Games With Grey

Narrative sees dramatic and total emphasis within Call of Cthulhu, prioritized at the expense of gameplay. Forutnately, the narrative is a compelling one, adopting a sharp investigative tone, logical when considering the player character, his profession – Edward Pierce is a private detective circulating in 1924 Boston society. This circulation does not instantly translate to occupational prosperity; Edward is suffering, seemingly facing poverty and eventual unemployment, his agency nearing collapse. Added character depth is present when considering his state and backstory before the narrative’s opening – he was a soldier in the Great War, and seemingly left the conflict decorated, decorated and distressed, the horrors endured in that war shaping Edward, who cannot shake off the conflict’s aftereffects, all of them wholly negative – he is a broken man, and the ample humanity he displays morphs him into a very compelling and profound protagonist; he is endearing, and the player naturally champions his cause, desires his ascension from the malaise he has long been wallowing in, the alcohol he has increasing turned to for relief, detachment from the past. Reflecting this potential ascension, Edward is visited by a Mr. Webster, a rather enigmatic fellow of some renown within Boston society, that affluent socialite travelling to Edward’s quarters to make a request, to obtain his service. His demand is this: travel to the isolated port town of Darkwater, and once situated therein, search for answers and explanations regarding Mr. Webster’s daughter’s death, Sarah Hawkins, a death steeped in mystery and uncertainty, both necessitating a gifted detective’s intervention. And so the framework is established, the central narrative unfolding almost exclusively in Darkwater, its various structures and environs, where information is collected, where answers are obtained – to a point, true and total insight remaining elusive. But Edward Pierce, that trained and capable detective, is uniquely situated, endowed with certain powers, namely those of persuasion, intelligence, and somewhat elevated endurance; if any individual can navigate throughout often-hostile Darkwater, it is Edward, that flawed yet multitalented character, resolute, broken by the past but only just. In many ways, he anchors the narrative, and the character growth he endures is profound indeed. Furthering the player / player character relationship, meanwhile, perspective is cleverly manipulated, the game alternately employing a first-person perspective and a third- person perspective. That former perspective increase immersion, the link between those two individuals, while the third-person perspective – seen exclusively in cutscenes – creates more cinematic attributes. This vacillation is rather unique, and greatly bolsters narrative resonance.

While Edward Pierce anchors the narrative, and while the narrative generally is very character driven, new allies and enemies introduced with fair regularity, Darkwater is essential to the narrative, fast morphing in a character in its own right; the detached settlement is steeped in mystery and eeriness, steeped also in history which is gradually communicated to the player, the environments featuring ample interactivity in addition to excellent environmental storytelling – much is said even when words are never uttered. Darkwater’s history is largely a history of the whale trade, the town being intimately connected to whales’ hunting; those massive creatures sustain the economy – or sustained it, for the whale population at the narrative’s opening is dwindling, has been dwindling for a protracted span of time, greatly influencing the settlement, resulting in a certain depression, a deflation of prosperity and the general population’s mood – many are completely defeated, logical when considering improvements to their conditions seem increasingly unobtainable; darkness and maturity abound in Darkwater, a place of atmosphere: cutting through the darkness and fog and first gazing at Darkwater, its ports – it is a marvelous experience, and the game’s characteristic immersion exists almost from the first, only increasing player desire for exploration, fortunate when considering exploration becomes a possibility nearly instantaneously, after Mr. Webster’s request, after the boat voyage. For all the moodiness, meanwhile, many of the locations are rather large, though not being large enough as to inspire confusion in the exploration process – instead, their size is ideal, navigation seamless. In the process of exploration Edward meets with an eclectic group of secondary characters, their presence – and great diversities – resulting in believability, humanity, and sometimes charm; consider only Cat, a female vagrant and leader of a gang with an increasingly prominent and influential presence on the island. Being at the helm of a gang, logic suggests Cat would be villainous, and while this perception has some validity, she shows great character complexity, not necessarily delighting in violence, though being keenly aware of the advantages which inevitably accompany violence’s execution. Almost all secondary characters show such depth – cliched, boring stereotypes are entirely rejected here, the developers again striving for humanity, and most tellingly, moral ambiguity, darkness and lightness engaged in perpetual warfare, with no side revealed as victor in the struggle, even at the narrative’s cryptic conclusion. Also central to the narrative broadly and Darkwater specifically, the island’s inhabitants display a constant weariness towards outsiders, a weariness no doubt attributable to the island’s isolation. The existence of this hesitancy influences the nature and direction of Edward’s investigation – were more of the townsfolk cooperative, the investigation would be hastier and more productive. Instead, Edward meets with opposition from all sides, only a handful of secondary characters becoming unquestioning allies – consider the seemingly simplistic Officer Bradley, who fast shows character complexity, or a capable doctor, Marie Colden. Having the backing of these two characters lends Edward added strength, priming him for a successful investigation – Sarah Hawkins, that sought individual, can in time be located, her tragic circumstances unveiled.          

Call of Cthulhu’s narrative, for all its strengths, features a very plodding pacing, logical when considering the investigative narrative ambitions, structure; were answers provided swiftly and with little player exertion, the entire experience would collapse. In this regard, the narrative directly engages the player, inviting them to interrogate the narrative, which like the secondary characters and Edward also shows ample complexity. Disrupting narrative slowness, a constant barrage of secondary characters is directed towards the player; beyond Edward’s allies Bradley and Colden, manifold other named characters exist, many expertly developed even if their role and presence are slight. But while new characters are constantly introduced, much of the narrative suffers from a commanding villain’s absence, or at least a villain’s very late reveal. If clearly defined, despicable individuals are introduced early on, narratives generally attain a sharper sense of focus and accordingly direction. If this logic is continued, then a narrative devoid of an antagonist is lacking in focus. And so it is here. Some tentative efforts are made at achieving this direction, certainly, one vile figure being the mythical Shambler, a vile, beastly creature of indeterminate origins who persists as menace throughout, while another villain promptly emerges: Doctor Fuller, a capable physician with widespread knowledge and specializations. Reflecting his implied villainy, though, that knowledge is misused, is wielded for more sinister ends – namely, experimentation, the corrupt doctor preying upon the unfortunate figures so situated in the asylum where Colden also works, that mostly heroic figure working to thwart the doctor’s vile ambitions. It is easy and natural to despise Doctor Fuller, especially when the full extent of his butcheries is viewable, the player navigating the asylum’s depths where much of that experimentation transpires, walls covered in blood, the halls resounding with pained wails. Initially directionless or no, the narrative avoids collapse or boredom, instead embracing poignancy, being foundationally shaped by conflict, Doctor Fuller’s feuding with Marie Colden being especially intense – and compelling. But Sarah Hawkins is even profounder, in that she vacillates between corruption and sincere goodness. From the first, when her father Mr. Webster first visits Edward, her artistic capabilities are mentioned, she having a penchant for painting dark, distressing imagery. This capability marks her as creative genius. Simultaneously, though, this capability suggests that Sarah is cursed; able to commune with the darker forces dwelling within the island, she is uniquely situated, and alternately reviles her position and embraces it wholeheartedly – here is depth, and even while at the narrative’s conclusion her villainy sees complete expression, hers is a figure steeped in tragedy, and the excellence of her portrayal rivals the excellence of Edward’s own.

While the general investigative tone never dissipates, and while Darkwater and its inhabitants never lose their strange nature, the narrative eventually suffers from total derailment; a sharp, marked shift in narrative intention transpires, shocking owing to that markedness. Many of these departures are supernatural in nature, bizarreness and otherworldliness ultimately taking over the narrative. Such bizarreness is inevitability divisive, some players preferring more grounded, human narratives, others outright delighting in strangeness. Given that this title is charged by Lovecraftian influences, these departures, cosmic horror’s embracing, were no doubt inevitable; to not include these elements would be a disservice to that talented author, an author the developers clearly regarded with respect and reverence. And so the narrative shifts, the player learning about a fabled creature dubbed the Leviathan, a creature of singular power, most frequently associated with darkness and destruction, reflecting the narrative’s absence of light. For indeterminate reasons, Darkwater’s citizens cling to this figure, seeing in it salvationist powers. Sarah Hawkins – that talented and doomed artist – has a particularly fierce bond with the Leviathan; she can communicate with the creature in a manner that all other of its worshipers cannot, meaning she is endowed with a certain strength – and a certain vulnerability. For all its supernaturalism and strangeness, this shift is not completely destructive – the narrative endures; even if momentum is lost, intrigue persists. But rather than simply seeking answers and playing the role of detective, now the player is forced to interact with cultists, to be unwilling participant in rituals and sacrifices, to navigate their eerie, subterranean caverns – humanity is lost, narratively and environmentally. Alongside this loss is a willed embracing of the nonsensical, the narrative’s conclusion being a muddled mess, as it is revealed that Edward was not dissimilar to Sarah, in that he shares a similar connection with the Leviathan, a connection which prompted his voyage to Darkwater; larger forces were at work here, Mr. Webster’s request simply being a manifestation of fate’s desires. Now, Edward is not some human war figure suffering with alcoholism, tormented by the horrors of war, demoralizing. Instead, he is a singularly empowered individual, Darkwater’s fate resting in his hands. It is a radical shift, a frustrating shift, Edward’s specialness destroying his formerly immense relatability. Narratively, then, consistency is absent, and were one plot thread exclusively, the other thread completely rejected, the narrative would see wonderful escalation – wholeheartedly embrace the supernatural, or completely excise it. Inconsistent or no, the narrative’s fascination with bleakness, presented unflinchingly, must be regarded as a stroke of mastery, resulting only in tension and pervasive uneasiness.  

The heavy narrative emphasis results in gameplay’s deemphasis, the included systems being quite barebones – though not outright deprived of enjoyability. Indeed, the gameplay systems implemented here are sometimes unique, accordingly resulting in that enjoyability. Foundationally, Call of Cthulhu’s design has many connections to the walking simulator genre, in that much of the experience is spent in basic exploration, the various environments – each with distinct identities, the environmental variety being a major strength – navigated, various objects interacted with, each interaction assisting Edward in his investigation. Here, then, the title fiercely embraces genre conventions – it is iterative rather than innovative. But in efforts to counter the designation of dull walking simulator, puzzles see periodic inclusion, and while none of them are particularly challenging to solve, being completable after careful environmental scrutiny and the exercising of logic, some of these puzzles are quite inventive, as when a safe’s combination is sought, one of the three numbers found by investigating a nearby chess board, the appropriate number connected to the black queen’s remaining defenders; immensely creative, this precise puzzle is quite enjoyable to solve, quite rewarding. Other puzzle solving sections see more halfhearted inclusion, though, lacking the depth present in the chess board puzzle – many are dull – consider only an instance where the player must manipulate a sail boat’s model, successful manipulation opening up a new corridor, enabling further progression. As puzzle, it takes no more than thirty seconds to solve, reflecting basicness. These sequences, while occasionally enjoyable, would be more enjoyable if they were better developed, and crucially more frequent. Instead, they emerge infrequently, and in the lulls between puzzles the game is again deserving of that appellation – walking simulator. The typical gorgeousness of the environments does temper whatever mundanity might emerge in these sequences, an abundance of interactable objects being present, though inevitably some players will desire further gameplay heft and complexity, both of which are mostly absent in Call of Cthulhu. Instead, much of the exploratory gameplay revolves around a crucial object’s acquisition, while after that acquisition the item will be promptly employed for further gameplay advancement – these actions are repeated countless times throughout the narrative. The formula here is not a bad one, owing to environmental greatness and the environmental storytelling which has a dominant presence, but an overdependence on this formula has many negative repercussions – principally, genericness; some displays of innovation are present, but they are mostly inconsistent.  

Reflecting further mimicry, the developers also dabbled with stealth systems, which even with their basicness do at least serve to break up the core formula of exploration and puzzle-solving. Here, all generic tropes are inherited, the player forced to rely upon evasion, largely owing to Edward’s occasional fragilities, seemingly exacerbated by his time in Darkwater. This fragility, then, makes every enemy NPC into a threat; if they detect the player and seize upon Edward, a checkpoint is reloaded; it is terribly basic, though the sequences are not deprived of tension. One such sequence transpires in Doctor Fuller’s asylum, where the experimentations are at their fiercest, and this sequence is quite anomalous in its enjoyability – dread abounds, largely owing to the environment’s inherent frightfulness. And so the player moves about in a crouched stance, this stance reducing visibility and sound production, both being the greatest determiners of detection or evasion, as is observable in so many other titles, where these systems are better implemented. But even if rudimentary, these systems are inoffensive, their impactfulness increased by excellent sound design; audio cues accompanying detection supplement the game’s characteristic tension, also enhancing immersion – and frequently dread. In a very interesting and unexpected turn, in one sequence towards the conclusion Edward is provided a firearm, a pistol specifically. While the object was seemingly on his person always, as detective it follows Edward is prone to restraint: waving the pistol about wildly would only invite trouble. By the narrative’s end, however, the situation was painfully dire – the pistol is exposed. Given Edward’s earlier weakness and the repeated need for evasion, this gun serves a sharply empowering function, a liberating function, even as its employment is basic and straightforward: come within suitable distance of a foe, and that foe will be targeted, whereupon the bullet is essentially guaranteed to connect, whereupon the targeted enemy collapses. The empowerment is, again, immense, though reflecting survival horror inclinations ammunition is scarce; fire all bullets from the pistol’s magazine, and the weapon is useless, no other ammunition obtainable – Edward did not expect to engage in protracted warfare. This sequence is very refreshing, a wonderful inclusion, resulting in tension though of a different sort, as the player is forced to consider each individual bullet – is it wiser to sneak past an enemy, or fire a bullet, that most coveted of resources? Compelling decision-making abounds here, though just as soon as it emerges it fades away – the survival horror inclinations are mostly forgotten, the title returning to gameplay systems thriving in the narrative’s earlier portions – exploration, puzzle-solving, and so on.   

Beyond the sequences of exploration and the occasional emphasis upon stealth and puzzle-solving both, the developers also included a fair degree of role-playing mechanics, principally by featuring a skill system, Edward having various attributes which are upgradeable over the course of the narrative. These attributes can be quite diverse, each having a distinct function – the strength skill determines the probability of success while forcing doors or locks, for instance, while having manifold other applications. These abilities are necessarily upgraded as the narrative progresses, in that character points – which can promptly be expended – are provided the player at various predetermined intervals, suggestive of a certain linearity – and accordingly focus. But the existence of linearity does not destroy player freedom, in that the player can decide which attributes to enhance, which to neglect; Edward’s capabilities are determined by the player. A pair of outliers exist, too, the medicine and occult skills upgradeable solely by environmental interaction, the discovery of certain objects. The knowledge that they could be anywhere enhances exploration’s more exciting attributes. Initially, these role-playing mechanics are frustrating, in that they determine to a large degree successfulness of any attempted action – try to force an object with an inadequate strength skill, and the object might collapse, barring that branch of progress. If the investigation skill is neglected and the player attempts to pick a lock, again failure is a tangible possibility – skills and skill levels determine much, and are accordingly central to the gameplay, with skill checks occurring almost constantly. These skills’ greatest significance, though, rests within the various dialogue sequences, which are numerically abundant and crucial to the experience. If the player has funneled many points into the psychology skill, for instance, then new dialogue opportunities are accessible, while something similar could be said of the eloquence skill; skill mastery opens up doors, bolsters player freedom. In the early game, then, before character points have been expended, player freedom is lessened, prompting potential frustration, some skill checks seeming arbitrary. Still, each individual skill does have great value in the dialogue sequences – a mastery of medicine is liberating, permitting more rigorous discussion with figures like the medical Doctor Colden, conveying Edward’s intelligence and his growth – here is no simplistic, brutish detective, but here instead is a wonderfully dynamic character. The RPG elements are wonderfully implemented, and they do result in gameplay originality, genre advancement – Call of Cthulhu may adopt many of the walking simulator’s design philosophies, though the injection of role playing mechanics lends a striking degree of depth absent in the walking simulator genre. Character points are finite, meanwhile, meaning each point must be expended with a fair degree of care, again reinforcing the decision-making process, a return to survival horror, a fostering of player introspection. Clever progression systems exist here, while the systems are actually meaningful and integral to the experience; growth is a constancy.

While Call of Cthulhu’s gameplay could absolutely be described as basic, the only displays of true, lasting depth being the RPG progression systems, the experience is largely carried by its world-building, its environments, and the general attention to detail – the game world is steeped in atmosphere, featuring a fair degree of environmental diversity. Still, regarding presentation the game is unabashedly an Unreal Engine title, inheriting that engine’s strengths and failings, adopting many facets of its aesthetics, though ultimately the engine is taken in unique directions, injected with creativity, the occasional displays of vibrancy being dazzling, the more frequent displays of darkness being unsettling. As illustration of the former, consider only the Hawkins’s manor, which eventually becomes a homebase of sorts. The library is sprawling, with bookshelves extending to the ceiling, that room – and almost all of the manor – featuring elaborate wallpapering, emblematic of vibrancy’s emphasis; the game is striking, and a true sense of place is also established – the 1924 aesthetics and atmosphere are both lovingly embraced, tinging the entire game world. Exploring the environments, then, is a consistent delight, resulting in excitement and player curiosity – will the next explorable environment be a relatively peaceable one or a frightful one? Frightfulness dominates, though tranquility has its place. This ample environmental diversity staves off whatever repetition the gameplay systems suggest – world-building is a major achievement. But the gameplay systems are basic, and while displays of excellence periodically assert themselves – consider the flexible and empowering dialogue sequences, buttressed by excellent writing of consistently bleak tonality – in gameplay mundanity more often triumphs over excellence, profound player engagement; engagement instead comes from the narrative, one of commanding vagueness which only grows increasingly vague as it progresses. While the exposition dump at the narrative’s conclusion provides some answers, many answers remain elusive. Given how fiercely these answers were desired, clearly Call of Cthulhu’s narrative marks another triumph. The game’s plodding pacing may be repelling for some players, but those others who can endure a slow burn are richly rewarded.