THE LEGACY OF GENRE.
For a game that has not aged particularly well, it took me a long time to notice.
My childhood memories of The Colonel’s Bequest have proven to be fragmented and inaccurate. I remember being convinced that I’d completed it, even if the ending dialogue raised questions about my competency. When I was 12 and games were hard, no game was going to tell me it wasn’t finished yet. I also think I retrogamed this for PCPP around ten years ago, probably butchering my write up with rose tinted nostalgia. But, at the wise old age of 43, I may finally be ready to take an honest look at this bizarre experience and its unusual design.
Sierra made a lot of adventure games, spanning various parser, then point and click, interfaces. They also experimented with genre, notably in Quest for Glory, where (as in a roleplaying game) you can choose character class and develop skills and abilities. As a thief in QFG1, it was shocking to explore INSIDE the houses and shop fronts that had been merely background art for the fighter. The idea that content was locked or altered, as a consequence of my choices, does not seem so radical now, but adventure games were originally very linear.
Colonel’s Bequest more experiments with progression, because in order to frame a mystery, events must unfold over time. As Laura Bow, you are (incongruously, for many reasons) invited to spend the weekend with your friend’s rich uncle, her (very cliched) family, servants and the dog (and the horse). As you walk from room to room, to stumble on a new moment of whispered plotting or sexual harasment, each 15 minute increment is triggered. It is possible to miss every clue and relevant piece of information until (pretty much exactly) 9.30pm.
What happens then? Well, in order to progress, you need to access a location behind a locked door. To unlock the door, you need to have collected several interdependent, well-hidden items and have effectively solved puzzles that are more about “just messing around with stuff” than the door. There’s a whole adventure game that needs to be solved in the background, but this is never made clear. By 9.30pm, content comes to a complete halt, for no apparent reason. I’m sure this is where I had to consult “Dad’s friend” (the hint book), as a child.
Sierra should have doubled down on obliviousness. If you can fail to discover that the mansion is (hamfistedly) riddled with secret corridors, from which to eavesdrop, why can’t you have an early night, or hang out in the kitchen? No-one else notices the murders, even when you explicitly tell them to go to a corpse’s location. If progression had been tied to anything other than being the world’s biggest snoop (why would I walk into everyone’s bedrooms for no apparent reason?), then deciding to snoop could have been significantly more rewarding.
Having said all of this, the weirdest moment for decision making has to be the ending. For starters, there’s a 50% chance of fluking the good ending, even if you are incredibly oblivious. Secondly, the bad ending is a fair bit more interesting than the good one. Also, even if you figure out who the murderer is, based on expert sleuthing, mental gymnastics, process of elimination (because so many people are murdered) and dumb luck, that won’t necessarily inform your final choices in the game, anyway. I’ve definitely forgiven 12 Year Old Me for being a bad detective.
Have I ruined my nostalgic love of The Colonel’s Bequest? No. I think that it’s OK to expect more in 2022, but Sierra’s strange genre mashups were worthy experiments at the time, for sure. If you haven’t played Overboard, by Inkle, I’d recommend it. As well as three hilarious endings, there are so many secrets to discover (or not) along the way. As for me, I’ll aim to play The Colonel’s Bequest again when I’m around 80 and ready to bequeath my (very small) fortune to a host of ungrateful relatives. I’m going to need to get myself a horse, too.