In trying everything to get past an obstacle or take a needed object from a recalcitrant alien, you often find yourself entering commands that are patently ridiculous. But you enter them anyway, figuring "Why not? Nothing else seems to work." And what a nice surprise you get when, for instance, you shoot a pistol in desperation at a massive tree-and see it fall to form a bridge across a river that's had you badly stumped.
But sometimes a silly command-or even a simple wrong try-elicits a testy rebuke from the computer (a.k.a. game designer). Encountering a frog in a bog, we tried feeding it, killing it, hitting it, bribing it, moving it, taking it, talking to it, and even eating it-all to no avail. Then we had an inspiration prompted by a childhood memory.
Player: Kiss frog.
Computer: Isn't that a little corny?
Another time, we spied an interesting-looking old man at the other end of a large room. He surely had something to tell us, so:
Player: Speak to old man.
Computer: Shouting across the room might work in Abilene, but not here.
That response was a hint: We could talk to the old man if we got closer. The computer's smart-alecky comments often contain such hints. We once found ourselves at a gorge, and crossing it was the only way to make progress. But how?
Player: Jump gorge.
Computer: The gap is 10 feet longer than the world record for the standing broad jump.
Which implied that the way to get across was with a running broad jump.
Just as often, though, a wrong try can be unceremoniously shot down.
Player: Kill robot.
Computer: Fat chance. This thing is a R-O-B-O-T.
Or, in another game, in which we were trying without success to find a way of getting into a wagon:
Player: Sit.
Computer: You are too young to be pooped already. Get it in gear.
A corollary to the cardinal rule of trying everything is to examine everything. Usually when an object is of no interest, the computer simply says so. But not always.
Player (in a meadow): Look grass.
Computer: The grass is greener somewhere else.
In another game, we entered a room that seemed to contain nothing of interest, and the only ext was the way we had come in. But we figured the room must have a purpose, so we tried to dig a hole, remove the door, say a password, and finally:
Player: Look walls.
Computer: If you're frustrated, try climbing them.
Different games may project diametrically opposite world views. In one, the only way to get a rope from an alien was to steal it. But in another, we were bluntly chastised.
Player: Take coconut.
Computer: The coconuts are not to pick as we please.
A game's vocabulary is usually limited to a verb/noun combination, but some games allow the use to prepositions and objects (such as "Give gold to wizard"). Often, however, it's hard to find exactly the right words to make the computer understand what you want it to do. Sometimes the machine says simply, "I don't know how to do that," or "I can't," or "You can't," or even an abrupt "No." At other times you may find yourself stuck in a no-exit dialogue that recalls some old comedy routine. Like the time we couldn't find a way to get past an angry bull.
Player: Tranquilize bull.
Computer: I do not know how to tranquilize.
Player: Think.
Computer: You cannot think.
Player: Fool me.
Computer: You cannot fool me.
And finally, just to end it:
Player: Quit.
Computer: You cannot quit.
Well, that's true enough. But if your frustration builds to such a level that you want to curse the machine, first consider the consequences.
Player: &¢@$#?!!
Computer: A good angel appears and says naughty naughty. As you have sinned, I will move some of the objects you carry. REPENT!
Thanks to Chris Mikesell for transcribing and donating this article.