The Stack

If I keep comparing these games to Monkey Island, it’s because it’s really striking how pervasive its stylistic influence is, especially compared to other popular point-and-click adventure franchises like King’s Quest. Touché! The Adventures of the Fifth Musketeer is possibly the most obvious Monkey Island wannabe I’ve ever seen. The opening scenes of Rouen at night are a dead ringer for the town on Mêlée Island, and I swear that the player character has the same walk animation as Guybrush in Monkey Island 2.

And yet I dropped it, back in the day, because I was finding it dull. What few puzzles I saw were prosaic, and the humor, which is mainly based around pointing out foibles, seemed relatively soft and safe. Much like “dad jokes”, it seems to exist more to fill a social function than to actually provoke laughter.

And, when you come down to it, the whole musketeer fantasy is a lot more… square than the pirate fantasy. Pirates are criminals. Guybrush, in the first game, is basically a nerd who wants to join a dangerous gang. Sure, his first challenges are all about proving himself to some older authority figures (the Pirate Leaders), but he never actually finishes that. When he completes the tasks necessary for his pirate certification, the Leaders are nowhere to be found. He goes and starts being a pirate anyway. The musketeers, meanwhile, are supporters of monarchy. Geoffroi Le Brun, Touché‘s player character, is already an ensign in the musketeers when the game starts (unlike d’Artagnan in the novel, whose introduction is a lot more like Guybrush’s). His first main goal is to hunt down an assassin who killed a nobleman. So he’s basically a cop. Before long, he hires a manservant! Guybrush also hired some help, a crew for his ship, but they never really accepted his authority or obeyed his orders. Whereas Henri slides firmly into the role of comical sidekick, like Sancho Panza, complaining a lot and openly expressing an inordinate desire for food and wine but always staying by his master’s side and never really questioning his rule.

So, my first impression is that this is the conservative authoritarian reply to the Monkey Island games. But I’m still only a little way in, and that could change.

So, is Kingdom O’ Magic a good game? No, not really. It’s more playable than certain other point-and-click adventures I’ve played lately, and the wandering monsters were a good attempt at keeping the walking-around bits interesting, but I actually think the multi-path nature of the thing backfired somewhat. See, not only are there three quests, there are a number of optional puzzles and alternate solutions to puzzles. For example, there’s a whole complicated chain of actions that culminates in obtaining a palantir. This was one of the last things I did in the game, and by the time I had done it, I had already solved the puzzle that uses the palantir by other means, effectively short-circuiting a large portion of the game and leaving me wondering what the palantir was for and why I had devoted all this effort to obtaining it. My expectation was that any puzzle I left unsolved in the first two quests would become important in the third, but that’s just not the case.

(One strange thing: I distinctly remember certain aspects of the palantir from my earlier attempts at the game, like that it’s dangerous to hold directly, because the Dark Lord can sense that you have it, so you have to carry it around in a box. So I feel like I must have gotten it before, but there were steps along the way that I didn’t recognize at all. Maybe I got further into this game than I know.)

The humor varies — it manages some really good gags, but it’s basically an r-strategy comedy, going for quantity of jokes over quality in the hope of overwhelming the audience with the cumulative effect, like an old Leslie Nielsen film. And it skews low-brow. Full of silly voices, cartoon sound effects, and occasional full-screen stock black-and-white film footage. I haven’t emphasized this enough before: toilets are a major recurring theme. There are at least four of significance, including one that’s just sitting out in the open next to the road. Can you flush them? No, but you can plunge them, using a plunger that, like the palantir, is somewhat complicated to obtain and only used in a completely optional puzzle. My last goal of any difficulty in the game was to obtain a lost grail so I could trade it for some toilet paper.

Then there’s the stereotype humor. There’s a gay-coded hairdresser, pink of shirt and limp of wrist. They don’t even really make jokes about this; you’re basically just supposed to be amused at how stereotypically gay he is. Next door, there’s a wig maker, who is, quite at random, a comical Nazi — that is, he’s not explicitly a Nazi, there’s no swastikas or anything around, but he’s got the whole Hogan’s Heroes schtick. Again, the game is just throwing out any and all potentially comic situations the authors could think of, but stuff like this can actually suck humor out of its surroundings. At one point, the player character actually tells a lawyer joke that I remember from the bit in Escape from Monkey Island that makes fun of lawyer jokes.

I’ll give it this: Coming straight off a game that really wanted to imitate Monkey Island‘s sense of humor, it was quite refreshing to see that this game’s sense of humor was completely different.

And it’s kind of mean-spirited, too. It would come off as more so if it weren’t so wacky; there’s a whole lot of killing of things you can have conversations with, sometimes electively. There’s a sort of new-age hippie peacenik character who seems to be included in the game specifically so you can kill her if you’re so inclined. (Meanwhile, the comical Nazi is not killable.) The first thing that made me really think “Wow, okay, this is kind of mean” is the gnome-stomping. There’s a trio of gnomes in one of the quests, and you’re expected to jump on them, squashing them into pointy-hatted pancakes. They re-inflate after a little while (to provide a bit of challenge in getting all three down at the same time), but it’s a grotesque moment, and you just have to decide whether you like the game being mean and grotesque or not. I don’t particularly.

I can imagine a lot of this bothering me less in a text adventure, where it’s all a little more abstract. As it is, I really cannot recommend this game. I stand by what I said before about the game being campy and reveling in its own deliberate badness, but on the whole, I think it’s better to be playing a game that isn’t bad.

Not that I’m going to take my own advice. I’ve got some momentum going here, and I’m not going to stop while I still have some crappy MS-DOS point-and-click adventure games on the Stack.

A cursory prodding at cheat code sites didn’t tell me how to access the in-game hints, but it did set me on a path that would lead to that destination. There are, in fact, a few well-known cheat codes, which you access by typing “SCI” (the name of the company that made the game), followed by the code and any parameters, followed by ENTER, despite the lack of any feedback that your typing is having any effect. But that’s cheat codes for you. The whole scheme, with the company name as prefix, is plainly modeled after the cheat codes in Doom, which also didn’t have any kind of explicit prompt for them.

The codes known to the web at large are: DAY and NIGHT to shift the day/night cycle, and STUF, followed by the name of an item, to get that item. Peering into the executable, I found also the following:
HEALTH restores your health. You’d think there would be a code to restore your magic points too, but I didn’t find one.
SMKEY gives you the key to the Mordor-analogue. Presumably you could also get this with STUF, but I suppose this was an item they needed a lot in testing so it was worth it to have a shorter version.
WSHEET gives you a white sheet.
SNSHEL gives you both the key and the sheet.
PAC activates a slightly-Pac-Man-like mini-game that you’d otherwise have to go all the way to the Minas Tirith analogue to access.
SNOWON and SNOWOFF toggle an environment effect normally found only in the mountains.
BIG enlarges the player character to twice the normal height.
NARONSPEED makes the narrator talk faster and at a higher pitch.
HOTDOTS displays a blinking pixel at the foot of every character, which was presumably useful for debugging.
SCUTS by itself crashed the game. I speculate that it needs a parameter, specifying a cutscene to play. There is another code, SMK, that displays the same behavior and may simply be a synonym for SCUTS. (SMK is the file extension for Smacker video clips.)
Ones I have no idea about: HOMEOM, SAM, NECESSARY, GERBILDOOS, RABBITPOO.

Anyway, when I was looking for promising text strings in the executable, I noticed a telephone number from within the game. There’s a cell phone you can find, and the phone number of a real estate office is on an abandoned tower over in the Mirkwood analogue, and it’s really easy to recognize, because it’s 011001111111. Which, yes, you have to tap out by hand. But near it, there was another phone number that I hadn’t seen in the game. It was, in fact, the customer support number listed in the manual. And that is how you access the in-game hints.

I really should have suspected that they’d pull something like that. The manual is really an extension of the game here — not of the gameplay, really, but of the humor. Pages that look like dry legal text at first glance are full of jokes. They really want you to read the whole thing.

Anyway, thanks to that, I’ve finished both of the remaining quests. But I’ll write up my thoughts in another post.

Having beaten one quest, I’ve been switching freely between the other two. With just two scenarios, it’s relatively easy to eliminate the useless. This is basically one of those one-puzzle-per-item adventures, so once you’ve found a quest-specific use for something, you know it’s useless in the other quest.

Nonetheless, I’m spending most of my time stuck now. I’ve made a couple of significant conceptual breakthroughs: one when I realized that one of the spells could be used in solving a puzzle, another when I figured out how to combine inventory items (something that was never needed in the first quest). Each such breakthrough was followed by a flurry of progress, then I went back to being stuck. Maybe there really is something to the game’s difficulty rankings for the quests after all.

The thing is, I’m pretty sure that the wandering monsters are supposed to keep things interesting at times like this. If you can’t solve puzzles, you can always go kill stuff, right? You don’t get experience points or anything, but everything you kill stays dead, and sometimes they have useful items. Frequently, solving a major puzzle rewards you with a more powerful weapon or spell in addition to whatever else you were solving the puzzle for. The thing is, though, I’ve been stuck so much that I’ve already killed everything there is to kill. Finding a new weapon does nothing but heighten the sense of ennui.

The thing is, I used walkthroughs way too much in the last couple of games I played. I blame the games more than I blame myself, but all the same, I don’t want to start that up again if I can avoid it. But this is an old enough game that it’s inspired me to cheat pre-Internet style, by examining the game resources. I was delighted to discover that all the animations and cutscenes are simply on the CD-ROM in smacker format, and can be played using VLC. There’s even a “SECRET” folder full of dev-team in-jokes. Suddenly I feel like I’m playing Hypnospace Outlaw again.

But the real major discovery was HELP.BIN.

This is a file full of hints for the game. The hints themselves are plain ASCII, but there’s no newlines. Possibly they’re terminated by null characters or something. There’s a second file, HELP.IDX, that presumably helps some program access individual hints. And I have good reason to believe that the program that’s supposed to be doing this is the game itself. There’s a reference to these files in the executable, and the content of the hints themselves is clearly context-specific: each hint relates to a single room, and is phrased in a way that assumes that you’re in that room as you read it. In other words, it’s like the stuff you used to get by typing “HELP” in a Scott-Adams-era text adventure. But I have no idea how to access it within the game. The manual doesn’t say, and no single keypress does it.

I could unstick myself (and, indeed, have already unstuck myself somewhat) by just reading bits of the hint file and figuring out what rooms it’s relevant to. But I don’t want to spoil things by reading hints for rooms I haven’t reached yet! So it looks like I’ve got a technical challenge ahead of me: Figure out how to access these hints in their proper context. Possibly by tracing through the executable. This is the old-school hackery nonsense you read this blog for.

As you wander around the Kingdom O’ Magic, various other beings wander too. Elves, orcs, ringwraiths, a few unique characters. The ringwraiths are a particularly sad bunch: they’re desperate to find magic rings, but there aren’t any in the game. You can talk to them about it, though, even tell them lies like “I’ve got a magic ring back home” and watch them perk up and ask if you’ll take them home with you so they can see it. But conversations with ringwraiths tend to turn into brawls if you’re not careful. Conversations with orcs always do.

Fights are simple: two characters are briefly replaced by a churning cloud with various “Pow!” and “Oof!” sound effects, and their health goes down by a certain amount determined by what weapons they’re packing. This doesn’t necessarily continue to the point of death, but if an enemy dies, they turn into a gravestone, which you can loot. You can initiate fights deliberately by selecting a weapon from your inventory and clicking it on someone. Sometimes an enemy will choose to fight with you just because it bumps into you. Sometimes the elves will fight with the orcs or ringwraiths; sometimes I just find a the gravestone of a ringwraith that I never even met in that quest. All wanderers seem to be confined to certain portions of the map, though; elves never venture into the Moria analogue, and the orcs there never leave it, so you can’t just wait for the elves to clear out Moria for you.

So, combat isn’t very strategically interesting. Adding magic spices it up a little. Spells you can find include the following: “Wiz Bang” does direct damage. “Dwarf” temporarily shrinks the enemy’s sprite and cuts their hit points and damage potential in half. “Cabbage” turns them into a cabbage, which can still move by bouncing around but can’t attack at all. “Left the gas on” makes them run back home. So there’s a decent variety of effects, but they all affect combat. If you’re playing Shah-Ron, you have enough magic points to kill the occasional orc without entering melee at all. If Thidney, that’s not a realistic expectation, but you can at least use spells to make fights a little easier and lose less health.

Certain specific places have enemies that fight you using the same combat system but which aren’t really supposed to be defeated. They’re just too strong and too numerous to take on directly, and are more easily handled through some trick, a puzzle to solve. All the important NPCs are simply unkillable. You can still pick fights with them if you like, but all that will happen is that you’ll lose some health.

You can tell which characters can be fought by examining them, which brings up a stats screen. Most of the stats are just jokes, and randomized each time you look, so they don’t have a consistent value per character. For example, there’s a “Made in:” slot that variously displays “England”, “Hong Kong”, “a motel room”, “a nice ceramic”, “just five minutes”, and so forth. But there’s a field for “Health”. If it displays a number, the creature is killable. If it’s something like “more than you” or “I work out”, it’s not.

Also of importance: the stats screen will show any item the person is carrying. Usually this is nothing, occasionally it’s a combat item like a better scroll or weapon. But in one of the quests, the leader of the orcs is holding a vitally important key, and it shows up here, letting you know that you pretty much have to fight him. Moreover, this applies to the unkillable NPCs as well. If you can obtain an item from them by talking to them or trading with them, it’ll show up here. This is a tremendous help for solving puzzles! That is, examining a policeman and seeing that his mirrorshades are an inventory item doesn’t tell you how to get them, but it does tell you that you probably need to do something with the policeman before venturing into the cave of the Gorgon.

Kingdom O’ Magic provides a choice of two player characters and three quests.

The two player characters are Thidney, a “lizard bloke”, and Shah-Ron, a “girlie”. Thidney specializes in melee while Shah-Ron specializes in magic, and there’s at least one variation in the puzzle content based on which character you choose, but the differences are not great. So the choice is mainly a cosmetic one, varying the sprites and the voice acting. For once, I actually prefer the male character — if you’re going to be weird and blobby-looking, you might as well go for broke and be a weird blobby-looking lizard, right? Also, I think his comic delivery is better. But in the unlikely event that you play this game, I recommend giving them both a try to see how some of the sillier animations change.

The choice of quest, though, varies the game content significantly. I actually finished one of the three quests back in the day, but won’t consider the game truly finished until I’ve completed all three. The one I finished then, and re-finished in my last session, is “The Good Old-Fashioned Traditional Quest”, in which your goal is to steal the Smaug-analogue’s treasure. This is supposed to be the easiest quest. You can’t defeat the dragon in combat; the only way to get rid of it is to take out a mob hit on it, resulting in a cutscene out of The Godfather, with the dragon brought down in a hail of gunfire while buying oranges from a fruit cart. Then there’s “The Bizarre & Slightly Twisted Quest”, the alleged hardest one, in which you’re supposed to recover the Lost Lava Lamp of the Ancients and possibly defeat the Dark Lord, and “The Magnificent 7-11 Quest”, in which you recruit between seven and eleven warriors to defend a town from attack. All three use the same map, but switch things up within it. A door might be permanently locked in one scenario and not another. Items you’re used to from your last quest might not be available. Rooms that were guarded by monsters might be monster-free, or vice versa.

The thing is, though, a lot of the content doesn’t vary between quests. They’re three variations on the same adventure, not three completely different adventures. And this applies even to puzzles, including some puzzles to obtain items that are only useful in one of the quests. So in any particular quest, you’ll inevitably spend some of your time solving puzzles that won’t actually help you at all.

As a result, I’m a little suspicious of the given difficulty rankings. The hardest quest will be whichever one you attempt first, because that’s the one where you have the least information. That’s where you’ll solve puzzles for all three scenarios without any idea of whether they’ll help you at all. It’s also where you’ll run into obstacles you genuinely can’t overcome with the resources available and have no idea that you can’t overcome them.

I’ve been going through my remaining point-and-click adventure CD-ROMs, but between SecuROM DRM, 16-bit executables, and just random display bugs, most of them aren’t playable under Windows 10. I really am going to have to get a Windows 98 or XP machine working again if I’m going to make a serious go of clearing the Stack. ¹Actually, come to think of it, I do have a working Windows 98 machine at this point. It can’t access its video card’s 3D features, but that’s not always necessary for these games, particularly the ones with the 16-bit executables. Until then, there’s one thing that I can always play: go back far enough, and we get DOS games, which can be played under DOSBox.

Kingdom O’ Magic was designed by Fergus McNeill, who’s better known for his work on text adventures during the 1980s, particularly satirical text adventures such as Bored of the Rings, an adaptation of the Tolkien parody novel of the same name, and The Boggit, a send-up of the classic Melbourne House Hobbit game. KOM is largely an extension of those into the world of graphics. It makes some pretense of the setting being just a typical generic fantasy world, but really, the whole structure and content of the place is very specifically modeled after Tolkien, with random additions. And it’s got randomly-wandering NPCs that you can pick fights with in a very Melbourne-Hobbit way.

The Tolkien-ness is fairly overshadowed by the wacky surrealism, though. In some places, the wacky has accreted in layers. Like, how does the player character arrive in the game world? Via an animation of a Star Trek-style transporter beam. But wait, that’s not enough. We have to show a cutscene of the player’s ship arriving. And once we’ve done that, we might as well make it shaped like a toilet, and make a flushing noise when it engages its engines just in case the player hasn’t noticed that it’s shaped like a toilet. That’s what the game’s sense of humor is like: always embellishing jokes with details, sometimes even when it hasn’t actually told the joke yet. That, and throwing in random anachronisms, like a car broken down by the side of the road in the middle of the Lothlorien analogue or whatever. The latter is actually funnier, to my mind. There’s a special half-trolling humor that consists of letting people notice absurdities on their own without dwelling on them.

The game runs at 640×480 resolution with no anti-aliasing. Characters are pre-rendered sprites made of ugly blobby bits, scaling badly with distance and running extremely cheap-looking animations. There’s one bit where the player character wins a dance contest, and the dancing is ludicrously made of just the character being moved around like an action figure and running bits of their walk cycle backward, while the camera cuts around and zooms in and out like it’s showing off amazing moves. This isn’t just a low production budget. This is camp. This is a game that’s willing to be bad for humorous effect, and it actually works a lot of the time.

This works into the puzzles, too. They’re extremely un-subtly clued, with the narrator breaking the fourth wall to compliment himself on how deftly he wove clues into the narration and the like.

One joke I’d like to describe before signing off for today: the day/night cycle. Day and night are of course crucial to any decent Tolkien adaptation; you don’t get trolls wandering around in the daytime. Here, the transition from night to day is marked by a cutscene of a wrecking ball swinging in to shatter the night sky into a thousand pieces, revealing the daytime sky behind it, and the transition from day to night is a matter of a new night sky backdrop dropping into place and taking a moment to settle. It took me a while to realize that this isn’t just more wacky surrealism: it’s puns. Day breaks. Night falls. Even when he’s working with graphics, McNeill is still thinking in text.

Now, I’ve compared the Assil/Thara relationship in Ankh to both Guybrush/Elaine and Prince/Farah. But on reflection, there’s one component of both of those that’s missing: male incompetence. In Secret of Monkey Island, Elaine has the whole LeChuck situation in hand until Guybrush shows up and, in his eagerness to rescue her when she doesn’t really need it, inadvertently wrecks her plan. In Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, the Prince unleashes the power of the Sands without meaning to, creating the conditions that he and Farah spend the entire rest of the game trying to reverse.

Nothing like that happens in Ankh. Yes, Assil sets his own misfortunes in motion through a moment of clumsiness, but this doesn’t affect Thara directly, and happens before he even meets her. If anything, Thara is the one who steps into this role, attracting the attention of the Pharaoh’s guards at one point by defacing some statuary while Assil is otherwise occupied.

The point is one of forgiveness. In Monkey Island, the male hero is forgiven instantly, once he’s cleared up the mess he caused. In Prince of Persia, he’s never really forgiven — once he rewrites history, his transgressions are forgotten, but that’s not the same thing. But in Ankh, there’s nothing for Thara to forgive. From her point of view, he’s been a perfect angel, and if her hostility toward him drops a few notches from when they first meet, it’s because that hostility was never warranted in the first place. It was just her lashing out because of her situation.

Instead, Assil’s ending reconciliation is with the Pharaoh — one of the story’s villains, whose dislike of Assil was basically a matter of whim, not based on anything Assil actually did. The more I think about this, the more I feel like the story is lacking something. Assil is just a little too abrasive for no one to ever be legitimately angry with him.

Osiris is the only god we see in this game, and he’s basically portrayed as a demon — immensely powerful but trapped, and summonable with the right rituals. His interest in the Ankh is simply that it’ll let him return to the mortal world and escape the endless paperwork of processing all the dead souls of Egypt — although, apparently only Egypt; when Thara shows up in a sort of Han Solo Death Star moment, he has no power over her because she’s Arabian, not Egyptian. A convenient way to mix mythologies, this notion of limited jurisdiction! The game doesn’t delve into the implications, but I suppose the sequels might.

When Assil tells Osiris how he overcame the obstacles on the way to this place, Osiris says “So, you think you’re really clever, don’t you?” — to which Assil replies “Well, yeah. A little.” The thing is, though, he didn’t need to be all that clever to get that far. The Underworld is built up as this terribly difficult and dangerous place where you’ll face great trials, but when you actually get there, it’s just about the easiest section of the game. It’s a bit anticlimactic. Now, I’m all in favor of things easing up at an adventure game’s climax, which is a bit counterintuitive — the obvious approach is to put the greatest challenges at the end. But really, the ending is where you want to keep momentum. There’s few things worse than getting stuck right when you were on the verge of wrapping everything up. But I think this game carries that a bit too long. It isn’t just the final confrontation that’s easy, it’s the entire final chapter.

Alas, the bugs are a larger obstacle. I haven’t been talking much about the bugs in this game, even though they’re all over the place, because they’ve been minor cosmetic things — a pop in the animation here, a dialogue that can be hit out of sequence there. Exits that can be clicked from the wrong side. The occasional permeable wall. The very first thing you see in the game is the “walk to” cursor appearing briefly before the main menu comes up. Just little things like that, things that I’d want to iron out before shipping if I were working on the game. Here in the endgame, though, for the first time I hit a bug that actually interfered with my progress and made me load a save. (Fortunately, I’ve been keeping multiple saves. In fact, that’s one of the bugs: the option to overwrite saves instead of creating new ones doesn’t work.) What happens is: If your confrontation with Osiris goes wrong, the game resets to just outside his lair, with Assil excusing the whole thing as just a vision. But it doesn’t always reset things as thoroughly as it should, and one time the camera stayed inside, making it impossible for me to click on the stairs into the place. You’d think that the “Anniversary Edition” remake would be an opportunity to fix this sort of thing, but heck, maybe it introduced it.

As to the ending, the Pharaoh’s daughter is basically a non-character, just a thing that has to be retrieved. Assil and Thara basically wind up together, which, okay, by that point they’ve kind of earned. I mean, they’ve literally been through hell together. Confronted an actual god and defeated him, which is actually in character for Thara, what with her anti-authoritarian streak. I was kind of afraid that the story would demote her from Independent-Minded, Self-Willed Rebel Woman to mere Hero’s Girlfriend, but it really doesn’t do too badly on that score, given that this is still a story centered around the male hero.

I have mixed feelings about this game. It’s definitely not as polished as the design deserves. The humor often fails, or perhaps just isn’t pitched at my level. Even after I learned to run, there was still way too much walking around. But it could have been a lot worse.

One piece of good news: I figured out how to run! You do it by double-clicking. This greatly improves the experience of crossing the desert. Just like in The Watchmaker, I’m only learning how I’m supposed to be interacting with the game when it’s half over. But in The Watchmaker, I had only myself to blame for not reading the manual. Here, I have no manual. I really feel like the game is supposed to have one, but it’s not in the box, nor on Steam.

Mind you, the game is also politely making running across the desert a bit less of an issue by repeatedly temporarily locking me into rooms. Limiting the scope in this way makes it easier to find all the necessary items. In my last session, I didn’t need the walkthrough at all. The two-player-character section is over, though, which is a shame.

This seems to be one of those getting-in-deeper-and-deeper-trouble stories. People make attempts on Assil’s life, the death curse (which initially manifested as a tattoo on his hand) spreads across his body and starts to interfere with his motor functioning (in cutscenes, at least), and after a certain point, not only does the Pharaoh have it in for him, but Osiris himself does as well. Well, mortals have managed to survive the wrath of the gods before. There are myths about it. Consider Odysseus, arguably the prototype for your Monkey-Island-style adventure game hero, overcoming trials and challenges through a mix of trickery and perspicaciousness.

What did Assil do to earn the personal enmity of kings and gods? Mainly, it’s not really about him. It’s about the macguffin he wears around his neck: an ankh necklace, acquired in the same mishap that earned him his death curse. Why it’s so important, I don’t know, except that it apparently came from the gods, and the gods want it back. Assil himself mistook it for a bottle opener. In fact, he’s not the only character to make that mistake, which seems really strange to me, given what a prevalent symbol it is in Egyptian antiquity. Sure, this game isn’t a realistic depiction of Egypt, but it’s a little like setting a game in, say, France and having half the cast not know what the Eiffel Tower is.

My main task right now is to find the Pharaoh’s daughter, who Osiris has taken away to the Underworld, to ransom her for the ankh. So, we’re back to rescue-the-princess again. NPCs start gossiping about the disappearance immediately after Thara leaves your side, intending to lay low for a while, and this made me initially wonder: Is Thara actually the Pharaoh’s daughter? This turned out not to be the case, but it would have been interesting. Thara is fiercely opposed to the Pharaoh’s rule, but expresses this opposition mainly through defacing monuments and throwing banana peels — in other words, trying to humiliate him rather than overthrow him violently. I could easily see a father-daughter dynamic in that.