Resurrection: In Memoriam

Resurrection is a regular feature in which Resolution gets all nostalgic and basks in the glory of an older game. This time: In Memoriam, and its terrifying blurring of the line between reality and fiction…

In Memoriam is the only videogame I ever played with my mother. It ended up being an experience I’ll never forget.

Partly because of the game itself. A bizarre hybrid of in-game puzzle solving and extra-game clue hunting, In Memoriam blurred the lines between the real and the fantastic in a way only alternate reality gaming approached before or since. Its concept is fantastic. SKL Network journalist Jack Lorski and his female companion have disappeared while reporting on a series of gruesome murders in Europe. The mysterious kidnapper, known only as the Phoenix, has sent a CD-ROM of clues to his company. The company has gone public with the disc. The game disc. Via a combination of obscure mini-games and internet-based hunting, it’s up to you to help track Lorski down.

So I’ll remember it for that ingenious set-up, certainly. But I’ll also remember it for one particular moment that strayed dangerously close to scarring my then-teenage mind forever.

We’ve been playing for a few days. I’m doing all the mini-games, while Mrs Denby helps out with the internet clue-finding. We’ve received a string of emails from various in-game characters to our regular email accounts. A combination of leads from within and outside the game has led us to a Greek island. We’re trying to figure out which one.

We have a torn-up postcard, which I’ve re-arranged. We have a short video clip, which briefly displays the name of a street somewhere. We have a giant, in-depth world atlas sitting beside the computer, a laptop positioned on the desk opposite for Googling. We’re ready to get to the bottom of this. Let’s go.

I type the street name into Google. Nothing on page one. A few possibilities on page two, but no, nothing there either. Nor on pages three or four. I head over to Yahoo, In Memoriam being of an era in which people still used Yahoo. Nothing there either. I’m getting antsy. We’re against the clock here! Lives are at stake!

Mrs Denby is flicking through the atlas, cross-referencing with the index, studiously noting down any possible leads. The room is silent. At some point, a bemused Mr Denby probably brings some coffee upstairs. This is impossible. No record of this street anywhere. Then…

“Hang on,” Mrs Denby chimes in. “There’s a street name here that’s basically the same. It’s a slightly different spelling, but… worth following up?”

Yes! Absolutely worth following up!

“Here we go,” she says, pointing it out on the map. It’s a main road, running through the heart of a tiny Greek island I didn’t previously know existed. I certainly do now. Because there it is, the street we’ve spent hours trying to find, smack-bang in the middle of the Island of Lesbos.

Brilliant! We’re on our way! We just need to make sure we’ve definitely got the right place, and the postcard we’ve pieced together is surely of a famous landmark. Google Images, here we come. I sit in front of the laptop, Mrs Denby leaning over my shoulder. Click on the search bar, type in the name of the island.

[Continues...]

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