Another month, another Secret History article. With the lesser known (but no less awesome) "oldie" SCUMM titles behind us, the next game marks a transition into another era of LucasArts' adventure games. I'm of course talking about the game that defines the word classic, The Secret of Monkey Island, and we're ready for your Reader Opinions of it for next month's article!
Sometimes, though, sharing one's brief two cents on a game isn't quite enough. For those of you who have something interesting to say about Monkey Island that would take the lengthier form of an all-out standalone editorial (or essay, or article, or whatever term you prefer) similar in vein to elTee's theory about Loom in the latest article, we're open to it! However, in order to spare yourself from potential disappointment and wasted effort, please give us a taste of what you have planned so that we can ensure it meets the (obviously high) publishing standards of the International House of
Get cracking!
I played the game at a point of my life where I was heading towards the edge of a cliff: I was so depressed I had to go to hospita - I was ignoring my schoolwork, I'd shut-out my friends from my life, food tasted like dirt in my mouth and no amount of sleep was enough. I couldn't even write or draw to make myself feel better. And then I decided to get around to playing that legendary first Monkey Island game, and my mood went from down in the slums to mild amusement to genuine happiness to full-blown maniacal laughter. To say I loved the game would be an understatement.
A lot of Game Designers are arguing, these days, about the concept of linearity vs. non-linearity, but I honestly think this was an issue solved in 1990 with this game. The genius of the design is that it gives the player the freedom to solve the puzzles in whatever order he wants, but that it gives him the same story. The differences are minor: a scene might play-out differently, but the end result was the same. And this really is genius; a lot of people label "The Secret of Monkey Island" is a classic adventure game, but it's really just a classic game, period.
And it wasn't just the design that made it so unique; it one of those projects where the creator was lucky enough to be working among fellow geniuses. Ron Gilbert shaped the architecture and groundwork of the game - the non-linearity, the no-death principle, the fact you couldn't stuck, that it always made sure you had a goal in mind - and he wrote the story, but he was lucky enough to have Tim Schafer and Dave Grossman on his writing staff. Those two could (and can still) write lines that can tickle you or sadden you, scare you or calm you, with an unfaltering elegance that flitted between plays on words to treading a line between the wacky and the norm. They wrote two-third's of the game's dialogue, and probably more than 90% of the most-quoted lines. But it wasn't just the writing: the artwork, by talents ranging from Tami Borowick to Steve Purcell, and the music (especially the title theme, composed by the always amazing Michael Land) all combined together added that extra layer of polish to the game.
It could become morning, and then night again, and I could still be telling you about how much I love this game, and why it is so special. If I ever started a Game Design class, this would be compulsory. You can't become a good rock songwriter without knowing the guitar, and you can't become a great Game Designer without understanding the principles of this game's design. I'd been depressed and miserable before I played this game, but I played it and, for a while, it made me happy. And that happiness made me start getting my life back in order. I wouldn't be alive today if I hadn't played it.