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Choose Your Own Adventure Retrospective: The Curse of Batterslea Hall by Richard Brightfield

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The Curse of Batterslea Hall  was always my favourite CYOA book – it was also, for reasons I'll get into, one of the more unusual ones. It sparked my later love of adventure games and inspired some of my sketchy early attempts at creative writing (including a thinly veiled recreation on 90s 'edutainment' program Storybook Weaver ). It also deepened my devastation when I returned home one fateful school night to discover my mum had donated my extensive CYOA collection – precious gems tremblingly unearthed from the dusty Mills and Boon-straining shelves of my local Scope – back to charity. Around twenty years later, and I took the obvious next step for a mildly lockdown-crazed 90s kid squinting down the barrel of their thirties: sourced a copy inflated by just four times the original cover price through eBay. But was it worth it, and does it still hold up? Dust off your bootcut jeans and fire up your Walkman – it's adventurin' time, 90s* style... The premise Battersl

Inspiring Adventure Games That Gave Me Wanderlust: Part 2


With lockdown easing (i.e., becoming rapidly non-existent) here in the UK, the prospect of wider travel is, maybe, hopefully, starting to seem not so dim and distant after all. My Google Maps timeline update for July even cranked up from one visited place to – get this – two. These are heady times. Meanwhile, in adventure game terms, these past few months have seen me exploring a foreboding ancestral manor in Suffolk, England, the vibrant electronic markets and maid cafés of Akihabara, Japan, and the idyllic mountainside landscape of a fictional provincial park. I think it's safe to say that, through lockdown and beyond, games like these will continue to fuel my spirit of adventure.

Broken Sword: The Shadow of the Templars, Paris, France

'Paris in the fall, the last months of the year, at the end of the millennium. The city holds many memories for me – of music, of cafés, of love... and of death.'  George Stobbart

Broken Sword's first entry spans countries including Ireland, Spain, Syria and Scotland, but it is above all a love letter to Paris, France, reflecting director Charles Cecil's passion for the city. From the very outset, it's clear that the city itself will be as central to the game as the characters; in its cinematic opening scene, a sweeping view of the autumn-hued Parisian skyline zooms in on protagonist (and, aptly, tourist) George Stobbart enjoying coffee and a flirtatious exchange at a charming local bistro.


Lushly detailed hand-drawn backgrounds add to the authenticity of the setting, creating more of a sense of a classic animated film than a game. In true Parisian style, each location is a visual delight, whether you're plumbing the depths of the ancient Catacombs or teetering on the window ledges of the stately Hotel Ubu. Cecil has said that he aims to make the settings in his games 'aspirational', such as the dramatic glimpses of gargoyles from the Notre-Dame giving way to the iconic Eiffel Tower towering above the cityscape. These awe-inspiring touches elevate the setting beyond a simple stage for puzzle-solving or localised action.


The game impresses on the player the quiet magnificence of historical sites like Montfauçon Church, with its lofty vaulted arches, grand stained-glass windows and sombre stone knight effigies. History is not simply a dusty, passively pretty relic in this world but informs the present in a vital and immediate way. The environment reflects this, eliciting genuine excitement when the player discovers cryptic Latin inscriptions in statues and tombs or discusses ancient artifacts and stories about the Knights Templar with the curator at Musée Crune.


This contrasts with the laidback modern European lifestyle captured in locations like the cosy Café de la Chandelle Verte and Nico's effortlessly shabby chic studio apartment on Rue Jarry. History and modern life interweave seamlessly, making George's plot-driven forays into the city sewers and impromptu trips to Ireland and Syria on the strength of the symbolism from an antique manuscript feel completely justified.


(Full nerd disclosure: I dropped by the real-life Rue Jarry on my Megabus-facilitated trip to Paris in 2012. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is in fact just a residential street without much resemblance to its in-game equivalent. A pretty one, but an ordinary one all the same. In another slightly disappointing blow from reality, I missed out on the Catacombs as I hadn't anticipated just how long the queue would be and how long tours could take. Always plan ahead, kids. Or, you know, just stick to adventure games.) 

Gabriel Knight 2: The Beast Within, Bavaria, Germany

'[Rittersberg] is a small town. Private. We keep our business to ourselves. The Schattenjägers are of this place, and this place is of them. We believe in the old ways here. It has not changed much over the centuries. We still remember what the rest of the world has forgotten... That life is a battle between the light and the dark. Do you know this?'  Werner Huber

Gabriel Knight's second installment was Sierra's largest and most ambitious project to date, with past and present locations spanning Munich as well as a clutch of 'Mad' King Ludwig II's iconic castles. In fact, these locations have captured players' imaginations so vividly that several fans have even embarked on game-inspired tours of Bavaria, a testament to designer Jane Jensen's characteristic commitment to detail (naturally, this is the third game helmed by Jensen featured in these posts). As Jensen explained, 'I loved Germany [...] if I can find locations and subjects that I’m passionate about, I try to infuse that feeling into the game. I was really in love with that region at the time I wrote [The Beast Within], and I wanted to translate that passion and romanticism into the game. I never thought it would make people go visit these places, but they do.'


The game opens in quintessentially German fashion in the romantic yet mildly run-down Schloss Ritter (Ritter Castle) in Rittersberg, the ancestral home of the Schattenjägers ('Shadow Hunters') and stronghold of the 'old ways'. While these places are, sadly, inventions of the Gabriel Knight universe (including the magnificent Ritter Library of historical and occult books), their external structures are closely modelled after real locations. Schloss Ritter is based on Burg Rabenstein, a small 12th-century castle perched high on a plateau overlooking a forested estate and village. Meanwhile, Rittersberg draws from Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a picturesque medieval town in Bavaria and pitstop on the famous Romantic Road through southern Germany. Gabriel may embark on his quest partly as an excuse to avoid the dreaded blank page, but this setting looks like the perfect writer's retreat.


While time has not been as kind on the photographic backgrounds of GK2 as on the classic hand-drawn ones in Broken Sword, the faithful recreation of locations like Marienplatz, Munich's central square, and its Gothic architecture gives a fascinating glimpse into another place and time. Many local details, like the Glockenspiel and golden Virgin Mary (the Patrona Bavariae, or Protector of Bavaria) statue, lend to the game's impressive worldbuilding. These don't necessarily inform the plot but can be examined, in the manner of a curious traveller, eliciting sometimes quite telling comments from Gabriel (of the Virgin Mary: 'She almost seems to be watchin' me'). Other classic German details, like a Weisswurst stand and a cuckoo clock shop, are woven into puzzles and offer distinctive points of interest and comparison for dedicated gamer-travellers. 


The game fosters a genuine appreciation of the country's heritage, with locations such as the fairytale-worthy* Neuschwanstein Castle and the Ludwig Museum in Herrenchiemsee saturated with historical details: murals inspired by tragic love stories and epic heroes, extravagant four-poster draperies and Ludwig's fantastically kitsch 'Grand Master' wardrobe. Decades before virtual gallery and museum tours took off in the age of Covid, GK2 was offering a comprehensive audio tour of each castle room and lifelike museum exhibits that could be examined and interacted with. This game truly is the gift that keeps giving.


Grappling with philosophical issues such as Primitivism and Hedonism, the game also departs from civilisation at times – plunging deep into the haunting Bavarian National Forest surrounding Von Glower's hunting lodge in Eppenberg. 'The largest continuous area of forest in central Europe', this land is said to be virtually untouched, with more than 100 miles of hiking paths. However, the natural destination that captivated me the most was the rugged landscape surrounding Neuschwanstein Castle; since playing, I have longed to drive through the snow-dusted Alpine hills to the soaring palace, which lies at an elevation of 800m (there's even an option to travel by horse-drawn carriage, a small extravagance that Ludwig himself would no doubt approve of).

*Quite literally. The castle served as the inspiration for Disneyland's famous Sleeping Beauty Castle.

Firewatch, Wyoming, US

'You are here, and it’s beautiful, and escaping isn’t always something bad.'  Delilah June A.

Most people have probably expressed a desire to 'get away from it all' at some point. But, with airport and booking stress, queues at attractions and, let's face it, other people in general, most holidays promptly invoke the need for another holiday. What makes Firewatch so refreshing, therefore, is the opportunity to leave behind civilisation – and everyone in it – in favour of an isolated firewatch tower in the Two Forks Lookout Area of Shoshone National Forest. Whether motivated by the need for a change of pace, time to reflect or – like protagonist Henry – an escape from life's complications, the unbroken wilds of Wyoming offer the boundless space to work through some stuff.


There's something quietly life-affirming and centring about stripping reality back to the essentials: a single room in an elevated cabin with a small bed, kitchenette, books, radio and typewriter. The four walls of this simple, compact space feel infinitely expanded by an abundance of spectacular scenery, however; Henry's station is host to panoramic views of towering treetops and misty mountain ranges, with unparalleled access to sunrises, sunsets and the stars in all their unobstructed glory. One would be hard-pressed to envision a more idyllic reading perch (Henry's predecessor was apparently an aficionado of 80s pulp mysteries) – heck, even the outhouse manages to look scenic.


But, as Instagrammable as the views may be, this is set in the 80s, and Henry's only connection to humanity is a walkie-talkie line to a fellow fire lookout, so any connection you build with the environment is entirely personal and blessedly hashtag-free. The designers evidently crafted the world with excruciating care; inspired by Yosemite National Park, they hand-modeled 23 types of trees 4,600 times and built the lookout towers according to government specifications, including standard lumber size. It pays off. While you're there ostensibly on a job, armed with little more than a handheld compass and paper map, it's hard not to experience childlike wonder when crashing through the trees with wild abandon and cautiously navigating shadowy caves. From creeks and canyons to abandoned bunkers and the remnants of Native American monuments, the land is ever-changing and always has a story to tell, even if you can only hope to collect fragments of it.


One reviewer describes 'the novelty of taking part in something so mundane' by helping a character find peace rather than saving the world. Indeed, there's a refreshing lack of competitive or people-pleasing pressure; there aren't any sales quotas or monthly leaderboards or irate customers, and, outside of emergencies, there's no clock to constantly check. Your tasks, such as surveying the landscape for fire outbreaks and investigating illegal fireworks and downed communication lines, are defined organically based on your surroundings, and for long stretches of time, you could well encounter nothing out of the ordinary. While this work is undoubtedly important, it allows for a certain extinguishing of the ego that I think everyone yearns for on some level. Certainly, it motivated me to seriously look into volunteering opportunities at wolf mountain sanctuaries and training with national forest fire lookout associations – something that still draws me to this day.


The game is also masterful at subjecting you to the simultaneous wonder and terror of an environment where you are completely and utterly alone. The Romantics were onto something; those majestic mountains and waterfalls might be breathtakingly beautiful, but an awareness of your fragility in the face of, say, a thunderstorm or a bear is never far behind (or, in this case, a faceless presence watching your every move). Invigorating, yes? In this pressing isolation, your lookout contact, Delilah, forms a vital emotional lifeline, fostering a unique and moving bond and an appreciation of the importance of a connection with another soul, no matter how fragile.

In the end, though, even if you're running away from your responsibilities, Firewatch demonstrates how you furnish your environment with your own inner world. Eventually, you'll be forced to confront your demons – even if there's no grand answer to your problems and this simply means picking yourself up and summoning the courage to carry on.

Syberia I and II, France, Russia and Siberia

'Welcome to Romansburg! The last town before the vast wild glacial wastes of the tundra.'  Colonel Emeliov Goupatchev

While, admittedly, Syberia didn't capture my heart quite like some of the other entries in this post, its imagining of various enchanting wintry locations across France, Russia and Siberia is perhaps its greatest strength. And, while its depiction of fictional Russian towns like Komkolzgrad, an almost abandoned 'dusty Communist-era industrial mining complex', might not exactly inspire my travel bucket list, the spirit of protagonist Kate Walker's travels certainly does.


Initially sent to oversee the corporate takeover of a family-owned toy factory in France, she instead decides to help realise an eccentric inventor's dream of finding and riding one of the last woolly mammoths in existence. In doing so, she pulls an Eat, Pray, Love before it was trendy and abandons her home life, job and fiancé, seeking adventure for the sake of it rather than pursuing anything as humdrum as a logical goal or personal gain. In this sense, Syberia taps into a deeply engrained urge to plunge into the unknown, leaving behind the comfortable and familiar to find yourself.


Kate's travels first take her to Valadilène, a small, picturesque town in the heart of the French Alps accented with curious steampunk contraptions and automatons that reflect the playful nature of their creator, Hans Voralberg. From here, she eventually journeys by coal-fuelled clockwork train (because who doesn't want to travel the world in what is essentially an exceedingly pretty, if slightly impractical, toy?) to Romansburg, Russia, a remote snow-blanketed town that feels as though it lies at the edge of the world; rarely visited by trains, its outer limits give way to unending white. The town is civilised enough to include a few cosy traditional taverns and shops, creating small safe havens amid the inhospitable climate.


The penultimate stop is Youkol Village, a hidden underground dwelling carved into the ice inhabited by a mysterious tribe who lived with and tamed the mammoths. In true hero's journey style, it boasts its very own dream-transporting shaman – as well as ancient mammoth-summoning horns. These would certainly spice up the usual Airbnb offerings of free Wi-Fi and guest towels.


The real Siberia (with an 'i') is actually known as the birthplace of shamanism, with 'tribal healing practices dating back to the 13th century'. Additionally, the fabled island of Syberia (with a 'y') is based on Wrangel Island, Siberia, the last place on earth where mammoths roamed around 4,000 years ago, so the game has a not entirely unsound basis in reality (mammoths aside). The island itself is breathtaking (quite literally – Wrangel Island is subject to a severe polar climate with temperatures as low as −57.7°C and cyclonic episodes), its mists providing a suitably majestic entrance for the last mammoths.

After reaching her destination, the private detective tailing Kate reports to her old law firm that she has 'vanished without a trace'. Because isn't that sort of the dream? To leave it all behind and not look back, without letting anything so mundane as what seems practical or even possible stop you?

Honorable mentions


Dear Esther, the Hebrides, Scotland
Everybody's Gone to the Rapture
, Shropshire, UK
Kentucky Route Zero, Kentucky, US 
Life is Strange, Arcadia Bay (Oregon), US
Life is Strange 2, Washington, Oregon, California, Nevada & Arizona, US, & Mexico
Shenmue II, Aberdeen, Wan Chai & Kowloon, Hong Kong, & Guilin, China

Haven't seen my previous post on adventure games that gave me wanderlust yet? Find it here.

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