Five years ago, I posted a video analysis of Sam Barlow’s game HER STORY that I’m especially proud of. Now, I follow it up with a lengthy discussion of Barlow’s 2022 game IMMORTALITY. This video serves as the twelfth video in my Shape Up! series, and I’m also considering it the long-belated sixth entry in my detective games series.
Full script below the jump, with ample citations. (I leaned heavily on the newly-released book IMMORTALITY: Design Works for background research on this one.)
Watching the 2018 film Searching in class offered an interesting viewing experience, primarily because of its emotionally charged backstory and unexpected twists. Directed by Aneesh Chaganty, the film is unique in its narrative approach, unfolding entirely within a digital landscape. This innovative use of technology as the primary storytelling medium keeps the plot engaging and fast-paced and challenges traditional cinematic storytelling by offering a fresh perspective through its virtual action.
Initially, I was unsure why the producers decided to showcase the movie through a digital interface. However, one theme that particularly stood out to me when analyzing the movie was the concept of digital identity, highlighted through Margot’s “double” identity online. Unlike typical portrayals in cinema, Margot’s persona on social media turns out to be a more authentic reflection of herself rather than a fabricated alter ego. This unique representation is crucial to the film’s narrative. Writer Aja Romana, in her Vox article “Searching, a movie puzzle about digital isolation, is a bit of a mess. See it anyway,” supports this view by noting that Margot, “like many of us, is being the truest version of herself—lonely, introverted, and complicated” through her online interactions. This perspective allows the audience to understand Margot’s genuine identity, contrasting with the common misrepresentations on social media.
While traditional mystery writers like Agatha Christie might argue that incorporating modern technology into mysteries could dilute suspense and complexity by detracting from character development and intricate plotting, I believe Searching counters this viewpoint. The film integrates digital tools into its mystery by enhancing the storytelling experience when delving into the theme of Margot’s ‘double identity.’ The digital landscape is a pivotal medium for uncovering the truth about Margot’s disappearance and her real persona.
The film starts by setting the emotional groundwork with a depiction of a small Korean-American family focused on David Kim (the father and protagonist) and his daughter, Margot. The narrative quickly establishes an emotional core with the revelation of Margot’s mother’s death from cancer, which catalyzes the distance between David and Margot. The plot intensifies when Margot vanishes after leaving behind two missed calls on David’s phone. David teams up with Detective Vick and begins to explore Margot’s digital footprint, uncovering various aspects of his character in the process. His relentless pursuit to discover the truth about his daughter’s disappearance not only underscores his commitment and love but also his desperation and the lengths he will go to find answers. This investigation, primarily driven by digital tools, ultimately exposes (spoilers) Detective Vick’s and her son’s unsettling involvement in Margot’s disappearance at the movie’s end.
Going back to the topic of “double identity,” to support my argument about the effectiveness of digital platforms in uncovering true identities, I will draw a parallel with one of Agatha Christie’s classic mysteries, Murder on the Orient Express. In this novel, the renowned detective Hercule Poirot unravels a complex murder case aboard a snowbound train. Poirot’s investigative method involves interviewing passengers, observing their behaviors, and piecing together tangible clues, such as a handkerchief or a pipe cleaner found at the crime scene. Christie’s narrative primarily unfolds through face-to-face conversations and the detective’s acute observation of human psychology and physical evidence.
In contrast, in Searching, the protagonist, David Kim, exemplifies the modern detective. He leverages digital platforms to solve the mystery of his daughter Margot’s disappearance. David gathers and pieces together clues using social media apps like YouChat and Tumblr, emails, news sources, and online transaction records. This digital approach diverges significantly from Christie’s traditional detective methods, which focus on physical and psychological observations. Searching demonstrates that technology can not only complement but enhance detective work. For example, David’s ability to rapidly sift through vast amounts of digital data and connect disparate online activities offers a comprehensive and immediate understanding of the situation. This showcases how digital footprints can be crucial in modern investigative work, adding a new dimension to the mystery genre and challenging the notion that technology dilutes the complexity or suspense of a narrative.
In both scenarios, the detectives are faced with piecing together a hidden truth from available clues. However, while Poirot’s approach is constrained by the physical and the observable, David’s investigation extends into the digital realm, discovering facts and insights into personal identities and relationships. We can see how cruel some of Margot’s classmates genuinely are, like Abby, when she is seen both when David calls her and when she uploads a video of her crying as she pretends to miss Margot. This comparison highlights how Searching uses digital tools not merely as a gimmick but as a significant evolution in how narratives can explore and resolve mysteries, thereby providing a richer understanding of characters and their hidden lives.
Overall, I found the theme of Margot’s authentic digital identity to be the main interest in this movie, which is what I believe to be the main success when the producers utilized the digital interface as the primary medium for the film. Even though there could have been some potential improvements for the movie, such as how we are limited to truly understanding the actual lived experience of these characters, we do get a strong glimpse of Margot’s true feelings and perspective on what she’s gone through with the help of social media, which is what I consider as the “icing on the cake” for what makes this movie fulfilling. For anyone interested in watching the film, I recommend it!
In Stout Rex’s “What to Do About a Watson,” he comes to the conclusion that the inclusion of a Watson character can be a beneficial tool for the creation of a good detective story. He claims that Watson provides a graceful and natural way to allow readers a way to see the thought processes of the detective without completely spoiling essential information that you don’t want readers to have access to. This is a problem that other writers have also faced and come to different conclusions about. In order for a detective story to play fair, the readers must be able to follow along with the detective’s lines of deduction. In forms of media other than written stories, such as films, this problem continues to be something that authors need to solve for their story. While many have continued to keep a Watson figure that gives opportunity to include dialogue between the detective and the Watson, some movies have adopted different strategies. The 2018 movie Searching is one example that uses computer actions as a way to get across the main character’s, David Kim’s, thought processes without relying on spoken language at all.
As opposed to traditional movies, Searching exclusively shows the displays of computer, smartphones, television, or other digital screens in its storytelling. Everything that is shown to the audience is contextualized within this view of a screen. For example, scenes that include dialogue between David and other characters are often phone or video calls that he is making from his computer. Throughout the movie, David serves as our detective character as he tries to uncover what happened to his daughter, Margot, and find her. There are only a few scenes where we are explicitly told David’s theories or his thought processes, with most of those being scenes in which he calls his brother or Detective Vick. Instead, the movie shows us David’s computer screen as he uses it which reveals many hints as to what he is thinking throughout. A very obvious example of this is when we see David type out a text message, linger for a moment, and then erase the message before typing out something different. These moments give us insight into things that David wants to say but feels unable to. While this example is not one in which David is really working as a detective, similar computer actions are later used in the same way to show how he reacts to new clues and piece things together.
A great example of this occurs towards the end of the movie, when David begins sending pictures and videos of Margot to a funeral livestreaming service and sees a stock photo which causes him to pause. He slowly moves his mouse away from the button to close the browser page as the camera zooms in on the figure in the stock image. He then goes on to pull up Margot’s photos, quickly skimming through some of them before changing gears and opening up her Facebook account instead. At this point, it is clear to audiences that David recognizes this face but is unsure where he saw it. He seems to believe that it has some relevance to Margot’s disappearance, so he continues to look for where he recognizes it from until he finds the face being used as a profile picture for one of the chat members in Margot’s livestreams. Having found this, he opens both pictures at once so that he can confirm that they are indeed, the same person. Later in the movie, we see him undergo a similar detective process as he realizes that Detective Vick has been lying to him and sees the photo of her with the ex-convict who she has claimed was responsible for Margot’s disappearance.
In all of these examples, the movie takes advantage of the audience’s familiarity with using computers in order to make these moments work as revealing David’s thought processes. Viewers understand the feeling of searching through webpages or saved files to find something that you know you can find, so when David does so, no words are needed to make audiences understand it. And if audiences did not make the connection themselves, David putting both pictures on screen at once will make it clear why he reacted this way while confirming part of his theory. There is no need for a Watson character in Searching, because the actions required to perform this kind of investigation on a computer are familiar enough to provide a window into the detective’s mind.
Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None is a true mystery. Many of Christie’s earlier works are considered mysteries, but many are not. They are more akin to jigsaw puzzles, where the player knows what the end product is supposed to be. A real mystery has no obvious path forward. And Then There Were None creates a real mystery by directly attacking this formula. It sets up characters like any of Christie’s works but pulls the rug out from under the reader. Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None is a successful mystery story because it subverts the reader’s expectations in a way that forces them to consider all outcomes.
Many of Agatha Christie’s texts work around a set of tropes. For example, in the Poirot books, there is a formula. Poirot arrives in some new setting, and a murder occurs. Poirot decides to investigate, but almost everyone is suspicious in one way or another. After a while, and with a few twists and turns, there is always a section where Hercule Poirot gathers all the suspects in a room and gives a long speech about all the clues as to who the murderer is. He ends with his announcement of the murderer’s identity, and they get taken away. These tropes are not limited to story beats, however. There was often a mysterious wealthy person who needed care for an illness and a kind caretaker who helped them. Formulas like these were ubiquitous in mystery texts but posed a problem. When a mystery becomes formulaic, it ceases to be a mystery. The clues are often the same and in the same places. There is no mystery how the story will unfold when it has occurred a thousand times before.
Christie understands the tropes that she created and uses them to her advantage. One brilliant example is Dr. Armstrong. A mysterious, wealthy person who needs care due to an illness is a recurring character in Christie’s work. Dr. Armstrong is the kind caretaker, as mentioned earlier. This setup feels familiar to long-time readers of her novels and gets them off their guard. The general setting of the book is also recognizable. A large number of suspects gathered in one place, and a murder happens. Now, the detective has to find the guilty party despite everyone involved being suspicious in one way or another. And Then There Were None first shakes up the formula with the shifting perspectives of the first chapter. No detective will solve the case, as everyone is that detective at one time or another. With the death of Mrs. Rogers, it becomes even more clear that this book is unique. Two murders, while not unheard of, are rare in Christie’s works. When General MacArthur dies, it only gets worse. Three deaths are even less common, and suddenly, there is a sense of panic.
The paranoia instilled in both the characters and the reader is palpable. It is unclear who will die next; the only clue is that it will follow the Ten Little Indians poem. It is so different from most of Christie’s works that while there is a mystery, there is also an element of horror. There is supposed to be a hero in this kind of text. There is supposed to be some detective who will save the day. As the death count mounts, the most significant subversion in this text becomes clear: there is no hero on Indian Island. There are only villains, all of whom will die.
It is brilliant that nobody ever finds the murderer. Vera believed it to be Lombard but was wrong. The trope of someone explaining how the murders occurred still happens but in the form of a message in a bottle. Wargrave was the murderer, and he constructed the deaths of every character. Fundamentally, the lack of a hero in this text means everyone is an investigator. However, in a complete twist on most of Christie’s work, nobody succeeds. Even the police only figure out what happened from the message in a bottle. There is no satisfaction from the detective solving the case. There are only ten bodies on an island.
Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None uses a subversion of traditional mystery tropes to create a true mystery. It is unclear who will die, and with every death, the number of suspects seems to go down. Christie sets up a traditional murder mystery but uses a shifting perspective to show that And Then There Were None is not a typical mystery story. Once the murders start occurring, it becomes increasingly urgent to find the culprit, which encourages both the reader and the characters to rush. Ultimately, And Then There Were None is not just a murder mystery. It is successful because there is a grand scheme rather than a simple crime. And Then There Were None is a great mystery because it breaks the tropes the reader has been trained to expect.
Exploring Agatha Christie’s novel And Then There Were None has been an eye-opening experience for me as I was only aware of the mini-TV series on Amazon Prime. It was so satisfying to me that the title resonated well with the novel’s plot. Although I wasn’t able to figure out the right person at the end, it is possible for other readers to reasonably deduct the true mastermind as the book involves some concept of “fair play” as Christie presents a series of clues, both subtle and overt, and also is transparent with the information given to the readers.
After reading its content, I also decided to watch portions of each of the adapted mini-episodes, and it was interesting to see several differences, visually and narratively. For instance, in Lifetime’s miniseries, each of the ten characters’ crimes are portrayed differently, with much more explicit violence and brutality. For example, the general directly kills Richmond by shooting him in the back and Philip Lombard killing the East African men for personal greed instead of abandoning them with no resources. Unlike Christie’s characters, who somewhat maintain a sense of detachment from knowing that they could truly be a murderer, I felt as though these characters are depicted as more aware of their guilt, with the crimes being showcased more brutally.
As I reflected on the visual and narrative disparities between the two separate mediums, one theme that really stood out to me in the novel rather than in the series was the portrayal of justice through the progression of the murder plot.
As the narrative unfolds, a group of eight strangers are lured to the remote ‘Indian Island’ under various pretexts. Upon arrival, they are accused of past crimes that have gone unpunished. This theme of justice and guilt, a central element in both the novel and the miniseries, fuels the tension and paranoia among the characters as they confront their dark pasts. Each murder, executed in accordance with the nursery rhyme ‘Ten Little Soldiers,’ serves as a stark reminder of the repercussions of their actions. In the end, all the characters meet their fate, victims of a meticulously crafted plot orchestrated by (spoilers) Judge Wargrave, a chilling embodiment of justice, albeit in a twisted and merciless form.
Wargrave’s character in the novel raises questions about whether he serves as a protagonist pursuing “justice” or the main antagonist due to his skillful murders, even of himself. He is deeply committed to avenging those he believes have evaded punishment, even if it means carrying out the killings personally. His manuscript found in a bottle reflects this inner conflict, where he acknowledges his desire for murder but is restrained by his sense of justice as he writes, “Yes, I wanted to kill. But-incongruous as it may seem to some– I was restrained and hampered by my innate sense of justice. The innocence must not suffer” (Christie 351-352). Thus, the novel effectively explores Wargrave’s internal struggle, providing insight into his reasoning for the killings as he wanted to give back karma to those who were “unreachable” by the civic law.
Additionally, the novel presents each character’s supposed guilt. Here are some examples:
Vera Claythorn’s indirect responsibility for a child’s drowning
Philip Lombard’s involvement in the deaths of East-African tribesmen by not providing resources (food & water)
Edward Armstrong’s fatal mistake while operating under the influence of alcohol
Emily Brent’s role in her servant’s suicide
William Blore’s false testimonies leading to wrongful conviction
Considering the characters’ actions and guilt, it’s intriguing to question why Wargrave targets certain individuals in a specific order. For instance, Blore’s involvement in the death of an innocent man may be seen as indirect, as he sent him to prison, where he died. Lombard’s actions, while callous, may not have directly caused harm. Similarly, Brent’s decision to cast out her servant may not have directly led to her suicide. Nonetheless, Christie does an amazing job explaining the devious sequence of murders in the novel in specific detail as she writes through Wargrave’s perspective, “There were, I considered, amongst my guests, varying degrees of guilt. Those whose guilt was the lightest should, I decided, pass out first, and not suffer the prolonged mental strain and fear that the more cold-blooded offenders were to suffer” (Christie 354). We can see how Wargrave even kills himself around the middle of the death sequence, implying that his actions of performing this whole killing spree incorporate a mix of justice and guilt, which I think is a really fascinating detail. The novel ends with nobody knowing about Wargrave’s true identity as the mastermind behind this scene.
The mini-series takes a different approach to the sequence of killings, which I found confusing. It’s unclear why the directors chose to have Wargrave reveal himself to Vera at the end and then commit suicide. This choice diminishes the power of the ultimate mastermind, Wargrave, as it’s questionable why he would reveal himself to someone he knows will die rather than showcase the manuscript in a more cinematic way. Does this decision provoke a sense of justice and order, aligning with Wargrave’s intentions in the novel? Additionally, it’s strange that Wargrave is the last person to survive and then commits suicide after his plan succeeds. This scene doesn’t clearly justify why he is the last person alive. Did the directors intentionally keep him last because he sees himself as the most “cold-blooded,” as Christie suggested? If so, this reasoning is dubious since he attempts to serve “justice” against all the other individuals who couldn’t make it to trial. Thus, I believe that Christie’s novel does a much better job of capturing a smoother and thought-out narrative when explaining the murder plot to the audience.
Overall, Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None elevates the mystery genre by transcending its conventions. The novel expertly intertwines the suspense of a locked-room mystery with the psychological depth of a thriller, delving into how the concept of justice really works in a nuanced manner that captivates and unnerves the reader. Rather than checking out the film, I highly recommend reading the novel first, as it has a much better chronicle to follow!
Author: Daniel Myung Sources used: “And Then There Were None.pdf – Perpustakaan UNP”
by Nico University of Chicago MADD 25630: Games, Rules, Stories, Genres Winter 2021
One of my favorite experiences playing a tabletop role playing game is one called Monster of the Week. It puts a more modern spin on the typical fantasy genre, with characters using computers, guns, cell phones, and more to take down monsters in the present day. Character archetypes include tech savvy scientists, mysterious cultists, and my personal favorite: the hard-boiled detective. You get lots of cool detective abilities, like the ability to avoid lethal damage while you have a case on your hands, and the ability to detect when a criminal is lying. The character archetype is all about uncovering information, and sleuthing out the truth. This driving motivation is a common character trait detectives have across different forms of media, and games are no exception.
Enter A Hand With Many Fingers.
The player’s office
A Hand With Many Fingers is a “first person investigative thriller” according to Colestia, the developers, on their itch.io page. At first glance, this holds up; the game is in a first person perspective, and the main point of the game is to investigate a real world Cold War conspiracy using documents uncovered in a CIA archive. However, I believe that a more informative description of the game is “corkboard simulator.” This is because the main gameplay loop in this game involves updating two massive corkboards with information you uncover in the archive. Managing these corkboards is one of the best gameplay mechanics I’ve ever seen. It allows for so much freedom and creativity in the investigative process, and really makes you feel like you’re one of those hard boiled detectives uncovering a case bit by bit. And yet, with all the detective-y vibes that the main character gives off, we know almost nothing about the character you play as. There are neither mirrors nor reflections in the game that show us who we are controlling. No voice acting or inner monologue either; the main character is very much a silent protagonist. It’s assumed that the main character has some connection with the conspiracy they are trying to uncover, but there is nothing concrete we can pin down.
No reflections!
And honestly, that’s ok.
Who you play as in A Hand With Many Fingers isn’t important, what’s important is the actions that the character (and therefore the player) is able to take. It gives the player the ability to project whatever traits they want onto the main character, and leaves the story in the hands of the articles and photographs you find in the archive. The documents the player finds are created by the developers, who stitched together real world information to create them. There really was a bank called the Nugan Hand Bank in Australia. John Nugan, one of the two co-founders of the bank, was found dead in his car in 1980. There is a lot of shady, under the table dealings regarding this bank, and it’s up to the player to uncover what’s really going on here.
The first article the player gets from the game.
So… how does this game work?
There’s a simple gameplay loop that the player is able to follow. First, you have to find a person, place, and time you want to research. For example, when you start the game, you are given a newspaper clipping with the following details highlighted: John Nugan, Sydney, Australia, and 1980. Each important piece of information is highlighted a different color, red for names, yellow for locations, and blue for dates. Once you have all the information, check the card catalog for any possible connections. Any documents that connect all three pieces of information will have a reference number attached to them. Go into the archives to find the box that is labeled with said reference number. Bring the box up to your office, and unpack any articles, pictures, or other important pieces of paper. Then, you can place these documents on the corkboards in your office, to better organize your thoughts, and piece information together. You will derive new people, places, and time periods over the course of your archiving adventure, and will be able to repeat this process over and over to discover as much information about the conspiracy as you can. The game does not stray from this gameplay loop at all. There are no combat encounters, or chase sequences, just methodical archiving and studying. This is not a bad thing at all; the gameplay is extremely compelling by itself, especially the corkboard mechanic.
My final corkboard looked like this!
There are two big corkboards in your office, one blank one, and one with a map. The map automatically updates with any locations mentioned in any documents you find, and serves as an easy way for a player whose geography skills are somewhat lackluster (like me) to find locations easier. You can stick papers anywhere on either board, and connect related documents with red string. Any pictures of important people are affixed to the board with red push pins instead of normal blue ones. The boards do not allow for players to overlap or discard any documents you find. This makes it almost impossible for the player to lose, forget, or misplace information. Real archival work does not have a self-updating map, color-coded, pre-highlighted information you need, or pieces of evidence that refuse to be discarded. All of these serve to make this process more enjoyable, and less frustrating. They can make anybody feel like they have hard-boiled detective skills. You really are uncovering a conspiracy here, all by yourself…
…and there might be some people who don’t like that very much.
Are you being watched?
This is where the “thriller” aspect of “first-person investigative thriller” comes in. The archives are quite large, with tons of locked rooms the player can’t enter and a multitude of boxes that the player will never even touch. There are hundreds of names, each with their own reference numbers and documents attached to them. Over the course of the game, you will only follow 5 of these names. This helps convey a sense of scale, and makes the emptiness of the archives feel oppressive. There are other ways they conveyed this emptiness; one particularly memorable one was a small radio playing serene classical music on loop. I turned it off after a little bit because it started to annoy me, but then I realized the silence of the archives was much too unnerving for me to continue. This emptiness is carefully crafted, and when something breaks it, it can feel even scarier. A phone rings while the player is in the basement, but when they pick it up, the line is dead. A car idles outside the archives for a little while, and then leaves once the player stares at them for too long. You are being watched, and it’s incredibly unsettling.
The nice thing about A Hand With Many Fingers as a detective game is that despite all of the spooky atmosphere, the game is designed to make the experience of discovering information extremely palatable. The driving force behind detective stories in other media is a search for the truth. As stated earlier, this drive for truth is an important motivating factor most detectives have as an important character trait. However, in A Hand With Many Fingers, it doesn’t matter what the truth actually is, what matters is the journey to uncover it. If the truth did matter, the developers would not have designed each piece of evidence themselves, they would have simply used real world documents and designed the game around them. Chaining together pieces of evidence is extremely satisfying, and they wanted to ensure that this journey to uncover the truth was well paced and designed. It was always about journey, not the destination, and this is exemplified in the game’s ending.
“MARKED FOR DISPOSAL”
As the player progresses through the game, they start to find reference numbers stored in boxes that state that some boxes are marked for destruction. If they look in one of these boxes, they find a key to an unused annex of the building, where one final box awaits them. When they return to their office, they are greeted with a nasty surprise. The car from earlier has crashed into the office, and no one is sitting behind the wheel. Just like the phone call, there’s no one who responds to the player…
CRASH!
…and then the game ends! There’s no confirmation that what you’ve been working on all this time is correct. We aren’t given any information regarding the player character’s relationship to the Nugan Bank scandal. Just a fade to black when the player puts the final documents on the corkboard. This hammers home that the most important part of this story is not the conspiracy itself, but the journey that the player undergoes to find all of the information about it. While this does differ from most other detective stories in media, where the story is tied up with a pretty bow and the wrongdoer is caught, I believe that the experience A Hand With Many Fingers creates shows the joy of simply finding the truth.
The slow march of my video series on detective games continues with this, its fifth entry. For awhile I was afraid there was no reason to do this one, as I wouldn’t be able to top my students’postsandvideos on this game after I taught it last spring. In the end, I went with sheer length as my own particular angle.
A fourth entry in my video series on detective games. It’s not real surprise that this game would end up in this series: I’ve taught it twice now (including in one class this term), I’ve written about teaching it, I named it one of the games of the decade, and right before the term launched I published a full transcript of it. What I didn’t expect was for it to be quite this long—definitely among the longer analyses of a single game I’ve done, in any format.
group project submission, created bygroup co-leader Kellie University of Chicago MADD 25630: Games, Rules, Stories, Genres Spring 2020
Return of the Obra Dinn is a distillation of the mystery genre that manages to make a player a true detective while adding its own intimate flair. Unlike many detective games that give the player god-like powers or modes to highlight clues and select the correct choice from a pre-written plot, the player must investigate environments without hand-holding. And it does this well. Many players comment on the way that the game makes them feel empowered, and this is the key to which Obra Dinn revolutionizes the mystery game genre.
How does the game do this? Roger Caillois states that the pleasure of reading a mystery novel is “not that of listening to a story, but rather that of watching a “magic” trick which the magician immediately explains. The author has set everything up in advance. The story opens on a rigged set; we do not even see the main event, but only its disturbing consequences” (4).
This is what Obra Dinn does well: rather than a single scene set up with clues whose mystery is resolved immediately, the vignette format lets players see the same characters in different settings and contexts, allowing them to build theories and confidence. Game tools of multiple formats, like the passengers’ log and the sketches, allow players to track and cross-reference clues. The stage is set. The player’s job is to make the journey from impossible to possible through deductive guessing; the player decides what is impossible in order to guess what is possible in a manner similar to Sudoku.
This is how the game creates a procedural system where players discover what they are “allowed” by the game to use as a clue. (Hint: almost everything.) Language can be used as a clue; dress is a good indicator of status, and is consistent; in fact, the hammocks’ number tags are also clues; these people who walk together often are probably related in status; the person who stands at the head of the seamen is not necessarily a seaman.
Clues are resources. As players discover more types of clues, they unlock increasing arsenal of resources, like a player character in another game might unlock new weapons or tools. This becomes a core loop of gameplay: finding dead bodies unlocks more dead bodies; finding clues to determine fates reframes the realm of possibility for the rest of the characters, so that clues in this new frame can be used to determine the fates of more characters.
Ultimately, this clue system celebrates not the cleverness of a pre-written plot or of sets of mechanics, but of players—your own cleverness. The satisfaction of the game is not to roleplay as a godlike detective who has special access to clues, but to become a detective whose powers unfold and grow as you as a player construct your sets of clues. If this were where Return of the Obra Dinn finished exerting its powers, it would still be a technically inspiring game, and a revolution for the genre. But it goes beyond: its clues serve for more than the mechanical, explicitly game-driven benefit of finding more clues and completing fates.
Clues and searching for clues give insight into the relationships, emotions, and attitudes of characters aboard the ship, which drive players’ emotional investment. With the fate of the midshipmen, we learn that the three of them were young officers-in-training who all died heroic deaths. Charles Hershtik throws up when he sees blood in his first vignette and another midshipman teases him, but he eventually sacrifices his life to kill a crab-riding sea monster. As Thomas is dying, his mind goes to his fellow midshipman Peter’s fate—Thomas tried to save Peter from being grabbed by the Kraken, but the powder Peter held exploded and killed him. The premise of the game creates a compelling tragic genre: tragedy is about the how, and what was accomplished along the way. The midshipmen grew from teasing boys to young men who cared about the lives of the crewmen and of each other.
To solve fates through finding small clues of why/how characters died leads to finding more about their characters leads to the larger narrative of the chronological order of events in the Obra Dinn. Seeing different characters in different situations grows our intimate understandings of them and reinforces our desire to learn their fate by exploring more vignettes. Clues in Return of the Obra Dinn form a game loop that keeps players motivated to return to the game to understand its tragic story. Finally, once players complete the game, there is not much replay value if they have determined all the fates. Yet, the emotional power of the game make players want to return to the Obra Dinn, and that is the lasting power of a compelling mystery game: it is not just a revolution of genre, but also a revolutionary experience.
See a separate post for more details about the mechanics of clues.
