Video Game Review: The Forgotten City
A nice little jaunt through a recreation of a Roman city that explores the philosophical quandaries in moral relativism
This kind of a review is far out of the norm for the rotation of essays on this blog, but there are three good reasons that I’m reviewing a video game. First of all, The Forgotten City was compared favorably to Return of the Obra Dinn, which was a game that scratched my puzzle itch in a way I haven’t felt since I allowed my NYT crossword subscription to lapse and I’ve been in need of a pick-me-up in that regard. Second, I’ve been attempting to push the boundaries of what ought to be considered suitable for this blog. Third and perhaps most importantly, this exercise provided a great opportunity to demonstrate why projects like these in any medium or time period ought to hire an expert to help with important cultural details. From my understanding, this video game began as a mod for Skyrim and the team only consists of three developers. It’s an astounding achievement in that respect, but the minute details lack polish that limit the game from reaching its full potential.
The most noteworthy attribute of this game off the bat is the architecture, which they absolutely nailed. I used to spend hours in Assassin’s Creed II and Brotherhood roaming through Italian cities just because of how attentive they were to detail in all the right places, and I felt a similar impulse in this instance. I spent the better part of an hour trying to break into Malleolus’ villa, and came very close to missing the first time loop because of it. Showing the temples of actively worshiped Roman deities next to derelict Greek ones was a nice juxtaposition, and was an area of art that really shone through.1 The other connections to ancient history were in need of some dire retouching, though. I can appreciate the efforts they made to make the Latin script commonly seen in graffiti along the walls of Pompeii legible to the modern reader, but the content would have benefited from a second set of eyes. The phrase “Ulpius occidit Sentilla” appears next to the amphitheater: I am not in a position to criticize anyone else’s lax interpretation of Latin word order, but leaving the object out of the accusative case (i.e. Ulpius Sentillam occidit) is flatly wrong. Characters will also throw around the line “stercum edite,”2 even though they are in a one on one conversation with the player character. I would even go so far as to consider the use of A.U.C. as a method of timekeeping to be anachronistic. This game has been rightly praised for its straightforward and realistic dialogue, but there could have been an effort for Galerius to represent the year he fell into the eponymous city in terms of the last consulship he remembered as a citizen. The mention of Nero and the fire ought to clue the player in enough to ballpark a guess otherwise. I chose “the archeologist” as my base character, which was supposed to give me more insight into the game world. This gives an aesthetic enhancement that only helps the player if they do not already understand the Latin in front of them. Even with that being said, this choice provides no advantage in terms of plot development or gameplay.
In terms of the actual mystery elements in this game, The Forgotten City certainly shares a sequential solution method with Obra Dinn, but in a way that is less satisfying. Forgotten City wants to emphasize the attention to detail that the writers paid to the dialogue, but they do so in a way that robs the player of a feeling of accomplishment in figuring something out for themselves. There was a point in my aforementioned explanation where I stuck my foot in a small door that I had believed would lead to an endgame area. At the time I thought it prudent for the character inside to use a dialogue check to prevent players from progressing too far into the game, but the way it was worded left a lot to be desired because I knew the answer to his question.3 There are other points in the game where characters will over-explain things, like the term “decimation,” in an effort to build ethos with the player. One area where this would have been useful is the anachronistic use of the term “Christian” across Octavia’s quests. Longtime readers (or paid subscribers) will remember the term “Galilean” being used in Gore Vidal’s Julian, but “Nazarene” or “Ebionite” would have also been acceptable alternatives. The fish-shaped engravings and allusions to lambs in dialogue would have carried the audience the rest of the way to the natural conclusion. Allowing the player to play as a pastor in place of the archeologist could have allowed for further development of these side characters while also retaining the Latin translating attribute.
There is a very firm request not to spoil anything past the “white hallway” for understandable reasons, so I won’t, but I do feel that the ending to this game cheapens the overall experience. Sticking to a more mythological or traditional explanation for the phenomenon would have lent more credibility to the experience. The theme of moral relativity feels rushed at times—the way that the player acquires one of the tablets in certain timelines can be seen through someone’s perspective as stealing, and it isn’t brought up at all in the final confrontation. All around it feels like the conversation should have been longer and more detailed, even though I exhausted the entire dialogue tree.4 As things stand, I don’t think this game can justify the price point; I got it on sale for 50% off, and even that seemed expensive for a 9 hour experience5 with no replay value. This is a problem for many puzzle or mystery games, but even the more complex ones tend to be more competitively priced than this. If they dropped the price down to $10, I feel that that would be a more reasonable ask for what I got out of it. In the rubric for my more traditional book reviews, this game would fall into the one star category, mostly because of my appreciation for the detailed architecture.
The choice to include a vestal virgin in the cast of characters without giving her a proper temple/flame was a little disappointing but hardly worth criticism.
“edite” is the 2nd person plural imperative, “ede” is the 2nd person singular imperative.
We haven’t done too much Ovid on here yet, not for a lack of desire but rather opportunity. I will try to amend this as soon as possible.
This is tricky to talk about without spoiling the big surprise, so just take my word for it.
This number includes a whole lot of meandering around. I’ve seen other reviews that claim to have finished the canon ending in half the time, and it doesn’t surprise me.