IF Comp ’08 Review – Jeremy Crockett and Victor Janmey’s Riverside!

I was all about to nosh on some space pirates, but while I was googleimaging for a good picture of someone cosplaying as Captain Harlock, I was informed that I have to play Riverside, so I might as well play it and find out why.

[very spoilery spoilers lie beneath]

No better way to start a game than with the death of my best friend, I always say.

So you headed on down to St. Patrick’s to watch your friend get put in his place for the last time.
…that is a weird way to say “buried.”

Bunch of things I can’t see that the room description tells me are there. I’ve gotten to the point with this competition where I’d be happy with “these are some tombstones” or “it’s a fucking wall, what do you want from me?”

I should pay attention. I’m at my best friend’s funeral.

Oh, it’s one of those families where all the kids have the first initial J. I knew a family like that once, except they inexplicably fucked it up by calling the last one Laura. She used to drink borscht right out of the jar, and very well still might.

I can so see Jeenie. She’s right there. If there is some sort of reason I can’t talk to her, I would like to know what it is.

Hmm, black luxury sedan, mysterious familiar-looking driver crossing off my friend’s name in a tiny notebook – OH MY GOD IS IT DEATH?

Note: The verb “USE” is supported in Riverside. It will be necessary.
They had a town meeting in Riverside, back in ‘54. Old Stuart Clampey, now, he was always agin the verb “USE.” Said nothing good would ever come of it, mark his words. Then Rusty Peters done stand up and say, “Why, Stuart, that ol’ verb done saved your life, without it I reckon they couldn’t’a used any CPR on your scrawny ol’ excuse for a body, I reckon.” Stuart, now, he don’t say a word, just spit his chaw out right thar on the church floor, and one week later he done shot Rusty’s ol’ blue huntin’ dog flat dead.

I’m sorry, I seem to be getting a bit loopy. A more responsible person would leave off reviewing games at this point. Where was I? Oh, right, Riverside.

I just looked at my TV and it made me hate myself. The end.

Me: “Ugh! I own an Italian leather sofa?”
Riff: “Made out of real Italians? Wait, what’s wrong with Italian leather?”
Me: “I’m a middle manager with a too-huge TV, an Escher painting, and an Italian fucking leather fucking sofa. I bet my coffee table has a glass top.”
Riff: (starts laughing) “It does. Examine it.”
Me: “Ugh.”

All the written crap that you’ve accumulated over the years has wound up on this bookshelf, from Amy’s issues of Cosmo to your old copy of Ulysses from college.
The wholesale classification of books and magazines as “written crap” cracks me up.

I am getting the signal to stop sweating the terrible little details and focus on the terrible large picture. So, okay, Riverside, take me wherever you’re going.

Amy bought me a Zork lighter? That’s pretty awesome. I can’t believe I even like Zork, since I’m CLEARLY AN ASSHOLE.

> x toilet
It’s been nice being able to leave the seat down for a whole week.
Wait, what? Amy leaves the seat up?

Okay, I want to find pictures of Jeenie’s wedding in my big old giant photo album. What verb will allow me to do that? Screw it, I’m’a look that up.

Huh? Did I not give Amy her light beer properly? I’m going to start over and follow the walkthrough to that point.

…wow, the walkthrough suggests that I spend the time waiting for Amy to get home examining myself repeatedly and being told that I am as good-looking as ever. I have never played a game in which I hated myself so much.

Oh, it’s READ ALBUM. The walkthrough is wrong. I repeat: the walkthrough is wrong. Just sayin’.

Where do I keep my phone, on that nightstand I am unable to see?

…choochoo?

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Well, now I don’t know whether to hate the authors or not.

Update:  I’m not going to bother scoring this, since it’s a joke entry.  Riff’s got a big ol’ rant on his blog about how it should’ve been done in order to make it a good joke entry, and I pretty much agree with him, but I also think that if the authors intended for me to hate the protagonist that much, they deserve a bit of credit.  ‘Cause boy did I ever.  And still do.

Oh, also I had to look up “ragequitting.”  It means “to quit when things aren’t going your way,” like during some sort of online multiplayer battlefield situation or something, and it makes no sense in this context, ‘cause the game’s already over and you kind of have to quit whether you’re angry or not.