Lighting up my fifteenth cigarette of the hour and adjusting my fedora, I slipped the mysterious code into the box. A collection of numbers and letters designed to provide early access to the demo of a detective game. It was a hot tip from a public relations person on behalf of developers Lost Cabinet Games. That wasn’t suspicious. Well, assuming the missing furniture is metaphorical rather than literal.
The game was called Obsidian Moon. Or, at least that’s what it told me when I took its statement. I had a bad feeling about the implication that the studio behind Fallout: New Vegas was showing its bare bottom. I fired it up to investigate further. There was a settings menu. I noticed that it had a film noir mode which turns the action from colour into grayscale. Enabling that, I sent the rest to the boys in the lab for analysis.
Lighting another cigarette and giving my fedora another tweak, I delved into the first case. There was a detective named Sam Carter, a war veteran languishing in the ruins of his career. His last job went, as we say in the business, tits up. His new boss in Obsidian City, an old mate from down the way, takes this whisky-soaked rogue and throws him a lifeline, along with a warning not to pry too deeply into the metropolis’ murky underbelly.
Sam’s first case was straightforward, a simple bar brawl gone awry. Clearly my new boss was trying to teach me the ropes. Opening up little scraps of paper, I watched as descriptions of the scene, main suspect and victim – all relayed in the sharp lines and evocative imagery of a veteran snoop’s inner monologue – were typed out. Between that, the colour filter and the soundtrack, I felt as detectivey as a detective can ever detect themselves to feel. Helpful advice guided me through this trial run. Ask for this guy’s statement by gently dragging two of the bits of paper on top of each other. Send the body off for an autopsy here. Press this to unpause and speed up time while you wait for them to return their report to you. Then, get five key details straight in your head – perpetrator, victim, murder weapon, motive, cause of death.
Stick the corresponding five bits of paper into the slots, then close the case. This time, I’d gotten it all correct. Nice, said my boss, now here’s a proper case you won’t be walked through like a toddler on a stroll through Central Park. A man was dead at the docks, three suspects awaited questioning. The initial steps were a doddle now I’d been shown the ways of Obsidian Moon detectiving. Smush paper pairs together so each suspect gives you their version of events. Spend some time examining them, the scene, and the body – all of which I think gain something from only being pictures you paint in your own head. There’s emotional weight to each description, but seeing the world through this lens of notes splayed out on a desk makes everything feel that much colder and inhuman. You’re looking down on a spider’s web from far above. From this distance, it’s hard to tell which fly is struggling the most – which one is trying to escape their guilt.
After carting the body off to the lab for analysis, it was all too easy to squeeze a confession out of the guilty insect. Though, for all my detection work, I had to trust the word of another suspect, which is more trusting than this old gumshoe likes to do. There was one last hiccup: before I could tie this case up, I needed the murder weapon.
The perp told me what they had used and I thought that would be all I needed. Wrong! My new boss slapped me on the wrist and fined me for submitting an unfinished case. So, I had to delve back into my pile of paper scraps. Eventually, I revealed how the killer had disposed of the weapon. I submitted the case again. No dice. My new boss was a harder ass than a mule made of diamonds.
Sore from a second fine, I went back to my notes. Bingo! With a little more detective work, I found the offending object. The one proper case of Obsidian Moon’s demo was sewn up tighter than catcher’s mitt caught in a sewing machine. Still, while the case was closed, there were other loose threads. Even with all of my failures and faffing, several mechanics that’d caught my attention upon their mention in the menu and tutorial hadn’t factored in in a clear fashion. I was warned to closely manage my time and stick to my working hours, but all my wandering down dead ends hadn’t caused a problem. Nor did I need to keep a watch on my sanity, which mirrors how close Parker is to the edge. And, despite my fines plus a warning to keep enough cash on hand to pay the bills, I wasn’t in danger of emptying my account in the demo.
They’re all things I can understand playing more of a role once you get deeper into the game’s waters and start tackling more complex cases, but it’d have been nice to get at least a taste of their potential to ratchet up the tension here. That said, when I finished the second case, the game dutifully informed me that I’d left a bunch of leads undiscovered, suggesting that it’s got plenty of depth in its locker when it comes to choice in sleuthing approach. Maybe I could have solved the thing without relying on the word of a no good drifter.
The demo also ended on an intriguing cliffhanger. I’m keen to don my trench coat and magnifying glass once more when it releases in full later this year. For now, I’ll put the code back on the bookcase and sit down by a roaring fire to smoke a pipe while I reminisce with a steely gaze about crooks and creeps I might never catch. This job, I told the moody feline curled up on the rug next to my wingback chair, it’ll be the death of me.