If you so much as glanced in the direction of a computer in the mid-90s, you'll have heard of Cyan's seminal graphic adventure game, Myst, which not only heralded the advent of the CD-Rom as the format that would drive the future of computer gaming but also achieved the rare feat of becoming a cultural phenomenon. In 1993, everyone was playing Myst and when they weren't playing it, they were talking about it.
Completing one of the game's notoriously complex puzzles became a point of pride and social worth, bringing with it the satisfaction not only of in-game progress but also being approached by awe-struck peers desperate to know how you pulled it off. New sights and accidental discoveries were instantly broadcast amongst friends, desperate to claim the front-runner spot in the race towards the game's conclusion.
Completing one of the game's notoriously complex puzzles became a point of pride and social worth, bringing with it the satisfaction not only of in-game progress but also being approached by awe-struck peers desperate to know how you pulled it off. New sights and accidental discoveries were instantly broadcast amongst friends, desperate to claim the front-runner spot in the race towards the game's conclusion.
I was eight years old when the game's popularity exploded. I remember watching in fascination as family members struggled to find links between clues and codes scribbled onto their computer-side notepad. School friends of the same age were having the same experience, even though none of us were old enough to understand what was going on or even how the game worked. We saw our elders enraptured by the worlds on-screen and did everything we could to be there with them and share in their fleeting moments of glory.
Over time, Myst's reputation has taken a hit among the gaming community. It is accused of being everything from the beginning of the end of the point-and-click adventure, to an 'anti-game' for its slow pace and lack of death threats. Publishers' eagerness to capitalise on the title's success by porting the game to every conceivable system regardless of compatibility - much lamented versions of the game appeared on the DS and PSP, so it'll be interesting to see how the Nintendo Switch version fares when it is released on Friday - can't have helped, nor the diminishing quality and increasing pretensions that came with each of its four sequels.
There's no denying that with the benefit of hindsight there are plenty of issues with the game. While the logic underpinning the many puzzles is more straightforward and cohesive than it seemed at the time, the majority of them are variations on the mundane trope of finding a code and the right place and manner in which to input it. The game's non-linearity is one of its greatest assets in allowing the player to discover the secrets of Myst Island on their own, but also means that clues can be collected in such a random order and in such numbers that it becomes an overwhelming task to remember which are linked to which place and how they can be fitted together and used. The aforementioned similarity between the puzzles and plethora of four-digit or symbol codes only exacerbates the issue.
Over time, Myst's reputation has taken a hit among the gaming community. It is accused of being everything from the beginning of the end of the point-and-click adventure, to an 'anti-game' for its slow pace and lack of death threats. Publishers' eagerness to capitalise on the title's success by porting the game to every conceivable system regardless of compatibility - much lamented versions of the game appeared on the DS and PSP, so it'll be interesting to see how the Nintendo Switch version fares when it is released on Friday - can't have helped, nor the diminishing quality and increasing pretensions that came with each of its four sequels.
There's no denying that with the benefit of hindsight there are plenty of issues with the game. While the logic underpinning the many puzzles is more straightforward and cohesive than it seemed at the time, the majority of them are variations on the mundane trope of finding a code and the right place and manner in which to input it. The game's non-linearity is one of its greatest assets in allowing the player to discover the secrets of Myst Island on their own, but also means that clues can be collected in such a random order and in such numbers that it becomes an overwhelming task to remember which are linked to which place and how they can be fitted together and used. The aforementioned similarity between the puzzles and plethora of four-digit or symbol codes only exacerbates the issue.
Once you manage to organise yourself and get moving at a steady pace through the game, the quantity of backtracking weighs heavily as an artificial barrier to progressing as rapidly as you deserve. Having to make a return trip to each world (or 'Age') because your character can only carry one of the vital book pages back to the library hub at a time feels like an insult after having spent so much timing decoding a path to having both within your grasp at once.
But Myst's protracted length and crowded, over-familiar puzzle structure were issues already identified by critics and players at the time, even if their impact are more keenly felt with the advances in game design made in the twenty-seven years since its original release. While famous for its difficulty, the puzzles were never the game's big draw.
The game's real success is the cohesion with which it blends its story, its symbols and environments. Advancements in graphics technology have meant that most remember Myst's visuals within the damning epithet of 'impressive for their time' without affording them the examination necessary to understand why their impact was the result of a more considered and complex equation than simply pushing technical boundaries. The game's main island was not only visually impressive, but its every landmark and object designed to inspire players' curiosities and imaginations.
Just as the Legend of Zelda series was born out of the young Shigeru Miyamoto's enthusiasm for exploring the caves near his home, Myst packs its hub with places and symbols representative of the mysteries and adventures that inspired our exploratory instincts while growing up. Who as a child didn't dream of finding treasure amongst sunken ships, unravelling the patterns of the night sky, unlocking forgotten knowledge hiding in Ancient Grecian libraries or devising coded languages of animal symbols? Through its rockets, clock towers and observatories, Myst Island is built from the bricks of our collective cultural imagination.
But Myst's protracted length and crowded, over-familiar puzzle structure were issues already identified by critics and players at the time, even if their impact are more keenly felt with the advances in game design made in the twenty-seven years since its original release. While famous for its difficulty, the puzzles were never the game's big draw.
The game's real success is the cohesion with which it blends its story, its symbols and environments. Advancements in graphics technology have meant that most remember Myst's visuals within the damning epithet of 'impressive for their time' without affording them the examination necessary to understand why their impact was the result of a more considered and complex equation than simply pushing technical boundaries. The game's main island was not only visually impressive, but its every landmark and object designed to inspire players' curiosities and imaginations.
Just as the Legend of Zelda series was born out of the young Shigeru Miyamoto's enthusiasm for exploring the caves near his home, Myst packs its hub with places and symbols representative of the mysteries and adventures that inspired our exploratory instincts while growing up. Who as a child didn't dream of finding treasure amongst sunken ships, unravelling the patterns of the night sky, unlocking forgotten knowledge hiding in Ancient Grecian libraries or devising coded languages of animal symbols? Through its rockets, clock towers and observatories, Myst Island is built from the bricks of our collective cultural imagination.
The books linking to each Age act as symbols of imaginative leaps of faith, the brilliance and bravery of our ability to create new realities from the world that has been written for us, enriching it with our individual interpretations. This theme is at the heart not only of the game's story, but the entire experience of the game. You are alone in Myst's playground, with the only help or hindrance to discovery being yourself: to involve any outside party would violate the very heart of what is to be taken away from the experience. We write the stories of our own lives, through the way we see the world, how we solve it and how we make it our own.
Though Robyn and Rand Miller's game is now most famous for its puzzles, Myst's appeal is deeper than its mechanics, driving players to explore its worlds by tapping into the symbols and dreams that represent the imagination's hunger to explore and create, to give meaning to everything it finds. The intimate link between the the game's art design and themes give it a relevance and depth that even more technologically advanced titles rarely come close to achieving. While later entries in the series betrayed this vision, resulting in declining sales and popularity, Myst deserves to be remembered for the reasons it inspired rather than frustrated us. As it's so keen to remind us, any story can be rewritten.
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