‘The critical point of withdrawal is not the early phase of acute sickness, but the final step free from the medium of junk....’
– William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch, 1959.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (30th May – 5th Jun., 2023).
Subverting Myst (1993) is an exercise in simplicity. Despite its legendary status, the Miller brothers' title was filled with a certain modesty compared to the mainstream production of the time. Its abstract narrative and minimalist interactions lent themselves to the contemplation of an island whose contours were easy to grasp. This approach was facilitated by Sunsoft, who asked the Millers to produce a more mature title than their earlier children's games, such as Cosmic Osmo and the Worlds Beyond the Mackerel (1989) and Spelunx and the Caves of Mr Seudo (1991). A parody of such a classic title makes sense, as it turns the original concept of Myst on its head, capturing a universe whose interpretation was left up to the player. Parroty Interactive teamed up with Peter Bergman, a member of Firesign Theatre, to take on this challenge.
The radio comedy troupe Firesign Theatre is an institution of American absurdist production. Critical of presidencies from Nixon to Reagan, whose election came as a hammer blow to the group, Firesign Theatre has always placed its productions within a complex political spectrum, seeking to be clear-eyed witnesses to events in the modern United States. In Waiting for the Electrician or Someone Like Him (1968), the group criticised the hippie counterculture's fascination with indigenous people, comparing it to historical American colonialism and equating it with a form of white supremacy. The Firesign Theatre was never really a counterculture – at least the group repeatedly refused to be called one – but it did seek to contribute to public debate, rather than sinking into a social pessimism that could not be heard by the general public. Indeed, David McCarthy contrasts their method, 'firmly anchored in the present [and] from a position inside history' [1], with that of Daphne Oram.
Firesign Theatre's approach was also highly referential, playing with the radio medium to create a poetic contrast between the old-fashioned quality of the recording and the modern content of their albums. The sound is sometimes deliberately drowned in white noise, sometimes in discordant filters. The intonation is at times inspired by evangelical prosody, at others by television culture. This network of references creates a unique depth and holds the listener's attention with stylistically and aurally unexpected passages. As a direct parody of Myst, one might expect the same techniques to be found in P.Y.S.T.: to a certain extent, they are. However, the title sinks into a certain complacency and fails to create a structure as chiseled as Firesign Theatre's audio productions.
Myst's gameplay was particularly contemplative and uncluttered, with simple, open decors. P.Y.S.T., with its deliberately grimy art direction, is drowned out by excessive detail, and the few interactions that do take place leave the player largely passive. Because the various audio recordings are only played after clicking on the appropriate element on the screen, the game is often immersed in an unproductive silence: the complex layers of sound and fluid narrative of Firesign Theatre are a long way off. While the title retains a critical spirit, attacks on the punk counterculture and the USSR take precedence over those on rampant capitalism and television. Watching the various TV mini-sketches in the Garden becomes a chore, as does the horoscope parody in the Planetarium, which has been repurposed as a gruesome doctor's office. The humour in P.Y.S.T. is generally heavy-handed, dated and borderline offensive.
The undoubtedly disappointing aspect of the title is how far it is from being a no-budget amateur production. On the contrary, the behind-the-scenes parody shows very well equipped studios and a large crew. John Goodman even plays King Mattruss. While the irreverence of P.Y.S.T. may not be a problem, the dissonance between gameplay and world-building is underwhelming. While Firesign Theatre's productions have always been chaotic, this game parody simply lacks coherence and purpose. By contrast, Zork: Grand Inquisitor (1997), a return to a humorous formula after the very serious Zork Nemesis (1996), was far more competent in its writing and made far better use of its prestigious cast and radiophonic tradition, delivering a genuine point-n-click experience.
__________
[1] David McCarthy, ‘“Attitudes Toward History” and the Radiophonic Compositions of Daphne Oram and the Firesign Theatre’, in Jarmila Mildorf, Pim Verhulst (ed.), Radio Art and Music: Culture, Aesthetics, Politics, Rowman & Littlefield, 2020, p. 81.
– William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch, 1959.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (30th May – 5th Jun., 2023).
Subverting Myst (1993) is an exercise in simplicity. Despite its legendary status, the Miller brothers' title was filled with a certain modesty compared to the mainstream production of the time. Its abstract narrative and minimalist interactions lent themselves to the contemplation of an island whose contours were easy to grasp. This approach was facilitated by Sunsoft, who asked the Millers to produce a more mature title than their earlier children's games, such as Cosmic Osmo and the Worlds Beyond the Mackerel (1989) and Spelunx and the Caves of Mr Seudo (1991). A parody of such a classic title makes sense, as it turns the original concept of Myst on its head, capturing a universe whose interpretation was left up to the player. Parroty Interactive teamed up with Peter Bergman, a member of Firesign Theatre, to take on this challenge.
The radio comedy troupe Firesign Theatre is an institution of American absurdist production. Critical of presidencies from Nixon to Reagan, whose election came as a hammer blow to the group, Firesign Theatre has always placed its productions within a complex political spectrum, seeking to be clear-eyed witnesses to events in the modern United States. In Waiting for the Electrician or Someone Like Him (1968), the group criticised the hippie counterculture's fascination with indigenous people, comparing it to historical American colonialism and equating it with a form of white supremacy. The Firesign Theatre was never really a counterculture – at least the group repeatedly refused to be called one – but it did seek to contribute to public debate, rather than sinking into a social pessimism that could not be heard by the general public. Indeed, David McCarthy contrasts their method, 'firmly anchored in the present [and] from a position inside history' [1], with that of Daphne Oram.
Firesign Theatre's approach was also highly referential, playing with the radio medium to create a poetic contrast between the old-fashioned quality of the recording and the modern content of their albums. The sound is sometimes deliberately drowned in white noise, sometimes in discordant filters. The intonation is at times inspired by evangelical prosody, at others by television culture. This network of references creates a unique depth and holds the listener's attention with stylistically and aurally unexpected passages. As a direct parody of Myst, one might expect the same techniques to be found in P.Y.S.T.: to a certain extent, they are. However, the title sinks into a certain complacency and fails to create a structure as chiseled as Firesign Theatre's audio productions.
Myst's gameplay was particularly contemplative and uncluttered, with simple, open decors. P.Y.S.T., with its deliberately grimy art direction, is drowned out by excessive detail, and the few interactions that do take place leave the player largely passive. Because the various audio recordings are only played after clicking on the appropriate element on the screen, the game is often immersed in an unproductive silence: the complex layers of sound and fluid narrative of Firesign Theatre are a long way off. While the title retains a critical spirit, attacks on the punk counterculture and the USSR take precedence over those on rampant capitalism and television. Watching the various TV mini-sketches in the Garden becomes a chore, as does the horoscope parody in the Planetarium, which has been repurposed as a gruesome doctor's office. The humour in P.Y.S.T. is generally heavy-handed, dated and borderline offensive.
The undoubtedly disappointing aspect of the title is how far it is from being a no-budget amateur production. On the contrary, the behind-the-scenes parody shows very well equipped studios and a large crew. John Goodman even plays King Mattruss. While the irreverence of P.Y.S.T. may not be a problem, the dissonance between gameplay and world-building is underwhelming. While Firesign Theatre's productions have always been chaotic, this game parody simply lacks coherence and purpose. By contrast, Zork: Grand Inquisitor (1997), a return to a humorous formula after the very serious Zork Nemesis (1996), was far more competent in its writing and made far better use of its prestigious cast and radiophonic tradition, delivering a genuine point-n-click experience.
__________
[1] David McCarthy, ‘“Attitudes Toward History” and the Radiophonic Compositions of Daphne Oram and the Firesign Theatre’, in Jarmila Mildorf, Pim Verhulst (ed.), Radio Art and Music: Culture, Aesthetics, Politics, Rowman & Littlefield, 2020, p. 81.
poyfuh
10 months ago