Game Review: Evoland

Evoland is an homage to the fantasy adventure games of the 80s and 90s. That's not just its style; it's the game's purpose. It imitates primary inspirations the Legend of Zelda and the Final Fantasy series and, in its central gimmick, Evoland changes the gameplay as you go to carry you through all those eras. Those updates are Evoland's main method of advancement and reward. While playing, the game upgrades you from 8-bit graphics to 16-bit, from grid-locked movement to free movement, and from 2D to isometric to 3D. Moving from area to area changes you from Zelda-style puzzle-and-slash to Final Fantasy-style JRPG.

The first (and so far, only) complete project by young developer Shiro Games, Evoland includes the puzzles and tools that you expect from a puzzle-slasher, the menu-based combat you expect from a JRPG, and the fetch quests and runaround NPC hunt you expect from both. The high point of the game is a series of puzzles solved by "traveling through time," shifting between 2D and 3D to navigate obstacles and unlock the way forward.

Originally built for and winner of LudumDare 24, you can still play the original offering (link seems to be down right now), and it is heartily entertaining.

Overall, the game is amusing, but it falls short of being a fully-realized game. An homage of this sort must also be a successful example of the genre, and while the creators clearly love the sources, they don't capture enough of what made those original games beautiful and fun. You could argue that they didn't have time to do so, focusing on the history and transition of the games instead, and you would probably be right.

But that leaves us here: Once the game stops providing frequent upgrades to the system, you see past the homage to how thin the game is beneath, and Evoland begins to feel like a journeyman project for the developer. It's a three-hour game that I'm satisfied to have bought for three dollars on sale, but I don't think I'd be as happy spending the ten dollars it's going for on Steam.

Boston Legal Fanfiction

Alan Shore stepped into the office. "I hear we have a murder case." "Alan," said Shirley Schmidt, "Just the person I needed. This is Jamal Jefferson. He allegedly shot a cop."

"Okay," said Alan. "Why does this interest me?" He looked at Jamal, who sat all closed up, staring at his feet. "What happened?" he asked.

"I shot him," said Jamal.

"Then we're going to lose," Alan said.

"—but it was self defense."

"Tell me more," said Alan.

"I was eating nuts, out of this brown bag, and the cop runs up and starts yelling at me to drop it, pointing his gun at me. I drop the damn nuts, y'know? He shouts 'til I get on my knees, but his gun's out and in my face and he's yelling at me to lie down." He paused. "I thought he was about to kill me, and I'd be one more black man killed by a cop who goes free."

"Tell him what happened next," said Shirley.

"I didn't want to die. I grabbed the gun, and next thing it goes off. And that's it."

"It's a long shot," said Alan. "But we have a case."

"Denny Crane," said Denny Crane.

Still Another Moving Day

"Thanks, everybody," said Anthony. "With all your help, this move can be over before noon. Let's load the truck!" He gestured Jenny aside. "I have some boxes upstairs I'd like to drive over separately. Help me pack the car?" "Sure thing," she said. They loaded up the boxes over an hour. "What are these things?" she asked.

"Just some hobby gear," he said. "You know."

They drove them to the new house before the moving van was half full. "Let's get these in," he said. He led her through the side door into the basement. "Right through here," he said, opening a heavy door in the far wall.

She stepped in. Dim lights revealed manacles on the wall, more hanging on chains from the ceiling, solid-looking rings bolted here and there, and coiled rope in the corner. She put down her box. "Okay, let's get this done."

"I was hoping you'd stay awhile," he said. She turned. He was a silhouette filling the doorway, rope in his gloved hands.

"Not my thing," she said.

"Oh." He straightened. "Sorry, I got that totally wrong." He hung up the rope. "Let's get the rest of this in, then."

"Sure thing," she said.

Just Another Moving Day

"So," he said, as they entered the third hour of moving boxes out of the alley apartment, "how do you know Amber?" She set down her box on the edge of a dumpster and stretched. "That shit in Istanbul, you know? You keep in touch after something like that."

"You're from Istanbul?" He put down his box. "Did you fly all this way just to help her move?"

She laughed and rolled her shoulders. "No, I travel all over the place. Just my bad luck I was in town the weekend she was moving." Her forehead creased, and she looked off to the side, thinking.

"Heh. Yeah," he said, "Bad luck, I guess. I'm a teacher, so I have lots of time in the summer. What sort of troubleshooting do you do?"

"The sort where it never pays to believe in luck," she said. She was turning slowly, looking at the corners of the buildings around her, at the windows near and above her. "Where's everyone else?"

"Dunno," he said. "Maybe they're taking a break too."

"At the same time?" she said. "Someone's trying to kill me. Get down." She pushed her box into the dumpster and pulled him down behind it with her.

"Are you crazy? Holy shit," he said as she pulled a gun.

"Stay behind me." She peeked out from behind the dumpster, then looked behind her. "Nothing." After a few minutes, she relaxed. "Maybe it was a false alarm."

"No," he said. "It wasn't."

Time Tunnel

"What's it like being old?" she asked herself. "Well," she said, "you have to put up with lots of stupid questions. Like that one." She glared at her smooth, unlined face through the time tunnel.

"Holy cow," she said, "What made you such a jerk?"

"Maybe it's staring death in the face and realizing my only option is to call up my younger self and try to get her to not to be as much of an idiot as I was."

"Yeah? Maybe you should try helping me grow up to not be a complete asshole," she yelled.

"If it was that easy," she said, "everyone'd be doing it."

"Start a trend," she yelled to her older self. "Do something original for once in your life."

"Ha!" shouted old her. "You don't know anything about my life. You just started in with the cliché questions and hoped for easy answers."

"I know you never got up the nerve to divorce Sam." The old woman's stare became murderous as younger her continued. "Staying on for the children, what a stupid choice. I'm already better than you, old woman, 'cause I know better."

"Who told you?" asked old her.

"You did. Tomorrrow."

Taking Appropriate Action

"Mr. Winter, I'm afraid your daughter said something unacceptable in front of class." Principal Thomson leaned forward and clasped her hands on her desk, her serious statements pose. "Oh?" replied Mr. Winter. "What did she say?"

"She said a bad word."

"Did you, now?" Winter looked at his daughter, sitting next to him. She nodded.

"Ms. Thomson," said Winter, "there are no bad words, only bad uses. How did my daughter use this word inappropriately?"

"She said 'Thomas Jefferson died of shitting too much.'"

"Did she?" said Winter. "Did you?" he asked his daughter. She nodded. He looked back at the principal. "Is she right?" The principal leaned back and crossed her arms, surprised. "Hold on." He took out his phone.

"Look, it doesn't matter if—"

"Sh," said Winter. "Here, these sources say Jefferson died of many diseases, with symptoms including diarrhea. So," he turned to his daughter, "you see, the shitting happened because he was sick, but it wasn't the real cause. There," he said to the principal, "misconception corrected."

"It's not about whether she was right! She shouldn't say 'shit' in school."

"Sweetie?" said Winter.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Don't say 'shit' in school."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Done," he said.

What Did You Say?

"Yes, I understand. I'll take appropriate action. Yes. Goodbye." He turned to his daughter. "Daughter," he said, "did you say 'Fuck' in front of your classroom?" She kept her eyes on the floor. "Yes."

He put his feet on the floor and leaned toward her. "Why did you do that?"

She fidgeted, looked back and forth on the floor, and said, "I don't know."

"You're going to sit there until I get a believable answer to that question, so I suggest you think about it." He turned away.

She sat, and fidgeted, looked around, and looked at the back of her father's head. She said, "I guess I wanted to make everyone mad."

Her father turned to look at her and smiled. "You seem to have done that very well," he said. "I'd call that a lesson in effective communication. Here." He gave her a dollar.

"What?" she said.

"I think you've learned something valuable today. I'm rewarding you."

She held the dollar and looked at it. "Do I still have to do detention?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "That's part of the lesson. Their space, their rules, your decision."

"That's just fucking great," she said.

"Yes, it is."