Review | Mystery Stories
Format: DS | Genre: Casual | Publisher: Avanquest | Developer: cerasus.media | Release date: 29/05/09 | RRP: £24.99
By Graham Jones
The Nintendo DS has time and again proven itself to be the perfect medium for delivering a thoroughly riveting interactive mystery yarn. Professor Layton, Hotel Dusk and Another Code have all delivered a highly entertaining balance of enjoyable, puzzle-based gameplay and a gripping – albeit occasionally convoluted – plot. So it was with some optimism that I inserted the Mystery Stories cartridge into my DS. Unfortunately, it’s not a game that excels in its storytelling, and the only significant mystery is why the developers would name it after one of its greatest weaknesses.
Suffice it to say, Agatha Christie wouldn’t have been quaking in her boots. There’s a kidnapping and a Mayan curse, a hunky scuba diving instructor and some of the worst in-game dialogue since the whole Jill-sandwich incident of 1996. Before you can say “I am error,” you’re off on a second jaunt through the streets of Berlin via a similarly uninspiring tale. None of this affects your playing of the game, though – the story arc is simply a means to link together the various scenes in which you need to find objects. Which isn’t such a thrilling task in itself.
//Tidying up
On each level, you’re given a list of items and a static picture of a messy room. To complete the level you need to find all of the items on the list within a specified time limit, tapping each one with the stylus as you go. Sometimes things will be mixed up a bit; you’ll be given a brief description of the items you’re looking for in sequence, or occasionally you’ll be guided towards the relevant object by a related sound effect. It’s all a bit like Where’s Wally? without any of the humour, intelligence or artistry that oozes from every page of Martin Handford’s classics.
In order to succeed at delivering an enjoyable hidden object game, I would have though there were two key ingredients: clear and detailed graphics as well as a simple and intuitive control system. Nintendo’s handheld is more than capable of delivering on both of these requirements, but Cerasus.Media has failed on both counts. The visuals are consistently fuzzy throughout, which makes spotting many of the items strewn about the screen incredibly difficult, and can repeatedly leave the player feeling as though the game just isn’t playing fair. But that level of frustration is nothing compared to the annoyance caused by the poor touch-screen integration. In order to prevent the player from simply tapping anywhere on the screen while searching for a particular article, a time penalty is triggered after repeated failed attempts. Unfortunately, it isn’t uncommon for the game to not recognise when you’ve touched the correct object. Sometimes three or four attempts are needed, incurring a totally unfair penalty simply due to poor programming.
And yet, despite all of the above, for some bizarre, unexplainable and truly mysterious reason, I couldn’t put it down.
Now, I’m not saying that I loved the game. It’s yet another piece of shovelware polluting the DS library. Designed to appeal to those casual gamers who enjoyed the other ‘mystery’ games on the market, it’s clearly been created with a severe lack of imagination or quality control, and comes across as a cheap cash-in, built to take advantage of the platform’s less game-savvy demographic. But at the same time, I found I could lose hours at time staring at its poor-quality images, tapping away at objects that may or may not register my actions. It’s so strangely addictive and peculiarly satisfying. It’s the gaming equivalent of listening to Bon Jovi while eating a doner kebab. You know it’s bad, but you kind of like it.
It’s not a good game. But it would be unfair to suggest it’s an awful one, or that I hated every minute of it. Seeking out all of its hidden objects is certainly a guilty pleasure. But you could just pick up a Where’s Wally? compilation for a fraction of the price, and then there’d be no guilt required.
5/10
