![]() So you sit at a table near two chatting fellows, and after keeping two floaty cursors inside a circle with your mouse and WASD keys for a few seconds (no, really), you can hear a single sentence of what they’re saying. ![]() You’re after the identity of a man who’s given a “special job” to your client’s father, and find out whoever it was hangs around in a local pub. Which makes sense, right up until you actually do it. Sherlock’s investigatory skills enter all-new territories with his ability to eavesdrop on conversations to gain salient facts. It’s a game whose logic is entirely bizarro-land. Oh, and you have to object a statement they’re making before they’ve actually finished saying it, or time runs out and you’re stuck with accepting the spoken sentence at face value. And once again you can get these “wrong”, be told your necessarily wild guessing is wrong, but then never be allowed to change those conclusions despite the person being stood there in front of you. Once again you can observe characters’ appearance to discern topics to ask them about, or contradict statements they’ve made. And indeed there remains the wildly contradictory insistence that all evidence be found in a scene in the correct order before you can move onward, despite having all necessary information. There remains the good-idea-but-terribly-implemented neuron connections as you put the evidence of your case together, refusing perfectly reasonable connections between directly related subjects, yet sometimes freeform and allowing any answer to be acceptable. (These games are really weird.)īeyond these sudden, unexplained physical changes, much remains the same following Crimes And Punishments, with Sherlock’s world made of observational minigames and speculative open-ended cases. However, this hasn’t extended to moving to new, trendier digs – it’s the very same flat as in previous games, complete with telescope, although this time it can no longer exclusively be used to perv on the voluptuous lady living across the street. Both look distinctly 21st century, despite living in a 19th century world of bonnets and “good sire”s. Eight Sherlock games in, suddenly the titular hero has become a man possibly in his late 20s, with for the first time a brand new young’un’s voice, while the formerly terrifying teleporting Watson has shaved off many decades and become a slim, rakishly handsome fellow with complicated facial hair. Goodness me, time has done well for Holmes and Watson. Here's my impressions of the first half, because good grief. The Devil's Daughter is like a fever dream, but a fever dream that's been really badly made. From the early awful fan-fiction-like conflations of Doyle's work with his contemporaries, complete with evil staring Watson, to the more recent third-person festivals of terribleness, they've not managed to be good, but they've certainly managed to be strange. ![]() Frogwares' Sherlock Holmes games have always been very weird. ![]()
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