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Little White Houses For Grue And Me

Activision's Return to Zork

Charles Adai

There is a white house in the middle of the woods that adventure gamers know well. Unlike Robert Frost, they do not know "whose woods these are" -- or whose house, for that matter, standing there all boarded up and abandoned. What they do know is who the Great Underground Empire located beneath the house belongs to. It belongs to all the creatures of the night who lurk in its dark tunnels and caves; it belongs to the Flatheads, lords and rulers of the land of Zork; it belongs to Marc Blank and Dave Lebling, the "great implementers" of Infocom who dreamt up the original Zork trilogy more than a decade ago; and it belongs to all the adventurers who have played the Zork games over the years, painting wondrous scenes in their minds to illustrate the words Blank and Lebling put on the screen.

In attempting to revive and modernize Zork, Activision is treading on sacred ground. It's a little bit like daring to remake Casablanca -- or worse, since what Activision has undertaken is no mere remake: Return to Zork utterly transforms the most famous of Infocom's all-text universes, turning it into a cinematic showcase for cutting-edge graphics and sound. There's hardly any text at all in the game, which is sure to make diehard Infocom fans cringe; and the parserless, point-and-click interface resembles the latest offerings from Tsunami or Sierra much more than it does the classics from Infocom. Gamers have had every reason over the past several months, since advertisements for Return to Zork started appearing, to wonder whether Activision's wholesale renovation of their favorite fantasy world would render it unrecognizable.

The designers, aware of these concerns, devised an ingenious and satisfying manner to allay them in the very first scene of the game. Contrary to expectations, Return to Zork opens with white text on a black background, just as an Infocom game should. Nor is it just any text -- it's text lifted straight from the opening of Zork I. A few seconds after the text appears, a full-screen image fades in behind it: the white house where the Zork legend began, drawn with such fidelity to the original description that no old-time gamer could fail to recognize it.

The text fades out shortly thereafter, never to return, but the point has been made: the writers behind Return to Zork haven't lost touch with their roots. Gamers who have been worried can rest assured that the Zork legacy is in good hands.

What of those gamers who are new to Zork, the graphics-hungry generation to which Return to Zork is presumably intended to appeal? They get their fix in the opening scene as well. After a moment, when the house starts to rotate, one realizes that the image is not static and flat, as in a conventional graphic adventure, but a detailed, three-dimensional rendering around which the "camera" is able to swoop and glide, as in the best scenes from The 7th Guest.

Following a bit of business suggesting a magical abduction (giving the designers a chance to show off a sample of the full-motion video and spoken-word audio employed to capture the human actors), one is left soaring over a fractal-rich landscape while the soundtrack throbs ominously and Hollywood-style credits roll.

It's a stunning opening sequence, on par with the opening of King's Quest VI, and it is sure to win even reluctant players over. By the time players land at the mountain pass where the game begins, they are ready to be taken on a fantastic ride. What follows is only occasionally fantastic, but when it falls short it is never the video or audio that is at fault. The designers could stand to hone their storytelling and puzzle-writing skills, as well as their game engine -- but as for the game's multimedia rendering, producer Eddie Dombrower and his crew have pulled off a performance that leaves its competitors far behind.

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

The game is divided into three sections. First, for a few screens, one finds oneself on a mountain by a river; then for a few more, in what remains of a town; and finally, for most of the game, in the Great Underground Empire itself. The dominant characteristic of all three sections is emptiness: though one meets characters here and there, the bulk of the locations are deserted. This is more disturbing than it sounds, since according to the storyline the player goes to Zork expecting to find a flourishing community.

The player's task is to find out what is going on. The town of West Shanbar has vanished, the Road to the South has become a pestilential No Man's Land, the "Valley of the Sparrows" has turned into the "Valley of the Vultures," and someone called Morphius has been terrorizing the few souls who are left by invading their dreams. Only a fearless and resourceful explorer -- hardy enough to wield a sword, dogged enough to map mazes, and clever enough to solve puzzles -- will get past all the obstacles and uncover the land's secrets.

As in earlier Zork games, the storyline here is often incidental to the goings-on. One spends most of the time dealing with random obstacles laid in one's path, which can usually be overcome by making clever use of the objects one finds along the way. A simple example: there are quite a few locked doors in the game, certainly more than there are keys. So, other objects have to be pressed into service.

Other puzzles include standoffs the player has to end, such as one between a blind archer and a petulant, frisky fairy (played by the aptly named Robin Lively) who is pelting him with acorns; and "relationship" puzzles which involve figuring out how to get certain characters (a staggering lush played by Harold Smith, a timorous waif played by Edan Gross) to part with objects in their possession. There are interlocked puzzles that the player has to solve in sequence, and one even encounters a few traditional puzzles, hearkening back to the likes of the treasure room maze in Zork III: a sliding-tile puzzle, two mazes, a boardgame, and two pop quizzes on GUE trivia.

Aside from some special interfaces for these "puzzle" puzzles, one interacts with the game in fairly conventional point-and-click fashion. One moves around by clicking on directional arrows that appear when the cursor passes along the border of a screen. One handles objects on the screen or in one's inventory by clicking on them and then selecting from the menus of action icons that appear: which icons appear depends on the situation. For instance, clicking on a whistle by itself will produce, among other icons, "blow" and "examine." Clicking the whistle on the cow will produce, among others, "feed whistle to cow" and "throw whistle at cow." More general command icons, including "save," "restore" and "look at map," hide just off screen along with one's inventory, ready to be called up by clicking on any blank portion of the screen.

If the game's system of selecting icons from nested menus is not entirely comfortable, it is less because it is novel than because the designers define their commands in counterintuitive ways. One must "pick up" an object before one can use it, even if it is in one's inventory; if one invokes the "use" icon, one is given the choices "pick up," "drop" and "examine." Consequentially, one finds oneself "using" objects and then "picking them up." To further confuse matters, "picking up" an object is not the same as "putting it in one's inventory" -- the latter requires a separate step.

According to Activision, these are deliberate choices made with the intention of mimicking the feel of a text adventure; but, deliberate or not, one cannot escape the feeling that they could have been better thought out. The fact is that no icon-driven interface, however complicated, can replicate a text parser. I can't count the number of times I wanted to type in a command that was not on my menu of options: one finds a box but is not allowed to "open" it, one finds a frame with buttons but cannot "push" them, and so on. Failing to offer the depth of a text-based parser, Return to Zork's interface regrettably also loses the too-simple-but-agreeably-intuitive quality of, say, Sierra's icon-driven system. It's the old story about trying to sit on two stools and falling in between: the intent was commendable, but the execution leaves much to be desired.

Similarly excessive is the complexity associated with movement which stems from Activision's ambitious attempt to simulate a three-dimensional environment. Each location in the game has up to four "views" associated with it: at the location, facing forward; at the location, facing in the opposite direction; at a distance from the location, facing it; and at a similar distance, facing it from the other direction. Not all "exit" pathways are visible from all four views, meaning that one has to treat each view as a separate location. The main problem with doing so is that it makes mapping the game a real headache.

Tripping the player up further is the fact that movement within mazes is different from movement elsewhere in the game. In general, clicking on a left-pointing arrow means "go left." In a maze it means "pivot to face left." One is not warned of this distinction, however, resulting in much unpleasant fumbling when the player finally gets to the mazes.

The third way the player interacts with the game (after using objects and moving) is by holding conversations with the characters he meets. In conversation, one is supposed to be able to influence the path one's discussions take by clicking on the emotion icons (fascinated, bored, threatening, apologetic) that appear on the side of the screen. Unfortunately, in the interest of realism, the designers deliberately do not have the characters stop talking to wait for the player's input -- one just has to jump in and hope for the best. In some cases the icon one selects only alters the conversation by a few words; in many it has no effect at all. Alas, one is never sure that this isn't one's own fault; one might have selected the wrong icon or clicked on the right one, but at the wrong instant. So, one tries again, and again.

In time, one realizes that there just aren't that many different conversations in the game; much of the time, one can click all one wants and still never get a character to say anything substantially different. In the process of learning this, however, one ends up sitting through every conversation four or five times. No matter how exciting one finds the prospect of watching human actors in a computer game, and no matter how good the actors are (most here are excellent), four or five is too many times to hear dialogue that is not all that sparkling even the first time around.

None of the above makes Return to Zork unplayable, but the gameplay is less smooth, and the learning curve somewhat steeper, than one would ideally want it to be. Return to Zork takes some getting used to. Because of the game's good qualities it's worth it, but players should be prepared to invest some time in the process.

Zork, Sweet Zork

The new look of the Great Underground Empire also takes some getting used to. Gone, for the most part, are the dank caverns and convincingly subterranean settings of the original. In their place is a mixture of, one one hand, semi-Tolkienesque outdoor scenes and, on the other, florescent light-strips, modern furnishings, and giant signs saying things like "Welcome To The New West Shanbar."

The player's first clue that things are going to be different is that he starts the game in possession of a Polaroid camera, a pocket tape recorder, and a box of matches from "Chuckle's Comedy Club." The camera and tape recorder are really just convenient ways to let the player keep track of where he has been and what he has heard, but they set an unexpectedly modern tone that persists throughout the game.

Mixed in with the usual ruins, forests and wooden buildings are an armorer whose sign includes a laser-sighted rifle, an inn which looks more like a Holiday Inn than anything that belongs in Zork, and a trailer with a refrigerator, oven and running water. The comedy club, when one reaches it, looks just like the Improv, complete with brick walls, stand-up microphone, and patrons in modern attire.

The gag value of each of these scenes is considerable, but the net impact of so many anachronisms packed into a small space is somewhat disappointing. Again, the designers are trying to straddle two horses: they don't want to give up Zork's traditional fairies, trolls and dwarves, but they see no harm in repeatedly breaking the illusion with modern references and settings. Maybe other gamers will mind less than I did; I found the "anything we want to throw in" tone disorienting. It is hard enough to immerse oneself in a fiction unfolding on a computer screen without the added distraction of a milieu that shifts from Middle Earth to Middle America and back again in the blink of an eye.

Adding to the sense of disorientation is the confused storyline which continually leaves the player wondering just what he is doing. Is the game about finding Morphius? Is it about figuring out what happened during the much-talked-about Great Diffusion of magic? Is it about finding "Rooper," the fellow whose sweepstakes mailing is what lures the player to Zork in the first place? Is it about the disappearance of West Shanbar? Is it about none of these things? All of them? Some? Which?

The answer, I think, is "all of them," which is example number three of Activision trying to do too many things and ending up with a muddle. If ever a game would have benefited from some judicious paring down, this is the one. Yet what a gorgeous muddle it is! For all the criticism the game merits, and for all its oddities and excesses, Return to Zork persists, scene after scene, in satisfying the gamer, largely because of its extraordinary effects.

The mix of digitized backgrounds, foreground action either computer-rendered or videotaped, full-motion video sequences, and genuinely thrilling computer-generated "movie" scenes will leave the most jaded player breathless. One's climb down the Cliffs of Depression, one's boat ride to East Shanbar, and even such simple sequences as one's trip across a gift shop to get the cash register are all exquisitely rendered.

First-rate actors lend their hand to the process as well. Though none except the prating Wizard Trembyle (Will cAllister) has more than a handful of lines, all do a creditable job of bringing their characters to life. Michelle Dahler is a fine witch, with a hint of Sigourney Weaver about her; A.J. Langer plays Rebecca Snoot, one of the good guys, with the role's requisite spunk and (mild) sexiness; Jojo Marr does a fine job as the peculiar, scruffy Canuck; and Howard Mann lends some welcome comic relief with his turn as the garrulous Lighthouse Keeper. There are plenty more, all of them fine, except semi-celebrity Jason (The Wonder Years) Hervey who plays the part of a troll in a scene TV Guide properly singled out as embarrassing.

Beyond Zork

The good news: Return to Zork is not bad. It's a flawed game full of great visual moments, well worth the attention of anyone who wants to see what the future of computer gaming looks like. If the Zork legend had to rest on this game alone, there probably wouldn't be any Zork legend; but as an addition to the series, Return to Zork is more than satisfactory.

The better news: Activision is still working on their design, their technology and their interface. They are learning from their mistakes and refining their successes, so that their next Infocom game should be even better.

The best news: their next Infocom game is going to be a sequel to Planetfall. I'd predict that with Steve Meretzky calling the shots, that's going to be one to see.

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