Imagine a game that wasn't about blasting aliens or racing cars, but about sneaking around a creepy mansion, piecing together clues with your mom—sounds like a family bonding experience that sticks in your memory forever, right? That's the magic of Roberta Williams' The Colonel’s Bequest, a twist on adventure games that brought my mother and me closer in ways I never expected. But here's where it gets personal and perhaps a bit nostalgic: while I floundered with the traditional adventure classics, this one became our shared secret, filled with laughter and 'aha' moments. Let's dive into why this game stands out, and why its legacy might just spark a debate among gamers today.
Growing up, video games were a big part of my family life, but they hit different people in different ways. My mom wasn't into the action-packed titles; instead, she gravitated toward puzzle-solving adventures. Sure, we had our fair share of jumping on barrels in Donkey Kong Country or curing viruses in Dr. Mario—those classic millennial gaming staples that every kid my age remembers. Yet, the games that truly defined her gaming persona for me were the adventure series. She adored King’s Quest, naturally, but what really captured her imagination was the Hugo trilogy. These were point-and-click adventures, where you control a character by clicking to move, interact with objects, and solve riddles, often in a fantasy world. For beginners, think of it as a choose-your-own-adventure story brought to life on screen, where every decision matters and the world feels alive with possibilities.
I have to admit, I didn't quite get the appeal at first. The slow pace and intricate puzzles felt overwhelming to my younger self, who preferred the adrenaline rush of action games. Fortunately, we found common ground with The Colonel’s Bequest. This game, developed by Roberta Williams and her husband Ken in 1989, flips the script on typical adventure titles. Instead of being the heroic protagonist driving the plot, you play as a young woman visiting a mysterious estate, where you're essentially an observer in a tense, time-sensitive mystery. The story unfolds as you eavesdrop on conversations, explore hidden rooms, and uncover dark secrets—think Agatha Christie meets early video game tech, but with pixelated graphics and a ticking clock that adds real pressure.
What made it special for us was the collaborative playthroughs. We'd swap seats mid-game, each tackling puzzles from fresh perspectives. I'd often miss subtle clues because I charged ahead too impatiently, but my mom would spot them with her keen eye for detail—perhaps because, as a parent, she approached problems more methodically. It wasn't just about winning; it was about sharing discoveries and laughing at our mistakes. And this is the part most people miss: games played together as a family create lasting memories that go beyond the screen. The Colonel’s Bequest isn't flashy or fast-paced; it's intimate, like a shared storybook that bonds you emotionally. For instance, imagine solving a riddle about a hidden will while discussing real-life family secrets—it's therapy disguised as entertainment!
Now, let's talk about its place in gaming history, and here's where it gets controversial: The Colonel’s Bequest might not be the game that revolutionized the industry like King’s Quest or The Secret of Monkey Island, but does that make it any less valuable? Personally, it was a turning point for my relationship with adventure games, but I get why it hasn't garnered the same fame. Critics often point out its lack of challenge—there's no intense combat, no elaborate puzzles that stump experts for hours. Your character isn't the star; she's more like a fly on the wall in a gothic tale, wandering the mansion, listening to dialogues, and reacting to events until time runs out. This passive style appeals to a smaller crowd, favoring atmospheric storytelling over interactive thrills. Is this a flaw, or a bold choice that celebrates subtlety in gaming? Some might argue it's dated and boring, while others see it as a pioneer of narrative-driven experiences, long before games like Gone Home made introspection cool.
Yet, the game has a devoted fanbase that keeps its spirit alive. You can still play the original on platforms like GOG, where it's available for download—perfect for a retro gaming night. And interestingly, it inspired a modern tribute: The Crimson Diamond, created by developer Julia Minamata. This spiritual successor echoes the EGA graphics and mystery vibe of the original but updates it with contemporary twists, like more polished visuals and subtle nods to the source material. We even covered it here at Ars Technica, highlighting how it revives the charm of old-school adventures for today's players. It's worth a look if you're curious how classics evolve.
Oh, and the Williams duo is far from retired—they recently put out a 3D remake of Colossal Cave, an early text-based adventure from 1976 that's often hailed as the grandfather of point-and-click games. This shows their ongoing influence, blending nostalgia with modern tech to introduce new generations to the genre's roots.
As a side note, Ars Technica might earn a small commission from affiliate links in this post, helping support our coverage of gaming history.
So, what do you think? Is The Colonel’s Bequest underrated, or does its slow-burn style hinder its appeal in today's fast-paced gaming world? Do you believe passive protagonists in games can be just as engaging as active heroes, or is interactivity key to fun? Share your thoughts in the comments—do you have family gaming stories that echo this, or disagree with its 'boring' label? Let's discuss!
