Intermittent Mechanism

file://maniac is a short but effective step into the “broken fourth wall” genre of games, which I in general think is pretty interesting to examine. The most prominent entry into this genre from recent memory is undoubtedly Team Salvato’s Doki Doki Literature Club from 2017 with its file shenanigans – in particular, the way its most notable character would delete others before ultimately being deleted by the player herself. file://maniac also reminded me of One Shot and Baba Is You. In the former, while the player may control Niko, the main character, they are a distinctly separate entity acknowledged in the story itself, and the game leverages that extrinsic nature to have the player guide Niko through puzzles and challenges that would otherwise be impossible. Conversely, Baba Is You doesn’t really have a story but its gameplay revolves around altering the fundamental rules of the world as puzzles to get whatever represents “you” to whatever represents “win”. For example, if “Door is Shut” and is trapping Baba, it can be opened by replacing the “Shut” block with an “Open” one in the rule, or you can change from controlling Baba to a key on the other side by replacing “Baba” with “Key” in the “Baba is You” rule, or you can even add to the rule that “Baba is You and Open” in order to make Baba himself capable of opening the door, among a plethora of other creative solutions based in the rules and blocks available.

Whether this counts as “fair play” is questionable, though. In games like these, the clues are often wholly accessible to the reader but not the actual character, then requiring supernatural (or similar digital) means of explaining how the character progressed, if the excuse of coincidence isn’t used. As mentioned in class, even if the supernatural rules of the world are clear, reasonable, and well-explained for the reader, it could be considered unfair for the detective if they don’t already know they live in a world where the supernatural exists, since it’s a fairly large leap in logic to make from an otherwise grounded reality. Since Baba Is You isn’t a story-driven game, there isn’t much need for explanation, but “You” is a canonically distinct existence from Baba given that the player can separate themself from Baba and move or win without him. In One Shot, the player is positioned as a god Niko is meant to look to for guidance, which is reasonable given the context of Niko being pulled from another world to fulfill a prophecy of delivering a light bulb to replace the world’s dying sun. Meanwhile, Doki Doki Literature Club’s Monika is a strangely advanced artificial intelligence for a supposed dating simulator that not only has control over the game itself but is aware that you, the player behind the perspective character, are the only “real” thing in the world.

file://maniac lacks any explicit explanation for its mechanics, but in its defense, it is only a game jam prototype for a planned longer series. As such, there seems to be a story, but very few details are given and many questions are left yet unanswered. The protagonist is a silent and otherwise unidentified “agent” that enters and then descends a building, facilitated by the player’s interactions with each level’s files in the file manager. Text appears on screen to direct the player on where to go and what to do, but it leaves you to wonder exactly who is talking and why. If it’s the protagonist, does he know you’re there? If so, how and how is he aware of the intricacies of the file system for his game? If not, who is he talking to then? If it’s not the protagonist, who is it and why are they helping you? It could simply be narration, but it never describes the actions of the man or the environment and instead instructs us along with directly congratulating us at times, which makes it seem like a person. Similarly, I wonder how to regard the notes occasionally dropped into the file system, especially given that they relate to in-game material but are only conveyed outside of the actual game client.

The ending is also quite curious, given that it shows the protagonist in a loop of traversing a building labeled “home” that can only be ended by the player deleting the home directory, implying that even the setting may not be “real”. My first thought was that we were simply dropped in media res for this prologue chapter and more detail would be given as the story progressed, but then I began to wonder if the protagonist was the murderer. If we were viewing or interfacing with the killer’s mind or dreams in some way, that would explain why the notes seem to be someone’s (the protagonist’s?) relevant thoughts and simply pop into “our” awareness via the file system, along with how “we” are able to manipulate the world. Story-wise, the killer could be having some sort of break with reality and is stuck wandering and re-wandering the mental halls of their “home” until they straighten out their thoughts, remember what they did, and finally come to terms with it instead of turning away and choosing to forget again, which would also explain needing to sort the victim’s names and the line “the home was his mind” at the end. But the  “Congratulations agent” also at the end implies that the protagonist (or maybe just us, the player) is some kind of detective investigating the deaths, maybe by exploring the real killer’s mind somehow? I’m not exactly sure where the story is going, but I’m interested in seeing if it ever continues and how they’ll integrate the player into the story as it goes on.

– Corian

Pentiment is less a narrative of investigation and more a narrative about investigation. The game follows the perspective of an artist, Andreas Maler, who frequently visits a Bavarian town while apprenticing as an illuminator at the nearby Abbey. In order to defend his friend who is falsely accused of murder, Andreas conducts an independent investigation into the incident. The player can use Andreas’ limited time to pursue different threads, and after the time is up, can accuse one of several suspects of having committed the murder. When Andreas returns seven years later, he is tasked with investigating yet another murder, and can once again utilize his time to pursue evidence and suspects, ultimately choosing one to blame for the crime.

In the game itself, however, there is no confirmation that the player has chosen correctly (or incorrectly) during these initial two investigations. After playing the game, I was uncertain of my choices, and did not know if I had found the true culprits. Because it is impossible to pursue every lead with the limited time you have, I knew I had missed evidence, and wondered if I had neglected to interview the correct suspect. I was curious, and googled to find out if I was correct—only to find that there were no correct answers. While some suspects are more or less suspicious, there is no in-game clarification as to who ultimately committed the murder. This is a striking choice, particularly considering the analytical writing surrounding the investigation genre. A lot of sources, from Haycraft to Rodell, are focused on the fairness of a murder mystery. They attempt to codify guidelines to keep the narrative comprehensible and solvable, even for the reader. These rules, however, belie a deeper assumption: that the murder is solvable—that there is a single, definitive answer. This is something Pentiment intentionally eschews.

Thus, Pentiment is not truly a classic murder mystery or a detective story. While the central narrative and ludic loop is engaging in investigation (interviewing suspects, examining evidence, etc.), the investigation itself is not the central focus—it is ultimately pointless, because the player cannot find the true culprit in the first and second murders (inasmuch as there is a “true culprit”). Investigation into the murder is not the only narrative in Pentiment, however—and indeed, it is not the only investigation the player can conduct, either. Pentiment’s murder mysteries are presented against the backdrop of sociopolitical strife. The locals experience conflict between their pagan cultural traditions and the instruction of the monastery, class conflict against heavy taxation, and even broader conflict as wars between larger kingdoms are mentioned. Andreas can speak to the citizens and gain insight into these broader thematic conflicts, such as tradition versus innovation.

These overarching themes are ultimately what the murder mysteries serve to contextualize and affect. They are not so simple as a selection from a pool of neutral suspects—they involve potentially deepening the rift between the local populace and the abbey (by blaming one or the other for the strife after the murder), or between political sects arguing about taxation, or between individual citizens who may have a grudge against one another. What is explored in Pentiment is thus less the murder mystery itself, but the effect a murder mystery (and ensuing investigation) can have on a community. Andreas progresses from a nuisance in the first murder mystery to a trusted public figure in the second, creating his own Holmes-like detective mythos.

This has a meta-effect on the player, who, in playing the game, is creating a narrative of their own. Because there are so many leads and choices of what to do with their time, no two playthroughs of Pentiment are exactly the same. This means that each player’s choices of which leads to follow creates their own individualized narrative, even though they ultimately played the same game. In this way, because players will necessarily see evidence of guilt from the people they pursue, they will end up convincing themselves of that person’s culpability. They have crafted their own explanatory narrative, similarly to how a detective will ultimately explain the mystery at the end of a novel or movie.

The player will almost always find themselves feeling as though they are choosing someone to hold accountable, rather than correctly identifying a killer. With the limited time, players may either complete a shallow investigation of each suspect, or deeply consider one or two. This means that either they will lack evidence to make a compelling decision, or “waste” their time on people who most likely did not commit the murder. Even if they are unconvinced of a certain character’s guilt, the player may continue to pursue the lead—in my own playthrough, I fell victim to sunk-cost fallacy a few times, and reasoned that I did not have enough time to pursue other leads, and would simply have to find someone to blame even if the evidence was circumstantial.

This is the crux of Pentiment’s unique structure. Rather than solving a seemingly unsolvable case and coming up with unquestionable truth, Andreas has a far more difficult task at hand—he (and by extension, the player) must sift through unreliable and inconclusive evidence and decide who to blame. Will he point the finger at the most likely murderer? Blame whoever will minimize strife? Seek to advance the goals of a particular organization or party by eliminating their opposition? When finding the truth is literally impossible, what priorities should an investigator have? In this way, Pentiment responds to the assumptions and genre conventions of the murder mystery, utilizing interactivity to de-stabilize the certainty of the detective and the mythos of the murder mystery as a solvable puzzle.

By Nicole

By Alex Ding

Amidst the vast array of gaming options available today (AAA, mobile, MMO, MOBA) etc… I sometimes have had a hard time finding time to explore a relatively stand-alone, short puzzle indie game such as “The Case of the Golden Idol.” However, having spent quite a long time fully completing the game and delving into both its story narrative and its game mechanics, I can say that “The Case of the Golden Idol” has excelled at a couple main points that I want to write about in my blog post. The first point is allowing the player itself to solve the mystery using an unique omnipresent POV that I haven’t yet seen in other detective-like video games. The second point is its attention to detail in its narrative which goes above and beyond in building the fantasy world inspired by late 18th century Europe. The unique narrative and storytelling which allowed me to fully be immersed in the game’s story, which in turn helped me solve the identities and actions of certain characters in the story. Furthermore, I want to expound on these strengths and introduce some criticisms to fully flesh out why I think that this game is so well done and yet capable of improvement.

Unique POV:

In “The Case of the Golden Idol,” after loading up and starting the game, I was immediately shown a murder case with a body lying on the water after having been pushed by another person. Here, the game explains its technical mechanics where one has to match words/names with blank words and pictures. Here, I played as the omnipresent detective without a name or a face, which allowed for the discovery of otherwise private clues and facts that couldn’t have been found if the neutral detective was in the game’s narrative, for example, like searching through dead people’s bags and purses and finding hidden letters or even hidden people. Thus “The Case of the Golden Idol” could be able to expand on what clues were in the scenes itself, without being limited by the detective’s bias or interference from other in-universe characters.

Additionally, unlike in other mystery games that I’ve played, I was forced to solve these mysteries without any direct help from other playable characters or the game itself. A mechanic that was of help was the “sparkable” clicks that turned yellow/red based on if you found the clue/word that could be identified by that object in the scene. Another game mechanic that helped make the game more accessible to players was the green/yellow/red “bar” at the top of the “Thinking” screen, which tells you if you are far away/almost there/perfect with the deductions present. I felt that this was extremely helpful as without the game narrative itself helping you with the mystery through other in-game characters talking with you through the mystery, that some sort of system that told you if you were correct or not was essential in order to gain a sense of progress towards these mysteries. What was instantly noticeable was the “Victory” music and disappearance of words when you got a section or the entire puzzle correct. Thus, the game rewards you with advancement which gives me and other players a sense of achievement after solving the mystery. 

Attention to Detail:

“The Case of the Golden Idol” fleshes out the in-game universe extremely well which allowed for me to be fully immersed in the game. While the first few chapters of the game focus more on a micro perspective of a single murder or crime, the later chapters really shine for me in expanding what we have found in those first few scenes into how it affects the greater world. For me, I was most fascinated with being in this dystopian-like alternative history while trying to figure out the mystery of why several characters were killed. I was constantly reminded of allusions to Revolution-era France while playing the game with its Society of Virtues and its metering out of unpleasant punishments. The scene that I felt most fleshed out about was the judgements of several characters that were present in previous scenes being punished by the “main character/villain” in the lair of the secret societies/cult that was ever present in the game. Trying to figure out the roles of several characters in masks was extremely tough, yet rewarding as it greatly helped me find out why certain characters were against each other. The last mystery further expands on this feeling of expansion of world view that I felt earlier, having the mysteries’ scope be the entire city that the game took place in. This type of immersion would not be there usually for a less than 5-7 hour game, but “the case of the Golden Idol” gets you right there with its extremely detailed backgrounds and scenes. 

Criticisms and ways to Improve:

One criticism that I had was the frustration I had when I was stuck in a puzzle. I was constantly clicking on clues that were already present in the word bank. The constant re-clicking was both tedious and sort of cut the continuous narrative up. I think some sort of refinement of that system would be great to make the game a bit smoother so that the narrative could flow a bit better. I think that the hint system could be much more refined so that it would be used more effectively.

Secondly, when I was at the end of the game, I was unenthused about there not being a grand ending/ scene that the main villain was in. The ending was underwhelming in my opinion and wrapped up the story in a way that felt was contrasting to the built up. I think that adding a DLC/extra chapters where the ending is more fleshed out and satisfying would be a way to fix what me and others are thinking when playing the ending chapter.

Conclusion:

“The Case of the Golden Idol” emerges as a remarkable fusion of puzzle-solving mechanics and narrative depth, captivating players with its unique perspective and attention to detail. Despite the plethora of gaming options available today, this indie gem stands out for its immersive world-building and engaging gameplay. While it’s not without its flaws, such as repetitive and sometimes frustrating interactions and a somewhat lackluster ending, the game’s strengths shine through, offering players a truly memorable experience. As I reflect on my journey through its mysteries, I’m left impressed by the game’s ability to transport me to a world filled with intrigue and suspense, solidifying its place as a standout title in the realm of indie puzzle gaming.

“The Case of the Golden Idol.” interview where the creators talk about its game development here: https://www.gamedeveloper.com/design/case-of-the-golden-idol

by Sean

I came into Return of the Obra Dinn relatively unspoiled. Was it a puzzle game? A game of investigation? A heavily narrative-focused game with a few interactive elements? All of this I wondered as I started up the game and was greeted with the opening flyer:

“Lost at Sea, 1803

THE GOOD SHIP

‘OBRA DINN’”

As I played through the game, those initial questions withdrew from the forefront of my mind as I became more and more captivated by the slowly unfolding nonlinear narrative. Using the protagonist’s “Memento Mortem” watch, I was able to view the last moments of the unfortunate souls who had died on the ill-fated journey through the Atlantic. Through these scattered memories, I was able to piece together a clearer and clearer picture of what had occurred on the Obra Dinn.

Returning to those initial questions, I felt—first of all—that the “narrative” and “puzzle” elements had not been in tension in the slightest. As someone with experience playing other mystery games, I was accustomed to the idea of puzzles serving as something to interrupt the story. As an example, earlier in the quarter, I played Sherlock Holmes: Crimes & Punishments. At one point in the game, Sherlock sniffs a pouch of tobacco, remarking that its aroma is familiar. To mirror the process of Sherlock forming a “picture” of his associations with the smell, the player is tasked with rotating and arranging a fragmented picture of a sailboat in three dimensions until the picture forms a coherent whole. This section brought our group’s investigation to a sudden and unceremonious halt. We were no longer engaging with a narrative nor investigating a series of clues; the game was forcing us to take a break and complete an unrelated and tedious exercise.

Instances do exist in which the game designers attempt to integrate the puzzle-solving into the game’s world—in Portal, for example, the puzzle rooms (“test chambers”) exist as justified and plausible elements of Portal’s Aperture Science laboratory. But what separates both kinds of puzzles from those present in Return of the Obra Dinn’s puzzles is simply that Obra Dinn doesn’t ask the player to step away from the narrative at all. On the contrary, when the player is asked to solve the fates of each of the members on the ship, the player is brought further into the story; they are forced to pay attention to each minute detail: the characters’ accents; the implied relationships between the characters; each crewmember’s clothing. They are then tasked with critically engaging with those details: what do they imply about the chronology of events? About this or that character’s identity? About this character’s potential motive for murder? In this way, I felt that the relationship between puzzle and narrative was utterly seamless.

That being said, this marriage between the process of narrative comprehension and puzzle-solving did result in some absurdities. As the game puts it during its tutorial, “Decisive information is rare. You will have to make assumptions using partial information.” Typical detective stories are much the same—circumstantial evidence might only suggest certain culprits; decisive evidence is often reserved for the end. However, there is a key difference: the reader of a detective novel is not being scored on their ability to deduce names, methods, and killers—but the Obra Dinn player is. As a result, the game is sometimes forced to make its circumstantial evidence very suggestive. Occasionally, this comes at the expense of any narrative subtlety and immersion. At one point, one character in a small room calls out to another outside of the room for help: “Brennan! Bring the surgeon’s kit,” he cries. The player is then allowed to explore the scene right at this moment. There are two characters directly outside of the room—one might wonder, which one is Brennan? At least, one wonders this until noticing the exaggerated “I-just-heard-my-name-called,” hand-to-ear listening pose of one of the men. Indeed, this is Brennan.

Another time, the player listens to the last words of a currently unidentified member of the crew. There isn’t much information to go by, until the man suddenly exclaims the German exclamation “verdammt” in a sentence otherwise entirely composed of English. The significance of this interjection becomes apparent when the player scans the crew manifest and discovers that only one person on the ship is from a predominantly German-speaking country (Austria): Alfred the Bosun.

By unblurring the characters’ faces, the game demonstrates that it expects the player to be able to guess these people’s names from this information. In order to allow the player to make the right guesses, the game is forced to lean a little too far toward the side of unsubtlety to let players make those reasonable logical jumps—whereas, on the other hand, a novel can allow these half-certainties to exist.

This speaks to a broader issue with gamifying narrative comprehension in this way. A character’s identity must either be “guessable” or not—something explicitly shown via the blurring and unblurring of characters’ faces in the journal. Detective novels have the liberty to leave the reader in a state of half-awareness and self-doubt on such matters—Obra Dinn must draw a hard line, removing some degree of the suspense and mystery present in a narrative of investigation. Nonetheless, the game demonstrates that a seamless marriage between detective storytelling and puzzle game is possible, even if it does compromise the strength of the narrative to some extent.

At one point during covid, this game soared beyond the charts. I remember playing it in discord with my friends, and even more with random people late in the night. “Among Us” is a popular online multiplayer game that shares the detective or mystery theme we are all familiar with. A game where you’re either an imposter or crew member. The game’s main objective is trying to identify the “Imposter(s)” among the crew members you are playing with. Depending on how you set up the game, there can be more than one imposter. This aligns with the mystery that drives detective stories. Its aim is for the protagonist or “crew members” to uncover who is the culprit responsible for the murder(s) of the crew mates. In order to do so one must be very cautious of surroundings and look for even the most subtle clues.

What I find most intriguing about this game is the use of deception and social dynamics in order to pull off a win as an imposter. When trying to deceive the others, it varies how well your approach is depending on if you’re playing alone with random people or with friends. As in class, not knowing many people that closely, it was difficult figuring out when someone was telling the truth. Your friends may see you as someone who is clearly lying or trying to deceive, whereas someone you’re not too familiar with may see you as a threat. I would say another varying factor could be where everyone is located. An interesting clue can be seeing someone’s facial expressions or the tone of their voice when being interrogated. While on the other hand, when you’re playing with random people, sometimes it’s difficult because you can’t go off of the tone of voice, rather can only see the text in the chat which doesn’t help someone’s case as much.

The next thing I’d like to talk about is the use of the sabotage tactic. The sabotage tactic is different depending on the map you decide to play. For this example, let’s talk about the first one. This map allows the imposter to use a light switch, which lowers the crew members line of sight, allowing the imposter to kill easier without someone else seeing. The next is setting off the reactor alarm, which forces at least two crew members to weasel their way to the left side of the map and deactivate the reactor. This tactic allows the imposter to diverge attention one way while possibly making a kill on the other side. The next is in communications, where all tasks crew members are trying to take care of are turned off until the communications task is finished. This draws all the attention to the bottom of the ship. So reactors and comms force members to a specific part of the ship, while electrical fields block vision. Another sabotage technique that is commonly used is closing doors to specific parts of the map. This can be used to trap a singular or multiple members and can cause friction. It can also be used to block off where a body could be found. The largest tactic and one of my favorites is the use of venting. It allows the imposter to move around the map quickly, especially after executing another member of the crew.

We now know the ultimate goal of the game is to unveil the identity of the imposter before they sabotage the mission or eliminate all of the crew members. However, there is another way for the crew mates to secure a win. This being to complete all given tasks/missions before being eliminated. Even if you do get eliminated, it is important to continue completing the tasks as you are still a ghost floating on the map. That way of winning isn’t as much detective work, but still an option. The other way is through gathering clues and evidence against other members of the crew. Gathering clues could be observing other members complete tasks, and developing trust. Now that doesn’t always work as some crew members can deceive you into thinking they aren’t the imposter. By carefully analyzing other players movements and actions, you may be able to tell who it is, but at the same time have to be conscious of keeping yourself safe and not looking too out of place or suspicious. This allows a player to see discrepancies in alibis, suspicious movement or just actions that don’t align to what another player can claim to be doing. These all deduce reasoning to who the imposter could be and fall under reasonable suspicion.

All in all, I believe that this game follows the directions of what we as a class decided a detective/mystery game can be. It allows for players to gather evidence and clues. It carries the burden of suspicion and deception. It also allows for players to use logical reasoning and problem solving. The imposter themselves can often use a detective-like strategy to avoid suspicion and frame other players. 

This picture shown is of the map just to clarify any misinterpretations. The sabotages can occur in the reactor room, Electrical, and Communications. Players start in the cafeteria and can choose three different directions to surf through.

For class this past week, I was part of the group who played the game Voyeur. The game falls under the interactive movie genre, where the vast majority of the game is recorded cut-scenes that the player must look through and decipher. Upon its initial release in 1993, the game received numerous awards, but subsequent versions of the game received harsher reviews. Based largely on the style of game that Voyeur is, and especially when held in contrast to the film Rear Window, I think that the faults of this game hold it back more than its successes propel it forward. 

In Voyeur, you play the role of a private investigator hired to capture evidence against Reed Hawke, who is planning to announce a presidential campaign, and destroy his career. You operate a video camera overlooking the Hawke manor, and over the course of a few days, must look into different rooms and record video footage that would accomplish the said task of running his career. 

An issue I had with our group playthrough was that it was not immediately clear why we were doing this. Why would it be such a bad thing if Hawke was president? Why is it so critical that we ruin this man’s career? The initial motivation for spying on him just wasn’t there for me. Of course, as you play the game and discover incestuous relations and a murder plot, it becomes clear why he shouldn’t be president (though things of that nature haven’t stopped recent figures from rising to power). In comparison to Rear Window, the setup for voyeurism is more compelling. Here, a man who has lived his whole life on the edge filled with action is now wheelchair bound, and has nothing to do but try to find some excitement. So, he turns to observation of his neighborhood. While at first, a private investigator might make more sense as an observer than a simple man with a broken leg, the PI in Voyeur simply lacked good motivation for me. 

From the start, I wasn’t entirely captivated by the game. The gameplay itself didn’t really pull me in either. The style of game, that being an interactive movie, just isn’t a lot of fun to play through. It feels like it removes lots of the best parts of gaming – actual gameplay, character movement, character control, interactivity – and removes lots of the best parts of film – cinematography, camera movement, score – leaving the player with a watered down experience. I’m not sure how Voyeur could have done a better job at this, I think it is more a fault of the genre, especially with the technological capabilities of the time. I think the lack of actual gameplay and more cut-scene focused game would have worked better if I was more invested in the story. I didn’t feel a lot of pressure to prevent this guy, Hawke, from becoming president until I found out about his murder plan. In Rear Window, there isn’t a “looking hoping to find something”. Jeffries is suspicious of a murder and goes down that rabbit hole. When Lisa goes to investigate, stakes are raised even further. When the injured Jeffries is confronted by Thorwald, the stakes are raised again. In Voyeur, I didn;t feel that same rising tension.

That being said, there are positives for this game. I think the general concept is an intriguing one. Looking back through a 2024 lens, the political intrigue and goal of preventing a bad man from becoming president is somewhat relatable. The acting performances from cut-scene actors in this game are also done well. At the time, this game was intriguing for its use of mature and adult content in game, which, by today’s standards wasn’t as shocking or intriguing as it might have been in 1993. It is easy to judge games some thirty years after their release as not being good, especially in a field where the technology and culture has changed so drastically. 

Many of the criticisms I have levied thus far can be chalked up to Voyeur being a product of it’s time I think, especially critiques of limited gameplay and the constraints of the genre (these interactive movie games have changed dramatically in decades following, see Telltale Games) would not be as present were this a modern product. However, my lack of being initially pulled into the game, and the lack of rising tension are fair criticisms of Voyeur. That being said, I still think Voyeur has its place as a game of investigation. It was fairly groundbreaking for the time, and the concept that it has of putting the player into a mystery is one that we still see today. I think that popular games like the Telltale games and Detroit: Become Human have to credit their advent to games like Voyeur. As I mentioned before too, the subject matter of the game was a selling point at the time, and, while it might not be as special today, still paved the way for other games. I think it serves its purpose best as a piece of history to look back on. An interesting plot with a lack of intriguing gameplay, but innovative ideas that can serve as a touchstone to see just how far the genre has come.

-Luke Walker

About 4 years ago, Among Us had the whole world in a chokehold. Everyone from adults to children were playing it. During a time of global pandemic and panic, people found a way to come together and have fun with the game. I remember being a first year student on campus during this time and I would see group of students in their masks in a small little circle playing Among Us and trying to figure out who the imposter was between them. On TikTok, there were various videos and clips of famous streamers playing the game and viewers being enticed by it. Through all this enthusiasm about the game, I somehow managed to never find a way to play. Many of my friends would plan the time and day to play in our group chats, but I could never find it in me to play the game. 

I never played the game…until last week. When we played the game in class, I was not even sure what I was supposed to do. I knew the game required the utmost confidentiality from the imposter; and from everyone else, based on the clips I had watched, I knew the plan was to work together and try as much as possible to be transparent about what their tasks were in the game. To my surprise, I was of course an imposter in my first ever game. I did not know what to do or what was expected of me. There were fake tasks that I was given to do by the game so I could convince everyone else when a player got killed that I was actually doing a task, and not committing murder (in game of course). However, this was my first game…I did not know how to even do these tasks. To make matters worse, I did not know how to kill other characters. I would just follow them around trying to see if some button would pop up when I got close enough to allow me to kill. As one may suspect after reading this, I was swiftly voted out by other players. I was never doing a task, and I was always following people so it did not take long for other players to find me suspicious even if they never saw me kill. Therefore, the game made me wonder two things: why was the game so loved, and what made a good imposter?

As for the second question, I got my answer immediately in the following game we played. Luckily another player was the imposter and I was one of the characters that had to do a task. At this point I had figured out how to do my tasks. As a result, I was swiftly moving around doing what the game had assigned to me and asking other players what they were doing as well. During this time, the imposter was moving around subtly killing two of the players in the game yet none of us knew until a meeting was held. During the meeting when we had to vote, there was no anonymous decision that could be made as everyone had been visible during the game, and the only people that knew the truth were already dead. It occurred to me that to be a good imposter, one must not only kill, but also perform the fake tasks often enough that your whereabouts could be confirmed by others. Additionally, as the imposter you have to talk and try to add to the conversation that everyone else was having when trying to discover who the imposter is. If you are quiet, it makes others feel as though you have something to hide. After the first meeting was over, I was followed for about five seconds and before I could get a word out, I was killed. I figured out who the imposter was and realized it was someone I would have never guessed. The person that was the imposter was certainly chatting during the game but not enough to where you would suspect them of overcompensating so they are not detected. Yet they were not quiet enough to where you would suspect them of hiding something. They talked just enough to go under the radar and they never followed anyone for too long to where the victim could get out a word before being killed. Seeing the imposter in the second game in action reminded me of movies where the villain or criminal commit crimes and yet somehow get away with it because they do not draw attention to themselves. No one ever suspects them of the crime and even if they are suspected, they are never caught because they have some type of alibi that can be confirmed. For example, “Primal Fear” or “The Talented Mr. Ripley”. In “Primal Fear”, even though Edward Norton was literally on trial for murder, he had convinced people of his alibi to the point where they were convinced someone else did the crime.

Now as for the first question, why was the game loved so much…I suppose it is the reason why every detective game or crime game is loved. There is suspense. Suspense takes people on an emotional rollercoaster and these emotions can be thrilling. In Among Us, you do not know who the imposter is and everyone is trying to prove it is not them. Someone can literally be next to you doing a task and five seconds later, they kill you. You just never know and that suspense of not knowing and the mental gymnastics of trying to get the person right before everyone is killed or before the game is over makes the game that much more thrilling. Similarly, when we watch a movie, we try to guess who the killer is and we try to figure out the motive that each character could have that would lead to them committing the crime. Even though we know that we will get the answer at the end of the movie, we still do our best to figure it out anyway because the process of figuring it out is the fun. 

By Elle Thompson

Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None has been praised as a masterful mass murder and a testament to successful suspension of mystery across multiple points of view, including the killers. However, to maintain dispersed suspicion across the ten suspects and provide their candid interiority, Christie breaks one of the fundamental rules of fair play: no red herrings. 

A red herring within investigative fiction can be defined as a clue or detail that is intended to misdirect or distract the reader. It is a betrayal of trust to further obscure the mystery and suspend its resolution. However, it is important to note that not all red herrings are necessarily a violation of the reader’s trust, nor directly in violation of fair play. Red herrings between characters within a story, for example, are necessary and natural. A murderer may try to misdirect suspicion by throwing in false evidence, or as in And Then There Were None, faking their death.

Justice Wargrave’s staged murder is as flamboyant as red herrings come, almost comical in its theatricality, with a scarlet oil slick curtain for a robe and yarn for a judge’s wig. The readers learn later that the judge was alive in this scene, and had faked his own murder through an allegiance with a too-trusting doctor and a dollop of red clay. However, that moment of revelation isn’t a betrayal of the reader’s trust but the characters. The readers know something is amiss, that the characters are constantly trying to deceive each other, even if they do not know how or when that deception is taking place. Therefore when Wargrave takes action to deceive his fellow murderers, it is perceived as a part of the mystery, contributing to it instead of distracting from it. Furthermore, the sheer dramatics are a clue to the reader, either in the moment or in retrospect, that an active attempt at distraction is taking place.

Characters in a mystery story inherently have something to hide, but so does the author. Agatha Christie’s red herrings are more subtle than the red herrings exchanged between her characters, but just as retrospectively incriminating.

Justice Wargrave is sometimes described as “reptilian” and smiling at in opportune moments. A detail that would seem damningly villainous if it were not for the “wolf-like smile,” used to describe Phillip Lombard throughout the story. Lombard’s wolfish persona is used as a distractor and equalizer to Wargrave’s unnerving presence, effectively allowing the reader to recognize the ‘snake in sheep’s clothing’ in retrospect but not in advance of when Christie wants them to. Furthermore, these animalistic characterizations, while dramatic, are used sparingly to not draw attention to the clue or the red herring until the opportune moment. This artful manipulation of the red herring still airs on the side of fair play and trust because it does not obscure details from the reader. Instead, it provides fertile ground for hindsight bias without giving away Justice Wargrave’s identity. 

While red herrings between characters or from the author can be excused as mechanics of genre, allowing the mystery to unfold at a measured pace, red herrings between the characters and the reader are another matter. To have a character actively lie or obscure information breaks the fourth wall and casts doubt upon all information presented whether it be a red herring or true evidence. In the middle of a mystery, this disruption can prove fatal to the credibility of the author and the narrator, rendering the mystery unsolvable using the evidence presented. Perhaps this is why Agatha Christie only dared to include it as a bookend revelation.

The first paragraph of the novel begins with the perspective of the Soldier Island Murderer, Justice Wargrave, seemingly thinking about everything except anticipating the murder of ten people. His voice is distant and aloof, providing only the details that he would provide later in his cover story. This is necessary for the plot to progress, and otherwise benign considering the reader has only been introduced to the character moments ago.

The epilogue, however, changes things. Justice Wargrave is revealed not only to be the Murderer of 10 on Soldier Island, but a raving, passionate, justiciar with a voice so unlike the first paragraph it seems a different character altogether. This confession letter and the voice it contains cast doubt on the sincerity of Wargrave’s point of view in the first scene. If Wargrave is thinking to himself in a carriage car, who is he acting for? The omission of his true motivation and plans is intentional, but on who’s behalf? Wargrave could indeed be role-playing or getting himself into the role he is about to play, but the grey area between character omission and authorial voice makes or breaks the rules of fair play. 

That being said, the grey area between right and wrong, fair and unfair play, is the perfect playing field for And Then There Were None theoretically and thematically. The multiple POVs, the thin line between detective and murderer, and the uncharacteristically unfit cast of characters dance on the line between genre writing and forbidden territory. Blurriness between murderer and victim, between justice and tyranny, and between red herrings and clues, further the sense of paranoia, suspense, and prophetic danger that drive the novel. The question then becomes not if Agatha Christie breaks the rules of fair play, but how she bends them and if the boundaries of investigative fiction are truly rigid enough to collapse when crossed.