Scribblenauts

Those of you who were gaming in the early to mid 90s might remember a little puzzle game series called The Incredible Machine. The premise was simple: you were given a task and a set up of various devices on the screen (boxing gloves, monkeys on bicycles, bowling balls, etc.) and you were tasked to complete Rube Goldberg machines based on the resources available for the level.

Anyone who has played this will be familiar with the occasional moment of frustration in which one might yell aloud: "If only I had a god damned [object], this would be so simple!"

Scribblenauts (5th Cell, 2009) entirely averts this issue by allowing you to insert absolutely anything you can think of into the game at no cost. No really, anything. The game's library of objects is vast boring on the absurd. I'll give you an example of just how mind-bogglingly huge the library is. The website Scribblenauts Guide has an object list which has literally hundreds of listed items, many of which are so obscure that I may need a dictionary to find out what they even are. And yet in an hour's gaming session today alone I managed to summon at least two things that are not in that list. Of course, for legal and censorship reasons there are certain things you can't put in there, like Mickey Mouse's giant vagina - nor can you put in things that don't exist, even in fiction. Manticores and time machines are fine, but you're not likely to find a car-jet or transmogrification supercannon in the game (I might check later though). Abstract concepts like love or racial intolerance, despite being perfectly fine nouns, also do not make an appearence. However, there are toucans, football players, mirrors, God, unicorns, pillows, hams and coffee makers galore.

This would be a lot easier with a toucan and God on my side too.

The objective is to use the vast array of tools at your disposal to enable your character, Maxwell, to gather starites. You'll either be required to complete seemingly simple objectives to make the starlite appear, or get to a starite that's out of reach through your imagination and ingenuity. The classic example is if a starite is stuck up a tree. You could chop it down with an axe, or summon a lumberjack, or burn it down, or climb with a ladder, or fly up, or summon a beaver. Ultimately many levels can be played using the same tried and true methods; the game doesn't really require you to be imaginative. You could just get through the levels as quickly and easily as possible, but that would make you a douchebag.

Try "kuala lumpur".

Ultimately the game relies on players being imaginative for the sheer hell of it. It's actually a little refreshing: video games have always been accused of stifling creativity, but here we have a game that encourages it, on the level of the absurdist and ferociously logical problem solving we barely remember from early childhood (along the lines of "Well I use a magic flying reindeer to fly up and use a freeze-gun on the nasty zombie!" -- and yes, you can do exactly that). In fact the sheer freedom's a little dizzying. More often than not you'll be required to find a way to fly. Initially I was enthralled by this idea, and challenged my friend to help me come up with the most implausibly awesome way to fly possible. Naturally, we gave Maxwell a jetpack. However, it's turned out to be far and away the most effective way to fly that I can think of, allowing me to fit in spaces in which a dragon or helicopter or roc could not fit. I am certain that there are alternatives, but the sheer breadth of opportunity has robbed me of innovation.

The game does at least try to encourage you though. For a start, you get style points for the obscurity of your summoned objects, as well as achievements (called merits) for managing certain feats (from using two different tools in a level, to using all new objects, to using a sea animal as a vehicle, and more). And if you choose to revisit a completed episode you will be asked to try and complete it three times in a row, without using previously used objects in subsequent attempts. These really keep your imagination working as you search for new solutions to familiar problems.

Another small complaint is that obvious solutions rarely seem to work. For example, in one level I had to move a powerless car. I summoned a mechanic, who promptly did absolutely fuck all. In another level I tried to get an undertaker to bury a corpse, and he also did absolutely nothing. I'm not entirely sure what all the different professions available are for. None of them seem to do anything when they encounter anything their job would involve. Put a doctor next to a leper and, although the two are attracted to each other, they have no interaction. I once tried to help a short-sighted man see with the healing hands of God himself. Turns out God's too fucking lazy to do anything.

Let's be fair though, there are a great many objects that have almost no possible use. In one mission I'm required to dress a mannequin, and the clothing options are vast. Is there a purpose to these items otherwise? Probably not. However, this is a game of whimsy and make-believe, and the enjoyment of the game comes not from solutions, but from realising your creative impulses instead.