| 5 star: | | (0) | | 4 star: | | (6) | | 3 star: | | (5) | | 2 star: | | (1) | | 1 star: | | (0) |
| Average Rating: 
Number of Ratings: 12
Write a review |
1-12 of 12 - Cerfeuil (*Teleports Behind You* Nothing Personnel, Kid), November 4, 2023
- Edo, May 18, 2023
- Ann Hugo (Canada), December 30, 2022
Check Out My Screenplay?, December 9, 2022
Adapted from an IFCOMP22 Review
I can’t tell if I was surprised by the unusual script formatting, or surprised that I don't encounter it more often. The script format is a super interesting choice, it immediately suggests a whole bunch of things: formal structure, a level of artificiality, a level of performance, but also audience intimacy and to some extent a level of heightened drama. It has a lot of opportunity, but also presents some challenges and potential pitfalls and I’m chomping at the bit to JUST TALK ABOUT ALL OF IT!!
But let me first demonstrate that I am in fact an adult, fully in charge of my passions and capable of delaying gratification when warranted. Thankfully, my wife’s laughter cannot transmit through this medium. Before I get consumed in a sugar-rush of form, let’s talk about function, about the plot of this thing. It is structured in three acts, loosely (Spoiler - click to show)two friends discussing imminent life change; one friend’s tangential, psychedelic journey; two friends making life decisions. No reason not to call those Acts1-3, since the work itself explicitly does.
In Act 1 two friends are discussing the incoming rush of entering college. They unsurprisingly do this at least initially in the setting of their childhood school. I appreciated the specificity of the Eastern Pennsylvania setting. I have to assume readers unfamiliar with the area would experience a more generic “childhood school setting” than I did. I assume this, because the nature of their conversation while specific in details was pretty generic “I don’t know if I’m ready” “Really? I can’t wait…” kind of stuff. The interactivity in this act were mostly choices between “Do I focus on the past or the future?” It didn’t feel like these choices had plot impact per se, but definitely allowed you to collaborate on developing the two characters.
There’s gotta be a word for “near universal experiences that have zero shelf life.” First love, birth of first child, wedding, retirement, or as here, Graduation. The art that you encounter when you are at the cusp of those experiences are going to be vibrant and vital and moving because they speak directly. Doesn’t matter if its been done before and since, doesn’t even matter much how adept it is past a certain threshold. The Graduate, American Graffitti, St Elmo’s Fire, these all spoke to the same cresting young adulthood fear, regret and promise as Act 1 did. For the generations that consumed them at the critical time, these were definitive markers in their journeys. For the rest of their lives, other works covering the same ground are not as compelling. I guess what I’m saying is, Act 1 didn’t really bring anything new to the table here, but arguably the others didn’t either. It's universal. What Act 1 DID do was backdrop the drama with a very ambiguous, weird world of supernatural? extraterrestrial? multi-dimensional? wonders. I literally was slouching in my chair to snap upright at points “wait, what are they talking about?” For me, I ended Act 1 trying to look past the protagonists to all that stuff behind them. It reminded me of nothing so much as Tales from the Loop.
Holy crap, two paragraphs on Act1? I better not run out of room to talk about stagecraft.
Act 2 has one of the characters go on a journey through this backdrop. (Spoiler - click to show)There’s the Layers, and between them and our world, the Layer’s Edge. Except not exactly a journey, more like a prelude to a journey. Really, it is a discussion about maybe going on a journey. This kind of had a similar vibe for me as Act 1 - it was spending a lot of time talking around the wonders, but not really experiencing them. It’s a curious choice that seems to give away a lot of potential (but is highly consistent with its 'staging' conceit), but it is subtly having you do one thing: lay groundwork for the character in choices about what she focuses on and prioritizes.
Act 3 the two friends reconvene in the Layer’s Edge and plot their paths forward. If I’m honest, the first two Acts kept me at a remove. I wasn’t really synching with the protagonists. Each was a two-person dialogue that felt shopworn in Act 1 and unfocused in Act 2, and the most interesting thing, the Layers, were kept background and abstract. But Act 3 is where the choices made during those Acts seemed to crest into very interesting options. Depending on how the player has characterized the two character’s responses you seem to have fairly broad authority to shape the ending. Is the voyager now the counsel to an insecure friend, reversing roles from Act 1? Is embracing adulthood the correct path or not? Continuing on a journey of exploration? Do they share a destiny, or diverge with each other’s blessing? It’s kind of a genius Act 3 actually. In the various permutations I explored every path was the ‘right’ answer, because it was right for the characters as defined by the current playthrough. A completely different endstate was right because completely different character decisions that led to it MADE it right for that end state. If this trick has been used before, I haven’t had the privilege and it really worked like gangbusters on me. You’re not ‘winning’ or ‘losing’ you are tailoring a reasonably satisfying dramatic resolution to the characters you built along the way, with a lot of latitude to do it differently. This realization came too late to push past Sparks of Joy, but talk about finishing strong.
Yeah, so I don’t have time to talk about stagecraft. @#%^@#$% delayed gratification. Speed round:
Stage Artificiality - bad fit for story, cross-dimensional Layers an ill fit for stage presentation, even with the decision to background the most outre’ aspects of it
Stage Performance - mixed. starts not great due to well-worn premise, but if there’s anything more stage performative than two actors talking, I don’t know what it is.
Audience Intimacy - feels like it didn’t work until suddenly BAM it did
Heightened Drama - see Stage Performance, above
Formal Structure - just crushed it. Like out of the ballpark. Turns out, the player was never either protagonist. I wasn’t synching with the protagonists because (Spoiler - click to show)I WAS THE PLAYWRIGHT ALL ALONG!!
Now that’s a third act twist!
Played: 11/9/22
Playtime: 1hr, 4 endings
Artistic/Technical rankings: Sparks of Joy/Mostly Seamless
Would Play Again? I actually might, to see if I can break the ending! I am a damaged person.
Artistic scale: Bouncy, Mechanical, Sparks of Joy, Engaging, Transcendent
Technical scale: Unplayable, Intrusive, Notable (Bugginess), Mostly Seamless, Seamless
5 of
5 people found the following review helpful:
A lyrical coming-of-age story with too many missing bits, November 29, 2022(This is a lightly-edited version of a review I posted to the IntFiction forums during 2022's IFComp).
Not infrequently, I’ll argue in a review that a game seems unfinished. Usually what I mean is that it’s buggy, or the prose needs an editing pass, or pieces of characterization don’t seem consistent, or puzzles come out of nowhere. The Counsel in the Cave, a character-driven journey into other worlds written in Ink, strikes me as unfinished but in a completely different way: what’s here is high-quality and polished to a high sheen, but the game seems to be missing large chunks of its own story. Some of this seems intentional: there are bottom-lined recaps of the missing action woven into the later scenes, and the “page numbers” displayed at the bottom of each passage look to jump ahead by a few dozen in between each act. It’s still a storytelling choice I found frustrating, though – I loved the game’s grounded beginning and stakes, and really enjoyed the connection and dialogue between the two main characters, but found the compressed runtime stepped on the character arcs, and the abrupt way the narrative leaps into its fantastical elements made them feel somewhat arbitrary.
Let me be clear: I’m not just trying to balance criticism with praise, what’s good here is really, really good. The story opens with two teenagers talking through their feelings about their upcoming graduation from high school in suburban Pennsylvania and potential college plans, each striking slightly different balances between excitement for the future and nostalgia for the past. I’m no Pennsylvania expert, but the local detail strikes me as authentic (wrestling powerhouse Lehigh University gets a namecheck!) deepening the sense of place, and their conversation unfolds in a walk through the hills where the two – vacillating May and driven Jason – reminisce about their shared childhood. The game’s presented in (screen?)play format, but even in this dialogue-driven presentation the landscape comes through powerfully, albeit with a postmodern sense of unreality:
"The curtain rises on a steep green hill covered in clovers. On stage right, tall trees line the edge of a small wood. Below us on stage left, unkempt vegetation grows more wild.
…
"Little can be seen through the dense canopy of low tangled trees. Beneath the brush, mosquitoes buzz and hum. Resting on a rocky creek bed written with tree-roots, May spies an old rowboat split by a twisted vine."
For all this well-observed detail, though, these hills are anything but mundane. Strange obelisks float midair, carts roll of their own volition, and dinosaurs skulk in the woods. It’s maybe a bit much to throw in all at once, but the matter-of-fact way the pair accept all this weirdness creates an alien mood that I found made for a compelling juxtaposition with their more relatable late-adolescent concerns. And the magic realism makes for some lovely images. Here’s Jason, talking about the tall power transmission towers whose cut wire-ends float frondlike in the sky:
”Now they look like titans. As if at night, they put down their wires. And instead of staying here, wander the earth in search of something greater.“
I am very much here for all of this, and as the first scene wrapped up, with May, on Jason’s advice, readying herself to find a guidance counselor who seemed connected to powers beyond this reality for counsel about her mixed feelings about leaving town, I was very much on board. So I was very much taken aback when in a single short paragraph, the second sequence opened by saying she’d looked for the counselor, hadn’t found them, but had fallen into a portal into a multiversal realm of refracted, fantastical realities. Still, I found that after this hiccup, the game did regain its footing – this scene consists of a dialogue with a denizen of the otherworld that continued to play the game’s themes will adding some new lovely metaphors, even if some of them are a little on the nose. Here’s an exchange between May and ethereal fisherman Moondog, talking about some fairy-type creatures she sees riding on what look like underwater rays:
MAY: How do they steer? I don’t see any reigns. [sic]
MOONDOG: Ha! They don’t! The riders surrender themselves to the creatures’ wills. That and the winds. See, the manta rays are blindfolded. They operate on instinct alone.
Any relevance to how May is overthinking her future education and life choices is completely coincidental, I’m sure!
Where Counsel in the Cave really started to lose me, though, was the third and final scene. I don’t want to fully spoil the story, but there’s an even bigger jump ahead in the narrative, with adventures, revelations, and character development addressed only in brief flashback. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it can work to mention past events only by allusion – a little mystery can go a long way, and having to choose which one of three people May met in her journey to tell Jason about means that many players will only see the sentence “But there I met the Ticking Timekeeper, with his cart of clocks” without ever having it expanded on, which is perfect.
But May’s moment of catharsis, resolving the conflict inside her, also happens off-screen between the second and third sequence, which I found incredibly unsatisfying – that’s not the kind of stuff you can just skip without harming the plausibility of the character arc! Things feel even more abbreviated with Jason, who undergoes a calamitous misfortune and sprouts a hitherto-unmentioned Tragic Backstory. As a result, while I could tell what emotions the finale was working to evoke, it fell far flatter than it should have given the quality of writing on offer.
It’s hard to fully make sense of the author’s intention here – from a few post-game notes, it seems as though parts of the game are drawn from dreams, which can certainly lend a disconnected feel, but there’s also an indication that it might be a work-in-progress, and they decided to polish up half of the story and release it into IF Comp as a teaser for what might be an eventually whole piece to come. I hope that’s the case, because I suspect I would enjoy the final version of Counsel in the Cave very, very, much – as it is there’s still a lot to like here, but the absence of space to fully establish, then play out and resolve, the characters’ inner conflicts is a real shame.
- EJ, November 21, 2022
- Mr. Patient (Saint Paul, Minn.), November 20, 2022
- Vulturous, November 18, 2022
- OverThinking, November 16, 2022
- Karl Ove Hufthammer (Bergen, Norway), November 15, 2022
3 of
3 people found the following review helpful:
All The World's A Stage, November 5, 2022I was excited to see a magical realist game show up in the Comp as it’s something I like but don’t see often, especially in video gaming. One of my favorite video games is in fact Kentucky Route Zero (which is also the only magical-realist game I know of, go figure). It’s clearly a favorite of this author as well, since I could clearly see the inspiration here. KRZ and The Counsel in the Cave are both games set in rural areas (at least at first), and are technically choice-based but don’t have much in the way of traditional puzzles. Instead, the player is given the option to shape how the story plays out – the choice picked is always correct and becomes the new truth of the world, as if it’s always been there. The overall framework of the plot stays the same, but no two playthroughs will ever be alike unless you do it on purpose.
Luckily for me, The Counsel in the Cave ends up being a worthy game on its own as well as distinguishing itself well from its progenitor. I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s very well written and creates a world that is both stylistically and thematically distinct from KRZ and has no trouble standing on its own. It also tells a story that is nicely sized, and will feel familiar to anyone over a certain age - who will you become after high school?
The Counsel in the Cave ends up pulling off a neat trick integrating its gameplay with its story. The central conflict driving the two protagonists forward is the question of what to do after high school, how their choices will shape who they become, and how to deal with the responsibility of it all. At the end of their arcs they both conclude that it’s going to be scary, but no matter what they’ll solve the problem by moving forward and seeing where life takes them. The only wrong choice is not to choose and thereby end up stuck.
This is, incidentally, what the player is doing the entire way through The Counsel in the Cave. The only way to get stuck is by indecision alone, and while the player can’t be sure of the outcome of any choice they know it’ll move their story along. Yes, it’s a game and people are expected to click the links, but I really enjoyed this piece of thematic resonance.
What I Liked
For those of you who don’t want to read the spoiler (and I encourage you to play the game first before reading my thoughts!) I liked quite a lot of it. The side character Moondog was a standout, though.
What I Didn’t
I think a little too much happens offscreen between acts, in particular between 1 and 2. I can tell the author wanted most of the journey to happen off-screen, but that requires walking a tightrope between telling the player too little about what happened (and confusing them) and infodumping. This definitely erred more on the side of confusing, which wasn’t a huge problem but it did throw me out of the narrative for a hot second.
1 of
1 people found the following review helpful:
A short surreal game about graduation and finding yourself, October 15, 2022This brief Ink game follows two teens, May and Jason, who are graduating soon and preparing to head off to college. They stroll through the woods and discuss their future.
Things start just slightly surreal and go further, but it never seems to shake the protagonists, just like how it is in a dream.
There might be some plot branching, but most of the choices feel like character determination to me, like role-playing, not even necessarily saved as game states.
There was some beautiful imagery in the game, young adults trying to find their place in the world literally represented as a journey through an allegorical world.
It felt a bit disjointed and brief, though. I worried I had skipped a whole chapter when I reached the end of the first act and clicked on a tiny, almost missable 'right arrow' and ended up in a very different place than the last chapter ended. But the table of contents seems to indicate I saw all 3 sections, so I guess the game itself is just a bit smaller than its story could allow.
Overall, a pleasant game to spend time with. According to my rubric, it's polished, descriptive, has good interactivity, and reminded me of pleasant times, but I wouldn't play it again.
1-12 of 12 | Return to game's main page