One of the philosophies that made LucasArts’ SCUMM point-and-click adventure games (Maniac Mansion, The Secret of Monkey Island) so dominant in the ‘90s was their exorcism of the adventure game tradition of death. Games like King’s Quest and even earlier text-based adventure games loved killing the player. It was a fountain of dark humour that everything from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to Shadowgate marinated in. Death was rare in the SCUMM games, and that fact alone has established them as the gold standard that all other poinks live by today.

The Drifter is clearly inspired by the works of LucasArts. The puzzles, the art style, and even the narrative flow all feel like the seminal works of that studio. But one way it betrays the SCUMM engine is by not only including player death, but centring the entire game around it. It would almost seem like an act of rebellion if it wasn’t so loving about it.

CARE FOR A CUPPA?

The story involves Mick Carter, the eponymous drifter who suddenly finds himself unable to die. Instead, whenever his heart beats its last and the final spark of light escapes his cranium, time rewinds itself, giving him another chance to pull himself out of his pickle.

I’m not typically a fan of time-travel plots, but Mick’s chronal affliction marries the gameplay with the narrative perfectly. It’s turns it into the sort of storytelling experience that’s only really possible in video games.

Every so often, Mick gets in an aforementioned pickle, and the solution for his survival isn’t immediately clear. Maybe someone’s about to shoot him in the face, or a green-eyed shadow monster is looking to eviscerate him. His doom is imminent. You might see multiple possible ways to handle the predicament, but, most likely, your first attempt will result in Mick being blasted or eviscerated. You’re then sent back in time to attempt the situation again, but with the strength of better foresight.

Sometimes, failure is required because it isn’t just you, the player, who is learning how things are going to play out when you whip out your monkey wrench. Mick himself remembers conversations he has or actions that occur, which opens up additional tools for your toolbox.

NOT MY FORTE, BOSS

It’s, um, actually kind of frustrating sometimes. The mortal situations that crop up rather often are probably my least favourite parts of the experience. The reason is two-fold. Inevitably, if I was going to get stuck on a puzzle, it would happen when mistakes were paid for with Mick’s life. More importantly, however, I found these segments to be extraordinarily stressful. Which, sure, they’re supposed to be. It’s tension. The Drifter certainly doesn’t bill itself as a light-hearted or cozy game. I’m just not used to a poink getting so heavy.

To its credit, The Drifter isn’t completely serious and straight-faced. There’s a healthy heaping of comic relief mixed in. It’s among the ways that The Drifter expresses its SCUMM inspiration. It’s expertly done in a way that doesn’t undermine the plot.

Nonetheless, it was something to grapple with. I found that, throughout the playtime, the stress from those death scenes kept me at bay. I enjoyed The Drifter when I was playing it, but I always hesitated when starting it up again. It is, quite possibly, due to my current mindset and situation. Things are stressful. Right now, my heart wants to get lost in Tamriel or some other comfortable game world, and I had to tell it that, no, it’s time for The Drifter. I’ve got a deadline (sort of).

DESERT PEA

Nonethelesser, I was always impressed when I would start it back up. The Drifter is a classic poink, but it’s an extremely confident one. It doesn’t feel like a mere SCUMM-inspired game, it feels like a whole fat successor. It’s like the ‘90s never ended. It doesn’t merely ape, it extrapolates. Extrapolapes.

A good window into this is appropriately through the art style. It features a lo-fi aesthetic, even warping the colouration of the screen to make it look like it’s running on an older display, while still keeping the pixels sharp. There are no perceivable mixels – it doesn’t mix pixel resolutions. The animations are extremely detailed, but feature the same odd jerkiness of games like Secret of Monkey Island, while lip-syncing is expressed by having a couple pixels change colour. However, the backgrounds are very detailed and stylized in a way that is similar to Steve Purcell’s work for LucasArts, but with their own personality.

So, I’m not sure if I’m explaining it well. Maybe I should simplify. There is a tonne of LucasArts-inspired poinks out there. Their influence cannot be overstated. The Drifter nails the formula so hard, but isn’t content to just walk the same footsteps. And that results in it feeling like a natural iteration, rather than merely a facsimile.

It’s fantastic. The puzzle design (even including an early puzzle where a car engine must be started to charge a phone for some reason) is pretty spot on. I mentioned that I got stuck on some puzzles, but I didn’t get so hard-stuck that I needed to look up a guide. Which is good, since, as I write this, there are no guides. I’d have to sheepishly email Powerhoof’s PR guy and ask him to ask Powerhoof. That sounds like a nightmare.

DON’T WANNA BE YOUR MONKEY WRENCH

There were, however, moments where I wish there was a hint system. The characters are pretty good at putting emphasis on things you should be looking for and dropping hints through dialogue, but sometimes, that just wasn’t enough. Although, one time when I was stuck, I don’t think a hint would unstick me, since I knew what I was supposed to do, but wasn’t clear on how the game wanted me to do it.

I can also name at least one instance where a character seemed to insist on a solution that wasn’t actually what I was supposed to be doing. There are also moments of adventure game logic overriding common sense. However, it’s still within the realm of adventure game greats, so it’s hard to really lay into The Drifter for that.

It helps that the pacing is so terrific. It’s split into nine chapters, and I could probably tell you what happens in each one. They’re segregated logically, not only from a story perspective, but also from a gameplay one. Some of them are kind of small and linear, but where The Drifter really shines is when it opens up its world to investigation. I relished those parts as I lined my pockets with trinkets and doodads that I’d figure out the purpose of later and talked to characters until their dialogue was exhausted.

The story itself is outlandish, and if I were to describe it in broad strokes, it would probably sound kind of lame. Icebox logic in spades. However, the way it’s told with fantastic, memorable characters and transparent but exciting twists makes it all work. It’s a terrific mix of scientific jargon and hand-waving backed with enjoyable dialogue and tense situations. It feels very whole and well-realized, showing no visible seams or loose threads. Top shelf.

This is all underscored with an atmospheric darkwave soundtrack that supports the mood of each scene without getting in the way. Solid background music for any occasion, really.

LEFT IN SUSPENSE

It’s usually pretty damning if I find myself hesitating to start up a game again. I usually like to find myself getting absorbed; excited to dive back in, or at least willing to put it at the top of my priorities. But I find no fault with The Drifter. If a suspenseful thriller is stressing me out, then that just means it’s doing its job effectively.

And I think that sums up The Drifter nicely. “Effective” is the best word I can find to describe it. Everything it does, it does with style and confidence. Even the few missteps it makes just melt into the overall picture. Just a sterling poink adventure all around. Straight gilded. I’m not sure if or when I’m ever going to play it again, but damn, I’m impressed.

9/10

This review was conducted using a digital version of the game. It was provided to the author by the developers PR.