The Great Game Guide
In this episode, we’re going to wind down our discussion of adventure games and talk about where things go from here! ------------------------------------------------------------------- Season 1, Episode 17: The Adventure Where Seeing is Believing, Part 15 Enjoy the show? Please share it with a friend! And be sure to like it on your platform of choice or leave a glowing review. You can contact Sean via Substack or BlueSky (@greatestgames.substack.com [http://greatestgames.substack.com])And if you enjoy this show, you should check out The Greatest Games You (Probably) Never Played at https://greatestgames.substack.com [https://greatestgames.substack.com], Sean’s free newsletter featuring tons of great games that are obscure, overlooked, forgotten or otherwise unknown! ------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2026, Sean J. Jordan. Some Rights Reserved. Permission is granted for the noncommercial, free distribution and archival of this episode. Music “The Great Game Guide Theme” written by Sean J. Jordan using Online Sequencer (https://onlinesequencer.net/ [https://onlinesequencer.net/]) Questions? Concerns? A burning desire to talk about obscure video games? Contact Sean via Substack or Bluesky. He’d love to hear from you! -------------------------------------------------- EPISODE 17 Coming up in this episode – We’re going to wind down our talk about adventure gaming and discuss where it can go from here and why it’s so important for game developers to continue preserving the legacy of one of gaming’s greatest genres. I’m Sean Jordan, and I am your Great Game Guide. Get ready for our final survey of many of the great adventure games you may have played, may have heard of … or may have missed! We’ve spent a lot of time talking about adventure games since The Great Game Guide launched at the beginning of this year, and I could definitely keep going for another dozen episodes about all the nooks and crannies of the genre that we’ve missed. But rather than try to be comprehensive, I want to talk about a few more hard-to-define games that are definitely worth your time to check out. Even so, I’m going to keep my descriptions short. And as with some of our previous episodes, I’m also making a list of all the games we won’t get to, which is available in the show notes and the script for this episode at greatestgames.substack.com [http://greatestgames.substack.com]. Check it out! One that definitely is worthy of starting with is Innersloth’s Henry Stickmin, which began as a series of flash games on Newgrounds but which provided six different adventures with choose-your-own way branching storytelling, often going in wildly different directions. Instead of presenting puzzles, these games present items or options that allow players to determine how the story will proceed or if it will hilariously result in failure. A series in a similar vein is Sos Sosowski’s McPixel, which has more of an 8-bit aesthetic, but forces you to think quickly in a variety of crises to try to find the correct resolution to a problem. Dropsy is another pixel art-style point and click adventure that was created by Jay Tholen under the studio name Tendershoot. Dropsy is an extremely interesting game where you play as a grotesque clown who is trying to cheer people up with hugs and assistance. He’d love nothing more than to just make people smile. The game’s notable for having no words, but a lot of heart. There’s a lot of darkness in the background, but the tone is surprisingly positive, and I cannot recommend this game strongly enough. Similarly, Tendershoot’s later game Hypnospace Outlaw is a love letter to the old Geocities, Angelfire and Tripod home pages of the 1990s, and its adventure involves getting to know its cast of characters through their published online personas. I’ve recommended it before, and I hope you try it out as well! Speaking of the pixel art aesthetic, Ron Gilbert’s Thimbleweed Park, published through his studio Terrible Toybox, is a really great point and click adventure in the style of Maniac Mansion and Zak McKracken and the Alien Mindbenders, but with more of an X-Files sort of storyline and a Twin Peaks style of messing with the audience with a really meta undercurrent. There’s also a spin-off freeware game called Delores that offers a different take on the story, but it’s definitely best to save it as an epilogue. Ron Gilbert also made a puzzle-platformer and adventure game called The Cave that is sort of like Trine or The Lost Vikings meets Maniac Mansion with a little bit of Legacy of the Wizard tossed in because you have to switch between characters to solve puzzles, but there are seven total characters in this game and multiple paths and endings to explore. It’s a unique game well worth your time. Dave Lloyd and Powerhoof’s The Drifter is another pixel art-style game you should check out, this time using the story of a murder and a time loop to force you to work through a detailed and interesting conspiracy-filled mystery that really grabs your attention and includes some great characters, puzzles and music. The game also uses an interesting control scheme that allows you to cycle through the hotspots rather than click all over the place. I’m afraid to spoil any more for you; please be sure to try it! Freebird Games’s To the Moon is another adventure that uses a pixel art aesthetic, but it’s rendered in the overhead style of a classic JRPG built in the RPG Maker game engine. There’s no fighting, you don’t have a party and you don’t pick up loot; you simply explore the life of a research subject through memories to understand why he desperately wants to travel to the moon but is feeling held back from his goal. To say more would be to spoil a great story, and the standalone sequel, Finding Paradise, is also excellent. I also recommend A Bird Story and Imposter Factory if you enjoy these, as they’re also connected in what’s more broadly known as the Sigmund Corp. series. A similar game in the same style is Laura Shigihara’s Rakuen, which I’ve recommended before along with its spin-off, Mr. Saito, both of which involve a fantasy world that exists parallel to a real world tragedy. And the darker themes of illness and loss are definitely felt in Numinous Games’s autobiographical adventure game That Dragon, Cancer, one of the most emotionally difficult games I’ve ever come across due to its subject matter of losing a young child to cancer. Those needing a happier game might want to try out Venba, an adventure by Visai Games set in the late 1980s about an Indian family that’s immig rated to Toronto. Venba is the wife in the family and she’s trying to recreate old recipes from her mother’s cookbook, often through trial and error. But the game’s more deeply about family and building connections with those closest to you. I absolutely love how upbeat and fun it is, and the soundtrack’s wonderful! Consume Me is another game about eating, but this one, by developers Jenny Jiao Hsia and AP Thomson along with some other collaborators, is a semi-autobiographical story about being an Asian-American teenager and trying to consume a healthy diet in a world full of junk food, calorie counting and an oppressive weight loss goal. It’s actually about more than that, too – a romantic relationship eventually becomes consuming as well, and there are a lot of fun family dynamics. Don’t miss this one. Another game about consuming things, but from a different point of view, is VA-11 HALL-A: Cyberpunk Bartender Action from Sukeban Games, and I’m honestly not sure if we should call it “Valhalla” or just roll with the stylized name. Whatever the case, you play as a bartender named Jill mixing drinks for a lot of different types of people, including some who won’t tell you exactly what they want, requiring you to figure it out for them. The bar’s a bright spot in the midst of a dark and cynical world, and it’s a really interesting experience to play through. Kentucky Route Zero is a very interesting adventure game from Cardboard Computer that was released in five acts between 2013 and 2020. While playing it during that time was a bit of a tease since the content drip took so long between episodes, the current release has the entire story. The game involves a truck driver named Conway who is traveling along Route 65 in Kentucky, but he finds himself on a strange journey full of magical realism. Part of the game also takes place around Mammoth Cave National Park, which is of course the birthplace of adventure gaming. This game’s won tons of awards and deserves to be played, and there are several free interludes and a TV edition of the game that has everything in one place. One other developer I really should have talked about in our last episode is Inkle Studios, which started out in the 2010s making mobile games like Sorcery! and 80 Days before moving into larger titles like Heaven’s Vault, which is a 3D adventure game about archaeology, and A Highland Song, which is an adventure platformer about a Scottish teenager running away from home to visit her uncle and which is of course set to music. Inkle is also known for the games Overboard! and Expelled!, two visual novels done in the style of murder mysteries. In Overboard!, you’re trying to keep people from discovering that your character, the starlet Veronica Villensey, murdered her husband aboard a cruise ship. Before you judge her too harshly, he is a total jerk, but Veronica’s also really bad at covering her tracks, which means the game is more often than not about trial and error. Expelled! is very much in the same vein, except this time, you’re a student in 1922 at a boarding school called Miss Mulligatawney’s School for Promising Young Girls who’s being framed for murder… well, attempted murder, anyhow. How you respond to those charges is up to you! Both of these games are hysterical and really great adventure games. Check them out! One final studio I want to mention is Simogo, the creators of Sayonara Wild Hearts, which is not an adventure game. But some of their other mobile games, like Year Walk, Device 6 and The Sailor’s Dream definitely are, and their more recent game Lorelei and the Laser Eyes is a surreal puzzle adventure that is definitely worth playing, both because the puzzles are really good and because the narrative around them is really interesting. But I have been far from exhaustive here. A few other recent games worth checking out include the murder mystery The Roottrees Are Dead, the surreal ethnographic game Chants of Sennaar, the cartoonish sci-fi adventure Elroy and the Aliens, the supervillain space tyrant themed Earth Must Die, the supernatural but lighthearted mystery Foolish Mortals, the ghostly possession split identity shenanigans of Shadows of the Afterland, the EGA graphics-style The Crimson Diamond, the vampire themed Cabernet, the eerie detective story The Séance of Blake Manor, the Renaissance art silliness of the Immortal John Triptych trilogy or the exceptionally weird but wonderful Promise Mascot Agency. I know I could probably name many more worth your time and worth looking into. And in fact, I have! Check the show notes for a link to the full list of games to try once you’ve played all these, and I’ll also include a few places on the web where you can find more if you’re interested. After a boom, a bust, revivals on many fronts and a surge in interest in both playing and making adventure games over the last decade, adventure gaming has never been better than it is now! And as AAA gaming collapses under the weight of its own expectations, adventure games will be here for us for years to come, not as the showcase genre it once was, but as one of the time-tested and proven most engaging ways to tell a video game story. So now that we’ve discussed adventure gaming’s most notable contributions, movements, ideas and executions over the last 50 years, it’s easy to throw our hands up in the air and say, “we’ve talked about this topic enough!” But before we do that, let’s spend a few minutes reflecting on the journey we’ve taken, from the Colossal Cave Adventure and the halls of MIT all the way past Coarsegold and up into the Sierras and through the Redwood forests where LucasArts resides over to both sides of Europe, where the flames of adventure gaming kept burning brightly until we started to see signal flares go back up in New York City and the Bay Area in California to let us know the commercial side of the genre was alive and well again. We’ve seen adventure games based on books, on fairy tales, on serious stories and on cartoon hijinks. We’ve explored mansions, we’ve solved mysteries, we’ve escaped haunted houses and we’ve fixed dystopias. We’ve experienced twists and turns and visited parallel worlds and gone on dates and traveled through time and fought sword masters with our cutting remarks and even explored pocket universes, alternate realities, ruined civilizations and hellish dimensions. And through it all, we’ve kept our wits about us, solving problems with our minds instead of our fists, interacting with characters we haven’t felt the need to bludgeon or shoot so we can loot their corpses for ammo and restoratives, and giving up those treasured items we’ve picked up off the ground hoping they’d come in handy one day. There’s no other genre in gaming where we can place ourselves inside a story with no expectation that we’re going to see a lot of action. There’s also no other genre where we progress merely by solving puzzles or talking our way out of trouble rather than just by going in swinging or blasting so we can pick up keys or kill off the requisite number of enemies. Our actions aren’t limited to what a couple of buttons and a d-pad can do, and our ideas aren’t limited to seeing how quickly we can get through a stage or how many bodies we can make pile up while we do it or how much loot and experience we can acquire in to make our stats go up. And that’s why the adventure gaming genre is so important and also why it will probably never really die – gamers love action, sure, but they also love to experience a good story and some interesting puzzles, and adventure games are always going to be the preferred way to make you think as a gamer because they’re capable of taking that sword or gun out of your hand and insisting you instead solve a problem with an ancient relic that might fit into a groove somewhere or Jesse James’s severed hand or a rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. But this design philosophy also provides a problem for adventure game designers to have to overcome. In an action game, you can solve must of your problems by pressing a couple of buttons and eliminating any obstacles that get in your way. In an adventure game, your progression can be brought to a halt entirely simply by not knowing what you’re supposed to do next. If the game doesn’t signpost exactly what you need to do, you may get so stuck you’ll consult a walkthrough or just quit playing. In the 80s and 90s, games were scare enough that players would put up with the frustration. In an attention-starved economy where most of us have far more games to play than time to play them, the modern adventure game has a simple job: stay engaging or risk being shelved forever. Or, even worse, getting beaten up in your Steam reviews. This is one reason why many modern adventure games don’t bother with complicated puzzles. The gamers who really want to be challenged are going to play pure puzzle games anyhow, and they’re a smaller audience than those who want to experience an engaging story. One solution some designers have pivoted to is making games progress even if puzzles aren’t solved, perhaps simply depriving a gamer of an achievement. Another is including in-game walkthroughs or hint systems. I personally don’t have a problem with any of these approaches, but they do tend to make the puzzles feel less important than they were in 1980s and 90s adventure games because they simply become a roadblock rather than an actual obstacle to progression. It starts to beg the question of why the puzzles even need to be in the games. This is where we should step back for a moment and think about why adventure games even have puzzles in the first place. The original text-based adventure game, Will Crowther and Don Woods’s Adventure, had puzzles because the game was trying to replicate having a dungeon master style narrator guide you through an exploration where you could maximize your score by picking up all the treasures. Just wandering around and exploring the Colossal Cave system wasn’t that engaging for anyone but an avid spelunker, but fighting monsters, solving puzzles and grabbing loot? That was something anyone could enjoy. Zork dropped most of the combat but added in a lot more puzzles, and gamers enjoyed the cerebral and social aspects of trying to figure out how to get through the Great Underground Empire and talking to one another about ideas and strategies for progression. Puzzles added a way to make the game engaging without requiring endless combat sequences, and they also required players to explore to find needed items or clues and to experiment to try to figure out their application. Opening up a new area to explore, retrieving a treasure or triggering a new narrative sequence in the game was a reward for puzzle-solving, and the game’s method of feedback – a points system – helped you to understand whether or not you were succeeding in moving forward in your exploration and if there were things you’d missed along the way. And the game’s system of pushback was the parser itself telling you that you couldn’t do something you wanted to try. Adventure games more or less followed this structure throughout the 1980s, and even many of the graphical games included points up until the mid-1990s. And many puzzles required one of four types of logical reasoning: There’s Deductive, which is where you apply accepted facts or premises to a specific situation to draw an inference using logical reasoning. If we are told all Infocom adventure games involve puzzles and Zork is an Infocom adventure game, we can conclude Zork contains puzzles. Next, there’s Inductive, which is where you gather clues to identify patterns that lead to a probable solution. If we know that Weird Ed Edison obsessively loves his hamster, that he dresses in military clothing and collects commando equipment and that hamsters will die if you put them in the microwave, we can reasonably infer that Weird Ed will harm us if we microwave his hamster. And boy, does he. Then there’s Abductive, which is where you have incomplete information and have to fill in the gaps with a likely explanation. When Guybrush Threepwood fights Carla the Sword Master, he has to take all the responses to insults he’s learned and apply them to her insults based on his knowledge of what worked before and what he guesses will work now. Finally, there’s Analogical, which is where you compare two similar situations and draw conclusions based on what they have in common. In Sam & Max Hit the Road, understanding that a regular flashlight could light up a dark patches in the Tunnel of Love and that Max’s black light bulb can also illuminate things, but differently, can lead to the conclusion to put Max’s bulb in the flashlight so you can see through the darkness. By the way, a lot of people confuse deductive and inductive logic because of the world’s most famous user of deductive logic: Sherlock Holmes. But just as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famed detective never actually said, “Elementary, my dear Watson!,” he also never used pure deductive logic in his problem-solving, even if he said otherwise. Holmes’s detective work is actually inductive, because he gathers clues and builds hypotheses, but then he uses deductive methods to rule out the hypotheses that aren’t consistent with known facts. So anyhow, these four styles of logical reasoning – deductive, inductive, abductive and analogical – are at the heart of puzzle design because they’re the most common strategies players will utilize to solve a problem. And if a video game puzzle is really well-designed, it should be solvable by logic alone. It may involve some trial and error or understanding of cause and effect, but the game’s puzzle should have some sort of reasonable explanation that allows you to understand, for example, that if you need to get Captain Rottingham out of the barber’s chair, you need to put some lice on a comb so the barber will see them, insist on shaving Rottingham’s head and send the snooty captain on his way. And an adventure game has a powerful way of providing you with feedback by telling you if a solution is or is not going to work and also by providing you with pushback by refusing to interpret your command. Where adventure games get themselves in trouble is when they utilize a style of puzzle that relies on outside knowledge not communicated by the game. The common name is a lateral thinking puzzle, and its design requires the solver to make some sort of non-logical leap due to a lack of available information. One classic example is the story about a man who’s lying dead in a cornfield, but none of the stalks around him have been disturbed. How did he die? The answer, of course, is he was a skydiver whose parachute failed to deploy, but that’s only solvable if the puzzler decided to include the detail that he’s wearing a backpack. Otherwise, the solver has to ask the right questions to elicit that piece of information and then use some wild abductive logic. A more infamous one involves two men who sit down at a nice restaurant and are served their first course, a bowl of albatross soup. When one of the men tastes the soup, he gets very angry and strangles the other man to death. Why? Unless you know the answer, you’ll never guess the solution, and it takes a lot of question and answer back and forth to get anywhere close to it. You can always look the answer up, but I’ll give you a hint – it involves the two men being previously stranded at sea. Person to person, these puzzles are solvable because the solver can ask the questioner yes or no questions to open up new information. But in an adventure game, this style of puzzle design only works if you can ask the game questions and receive responses. And yet there’s a sort of siren’s call to add in these sorts of puzzles because gamers are often far more clever than designers give them credit for and an adventure game that can be solved too easily has a low level of value to most players. And so there are a number of adventure games that have included such terrible, illogical puzzles that they’ve become legendary today. One of these is found in the original King’s Quest, and I referred to it before when we talked about that game, but just as a refresher, you meet a gnome who challenges you to tell him his name in three guesses. When you realize he has a hut made of straw, you can correctly infer he’s Rumplestiltskin, but if you type that in, the gnome tells you that you’re from a backwards part of the realm. The correct answer would seem to be to type in his name backwards, and the only other clue is a cryptic note found in the witch’s gingerbread house telling you, “Sometimes it is wise to think backwards.” But then, in the earliest versions of the game, the gnome won’t accept that either. You have to encode his name forwards, but in a backwards alphabet into an unpronounceable string of characters – something like Ifnkovhgroghprm (IF-NIK-OV-HUH-GROG-HUH-PRAM). Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it? Oh, and did I mention that the game is looking for a particular spelling of Rumplestiltskin before you go to all that trouble, and that there were several popular variations at the time? This puzzle is practically unsolvable without some heavy hints, and even when you do solve it, it’s not satisfying. Even when later versions fixed it so you just could type in his name backwards or use variations of it, the puzzle still wasn’t any fun. That’s the problem with lateral thinking puzzles – they often annoy the solver more than they impress them. There are also just really badly-designed puzzles in adventure games where the game doesn’t provide you with appropriate feedback on how close you are to solving things. One of those sorts of puzzles I’ll never forget is Sam & Max: Hit the Road’s infamous Gator Golf puzzle. To make a long story short, Max gets trapped on the other side of a driving range in a Florida swamp, and Sam has to figure out how to rescue him. Hitting golf balls in the water will make the gators move, but not predictably, and so you have to use analogical and inductive logic to recognize that hitting fish into the water will cause the gators to move. You thus have to position all five so you can walk across their backs. Great! But the problem is you have to line them up just right down to specific pixels before Sam will cross, and the game doesn’t tell you that. I spent lots of time as a kid trying to figure out why the solution wasn’t working until finally, one day, my brothers and I got it right. That’s just as bad as the Rumplestilskin puzzle – needlessly aggravating with what seems like a clear solution but no helpful feedback to let the player know that they’re on the right track. If the designers had designed that puzzle to offer more feedback, it would have been much easier. All it would have taken was some encouragement or heckling from Max. But instead, it was a dead end for some players. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I’m not ashamed to save frequently and use walkthroughs when I play adventure games, and you shouldn’t be either. There are so many great adventure games with a really bad puzzle in them. Gabriel Knight 3 has a nonsensical passport puzzle where you impersonate a man with no moustache by wearing a moustache and then drawing one on his passport photo. Broken Sword: Shadow of the Templars has a puzzle where you have to trick a goat into butting you, but then run away so it gets tangled up, a solution that makes no sense, which is out of line with every other puzzle and which the game doesn’t explain. The Longest Journey has an incredibly bizarre puzzle involving a rubber ducky. And Runaway has a puzzle where you need to make peanut butter by putting peanuts and butter together in an army helmet and then set it on a freezer lid that’s in direct sunlight so the peanuts and butter melt together. Huh? So, the reason for this digression into adventure game puzzles is because around the time Telltale started moving into movie and television IPs, they also realized that their broadly-targeted episodic games couldn’t be too challenging or people would never want to finish the season. And so they toned down the puzzles and greatly improved the storytelling. It’s rare that you’ll get stuck in any of the Telltale games from The Walking Dead on, and that’s very much to their credit. The puzzles are really just brief activities to break up the monotony of watching the story play out in games that are otherwise not very good at delivering action sequences. Modern adventure games have largely followed that formula, and it’s rare you play one today that’s really, truly tough by intentional design. Games that want to have tough puzzles just pitch themselves as puzzle games. Those that want to be story-driven adventures tend to stay in that lane. But here’s the problem with this design dichotomy. Adventure games with easy puzzles have to have incredibly strong narratives to remain interesting, and a lot of them do struggle with staying engaging because they have a lot of downtime where you’re either listening to people blather or walking around trying to figure out what action you need to take next. Modern designs tend to segment adventures into shorter sequences with just a few places to go at a time, but that winds up making the games more linear so they don’t feel like they’re able to offer a lot of options to the player. You get stuck with Telltale’s very annoying system of your character making an offhanded comment and the game offering feedback saying, “this character will remember that,” but then never making anything substantial happen because of it. This is one reason adventure games have struggled since the mid-1990s to stay relevant. Once their day in the sun was over as a showcase genre for graphics, sound and multimedia, their appeal narrowed to people who enjoy puzzles or people who enjoy stories. And as for the people who enjoy comedy? Adventure games today tend to be a lot more serious than the ones from the early to mid-1990s or the early Telltale era. Aside from a handful of adventure games that definitely go for comedy first, I can’t really think of a lot of recent adventures that prioritize being funny. And that was honestly one of the most interesting things about classic adventure games at their peak – their goofy puzzle logic and constant pushback was often played for laughs so that the games were focused on being fun rather than being vehicles through which to tell an interactive story. This brings me to ask – are adventure games capable of growing and evolving into something modern? Or is the point and click genre going to follow a cicada-like cycle of burrowing underground and then reappearing every decade and a half once people get tired of what these experiences have to offer? So before I get started on the future of adventure gaming, let’s discuss one elephant in the room, and that’s Dispatch, one of last year’s best-reviewed games and, from all appearances, the modern evolution of the Telltale Games style. And Dispatch is a really good game – great story, fun characters, animation-like presentation that resembles modern comic book-style shows made for adults like Harley Quinn or Creature Commandos or Invincible, excellent voice acting and even an interesting little strategy game mixed in. But for all the positive things I have to say about Dispatch, one aspect of the game absolutely sucks, and it’s the episodic format. Over four weeks, AdHoc Studio released the game two episodes at a time like a streaming show, with eight episodes total. The goal was to build buzz and get people talking, which may have worked for them – they sold over four million copies and have merchandise, tabletop games and an animated series on the way – but it also revealed the game’s core weaknesses very early on. Dispatch is a fun interactive story, but a pretty mediocre game. Its quick time events and hacking minigame are tedious and add the barest level of interactivity to the overall experience. Player choice is also mostly an illusion – the game’s not designed to allow much deviation from the story, and most of the choices just impact specific scenes or dialogue later on, not the overarching plot. Those weaknesses were obvious in week 1 and continued on through week 4’s final release of episodes 7 and 8. And the story, while good for a video game, didn’t exactly spur water cooler discussions on social media. Most of the excitement was around the game’s presentation. And in fact, almost everything the game was praised for is related to its most superficial elements. It’s the very definition of a showcase title, but it’s also the sort of game people will tire of quickly if a lot more like it start appearing on digital storefronts. Again, I’m not beating up on Dispatch. You should definitely play it! But a common criticism of the game is that you can also just watch a longplay on YouTube or Twitch and get more or less the same experience, because it’s just one step removed from being an animated series. And that’s not a direction I want to see adventure gaming moving into, because we’ve already seen how this plays out with Telltale Games. And in fact, we almost saw it with Dispatch, because AdHoc Studio nearly went under during its development and was apparently rescued by Critical Role Productions last summer [https://www.bloomberg.com/news/newsletters/2025-11-14/the-turbulent-seven-year-saga-behind-hit-game-dispatch]. And my suspicion is that the time, trouble and expense required to build a new IP is going to lead AdHoc Studio to have to supplement its original games with licensed stuff like its upcoming Critical Role-themed project. A decade from now, they may be the biggest adventure game company in the industry, or they may be following exactly the same path Telltale Games walked from good to great to pretty good to going bust. Only time will tell, and I sincerely wish them great success and hope they’ll be around for awhile. So, aside from Dispatch, what is the path forward for adventure gaming, especially now that we’re in a time where hundreds of excellent point and click adventures are being released every year and they’re having to compete with 3D adventures, visual novels, dating sims, FMV games, action adventures, puzzle adventures and RPGs for attention? Truthfully, I’m not sure what the market will support. Life is Strange: Reunion came out in March and it’s either a great game or a disappointment depending upon who you ask. Don’t Nod’s Lost Records: Bloom & Rage and Aphelion don’t seem like strong sellers, and even really well-received games like The Drifter, Duck Detective: The Ghost of Glamping and The Roottrees Are Dead don’t seem to be attracting a lot of attention outside the hardcore gaming community. Idle clickers, hidden object games and meme games are far more popular than most recent adventure games on Steam if you go by concurrent players or follower counts, and even those with built-in fanbases like Kathy Rain 2: Soothsayer and Simon the Sorcerer: Origins seem to be regarded more as niche titles than must-plays, no matter how well they’re reviewed or how strong their production values are. One thing I can say for certain is that the last time we went down a road of having too many adventure games and not enough interested players, many of the things adventure games did well shifted over to other genres. Computer RPGs and JRPGs adopted a lot of adventure game ideas in the late 1990s and 2000s, as did many 3D action games. Dialogue trees. Item-based puzzles. Object manipulation puzzles. Limiting players to key areas until they progressed the story. Interactive environmental objects. Cel-shaded animation or full motion video scenes. Choice-driven gameplay with varied outcomes and endings. All of these things gradually became so standard in other genres we don’t even really think about them as being distinctive features today. And honestly, I don’t see people clamoring for adventure games to be the main conduit of that sort of experience anymore. In fact, many gamers perceive adventure games as being too limited and slow-paced to deliver the same sort of active and engaging gameplay they otherwise receive from more conventional modern games. But one area where traditional point and click adventure games still do differ is in the control you have over your character. See, point and click adventure games are still one of the few genres where you, as a player, are not truly controlling the character on the screen, but rather directing them to do what you’d like. And it wasn’t always this way. The evolution started with late 80s adventure games like Maniac Mansion and gradually became the style for Sierra’s SCI1 games as well. In the original King’s Quest, Space Quest, Police Quest and Leisure Suit Larry, you were the character onscreen, controlling them directly. But once the text parser went away and cursor-driven controls became the norm, you were simply telling your characters what you wanted them to do and then waiting to see if they’d do it. One of the biggest changes came from the pushback the game would offer you if you tried to do something the game didn’t allow. In traditional text parser adventures, the narrator of the game would tell you that your actions weren’t possible like a dungeon master in a tabletop game. But by the early 1990s, it’d shifted to the characters themselves starting to do that, and that’s now the conventional way for adventure games to communicate with the player – for the character him or herself to have a dialogue with the player by either offering a response about why something won’t work or breaking the fourth wall freely. There are very few genres that ever engage in this sort of dialogue, and aside from strategy games, where you may have an advisor who is there to guide you, I can’t think of many where the main character onscreen will detach themselves from the reality of the game world and speak directly to the player. In most genres, it would completely break the immersion of the gameplay and make the player realize they were not in complete control of their avatar onscreen. But in an adventure game, it has the opposite effect, creating a sort of partnership between the player and the character and allowing the character to exist outside of the player and to even refuse orders or interpret actions in a different way than the player intended. And this is where I feel adventure games still have some opportunity to grow. We’ve already seen what happens when adventure games follow the old text parser dynamic of the narrator breaking the fourth wall and talking to the player – you get great stuff like The Stanley Parable, where the narrator’s attempts at pushback create a fun dynamic of trying to break the game. But the idea of working with the adventure game characters directly is something that warrants further exploration. Think about the novel and movie The Neverending Story for a moment, where the big climactic moment of the film is when Bastian realizes that the characters are relying on him to come into their world and save everyone from the encroaching Nothing. Granted, if you read the book, it doesn’t work out so well for him in the second half as he realizes he has a godlike power over the fantasy world, and that’s where adventure game creators would have to reel you in as a player. But if you took a game like The Whispered World and gave the player more agency as not just an observer to the story, but part of the unfolding design of it, you might really have something interesting. So here’s a pitch for adventure game creators out there to get your imaginations going. Imagine we take a classic story – let’s say Hamlet – and translate it to an adventure game, except instead of being Hamlet’s director telling him where to go and what to do, you’re cast as the ghost of his father, and it’s your job to ensure Hamlet fulfills your plan of exposing his uncle Claudius as a murderer. We can take some license here and suggest that when Hamlet’s giving monologues, he’s not muttering to himself, but arguing with you, the ghost only he can see. And your powers allow you to really mess with him and the other characters to get them where they’re supposed to be. Can you save Ophelia, or is her death inevitable? Can you ensure that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern wind up dead, or do you have to hatch just the right plot to ensure pirates attack their ship and turn the tables on them? Can you find a happier ending that doesn’t wind up with Horatio wishing Hamlet a flight of angels to see him rest while Fortinbras reluctantly inherits a kingdom? Allowing the story to be dynamic so that you have an ethereal presence guiding it along and trying to find a better path from the canon could make for an interesting adventure. Here’s another pitch. Let’s say the adventure game is a cyberpunk detective story and instead of guiding your hard-boiled, trenchcoat-wearing cyborg hunter around, you’re playing as his remote assistant drone operator, watching over him and helping him while he’s working to solve the case. You guide him along and supply him with the information he needs to ask good questions, locate suspects or spot useful items, but the story unfolds based not on his skills as a detective, but how well you help him uncover the seedy underbelly of the complex world around him. If he decides to kill the wrong person or put himself in an unwinnable situation, you’ve got to get him out of the jam. And if he blows a case and goes rogue, it’s up to you to find him and retire him yourself. There’s so much opportunity to be found in inserting the player into the adventure game as a character. We’ve seen it tried a little bit with games like Omikron: The Nomad Soul and Night Trap, but I think the concept could go a lot further, particularly if the game design is dynamic enough to allow for things to branch based on the decisions made instead of forcing the player down a linear path. I personally think that’s how you get past getting stuck in a rut following the Telltale style that Dispatch evokes. Because what truly makes Dispatch work is that there’s nothing else quite like it right now. But give us too much of that particular flavor and everyone will get tired of it quickly. What adventure games truly crave – and always have – is agency to be able to dig into the game world they’re exploring. And you only get that with real, meaningful choice and interaction. So one more elephant in the room is generative AI and what it can do to enhance adventure gaming. And the answer is… probably very little? Look, I’ve been following the AI scene for awhile because I find it interesting. AI and gaming have a long history together, and a lot of the AI research in the 70s, 80s, 90s and early 2000s involved trying to design systems that could learn the rules of games and then defeat human opponents. Supercomputer systems were designed to master games like chess and Go, and some of the smartest computer engineers in the world devoted their entire lives to these really narrow use cases and turned these systems from being laughable into formidable. Today, modern AI algorithms built for mastering games can outperform human grand masters with ease. But what we don’t talk about quite as often is the lower-level AI routines that were built for many video games using clever methods to mask the lack of sophistication and computing power behind their algorithms. The key to video game AI has always been to make sure that the computerized opponents are challenging, but beatable. Think about Pac-Man for a moment – you have four different ghosts who behave in four different ways to try to trap you. If they all four started in their own corner and just chased you, Pac-Man would never catch a break because they’d push him to the middle. But if they start in one place and one chases you while the other three have different routines that may introduce some randomness, then Pac-Man has a chance to break away, explore the maze and gobble some dots before it’s time to turn the tables on the encroaching enemies. There are many games that have come out through the decades with really incredible and responsive AI. One game that impresses me even to this day is Unreal Tournament, which used Steve Polge’s AI routines to create some really smart bots who could not only perform like a human competitor but who could also favor certain weapons or exhibit riskier or more conservative behavior. They could also mock you when they took you down in a particularly humiliating way. Playing through the campaign often felt like playing with real people, and while the bots were a bit more predictable than humans because they would follow the rules of the game rather than doing the unpredictable, crazy, ill-advised things human players often would, they also were designed not to feel like they were cheating, even though, being subroutines running within the game’s code, they often were cheating not to win, but to tone down their behavior so they could feel fair. Another game with incredible AI is Monolith Productions’ F.E.A.R., in which the tactical teams you face are able to respond to your current situation and coordinate attacks. The first time I played this game 20 years ago, I was blown away by how smart the enemy AI was and how many opportunities arose for situations the AI never could have planned for but was able to respond to. There are few games since that have been able to offer that sort of experience, and as action games went with more of an open world design, the enemies were instead focused on pathfinding and navigation meshes as opposed to smarter, more coordinated movements under narrower conditions. Limiting the intelligence of AI foes in an open world is also important, both for the purposes of computing resources as well as to keep players from being immediately hunted by everything in the world wherever they venture. Consider Fortnite, for which Steve Polge himself was involved in the AI bot design. No one would ever describe those bots as smart, and that has as much to do with the open design as it does with the fact that the bots can’t be too smart in a game that’s often played by children or by mobile phone users. They have to put up a fight, but they can’t behave like humans because they have so many built-in advantages. All of these types of AI are generally used for adversarial models. But of course there’s AI for non-playing characters as well that allows the characters to follow travel paths, to go through daily routines and even, in some games, to respond to the player’s state – being intimidated by seeing weapons drawn, being verbally or nonverbally hostile to players who are objectionable or running away when shots are fired, or so forth. This is more the style of AI a conventional adventure game might utilize, and it doesn’t require generative AI in the slightest – it can all be programmed in through algorithmic approaches. So where generative AI appears to have a place in adventure games is in a few specific circumstances. One of the most obvious is in allowing players to have actual dialogue with the game’s characters that goes beyond pre-scripted conversations and dialogue trees. With generative AI, this could even be a verbal conversation where the player speaks directly to the screen and the AI character speaks back to the player. The generative AI could also provide on-demand hints based on the context of a situation or guide the player using generated text or speech so they don’t get stuck for too long. On its face, this seems like a very neat idea. But the problem is that the technology just isn’t up to the task of providing this experience without serious limitations, and generative AI in action tends to break free of its constraints in both predictable and unpredictable ways. It also tends to invent facts, suggest solutions that don’t work and agree with the player even when it’s told not to. A model built specifically for gaming might not have all of these issues, but that’s not where the technology is right now. Another potential use is to have generative AI create extra details to, say, make a town square look more populated or to add more details and flourishes to a scene. For example, you could have generative AI create posters to go on walls or paintings to appear in houses or non-interactive NPCs to sit next to you on the subway. The problem here is that adventure games are pretty controlled by design and don’t function well with a lot of randomization and added detail. What looks to a gamer like a clue to solve a puzzle or to know where to go next could just be a facet of the generative output, and it’s difficult for game designers to understand how players will respond to these details without a significant amount of public testing, which risks spoiling the game before it’s released. Now, there could be small details you could model with generative AI that would add to the presentation without disturbing the gameplay, like insects buzzing by or raindrops falling or wind impacting the trees or flowers blooming in a field, but those don’t require generative AI to put into a game. There are perfectly conventional methods of doing this that don’t involve AI at all. Another common idea is for the adventure game to respond to the player and to be able to not just accept input through natural language, but generate the adventure like a tabletop campaign, where the player can do anything and the game system can generate the story and assets on the fly like a Dungeon Master. This has been the sort of lofty dream of adventure games since Colossal Cave Adventure – let the computer do all the work and the player just enjoy the adventure! Imagine The Stanley Parable where every door you open leads to a new path that is generated on the fly. Doesn’t that sound like fun? But it doesn’t work. For one thing, human Dungeon Masters have to work pretty hard to keep their adventurers on the rails or else all their hours of planning for a session go out the window, and this generally results in players having a lot less autonomy than they might prefer in a tabletop campaign. And if the players are being belligerent or uncooperative, the DM can always just get up and leave. There’s a social pressure to keep the game going in a productive direction. Also, generative AI has shown us that there’s a big difference between the imagination of a neural network and the imagination of an actual human mind. Generative AI can come up with some fun and novel things with the right prompting, but it’s not intentional and it often reflects strange facets of the training data, not anything that’s actually imaginative or interesting. Used as a tool to assist a human game master in a tabletop setting, I can see some potential for it, but we already have tools that do that pretty well. They’re called sourcebooks, and they work pretty well for everyone except absolute beginners! Video gamers don’t think of virtual DMs like friends. They verbally abuse them and try to exploit them and generally treat them like a machine and not a person – because that’s the actual truth of what virtual DMs are! And so a game designer has to account for the fact that the gamer is potentially going to try his or her best to break the game to find an advantage. An exploitable mechanic is bad enough, but an exploitable system that generates the entire game is quite another. And one of the biggest ways to exploit generative AI is through sycophancy. I have tried to make several of the major chatbot platforms create a Zork-like text adventure I can play through prompts and every one of them has ultimately turned into a dreamlike experience where the AI tool forgets what I have in my inventory or what those objects’ significance is and allows me to break the rules of reality to solve puzzles. This has been true even if I am having the platform first create maps and update database files in-game. It just doesn’t work, and the AI tools have an unpredictable logic where some actions will be unacceptable in one situation and totally acceptable in another situation. They also regularly break character or prevent you from doing things that make sense in the game context but which their guardrails tell you that a human user shouldn’t do, like kill an orc or say something inappropriate to an NPC or put poison on your sword blade. Now, is there a potential for generative AI to function as middleware between a human’s natural speech and a traditional text parser so that we can provide a new interface for playing text adventure games using speech input? Maybe! That might work because then the unpredictable behavior of generative AI might be offset by the limitations of a traditional text adventure. But keeping the AI model narrowly focused on the text adventure and ensuring it could correctly translate human language to text input would be a lot of work, and I expect unpredictable things would still happen. My feeling, at least as of this recording in 2026, is that generative AI will mainly be used for asset creation and text generation during development, and that’s something I don’t think most gamers have any patience for. Adventure games need to be hand-crafted to feel sincere, and computer-generated puzzles and text and graphics aren’t going to help adventure games to stand out. So let’s ditch that idea. There are so many wonderfully creative people out there making adventure games – support those who take the time to draw their own backgrounds and animate their own characters and write their own scripts! With all that said, I’m ready to wish adventure gaming a fond farewell as a topic. We’ve spent 15 episodes on the graphical adventure game genre alone and two more on text adventures! But there’s so much more we could talk about. I hope you’ve enjoyed this shallow dive into a very deep pool. Next week, we’re moving on to platform games! We’ll look at how games like Space Panic, Pitfall!, Popeye, Jungle King, Burger Time, Elevator Action, Mr. Do!’s Castle, Pac-Land, Mario Bros. and Donkey Kong helped cement a style of gameplay that Super Mario Bros. took off with and which we’ve never looked back from. We’ll talk about computer games like Jumpman, Manic Miner, Jet Set Willy and Hard Hat Mack and we’ll also talk about why the genre struggled in the translation to 3D. It’s going to be a fun series, and I can’t wait to get started! If you enjoy this show, you can read this series every week on my Substack at Greatestgames.substack.com [http://Greatestgames.substack.com], where you’ll also find brand new articles on other great games you’ve (probably) never played. And you’re always welcome to talk with me on Bluesky! I’m Sean Jordan, I am your Great Game Guide, and I’ll be back next week with more to explore! THIS WEEK’S RECOMMENDED GAME TO TRY Before I let you go every week, I close out the show with a game I want you to try that’s a little off the beaten path. This isn’t sponsored content and I don’t have any financial stake in anything I recommend; these are games that I think are really good but don’t have as much exposure as some of the more popular ones. This week, I’m recommending Thank Goodness You’re Here, a silly and surreal adventure platformer from Coal Supper and Panic that takes place in the fictional Northern English town of Barnsworth where people have entered into factions over whether meat pies should be tiny or humongous, where shop owners are uninterested in actually serving customers, and where your tiny yellow character must constantly help people who are in really stupid situations that require your intervention. The game has two buttons – jump and slap – and almost everything you do involves either finding a way to the right part of town to resolve someone’s problem or by whacking things until they’re correct. The humor is incredibly wild and unbothered by any semblance of reality, and this includes your character, who’s a different size on every screen. A fishmonger wants you to make sure all his fish on display are visibly smoking cigarettes. Why not? A gardener hates snails and tells you to murder them all. OK! A woman is missing her dog and you need to make a new one for her out of sausage. Can do! And, in one particularly British series of events, you can keep falling down a man’s chimney to bypass his burglar alarm, sooting up his living room to his extreme frustration and have him tell you it’s all right and offer you snacks and beverages as he sighs and cleans up the mess. It’s a tremendously silly experience you can complete in a few hours but which is a fun ride all the way through. Give it a shot! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit greatestgames.substack.com [https://greatestgames.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]
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