stories in IF are an even trickier proposition than in static fiction (a term I dislike, by the way, but can’t think of a better alternative at the moment), because it’s one thing to watch someone kill themselves, and quite another to direct their actions towards that goal. Jump stops just short of In The End, since it doesn’t actually demand that the player type KILL MYSELF at the prompt, but it’s just as obvious that’s what’s going to happen, and the inevitable is just as… inevitable.

There’s a bit of window dressing that attempts to explain the suicide, but really, it’s just that: window dressing. They’re all the sort of movie-of-the-week elements you’d expect: adolescent protagonist; a suicide pact at school; dialogue that’s waaay over the top; alcoholism, battering, and probably child molestation in the protagonist’s home. These things feel pasted on — I never had the sense at any point that any of the characters were anything but cardboard cutouts. Details, characterization, and plot are so sparsely provided that it’s very difficult to really care about who these people are and what happens to them. It’s all overwith rather quickly anyway, so we barely get a chance to meet the characters, much less identify with them.

There are also religious overtones that ring false. Part of this is because of the general shallowness of the piece — it’s hard to get into the protagonist’s mindset when we get so little insight into her. Reading Christian scripture as advocating suicide is so far from typical that it really demands some explanation, and the game provides very little. The other part of the problem is implementation, as seen here:

>x picture
His eyes look skyward. His arms are spread. His legs are together.
Blood oozes from his feet and hands.

>x jesus
You can't see any such thing.

Well now, wait a sec. If that isn’t Jesus, then just who is it in the picture with the bloody hands and feet? I’m reminded of another quote, this time from Homer Simpson, after being called “wicked” for skipping church:

Kids, let me tell you about another so-called [makes quotation marks with fingers] “wicked” guy. He had long hair and some wild ideas. He didn’t always do what other people thought was right. And that man’s name was… I forget. But the point is… I forget that, too. Marge, you know what I’m talking about. He used to drive that blue car?

Anyway, my point is… wait, what was my point? Oh, right: the story begins, there’s a suicide, the story ends. Doesn’t take too long. Doesn’t accomplish too much. But if, as Card implies, the suicide story is a hurdle, consider it cleared.

Rating: 3.1